Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

If Jared had a nickel for every red flag that pops up in his brain every time he steals a glance at Ackles, he would be significantly richer than Ruth insists he’d be if only he finally put his back into his job like she’s been telling him to for years.

It doesn’t help that he is already expected to fail. That this was a trap from the get-go, and that Ruth is right—their mateship is on thin ice lately. With Ruth being older and their dynamic kind of, as Jared’s parents put it, untraditional, things are starting to grow rocky now with the kids growing into actual people, with reality settling in—this is your life for the rest of your life. How tossing a young, unmated Omega basically at Jared’s feet is supposed to clear things up, Jared has no idea. Maybe that’s not the goal. Maybe Ruth has other plans already. Ruth always has plans.

Ackles catches him looking, again. Purses his mouth a little like he’s disappointed, but otherwise ignores—tells Glen, “No,” and grabs the toy out of the child’s hands. “It ain’t your turn. Let your brother play.” Glen cries. Glen always cries.

Ackles bends down with a dramatic sigh and picks up Jared’s girl to bounce her in his arms. Aiden keeps playing, unbothered. Ackles carries her over to Jared, who hurriedly pretends to be very busy with the work he laid out on the kitchen table.

“I—oh, uh—”

“You need Daddy, sweetheart? Aw, yeah, I know.”

Jared accepts the bawling child. Makes a face, but Ackles doesn’t have much mercy. You can’t, if you signed up for herding the five screaming toddlers of this household.

Jensen cups Glen’s head a last time. His fingers graze the back of Jared’s hand as he withdraws.

“Daddy’s taking care of you for a minute,” he says, and then he’s back with the other pups, like Jared is…God, a prop. Nice enough of Ackles to jump in, take up some hours even though Jared is technically present to watch his own children—but there’s five of them and only one of him. Rigged from the start.

He supplies the nice young man with coffee and snacks. A hasty glimpse to the clock—phew. Ruth isn’t gonna be home for another couple hours. Just Jensen and the kids and Jared. Ah. Someone yells. Someone starts crying. Jared hides in his home office.

Golden hour. Jared sighs, looks out the window—the nice neighborhood, the tended front yard, the Jeep. Ruth took the Benz. Important client, she said, like Jared is somehow supposed to keep track. The mansion up in the hills, you know, with the marble kitchen counters? They all have marble kitchen counters, for frick’s sake.

A knock on the door; must be Jensen. Jared’s kids don’t knock. “Yeah?”

“Coffee?”

“Oh, thank God. Yes, thank you. Thank you.”

“Here you go.”

“What would I do without you?” sighs Jared, drinking, and half of Jensen’s mouth lifts. He cradles a cup of his own and seats his cute little ass onto the corner of Jared’s desk.

“You’re working hard,” says Jensen, easy. Beautiful with his summer tan, the freckles, the messed-up collar of his polo shirt…

“I, uh, yes. Or, I try. It’s been going slow, even with you around…”

“They’re energetic,” helps Jensen. “I’ve had worse.” God, his smell. His ass on Jared’s table.

“You keep saying that.”

“It’s true. What, Mr. P, you say I’m lying to you?”

“No, of course not.”

Jensen teases, “Uh-huh,” around one of those darling smiles of his, and it’s all for Jared, and. Jesus. Jesus, he knows exactly what he’s doing to Jared. Must smell it. Must read it right off Jared’s pathetic face.

Jensen uncrosses his legs to recross them the other way. Jared figures he deserves a medal for not letting his eyes droop to where the denim surely shifts so tightly in that crotch.

“It’s, uh. Jared,” corrects Jared, in an afterthought.

Jensen smiles. “I know, sir.”

Ruth returns with a bottle of champagne and good news—she sold the mansion. Of course she did.

“Oh, you should have seen them.” She pops the bottle open in the kitchen, three children clinging to the hem of her skirt. She’s high on the success. She deserves it. “I knew it was a done deal when I saw her gasping at the view from the master bedroom.”

Jared busies the children while Ruth shares the champagne with Jensen—I can’t believe he made you come over, he couldn’t handle them himself? Oh, you’re such a darling, my husband can be such a baby sometimes; what would we do without you? Jensen smiles and sips. Jared catches him checking Jared out, playing horse.

Oh, Jared, you are a fool. A goddamned, stupid fool.

“Tell your mother we’ll be having ‘y’all’ for dinner this Wednesday—did I pronounce that right? I’m still not used to this place, forgive me…”

“You’re fine ma’am.”

“Tell her—my God, that clever little dessert she came up with last time? She has to bring it.” Ruth produces her cheque book from her purse and scribbles, rips it out to hand it over to a politely smiling Jensen. “You’re a blessing,” hears Jared, “don’t let anyone tell you different.”

“You’re too kind, Mrs. P. I’ll let Mom know. Y’all have a good night.”

“See, you say it differently.”

Jared misses Jensen leaving. Half of the kids are glued to the TV. Ruth’s heels are loud on the tiles. She hushes Ellie even though she isn’t even upset and accepts the half-asleep child into her arms, cradles her.

“Did you have a nice time, my dear? Was Uncle Jensen nice to you, yes?”

They fuck, that night. Jared doesn’t even know why, or how. Her, being drunk and provoking, maybe. Jared, replaying how Ethan had tugged on Jensen’s tit today, made him hiss (no, I’m not your momma, baby; there’s no milk for you).

It’s fast and effective as all Hell. Rough in the way Ruth always is, demanding and rewarding and Jared’s ears ring when they’re finally tied after weeks of nothing, when he’s pulsing and his head is empty for once and it feels—good, with her. Always has. But that’s not the point. They were always good in bed.

Ruth comes down; her lashes drag. Her breathing stays ragged, her nails tickle over his back, into his hairline.

“What are you thinking about, darling?”

Jared grunts. She tugs at his hair a little firmer. “Nothing.”

“‘Nothing’?”

“Baby, I’m still inside you—you think I’m capable of thinking?”

She says, “Fair,” and allows him to nuzzle her throat, lets him drag his teeth over her scent gland. God, her scent. It’s good. That’s good. Focus on that. “No marks,” she reminds, sharp. Jared obliges. Of course.

He rocks them together. Full of him, their babies asleep in the next room over. Jensen, cooing: you need Daddy to hold you, baby? Come on, let’s see where Daddy is.

Jared kisses his mate’s neck, her clavicle. Her chest, the necklace he got her for Christmas a few years ago, her breasts. The milk is almost gone. Doc said it’s natural with the sterilization—Ruth is relieved, she says. Jared wonders how Jensen would look, swollen with it.

“Marge called,” muses Ruth, letting him kiss and scent-mark his fill. “She invited us to their summer house, the one by the lake, you remember?” Jared hums non-committal. “I said we’d be there. Haven’t seen the old hag in ages.”

Jared comes up to kiss his wife on the mouth. Churns into her with his knot still too massive to do anything, but the illusion is nice. Maybe another round, if he times it right. He thinks to ask: “When?”

“Two weeks over. Thursday to Sunday.”

“Baby—” He frowns. She frowns right back. “You know I—I have an important evaluation that Friday. I can’t miss it.”

“If Paul can miss every other meeting in favor of his daughter’s silly little ballet plays, you can miss one ‘evaluation’ for your wife and children, Jared.”

Jared scoffs.

“What?”

“You say ‘evaluation’ like I made it up.”

“It’s not my fault your employer uses ridiculous phrases.”

Jared scoffs again, sighs. “Great. Okay.”

“What? What did I do now?”

“Nothing,” lies Jared. “I’m tired.”

“As you are,” snaps Ruth. “Wonderful. You know, maybe I should just grab the kids and go see my friend on my own, so you have all the time in the world for your incredibly important work!”

Jared tells her, “Maybe you should,” and he realizes too late that this was another trap. That he was not supposed to agree.

His Omega glares at him. If they weren’t tied, Ruth would get up and leave. She’s done it before. Or sent Jared to sleep on the couch.

Jared’s knot falters. He slips out of his wife without further comment and pulls his pajamas back on. He grabs his pillow and sheets and drags both downstairs onto the living room couch. She won’t apologize. Jared wouldn’t demand it of her.

~

A daze. The flowers Jared bought for Ruth (who snappishly accepted them) slowly begin to droop with neglect in their gigantic crystal vase on the kitchen table.

Jensen plucks at them, helps them.

“A little vacation could be nice,” he says. Jared hums into his coffee. His blueprints. “Some guy time. TV and beer, no kids? That can be fun.”

(Said kids are hypnotized by animated firefighter dogs on the TV screen. The latter isn’t as attractive to Jared anymore after falling asleep in front of it too many times lately.) “I don’t know. I’ll probably just catch up on work.”

“I could come over. Kick back with you, relax a little,” offers Jensen, easy. “You work hard enough. And I literally don’t know what to do with myself without your rascals running around my feet.”

“You’re—” (Insane. All I ever wanted. Smelling like you want me to get you pregnant, oh my God, brain, please…!) “—ridiculous, buddy. Come on, you surely have way better options than hanging out with boring old me… You’re in your best years, why don’t you enjoy your summer away from school, live a little?” and Jared hates that when he looks up, Jensen is just as precious as he always was, even as the snotty kid Jared barely remembers, and he looks at Jared like he wants to eat him, and. Jared can’t deal with it. Any of it. Of Jensen, playing him like a fiddle. Dangling him like a toy.

“I’m old enough to decide these things for myself, don’t you think?” and Jared swallows, nods. God, Jensen. Jensen freaking Ackles. “If you don’t want me around, just tell me.”

“No. No, I—that’s not it. I just really need to get this project done,” Jared tries, half-laughing, a desperate plea. Jensen considers. Oh, that cruel face of his.

Eventually, “Hm,” and, softer, “you really work too much, sir,” and Jared can laugh and wave him off and they might arrange a date of some sorts, that afternoon. Jared doesn’t remember, too nervous, too anything. Everything. He’s got enough fantasies going on as is, even without Jensen explicitly throwing himself at him. For Jared, it suffices to keep it all safe and locked up in his head. Helps to make the days a little shorter, lately. Only a few more weeks left until Jensen will return to campus, halfway across state… They’ll have to find a new babysitter. Jared’s getting migraines just thinking about it.

Jared’s phone buzzes that night while Ruth and he are bathing the kids. Jared doesn’t get a chance to check it until after they’re done and Ruth tucks the last ones in and Jared beelines for the bathroom, a nice, hot shower before bed—just a quick glance, maybe an email from work, and, Jesus freaking Christ.

The door is in Jared’s back and he presses against it in order to stay upright.

A picture. A caption—‘can’t wait for tomorrow’—and Jared texts back immediately:

Jensen, you got the wrong number

Jared’s heart pounds because—Jesus, he can’t look away from that flawless ass, naked and smooth and that toy looks massive—

Jensen is typing. (Their earlier exchanges above—can you come over today? I’m so sorry it’s so short notice but I’m DROWNING out here / course, no problem. be there in 5 (: / omg thank you.)

I appreciate the cuteness
but I think we’re past that

Jared stares at his phone. That photo, still, slowly pushing up and away with the new texts coming in. Jared is already soaked from bathing his pups but the sweat sets in now, big time.

you let me wait long enough

The doorknob twists against his elbow and Jared nearly jumps out of his skin.

“What are—Jared, are you in there?”

They shower together. Ruth doesn’t question why her husband picks her up and fucks her against the tiled wall, but she does go a little softer, a little melancholic, in bed. Smiling and cuddling and they’re both beat, but it feels—nice. Like it used to be. Jared kisses his Omega’s head. She chuckles. Scratches through his chest hair.

“Maybe I should threaten to abandon you more often if this is how you show you’re missing me.”

~

“And you are sure you don’t want to come?”

Jared shakes his head, rubs Aiden’s soft-soft cheek through the rolled-down window. “Positive. Y’all take care, all right? Be nice to your sisters, Aiden.”

A chorus of Daddy! and come with us! but Jared declines, chuckles, gives Ruth a last smooch. She smiles, enjoys being held in his arms.

“Have fun with your calculator then, dear.”

“Tell Marge I’ll make sure to come next time, all right?”

Ruth’s eyebrow raises. “I’d rather not lie to my friends.”

She claps Jared’s ass before she circles the car. A last round of goodbyes. The small ones wave out of the back window until Jared can’t see them anymore. Probably longer.

Jared sighs. Alone in the driveway. Wow. They’re really…gone.

Jared’s eyes pan across the street; the Ackles’ house. A tug to his stomach—oh, Lord, he better hurry back inside before Ackles catches wind of Ruth’s departure.

Inside, locked door. Jared stands. Stupid. With the Jeep gone, him being alone is rather obvious, isn’t it?

Eventually, Jared fixes himself a cup of coffee and returns to his work. Hours pass. Lackluster lunch. Jensen is yet to turn up. Did they even mention a time? Did Jared maybe hallucinate all of it? He checks the chat again—nope, there is that picture, as aneurysm-inducing as it was last night. Jared groans, turns the display off, puts the phone face-down. Elbows on the table, glasses off; he rubs his face, up into his hair. Jesus. Jesus, Padalecki, you are in so much trouble.

Past five. Jared knows because it’s one of the last cognitive actions of today that he checks the clock—doorbell. Jared’s stomach sinks. He can’t not answer, though.

Downstairs. No second ringing. Jared cringes for the blurry silhouette behind their stained-glass front door. Can’t possibly be anyone else. Jared unlocks and opens anyway.

Ackles looks—like a dream. Soft and tanned from a lazy day and he looks straight at Jared and doesn’t say a word. Hands in his pockets—God, those jeans. Jared is speechless. He must tell the Omega to leave. Now.

Jensen steps forward and Jared lets him in. Closes the door.

His heart races. So many thoughts, so many—

Jared is still clasping the doorknob as Jensen grabs him between the legs and squeezes.

Jared blinks.

Jensen doesn’t. “Hm,” he says. “She’s gone, right?”

“Right.” Jared clears his throat. It doesn’t help. “You, uh—wait, wait a second, let’s, uh, let’s talk about this, Jensen,” and a weak grip to Jensen’s wrist, the warm, silken skin of it…

Oh, God, Jensen’s scent.

Soft, measured: “No. I don’t think so.”

Jared begins, “Jen,” but doesn’t get much farther thanks to Jensen, grabbing Jared’s free hand and slipping it under his shirt for him, makes Jared cup one of his almost-flat tits, skin on skin. Keeps it there. Makes Jared feel it.

Jensen hums, “Tell me to leave,” and Jared attempts to swallow, move; anything. “Go on. Tell me, Alpha.”

“J-Jesus—Jesus Christ, Jensen…!”

Jensen’s mouth curves with a smile. “That’s what I thought.”

They kiss. Jared cannot tell who initiated but it’s happening, and Jensen tastes—God, he tastes better and sweeter than the best thing Jared ever dared to imagine. That hand is still grabbing his dick through his jeans and Jared feels it twitching alive, feels his body reacting. Jensen flattens his hand and hums into Jared’s mouth, rubs his palm firmly up and down to encourage further. Jared’s hand is still cupped over that breast. Jensen’s soft-soft nipple stiffens.

“Touch me,” sighs Jensen, crowding Jared further in. “It’s okay. I’m not gonna tell.”

Jared groans. Jensen kisses his chin, presses his tit into his palm. Jared’s hand squeezes on its own accord and oh, oh it’s soft, it’s tiny and perfect and Jared wants to see it. Mark it. Own it.

“Been thinking about your hands.”

Jensen slowly releases Jared’s hand (which doesn’t go anywhere) and rubs his hairy forearm instead. Warm and soft and he kisses behind Jared’s ear, and Jared feels—God, not even in his wildest dreams did he imagine…!

“Been thinking about you in general. A lot.”

Jared groans, helpless. Gets his dick kneaded, gets Jensen basically climbing him where they stand, still in the hallway; Jared’s other hand now finding the darling arch of that lower back, right above Jensen’s ass…

“’Bout how you look at me. Undressing me with your eyes while I feed your babies.”

“Jesus…!”

“You’re such a tease. Look at what desperate measures you force me to take…! I hope you’re happy with yourself.”

Jared groans; Jensen tilts his hips, entices Jared to grab, feel him up. Jared does. Groans more. God. Weeks of dreaming of it, imagining it… Jared firms his fingers and rubs them straight between Jensen’s cheeks, and he’s so so hot here, even through the denim…!

Jensen huffs, “There you go,” and Jared kisses him this time, definitely.

Oh, this is bad. This is so, so bad.

The next thing Jared knows is that he heaves Jensen onto the kitchen island and that they’re pushing spit back and forth, growling. That Jensen heats faster than Jared can get his jeans open for him, that he’s still (again) groping the Omega’s tits, that Jensen’s legs are parted so Jared can fit between them, grind himself here.

The jeans are tight; it’s a struggle. Jensen gasps with his feet in the air because Jared yanks him like he needs him, drops right to his knees and buries his face where—oh, he won’t recover from this, ever—Jensen is already slick and so so smooth, perfect and ready, and Jared sucks his mouth over it and eats at it, moans; it’s everything. Soft from use, from Jensen, getting ready, riding that huge-ass toy from the photo, making sure Jared can easily push up inside.

He hears Jensen curse, feels his breath hitching, his legs kicking the jeans off for good. Both of Jared’s hands on those tits now and Jensen’s moan is strangled like he’s tipped his head way back, overwhelmed—Jared can scent it. How fucking hot Jensen is for it. For him. Because of him.

“Fuck, yeah… It’s yours, Alpha, it’s all yours…!”

Jared growls into Jensen’s cunt. Laps deep into it, firm tongue, chasing the honey of Omega slick. Unclaimed, available, fertile…! Jared’s cock pulses fat against the inside of his zipper.

Jensen whines, “I need it,” and moves against Jared’s hard-working mouth. Air on Jared’s hands, so maybe Ackles is stripping out of his shirt—yes, he is; Jared comes up growling, laps hard oner one nipple before he claims Jensen’s mouth again, feeds his own taste back to him. Jensen moans, up on his elbows, his mouth all pink-feeling with the heat of it; the tiny mounds of his tits in Jared’s too-big hands, Jared’s still-clothed crotch ruining itself against that off-the-edge-hanging ass, Jared’s hips already churning like they’re fucking. God, he wants that. Needs that.

“Yes,” babbles Jensen, struggling to stay on his elbows, to help Jared with getting his zipper down, his dick out, “yes, oh fuck, do it, do it…!”

Jensen is all peaches and cream inside, lets Jared push up so so deep right away—clenches and yelps, surprised, as Jared hauls back to bull right up his sensitive, tiny pussy, stretches its drippy mouth right out with the massive girth of his cock and feeds it to the hilt, draws back to hump even deeper, makes Jensen take all of it. Both sphincters cling tight to Jared’s cock and drag on the downstrokes, and Jensen whines again, overfull, and sucks on Jared’s tongue while he bangs him out, kneads one flushed-pink tit, grunts into Jensen’s mouth.

“Fuck, you’re big, you’re so so big…!”

Jared growls, curves lower over the O. Fucks him open, balls-deep. He’s gonna knot this bitch. No questions.

Jensen mewls, lets Jared have at it. Claws into Jared’s hair to keep him sucking his tit and whimpers about yes, yes; fuck, you’re so deep, don’t stop, own that pussy, and Jared blindly obliges. Twenty-one, so sweet, so tender…! Perfect age for marriage, for pups, and Jared realizes together with a hard throb of his cock that he’s bare inside, that there is nothing to catch the steady stream of his precome and that he’s rubbing it right into Jensen’s cervix—no heat but there is always that off-chance, and it gets Jared even harder, even wetter. He bites the tit in his mouth hard enough to make Jensen yelp before he switches to the other, repeats. He wants him sore. Wants him so stupid with it he can’t keep talking.

Sobby, “I’m coming,” and Jared slaps into him that much harder, knocks the air out of Ackles. Kisses him, laps at him—Jensen’s chaotic breath, the pinch of his brows, the heat of his mouth…!

Jared’s knot begins to fill in-synch with Jensen’s insides, seizing the fuck up.

Jensen shakes. Pants open-mouthed against Jared’s teeth, his body twitching and milking and eating Jared right up.

“In me,” he breathes, “breed me, do it,” like there was an ounce of debate left from the moment he rang that freaking doorbell.

Jared might be a generous decade older than Jensen, but his knot pops like he’s a teen all over again. They’re tied before Jensen is even done coming and he grinds back onto it, chases the stretch and tries to knock Jared around in him just that little bit longer—Jared lets him, unable to move with the bliss of it, of Jensen’s tight, young body pulsing around him, letting Jared tuck his cock so so deep.

A first, full throb and Jensen gasps, “Oh my God,” because apparently he felt it, and Jared pushes him flat to his back for good, his own elbows on the counter now, framing the Omega. Jared grunts against Jensen’s tongue—fucks at it, rolls his hips as he unloads, massive spurt after spurt. He ducks when the worst is over, tends to Ackles’ tits again. Squeezes them with his hands so he can suck the pink tips easier, can work them even puffier, even sorer. Jensen trembles underneath him. Groans, “Yeah,” and, “you love ’em, don’t you? All yours. I’ll let you play with ’em as much as you want.”

God, if there was milk—Jensen couldn’t be much more perfect but if there was milk, Jared would…! He doesn’t even know. It doesn’t matter.

Jared’s balls clench less and less until they stop entirely. Satisfied. Jared hums. Kisses Jensen’s waiting mouth again, makes it wet. Jensen’s ankles are crossed over Jared’s ass as if Jared would (or could) go anywhere. Jensen coos, soft. They take Jared’s shirt off together.

“Fuck… You’re just not fair.”

Jensen rubs circles through Jared’s chest hair. Sighs sweet for more kisses, more tongue. Moans, deep, for Jared, circling his hips.

“So deep,” he whispers, starstruck. “You got me so full with you.”

“Uh-hum.”

More kisses. Jared grinds lazy, plucks at Jensen’s tits. Jensen has his arms around Jared’s neck, a tender cling.

Jared’s eyes are closed. Oh, Heaven. “Hmmmm… Fuck…”

“As good as you imagined?”

Jared groans, guilty.

The pullout is beautiful—Ackles’ hole clings to Jared’s cock, barely as blown-out as it should be after a fuck like this. Merely a shy spill of Jared’s come; the rest swelling him up where it belongs, apparently… God, Jared’s nuts clench. He’s still mostly hard. He grabs himself, hisses for the sensitivity.

“Let me,” he hears, and Ackles has climbed off the counter and sunk to his knees before Jared’s whiplashed brain can process what is happening.

Jared moans, overwhelmed—the hot-hot velvet of Jensen’s mouth, his tongue, his perfect lips closing and wrapping and sucking…!

“Shit, slow…! Oh my God. Oh God.”

Jensen, the devil, chuckles around Jared’s glans. Laves and taps his tongue all around the sensitive head, no hands needed with how Jared holds himself with shaking fingers. One hand on the table for support, head hanging so he can watch—Jensen, humming, closing his pretty eyes and bobbing his mouth on Jared’s still-twitchy dick. Cleans him up. Keeps him hard. Both.

“I’ve dreamed of your taste, you know.”

Jared groans. Can’t look away.

Jensen pulls off to speak, rubs his pursed lips along the veined shaft. Eyes up to Jared, focused, glinting.

“I seriously can’t believe you let me wait for so long.”

Jared half-jokes, “Sorry,” and Jensen sucks him back down. Only halfway but God it’s good, Ruth hadn’t done this in so long… Worshipping. Relishing. Jensen purrs, pleased, clearly enjoying this. God, his cute little tits…

“You’re not allowed to come anywhere but inside me, understand?”

Jared groans.

“Not my mouth, not my face, not my tits. Well…maybe on my tits.”

“Fuck, get your ass on my couch, right now…!”

Jensen laughs but obliges.

He hasn’t even fully gathered his knees and elbows on the cushions before Jared’s already mounting him, fills him up in one, smooth thrust. The Omega yelps cute and does his best to present, wriggles under Jared’s weight while Jared knocks him full, growls warningly in his ear, wraps one hand around Jensen’s throat from below.

Jensen gasp-laughs, “Fuck,” and Jared buries his teeth in that darling shoulder, makes Ackles tense up head to toe. His cunt pulses tight and Jared fucks right through the tension, rides the high. Jensen moans, gives himself over. Good bitch. Yes.

Jensen’s ass squelches increasingly loud around the come Jared keeps fucking out of him. He whines like he’s embarrassed—his scent says otherwise.

“You love it? Being so full you can’t keep it in?”

Jensen moans, “Yes,” under Jared, gets jostled with every thrust.

“You’ll be so open when I’m done with you—gonna need to plug you up so you don’t leak all over yourself—!”

“Fuck, yeah, yes; Alpha, Jared, yes!”

Oh, how Jared can picture it—Jensen, plugged and wet, tending to the children, desperate for his Alpha to fuck him full with yet another, knot him on every chance they can steal during the day, during nap time, during TV time…!

Jensen comes spectacularly, hands-free once more. Shudders apart on Jared’s cock that keeps ramming into him mercilessly, makes him soft and pliant inside. He babbles nonsense; his eyes roll when Jared bites him again, when Jared wraps his arms around him from below to rut into him harder from behind, a mean, milking pinch to one reachable nipple, pebbled and hot between Jared’s rough fingers…!

Jared makes the young thing sob on his knot. Pulls back with it nearly swollen all the way, has to truly force it back inside. Jensen gulps for it, grabs at his own dick for it, strokes quick and wet and, “Fuck, fuck!” comes again, just like that, on Jared tying to him.

Jared grits his teeth, bumps his cock deep. His balls pump hard. Jensen collapses completely, just his ass held up by their tie. He blabbers, huffs. His golden hair hangs into his eyes, finally beginning to look disheveled—good. Jared wants him that way.

Jensen reaches over his own shoulder, pets—flinches. “Fuck… You bit me.”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck.” Jared watches the O gingerly feeling over the indents of his teeth. Jared’s half-dried spit. DNA. “Fuck,” muffled, strained, “that’s so fucking hot.”

Jensen is such a wet dream. Insatiable, hungry—Jared could tell right away, that first time Ruth had dragged him over to their house: you remember Jensen, dear? He’s back home for summer and I was wondering, since I started picking up more work and he’s such a nice young man, don’t you think we could support his little college fund in exchange for him watching the babies? I’ve got experience, I have a baby sister, sir—those lashes, the pepper of freckles across his nose, the light flush from the merciless Texan sun, not a virgin, not by a stretch, but smelling like home, like something that should belong to Jared, that Jared should (no, must) keep…!

Jared’s nuts empty the last trickles of his come into Jensen’s still-flexing pussy. Their tie shifts as Jared dips low to kiss where he bit and between Jensen’s shoulders, next—Jensen sighs, hums. Fingers tickle around the wet base of Jared’s cock from below before they grab lower, engulf Jared’s sack—tug, gently but decisively, enough to make Jared groan and twitch. He snarls to stop it, fuck and Jensen snickers into the couch. Stops squeezing but doesn’t let go altogether.

“Don’t you dare go weak on me. You’re far from done, old man.”

Jared buries his forehead against Ackles’ spine and chuckles his exhale. Yeah: only Thursday afternoon. No. No, they haven’t even started yet.

Chapter Text

Spring break’s fun, to say the least—especially once Mr. P joins in. Back home, one week later, Jensen says, “Huh,” to the test strip, the bathroom tiles. Ah, right. The pills probably didn’t survive all the recent ‘redigestion’. Thanks, tequila.

“Oh, well.”

Jensen tosses the plastic on the sink and sighs as he pulls up his phone to snap a picture. Send to—contacts—JP. Jensen sighs again, ruffles his hair. Jensen types ‘oops’ and sends. And then he waits. Not for long: it’s around noon, after all, when Jared’s five-minute breaks tend to turn into ten, fifteen. A stunned extra moment after those two check marks turned blue, an incoming call flashes on Jensen’s phone.

“It’s no big deal,” Jensen cuts in immediately after picking up. “Like, seriously, don’t worry about it.” He looks at his nails as he waits through the silence on the other end of the line. “… Hey, you there?”

“I thought you were on the pill.”

“Well, yeah, was.” Scoffing. “Are you mad at me or something?”

“Of course not. It’s just…”

“Hey. Hey, don’t worry about it, okay? We don’t have to tell her, and it’s not like my folks give a crap. I’ve been everyone’s favorite black sheep ever since I lost my V-card out of matelock, so fuck it. I’d offer to get rid of it, but they might reaaally ream me out for that—”

“I’d, I’d never,” Jared blurts. Jensen pauses. Lets the Alpha puzzle the sentence together, feeling…well, he didn’t plan this. He’s got school, he’s got… “I’d never insist that you… … And you’re certain? You’re really…?”

“I can piss on a couple more tests if that helps.”

Jared says, “Yeah,” like sarcasm doesn’t exist for him today. Jensen clears his throat, takes a big breath that he sighs out.

“Okay. I’ll keep you updated.”

“Yeah, please.”

“But you’re not mad?”

“I’m not mad, Jen.”

“Okay. Just making sure.”

Jared begins, “I,” but Jensen hangs up right then, saving both of them the embarrassment. He navigates back into his contacts—B—babysit—babysit mrs p—call. It goes straight to voicemail. Jensen huffs, plays with the test strip. Rotates it in his fingers, careful not to grab the pee spots.

“Hey, uh, Ruth? So, uh, about summer… I don’t think I can make it, sorry. College is riding my—well, it’s my last year, so, it’s gotten kinda busy… Just wanted to let you know in advance, so y’all can find someone else in time. That’s all. Sorry. Okay, bye. Oh, this is, uh, Jensen, by the way. Okay. Bye.”

Jensen hangs up, blows up his cheeks. He pockets his phone, puts the test back on the counter. His fingers lace behind his head as he stands, contemplates. A baby. Okay. Okay. Yeah, sure. He’ll just…yeah. Fuck. He’ll have to cancel on some really good parties. And no drinks at his graduation.

“Fuck,” he blurts, quietly.

Someone hammers their fist against the side of the door Jensen isn’t having a crisis on.

“Hey, how much longer you need in there?”

“Uuuh, one second, dude, gimme a second…”

After haphazardly putting away his shit, Jensen exits the frat house bathroom. Amell, dressed in a towel around his neck and boxers and slippers only, gives him a second look but just says, “Thanks,” and accepts the clap to his shoulder. Hell, Jensen will have to move out—living under the same roof as all these knotheads as the only Omega had been fun and all, but spending a pregnancy with them? Hard pass. Jensen will have to rent out a place or something. He should call home…soon. Fuck. Come on, a little booze surely won’t hurt the worm, right?

The passing months have him ballooning fast, of course, with this being Jared’s spawn, Jared’s little girl. The look on his face when Jensen passes him the ultrasound pictures over yet another lunch date (or, according to Jared’s calendar: ‘work meeting’) is priceless but not in vain: if anything, the Alpha is even crazier than ever for Jensen now that he’s pregnant as fuck. Suddenly, Mister I Can’t We Have To Be Careful Oh My God She’s Gonna Divorce The Shit Out Of Me Padalecki finds it in him to exploit all the possible gaps in his strict schedule. Jensen could get used to this. And he does, maybe, a little bit. Doesn’t help that the pregnancy is pretty much a walk in the park (disregarding the fact that he wears a thirty-pound fat suit on said walk).

The birth is just as eventless as the prior nine months. Push, breathe, push—congratulations, Mr. Ackles! Jensen cries, a lot. Which is fine, because hospital staff sees that all the time. Mom and Dad cry, too. In the maternity ward, they coddle their brand-new granddaughter with an amount of affection that assures Jensen that they can’t be that mad about some gap on a silly certificate. The savings account they hand over after dropping Jensen off at the still-kinda-new condo brings fresh tears to Jensen’s tired eyes. Yeah, it’s gonna be all right. Everything will be just fine.

Jared arrives five whole hours later. He doesn’t mention how he sold the trip to Ruth, and, frankly, Jensen couldn’t care less.

“Wow—okay.” Jensen laughs, fumbling with a bouquet twice the size of his newborn. And the newborn. “Here, would you… Yeah, there you go, just, uh, I’ll be—right back.”

Jensen waddles back into the apartment, leaves Beth with Jared. He watches the two while he runs the tap, grabs the nearest vase. Which isn’t a vase at all, as he finds out, but it’ll work. Over by the door, Jared’s open-mouth stare melts right into ugly-crying. Jensen laughs, orders him to get in, you’re scaring the neighbors.

Jared does that. Jared does everything and anything Jensen asks of him. Which isn’t much, really—Jensen knows his place. He loves Ruth and the kiddos and hurting them was never the plan. The baby wasn’t planned; it wasn’t. Jensen figures they really, really had it coming, though. He’d rejected condoms when Jared had proposed them, in Malibu, drinking not quite as hard as Jensen but enough that the sentiment seemed overly sweet to make it through the haze. (Are you sure? - So fucking sure. - I just think— - Well, that’s the problem, you’re still thinking with your head… Way ahead of ya. - Yeah, cause you decided to go into heat just in time with this little vacation you dragged me into… - Oh, I had to drag you, huh? - You know what? Have it your way… - Yeah, that’s—ah, fuck… Fuck, baby, yes…!) Ah, yes. Young and dumb. Very on-brand, Ackles. Well done.

They fuck—not that weekend, but the one a month later, when Jared inevitably gravitates back to the apartment Jensen’s folks insist on paying for, nannies and cleaning people included. They fuck and it’s good, better than good, and Jensen’s not sore at all. Recovered just as fast as the baby had stretched him to shit, and Jensen jokes how that’s the upside to starting young. Jared’s dick certainly loves that joke. It loves it so much it barely pulls out of Jensen that entire weekend, a well-timed rut and Jensen’s heat triggers despite the breastfeeding, and…oops. Part two.

Jensen feels it happening inside him, weirdly enough. Still in bed with Beth’s daddy and sort of…well, really not his boyfriend, or anything. Someone else’s mate. Panting, sweaty, still catching their breath, Jensen studies Jared’s red, exhausted face. The wrinkles, the receding hairline. The wedding band on the hand he keeps cupped over Jensen’s tit, the deep farmer’s tan from swimming with the kids all summer. Jensen has had prettier, has had uglier, but this one for some reason happened to stick. Jared dozes, unaware. Just there. Like it never was supposed to be different.

He doesn’t inform Jared right away after the test one week later. Takes a fussy Beth back from the nanny and bounces her in his arms as he shushes her, distracted. Pondering. Maybe this one. Maybe this one, he really shouldn’t keep.

Oh, screw it. In for a dime, in for a dollar, right?

Jared breaks into tears again. Bawls his eyes out on Jensen’s still-kinda-new couch whilst Jensen pets him like he pets their baby when she won’t calm down, while Jared sobs, “I’m—I’m happy, I’m happy, but—but—!” Yeah, your seventh. Yeah, I was being selfish again. No, I don’t really have anything else to offer beyond a shrug, above batting my lashes the way I know makes you melt.

“I’m sorry,” Jensen says, because he’s this married man’s worst nightmare, and he begins to realize that there is no coming back from this. No number of nannies can lift the fact of motherhood off him, and no amount of mileage between Jared and him will save either of them from craving each other. Jared’s back shudders under Jensen’s hand. Jared sweats. He always sweats. “But, hey. No more pressure to be careful for another nine months, right?”

They screw, hard. Soft, because Jared can be…God, sometimes it’s disgusting how sweet he is. How he cradles Jensen with his dick so far up Jensen’s ass that Jensen’s seeing double and has to listen to how beautiful he is, how ‘wonderful’ and ‘amazing’ and how Jared wishes they could be like this all the time. How he misses Jensen and he misses Bethany and Jensen must put on quite the show to put the ‘Alpha’ back into this man. Fortunately, Jared’s instincts are easy to motivate if you do it right. And Jensen always does it right.

“You’re so deep,” he moans, whining harder than he’d have to, but it snaps Jared’s eyes from dreamy to dark, and that pretty, pink mouth purses. Jensen licks that. Sucks along Jared’s jaw, the beard, his chin. Soft noises on the baby phone, but Martha is right there, shushing. Jensen’s arms and legs wind tighter around his Alpha. “So good… Never want you to pull out, just—knot me up and stay right there,” and that does it, and Jared growls like he means it. Like he wants that, too. Jensen can hang back and let himself get pounded out, knotted and filled like there wasn’t Padalecki Jr. number seven already nestled in him.

Ruth did everything right. Put a ring on this sex machine and had five humongous (but beautiful) kids with him, put him through those college courses Jared had insisted he was too old for, that ship has sailed, sweetheart… And now, he’s two steps away from a director role at the company she helped him get into. She truly made this man into who he is, fatherhood included. Jensen isn’t jealous: he’s grateful.

Grateful that Ruth is too tired after work and kids to sate her husband like she might not even be aware anymore that he needs. That, when Jensen texts and maybe adds a photo, Jared is sure to reply within the hour, no matter the hour. Always up to be corrupted, played with. Jensen smirks to himself, keeps his boob uncovered because Beth needs a meal anyway. Jared comes over often, whenever he can. Beth is a great pretense. Jared genuinely cares for her, of course, but he can only sit next to Jensen so long before getting antsy. Martha is a gift from the heavens above, seriously. Jensen gets rawed so hard on the regular he can’t help but acknowledge that it definitely, definitely is the baby bump doing it for Jared.

In bed, Jared paws at it, kisses it, rubs it—with his dick, sometimes, growling the most obnoxious shit, and Jensen’s lizard brain is so fucking gone for it, how unhinged this oh-so distinguished gentleman and father of six becomes once the clothes are off and the already-born baby is handed off to a different room. Jensen’s on his back and on hands and knees more often than before the damn baby, which is impressive, to say the least. Or it just feels like much, because it’s with Jared. Exclusively. Well, almost; old habits die hard. But Jensen gravitates back to Beth’s dad. He’s just so…convenient. And available.

College work needs to be crammed into every free minute Jensen has, which most days are the late night hours. A snoring Jared by his side (I should get going, it’s really getting late… Well, I’ll just…close my eyes for one…maybe two… …) and Beth nursing like a champ, Jensen balances his daughter and his laptop, positively destroyed and yawning but this paper is due tomorrow, so…coffee (in moderation) it is. Jensen pets Beth’s soft hair and knuckles his eye with the other hand. More yawning. One-twenty. Christ alive. And here his folks had doubted their son’s sense of responsibility.

They give him only a bit of a stink-eye at that family event they make him attend, mind you. It might be the gigantic belly and/or Jensen’s complete indifference about it, but what does Jensen know. He even dressed up. Feels silly, out in the Texan summer heat. Junior weighs him down even more.

As Jensen plops down on one of the many benches (but few of them in the shade, for some sadistic reason), Jensen gestures for one of the staff members with the drinks. A flirt later, he scores a not-mommy-friendly flute, but at least there’s juice in it… Look, the baby shouldn’t get any false impressions. The flustered person is called over to someone else and so Jensen remains sweating and huffing like a whale on dry land. His dad hugged him when he arrived but that’s as far as interactions go, so far. Jensen appreciates that people give him room to breathe, but the ten feet KEEP AWAY radius is a bit much.

Jensen sips, and the bubbles help. The iron in the orange juice, too, probably (ugh, he forgot his vitamins again this morning, didn’t he?). He scans the crowd for a familiar face that doesn’t make him want to puke. Nobody bothers to look at him, though. Except for that one dude. Someone’s boyfriend, maybe. Looks like his cousin’s type.

But he’s looking at Jensen, and not very subtly, either. Jensen entertains the staring contest over the occasional lift of his Mimosa and eventually is rewarded with the questionable honor of the guy strolling across the beautifully decorated garden, towards the entourage of benches that, magically, emptied since Jensen sat down, regardless of the rare shade. Jensen would cross his legs if his belly let him.

“Hey there.”

“Hey.” Hm, handsome. Or, not too bad. Oh, Beta. “Don’t think I’ve seen you around.”

“I’m here with Chrissy.”

“Ah. Figures.”

“But she caught sight of someone, and now I’m kinda on my own.” He shrugs, hands in pockets. A sweet smile. Nice jaw. Boring hair, but the suit is decent. “You doing okay over here? Hot as balls, isn’t it?”

“Got my juice, had a bunch of those burger sliders… Can’t complain.”

Mr. Handsome Stranger then proceeds to proverbially put his dick on the table: “Are you here with someone?” and he’s still smiling, and Jensen leans back a bit, impressed. Dear cousin, you should probably put this one on a leash.

“Eh. Just Junior and me,” Jensen chimes, sipping, petting the spot by his side—where the Beta then slips into, no fucking hesitation. Wow. Wow. “Fair disclaimer, man: you just entered the danger zone.”

The Beta laughs. “Did I?”

“Yeah. Cooties guaranteed.”

“‘Oh, no.’”

Jensen snorts. He considers the hand that gets held out for him to shake, considers the guy attached to the hand.

“I’m Tahmoh. And may I know your name?”

“Oh, you didn’t get the flier? Did they run out already?”

Tahmoh laughs again. His hand is still there.

“Come on, it can’t be that bad,” Tahmoh says, and Jensen purses his mouth around the rim of his glass because otherwise, he’d start smiling back.

~

“So, I’ll be eloping with this dude on the seventh.”

Jensen can hear that face drop behind his back.

He can kinda see it, too, in the foggy bathroom mirror. Jared’s floppy fucking hair. God. He was supposed to end up a dog, Jensen doesn’t care that genetics don’t work that way.

“It’s kind of a big thing. We’re having this big-ass party and my mom loves you guys, so if you could ask… Dude, relax. It’s only a couple of hours and the food will be awesome. You’ll survive.”

Jared begins, “W-what? Who?” but before he can pull out the remaining wh-questions as well, Jensen puts his tub of lotion on the sink and turns around to shh-shh-shh and face him, wags his finger at him.

“No, we’re not doing this. You ain’t gonna leave her, so I gotta make sure to look out for myself. Tahmoh’s nice. You’ll like him.”

“‘Tahmoh’?” Jared spits the name like it shat in his mouth. He scoffs, far from done with toweling himself dry. The fluffy towel hangs from his fist. He smells like Jensen’s shampoo and body wash. “What kind of name even…”

“You’ll like him,” Jensen coos, closing the little gap there still was between them. His bare belly meets Jared before his arms settle around those ever-tense shoulders. Even the pecked, tiny kiss doesn’t melt the Alpha out of his irritation. “You’ll smile and you’ll be nice and you’ll laugh about his jokes if you happen to stand close by while he tells one. And you won’t go into cardiac arrest for the entire duration of the party, do you understand? Aw—baby, for real? Is the big bad Alpha sulking? Are you a big, sad baby right now?”

Jared grumbles, “How long has this been… Baby, no, stop,” despite his hand settling on Jensen’s hip, and then his shoulder, the back of his neck as Jensen begins to kiss his way from the tip of Jared’s nose down to his clavicle—his breastbone, his navel… “No, come on, we have to talk about this…!”

“Hmm, Mommy knows what Daddy needs when he’s all fwowny and gwumpy…”

“Jen—Jensen, come… No, seriously…!”

But Jared’s done in once Jensen’s mouth is wrapping around his huge-even-while-flaccid dick, and they both know it. So Jensen alleviates the process by hollowing his cheeks before Jared’s even done lacing his long fingers into Jensen’s hair. His belly’s weight made the squat a challenge but kneeling is just fine, Jared’s hairy legs under his roaming palms, the darling creases of his thighs… Jensen slurps for show just so Jared finally drops that damn towel and…yeah, both hands on Jensen’s head… God, they had been fucking for hours before finally calling it a day, so done they didn’t even continue in the shower… Late third-trimester hormones are fucking wild.

Jensen feels himself slipping all over again, like all the knottings didn’t even occur. And Jared’s dick is on board, too, after some dedication: swells thick and veiny until Jensen, not for the first time, wishes he could unhook his jaw and really treat it like he wants… He’s stuck with lapping and nursing the tip, eventually, sucks the Alpha’s potent precome right out of him. Jared loves it. He loves everything Jensen’s various holes do for him.

Despite his wide, steady stance and himself rocking to the back of Jensen’s throat, one fist tight in Jensen’s hair and the other sweetly cupped over his temple, the Alpha grunts, “You’re… Fuck, you’re not fair…” and Jensen just hums in reply, chokes a bit but collects himself, lets Jared force on, deeper, like he only can when he’s actively helping. Jensen feels his slick creeping out of him, hot on his skin against the mild coolness from the tiles below him—he wants Jared in there, too, but he’d have to let him pull out of his throat to get that, and, frankly, no way. Not when Jared bobs him on his cock like this Omega’s esophagus is nothing more than his personal pocket pussy. And, God, if a thought ever turned Jensen crazy…

“You been fucking him, huh? You been letting him in here, been letting him see you like this? F-fuck, baby, I…!”

One could argue it’s only good manners not to kiss and tell. But Jensen’s aware he’s well, well beyond those jokes.

~

Hannah makes it safe and sound into this world. Safer than Jensen’s Bachelor thesis, which he almost misses the deadline for because he makes the mistake of closing his eyes ‘for only a second’ at around ten thirty AM only to wake up at four thirty-eight PM. But, all goes well. Jensen can spend the wedding and honeymoon in mental peace. Tahmoh and he agreed to keep everything kinda humble, given the many, many circumstances, but the wedding reception still ends up at three hundred guests. Call it a blessing or curse, but as a rising star in local politics, Tahmoh has all kinds of hands to shake and names to put on guest lists. Jensen enjoys the party a decent amount, although two hungry babies only let you off the hook for so long. But, alas. Ruth and Jared come, too, all five kids. The kiddie table is rather lively. Ruth goes out of her way to congratulate Jensen (“And, oh, how darling you look, deary! Couldn’t tell you had her a mere week ago; do let me know whenever you need something, though, all right?”) and Jared doesn’t look the slightest like he’d rather castrate Tahmoh than shake his hand like he does, very well behaved, a dutiful smile on his face. (“You couldn’t have told me he’s a Beta?” - “And rob myself of your live reaction? I only get so much entertainment, these days, you know?”)

Tahmoh is the sweetest. Is attentive and funny and all those other adjectives that, for some reason, coming from him, don’t make Jensen want to claw off his own face. He’s just—safe. He’s the dish you know you’ll be ordering ahead of sitting down at the table, a guaranteed hit with the guests at all times. Tahmoh loves Jensen and he loves Jensen’s kids, and he rubs Jensen’s feet when they’re sore and he holds him when Jensen cries because his tits hurt so much from all the milk, and Jensen loves having all those things done for him, and that’s good enough in his books—and, besides, love grows over time, right? No marriage is perfect.

Jared’s nostrils flare, that late afternoon, like it’s the first time all over that he gets a whiff of Jensen. Doesn’t reciprocate Jensen’s polite, “Hi,” maybe because this is the rather public hotel lobby they’re at, although barely anyone else is here right now.

Jared strips him carefully (almost piously) up in the room. Stares at the tits he cups and at Jensen’s mouth, and Jensen’s cheeks burn and there’s a joke in the back of his throat, somewhere, but for some reason, he can’t get it out. Can only cup those elbows and slide his hands up-down those arms, those lean, still-clothed shoulders and can stare. The fleeting scent of Jensen’s Beta-husband already faded, but Jared’s nose might pick it up regardless. And for a horrible, terrible second, Jensen realizes Jared might not get it up with how things are. With how Jensen is, how he smells. Someone else’s, the claiming mark on his neck and the ring on his finger: but Jared noses in to kiss Jensen, then, soft like he’s scared, too, and then they make love, and it’s very, very good. (Jensen hates that he had not forgotten just how good, not even a little bit.) They talk, too. A bit; as much as they can bear. With the first few knottings out of the way, Jared plays the resolute, plays the mature.

“You’re right. About what you said, the other day… You and the kids deserve a good life. I don’t want you to be missing out and ending up guessing ‘what if’.” Jensen snorts. Jared gives him a stern look over the pillows. “I mean it. You did the right thing. The responsible thing.”

Jensen sighs. Yeah. Yes, he did, didn’t he?

With Jensen and the babies having moved in with Tahmoh into that nice house out in the urbs of the city where Jensen’s parents live, where the Padaleckis live—since, ironically, this is where Tahmoh is from, too—that hotel becomes Jared’s and Jensen’s go-to option, and they do go to frequently thanks to the distance between them having slimmed so drastically. By the third date, Jensen has already perfected his selective amnesia concerning the reality of his marriage, telling himself that Jared has been doing it for years. It can’t be that hard.

Jared huffs, licking his chops and cupping the renewed swell of Jensen’s lower belly as Jensen swings his leg over to straddle him, his hands on Jared’s wonderfully hairy pecs, his taint settling in on the straining shaft of Jared’s even more wonderful cock. The glint in Jared’s eyes as he not-asks, must only look to Jensen and find him smiling to reassure him that this one, again, is his: oh, Jensen wants to do this until one of them dies, until his body’s so worn out it can’t give the Alpha any more babies.

Jared is positively crazy for Jensen, married or not. Jensen loves the possessiveness when they fuck, how neither of them has to say a word to convey what they feel, or wish, or need. It’s actually odd how convenient everything is: Jensen gets away with absolutely everything he wants—husband, lover, babies, career. The latter he scores through a friend of Tahmoh’s who, although Jensen is about ninety percent sure he fucked a bunch of years ago after some college party gone rogue, is not a creepy boss at all; is brilliant, really, and challenges Jensen to get his footing in the job world. She makes him call him ‘Sam’ during private dinners but it’s ‘Mrs. Smith’ in the office, and Tahmoh questions him multiple times if Jensen is really sure this isn’t too weird for him that his close friend is also Jensen’s boss, if it’s not crossing his boundaries. Jensen almost laughs him in the face—it’s a close one.

Jensen does not only feel invincible—he is. The thrill is addictive.

Jared has been susceptible to Jensen’s larger-than-life ego even prior to its upgrade. Now, he can barely get enough of it.

They see each other at every chance they get. They almost get caught one time Jared visits Jensen at the office, I was in the area—just checking in, how’s the kiddos, how’s the husband? Jensen nearly earns himself an aneurysm with how hard he clenches his mouth shut in order to not moan his head off, hoisted up against the corporate bathroom stall wall and Jared slamming into him like he doesn’t care if this shit is gonna induce labor or not. It doesn’t, fortunately. And the poor soul who comes in for a piss and can definitely smell what’s going on in the corner stall doesn’t send any weird blackmail stuff, so: Jensen stays in business. Not only literally.

Business partners look down on him until he opens his mouth. Sam dangles a managerial position in front of him like a damn carrot on a stick, and after this baby, maybe he’ll take a bit of a break and actually put his back into this job and get that damn carrot—if only to stick it to his family and all those assholes at the firm who had long marked him down as useless. Oh, he’s gonna show them all. Just wait until he doesn’t have to pee every three point five minutes anymore.

Dylan takes his time. The labor is no fucking joke. Jensen’s dedication to quit while he’s ahead becomes reaffirmed. They keep him at the hospital for the whole damn week, and although (because?) the little man is smaller and lighter than his sisters were, he’s the fussiest one yet: if he could, he’d be life-wired to Jensen’s tit twenty-four-seven. The first time Tahmoh tries to hold him, half the hospital floor hears all about it. Jared is not any luckier. A true mama’s boy, this one. Just great.

Sam finds a new level of respect for Jensen when she visits one month postpartum, gift-basket in hand and everything. Sure, Jensen might technically have access to a shower, but he prefers (mostly) undamaged hearing to a slightly less severe state of deterioration. The first nights where Dylan beats his record of one hour of continuous sleep (on top of Jensen, mind you), both Jensen and Tahmoh cry with joy. The distance that had ruled Jensen despite hyping himself up makes way for a bond only young parents and soldiers in active war zones might be able to form.

For the very first time, Jensen receives actual, emotional support from a person who is not on his parents’ pay list—a truly formative experience. Jared calls, of course, when Jensen lets him know it’s safe and he’s got a minute, but he can’t come visit, can’t come see the baby or Jensen, not like the first two times where Jensen was still living on his own. And even then, he couldn’t really be there for them; that’s just not how this works. He can’t cut himself in two and Jensen would never demand this. But, Tahmoh: Tahmoh must not sacrifice anything, takes time off work to be with his husband and ‘his’ son. As expected, the Beta has no clue. Jared and he look alike well enough for Dylan’s characteristics to make sense: the big nose, Jensen’s blond hair. A fussy baby like Jensen once was if you believe his mom. Beth is sporting thick, brown curls at this point, and the bets for Hannah are still up. The girls love ‘their’ daddy and all is well. They wouldn’t think to ask for Uncle Jared—a fact Jensen will take to his grave, if he must. Not even in the worst fight will he ever use this against Jared. Jensen might be a failure, but even he can be that sensible.

As Dylan grows out of the worst—he remains clingy, but what three-month-old isn’t—and Jensen’s traumatized body gets used to existing in relative peace, Jensen slowly but surely reintroduces the one or other cup of coffee with Jared here, a rushed bathroom blowjob (also with Jared) there. The so far so low-maintenance Alpha lets Jensen feel just how upset the last months left him. Uhm, welcome to the club? How does he think Jensen felt, wrangling this screeching miniature horror out of him? And whose DNA was involved in fifty percent of the process, huh? Jared scowls, makes Jensen work. God, everyone decided to put him through the grinder…Dylan, Sam, and now even Jared—who is supposed to be the fun part of Jensen’s life, mind you!

Not many can say that Jensen Ackles made actual effort for them in bed. But Jensen’s a disaster in the kitchen, so there’s only one way for him into anyone’s heart. And Jared takes the bait: lets himself be caressed and cooed at and sucked off and whatnot, the whole shebang. Jensen is beyond dignity at this point. He just wants to be put on his back and proven that he’s still good for something, and he’d prefer to exercise said thing for a prolonged period of time and under a level of intensity that helps him forget about his progressively convoluted life. Jared warms to the thought. Warms to the state Dylan left Jensen’s body in, too; genuinely, while Jensen’s confidence still operates under ‘fake it till you make it’.

Jared kisses every inch of him, licks and sucks and nibbles, always careful not to leave any marks—and God, how Jensen wishes that wasn’t necessary. Jared eats him out groaning, coming up only for air and to wax poetic about how much he’s missed this, how much he missed Jensen’s ass and his cunt and the way Jensen’s Omega-sized dick slots so perfectly into the back of his throat.

Jared fingers and screws, less and less inhibited the more he fucks around and finds out. Rolls his eyes when he pushes home, every thick inch of him pillowed soft-soft and wet, a pulsing, raw pink for him to plow away at—and plow away at it he does, enthusiastically so. Soon enough, Jensen regains the same, horny idiot he had charmed years ago by wagging his ass like the whorish babysitter mister Jared P’s dick already knew he needed; it’s all about incentives.

“You look so good like that,” Jared says, knotted and big-spooned up against Jensen’s back. His chin is hooked over Jensen’s shoulder so he can see where he’s pawing the soft-and-softer pouch of Jensen’s lower stomach—and then below, where the clear plastic cage keeps Jensen’s dick compressed small and even more negligible in contrast to Jared’s Alpha monster cock. Jensen laughs, still delirious from the good fuck. His hand layers over Jared’s wrist, the veiny back of his hand, to feel it work.

“Knew you’d like it.”

“And he still hasn’t caught on to it?”

“Who, Tahmoh?” Jensen snorts—licks his lip for the pulling tugs on his cage, the tension in their tie shifting along with Jared’s hips. Locked on Jensen, Jared’s eyes tilt darker yet. “If Ruth came home all dolled up and batting her lashes, explaining that she wants to try ‘something new’, would you start asking questions?”

Jared hums, “You’re such a demon,” in a tone that, in Jensen’s brain, rightfully translates to ‘I love you’. Jared licks his lip, too, still refusing to let the strapped-tight bundle of Jensen’s cock and balls go. Or to stop circling his hips.

A quick kiss to Jensen’s shoulder, one to Jensen’s neck—behind his ear. Jensen’s giggle melts into a soft moan. Jared snuffles Jensen’s hairline. He puts his lips there but doesn’t suck anywhere as hard as they both know he can. Jensen sighs, hot. Still. Again.

“I know we kinda did this for you, but…not gonna lie, it’s starting to fuck with me, too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Jensen swallows. Omegan dicks are not particularly sensitive—most days, getting his tits played with does more for Jensen—but after two weeks of only getting to touch it for cleaning (he gave Tahmoh the second set of keys, of course, and Tahmoh loves being needed), a certain…spike is to be noted. Jensen is highly aware of the off-pulse of his blood wanting to go somewhere it cannot reach. The tingles go straight to his ass and pussy, making those hornier in turn. A vicious cycle. When Jared wedges his arm underneath Jensen’s ribs to get his other hand on his secondary Omega’s tits, Jensen can no longer hold back from trying to hump his hand. Jared chuckles into Jensen’s ear. Jensen cranes his neck to get more kisses licked onto it.

“I love how responsive you are.”

“Hmm.”

“Love how you can’t control yourself. That whatever I tell you to do gets you off…”

“Kinda your fault for having all those dirty fucking ideas…”

“Speaking of…!”

Jensen moans for the implications as well as Jared, rolling them over to pancake Jensen flat between mattress and two-hundred-pound Alpha. Those hands withdraw so Jared can take some of his weight off Jensen. Jared’s legs spread and clamp around Jensen’s hips, giving him a good vantage point to rock their still-solid tie in coaxing, luxurious strokes. Just as blissed as Jensen, Jared huffs, his bearded cheek tucked tight against Jensen’s hot-hot ear.

“I think I should be the only one to get this pussy raw…”

“F-fuck…!”

“He wraps up or he doesn’t get any, Jen.” Jared’s hips draw figure-eights. “Are we clear?”

“Fuck… Y-yes, oh, Jesus Christ, b-but you call m-me evil…!”

“It ain’t evil,” Jared grunts, testing their tie, growing more impatient with every teasing stroke. “It’s just right. It’s your Alpha’s right, baby.”

On the brink of being pulled inside-out, Jensen manages a whimper. A weak yes, but the pillow might swallow most of that.

One of the many amazing things about Jensen’s husband is that, for a Beta, he is incredibly approachable when it comes to sex. It goes without saying that Jensen wouldn’t have tied the (unfortunately only proverbial, but Jared might have actually broken up with him if he had mated another Alpha) knot with a prude, but Tahmoh has beyond-decent sexual appetite and stamina. He entertains whatever Jensen introduces in the bedroom, be it cock extensions, dildos, vibrators—roleplaying, which is how Jensen sold the chastity thing, or just the simple joy of following his husband’s rarely sugarcoated orders.

As big-dicked and confident the Beta is about Jensen’s chastity thing, just as obvious is that Tahmoh has a submissive vein to him. Jensen already knows how he’ll ‘service’ his husband for their first anniversary, considering how hard the Beta had come on that dildo they originally bought for Jensen…so, naturally, when a dewy-eyed, gleaming Jensen comes home that early evening, showered and scrubbed clean of any evidence and the scent blockers doing the rest, and with a soft voice announces to dear hubby that he has to, “discuss something. In the bedroom. Just you and me,” Tahmoh falls over his own feet to oblige. So eager, so sweet. Jensen would feel sorry if it didn’t all fall so perfectly into place for him.

They sit down on their marital bed. The staff changed the sheets this morning and the until-now-untouched, perfect bedding creases under their weight. The corner of Tahmoh’s mouth quirks as Jensen’s hand finds the very top of his thigh.

“You know, I’ve been thinking.”

“During Yoga class? Really?” Tahmoh smirks, so Jensen can fall along.

“Oh, totally. Bending and stretching on the floor with like, thirty other people, who wouldn’t get horny from that?”

Tahmoh chuckles, scoots closer. His hand mirrors Jensen’s, on Jensen’s leg. Another good thing about the cage is that, no matter how hard and long Jensen lets himself get fucked by Jared, just a bit of motivation will unearth just a little more appetite in him. He doesn’t have to pretend to be aroused with Tahmoh—not that he ever intended on starting that shit. No, Tahmoh is fine with being told ‘no’ and cuddling instead. Bless Betas, seriously.

“So, my cage—right?”

“Right.” Tahmoh nods, the pink already high in his cheeks. Gosh, he’s so cute when he knows that Jensen’s attention shines upon him exclusively.

“So… How about we pretend that, obviously, since we’re dating in secret and all that, and my folks can’t know…you also aren’t allowed to come in me?”

“Fuck…”

Low, Jensen continues, “That we gotta use condoms, every time,” and he might as well have a spinning spiral on his forehead the way Tahmoh literally begins to salivate and zone out from the movie his brain must be playing under the inspiration of his hot, horny husband… Dude’s too easy; how is Jensen supposed to not exploit that? Jensen’s naughty little smile is a hundred percent genuine. “It’s almost like you’re in some sort of chastity as well. I think you’d enjoy that.”

~

“Did my homework, sir.”

Not only Jared’s neck goes instantly stiff.

Jensen whips out his phone as soon as the hotel door has fallen shut. Grinning from ear to ear, he walks backwards just to enjoy the sight of Jared, folding his glasses into his jacket’s chest pocket and pulling said jacket off himself, coming right after Jensen.

“You know, I might’ve picked the wrong career. I ain’t too bad of a cameraman…”

Jensen lets his phone be snatched right out of his loose grip. Watching the Alpha’s nostrils flaring and the color spreading from his neck, his cheeks, Jensen chuckles and drapes himself onto the bed, up on his elbows. The sound from Tahmoh’s and his home movie layer sweet with Jared’s tremble. Jensen thumbs open the first button of his shirt…the second…the third.

He wriggles out of his jacket, tosses it.

“It’s bigger than I thought,” Jared says, still not acknowledging the off-screen Omega, who splutters. Jared’s phone-free hand is curled into a tight fist, dangles next to his hip.

“Didn’t marry him for the cute face, y’know.”

Jared’s glare pans to Jensen. Who snorts, loosens his tie while video-Jensen moans, “Oh, yes, oh, fuck, baby,” every word accentuated with a sloppy, sucking squelch, the tap of video-Tahmoh’s balls against his taint. The jangle of lock against plastic. “Don’t gimme that look. Filming it was your idea.” Jensen nods to the phone still in Jared’s hand. “There’s more. C’mere, I wanna see, too.”

How clueless Jared was about how seeing Jensen mounted by someone else would affect him is, to say the least, debatable. It hits him harder than expected, though, regardless of how you look at it… Good thing that a jealous Alpha is a possessive Alpha, is an Alpha who reams you so hard you have a one-on-one meeting with God himself. Jensen moans and screams so loud and long he ends up hoarse by the end of their little afternoon tea. While Jared uses the en-suite shower, Jensen is still trying to regain sensation in his fucking legs. Holy shit. Yeah… Yeah, this does it for them, no fucking doubt.

Getting into bed with his husband becomes that much more of a thrill for Jensen. Not only does he get fucked on the regular by not one but two passionate lovers, but the constant danger of being found out, the nothing-like-it rush when, again and again, he isn’t being found out…! If Jensen had known Mr. Cool And Collected would get so absolutely feral about it, Jensen would have married years ago. And Tahmoh gets off on the side of the game Jensen lets him see, too—nobody’s getting hurt, everybody gets amazing sex. It’s the perfect set-up. Jensen couldn’t have dreamed up a more satisfactory, exciting sex life for himself. Both his partners godify him, his body, his insatiable sex drive, his inventive ideas. For maybe the first time in his life, Jensen feels sexually and spiritually fulfilled, understood. Every need that pops up can be solved from at least one of the men at his disposal. No more waiting, yearning, hoping. Jensen gets off whenever he wants with whoever he wants. That the latter could be narrowed down to only two individuals still feels crazy to him. Switching partners used to be his standard (the only semi-constant being Mr. P, eventually, of course). Adulthood is fucking wild. And here Jensen thought he was done developing back when teen-him presented as an Omega.

Hooking Jensen’s phone to the hotel TV becomes part of foreplay. Jared doesn’t even look at the screen that much anymore, at least not as much as he used to: Jensen, on the other hand, finds his focus drawn to his ‘work’, going as far as insisting to be fucked doggy-style so he can have the dual pleasure of watching himself get fucked while actually getting fucked.

He doesn’t bother to wipe the drool from his chin, caught in the haze of getting slapped into from behind while Tahmoh sweet-talks his pussy on screen: you’re so pink, it’s so soft, I could fuck you all day, just to get his head bent back with the yank of that fist in his hair. Jensen’s lashes flutter as his eyes roll, as Jared grunts and groans and grumbles, “Mine…mine,” over and over, possibly unaware of doing it, led along by his Alpha instincts.

The merciless pounding into all that deep softness Tahmoh only reaches with artificial extensions contrasts so hot with on-screen Jensen’s asshole being spread by two thumbs, the shy dip of a condom-wrapped Beta cockhead; the drawn-out, wet squelches every time Tahmoh pulls back just to slide back in with still-low moans from both Jensen and himself. Jensen doesn’t have to lift a finger to get bullied right into that rippling orgasm he had to wait all day for, that makes him choke up and then yelp as Jared rides him even harder as a reward, ignores the increased resistance.

His glans rams into the already-taxed back of Jensen’s pussy like it’s trying to punch right through Jensen’s cervix, has every inch of Jensen’s pussy and asshole clinging and dragging on every perfect, fat vein, gets himself milked on every snapping, brutal thrust—he doesn’t let up, as if he’s determined to defy Jensen’s birth control. Ever since they made Tahmoh use condoms with Jensen, the Alpha has grown even more obsessed with creaming ‘his’ Omega up as well and often as his refractory period allows. Which is, as it is for any Alpha, stupid-often. Jensen and he make sure to always tip extra generously for how ruined they leave the sheets after most visits.

Jared’s knot sets in halfway to Jensen’s hands-free orgasm number three, leaves the Omega keening and hung dry, his holes spasming on the solid, heavy ball that pumps to full-size just-behind Jensen’s asshole, effectively locking Jared’s cock in the wringing y-split inside, flexing against that clinging, secondary sphincter leading to Jensen’s pussy—where it empties the first of possibly several loads, if they time it correctly. Helpless to do anything but be pumped full and clench on the satisfying weight of that cock and knot inside of him, Jensen mewls into the sheets, barely able to keep his ass in the air, drooling and craning his neck to keep watching Tahmoh and him on the TV.

Jared says nothing as his balls clench rhythmically, his hands wrung airtight around Jensen’s hips. He might be watching, now, too, just as stuck as Jensen is. The Alpha grunts his moans, choked-up and choppy, still out of breath. Jensen’s back flinches with every drop of sweat pearling off that surely deep-red, drenched face.

“Your parents don’t know how much of a slut you are, do they?”

“P-please…no, please don’t tell anyone…!”

“I’m already so nice not to come inside you, and you’re still trying to make demands? Is that your way of thanking me, slut?”

“N-no, please, please, I’m sorry, I, I’ll do whatever you say—!”

“We should get you a belt to go with that cute little cage of yours… P-push a dildo all the way up your ass and lock that in, see how much of a straight face you can keep at the family dinner table with that…!”

Although Jensen knew the line was coming, he groans not any quieter than Jared.

~

Between raising three beautiful children, a demanding job, domesticating a husband and entertaining a sidepiece, three years race by before Jensen can as much as take a deep breath. Beth’s first day of school is due in a couple weeks. Everyone is, of course, very excited. Yes…everyone.

Jensen grumbles, “You got the pre-k ones,” and Jared insists, “That’s different,” and Jensen clicks his tongue and sighs, and if they hadn’t already fucked, getting himself up and out of bed might have been less of an attractive option. Weak planning, Mr. P. Jensen pointedly ignores the Alpha calling and then scrambling after him. Jensen turns on the shower and squirts some scent-neutralizing shampoo into his hand.

Over the rush of water, Jensen calls, “Where do you even keep them? You got a special album titled ‘my wife’s friends’ son’s kids’?” Jared scowls at him through the glass partition. Jensen snorts, kneads his hair, shakes his head.

“Come on, y’all don’t need every single copy…”

“She’s got grandparents, you know. And great-grandparents!” Jensen shuts off the water to move onto skincare. Well aware that he’ll be too fucked-out to bother after their fuck-a-thons, he made it a habit to place his mountain of products in the shower right after entering the room (and, more importantly: before removing the first piece of clothing). “The way Pappy’s been riding our asses about school choices, he’s not gonna let anyone sleep before he’s got every single shot of her in that fucking uniform in A1-size.” Jared’s glare wavers at that. He crosses his arms in front of his chest, still not very far from his not-so-little-anymore Aiden’s absolutely insufferable stubbornness. Jensen scoffs. He focuses on massaging the revitalizing cleanser into his cheeks.

Jared joins him unasked. Lets his forehead drop against the back of Jensen’s wet head and mumbles, “Have you thought about that barbecue yet?” and Jensen grunts, ignores the soft cup of those hands on his shoulders. “You guys wouldn’t have to stay for long. Just an hour. Everyone’s gonna be there… It’s not like y’all would be special guests…”

“He’s always the special guest,” Jensen grumbles. Formerly-dry Jared startles for the water being turned back on. As Jensen’s shoulders move too much with him washing off various soaps, Jared curls his arms around Jensen’s middle instead. “You know how kids are at that age. Getting all of them dressed up, strapping them into the car seats…! Do you want me to have a screaming fit?”

“No…”

“Then stop being such a fucking pussy.”

“I just wanna see them again… Is that too much to ask?”

With another sharp sigh, Jensen hands the shampoo bottle to the plastered-to-his-back idiot. Alphas are supposed to be knot-driven sex machines, not…goddamn whiny, sentimental ‘boo hoo I wanna see my biological babies grow up’ softies. Right from the start, it had been obvious that that would not be within the realm of possibilities for them—Jensen wouldn’t have a partner to fall back on raising the kids and Jared would not be involved with any child that doesn’t bear Ruth’s name on the birth certificate. Quid pro fucking quo. But, sure, now that the little ones are out of the worst (which Jensen took upon himself without complaint), Daddy wants to have his cake and eat it, too.

Jensen shouldn’t have sent him the kids’ pre-k portraits and that Easter family card. Give him one finger and he’ll take the whole fucking arm…!

“Are you actively trying to blow up your life? I swear to God, sometimes it’s hard to tell. I have no clue how Ruth hasn’t killed you yet.”

Done with most of himself, Jensen turns around to press a cheer-up-kiss to the side of Jared’s mouth. He helps with the shampoo and gets huffing and puffing. Ever since Dylan, Jensen’s immunity on the puppy dog eye front has received vigorous training. Jared hasn’t quite gotten that memo.

Jared repeats, “Just an hour, Jen,” and Jensen rolls his eyes, snaps, “Oh my God,” and, “FINE!” The loofah gets handled rougher than it deserves. Jensen smacks it into Jared’s stupid, huge hand before he turns around to offer his back.

Jensen snarls, “You better know what you’re doing,” while Jared goes to work with the loofah and is quiet in the evil, proud way little Glen would be after manipulating his babysitter into letting him have dessert early.

~

From what Jensen gathers, Jared handles the separation from his illegitimate pups as well as expected. The grapevine tells tales about the Alpha taking some steps back at work, that he engages more with the community, started coaching that baseball little league…not because Tahmoh can’t stop going on and on about how crazy Beth is over the sport, surely. Oh, if it wasn’t all so pathetic, Jensen would cut the poor man some slack. Ruth is doing incredible for herself with her realtor career; Jared had gotten that promotion but it had been obvious from day one that he 1) did it for his wife and only his wife and that he 2) was struggling to keep up as is. His company’s kind and understands, five kids, Mr. Padalecki, that is quite the challenge at home, and your youngest started elementary school last year? Of course, take your time, we’ve got your back… One can only imagine how much longer Jensen would be on Sam’s good side if he started demanding extra time off for the kids.

Jensen does not mention it. Would have other priorities if they even saw each other, but Jared’s busy being a homebody and Jensen’s got his own load to carry. Ever since scoring that promotion of his own, work has taken over close to every atom of Jensen not already hogged by the kids (Tahmoh is humble and will, most days, be delighted by a quickie or Jensen falling asleep in his arms within two fucking seconds). When Jensen texts with Jared, he doesn’t bring up sex just to see if Jared will initiate something, but, nah. Jensen ditches a bunch of dates they magically end up scheduling, says he’s too tired or ‘not in the mood’ (fuck you, Mr. Perfect Family). Jensen can tell that, although he never confronts Jensen, Jared knows something’s up. But he can only pour himself into so many cups. Jensen doesn’t need him. It’s fine.

That one family tea time later, though, Jensen cannot text Jared time and location soon enough.

As Jared closes that hotel room door behind himself, Jensen opens with, “He figured us out. My grandpa,” like a bandaid, and if he wasn’t already feeling so sick himself, watching Jared go from giddy to absolutely devastated within two seconds would do it. Jensen swallows, his numb hands in his lap. Seated on one of the two armchairs by the window, not on the bed. Disorientation makes Jared’s steps sloppy. He’s not looking at Jensen. His hand raises while his brow furrows deeper and deeper. (God, Jensen had nearly forgotten how handsome the guy could be… Suit, no tie, his hair done… But, not now, Ackles.)

“Okay… Hold on…”

“Private investigators and shit. I told him not to get involved, but he’s a relentless pain in the ass. Once he found out I wasn’t a slut and that the kids at least don’t all have different fathers, all he had left to do was put two and two together.”

Jared is at a loss for words. Jensen suppresses a grimace. No way this crap’s gonna give him a headache and wrinkles.

“He’s not going to do anything—he just wants to talk.”

“He… What?!”

“It’ll be fine. Just show up, let him do his thing. It’s all gonna be fine, I promise.”

Carroll is an Omega who prefers to be safe rather than sorry, which, albeit annoying (to say the least, under the light of current events), proves handy if you have no qualms about getting into his staff’s pants for access to the security camera stream (past-Jensen was a rascal). Now-Jensen cradles a huge glass of red wine in one hand, his chin in the other. His laptop screen hasn’t come up with anything new since the recording ended. A silent dare for Jensen to either move on or…! Jensen sighs, ushers the cursor back to the ‘replay’ button and clicks it. Again.

As video-Jared lets himself into Grandpa Shaffner’s study, IRL-Jensen grimaces and helps himself to another big gulp of wine, one arm over his uncomfortable middle. The most powerful Omega of Jensen’s entire family and Jensen’s six-foot-four chew toy get the displeasure of fitting into a single frame. Jared sits down with a minimal greeting—Pappy just glares. Pixels be damned but Jensen sees that.

“My grandson is reckless—and impulsive. And while it is not my business what he gets up to in his private time, I’m sure you understand that I want to make sure my inheritance goes into the right hands—my family’s hands. Tahmoh is their father, and that’s how we’ll keep it. Officially.”

“Sir, I assure you: I’m not trying to get into anything—”

“Then I’m sure you have no issue putting that in writing.”

“Sir—”

Jared’s devastation peaks as the papers gets passed across the table. Wringing his hands, his shoulders curving forward—Jensen swallows. Wine, because he knows what’s coming. Jared, after zoning out staring at the papers, shoves them back towards Jensen’s grandfather who, despite old age and the understandable softness that comes with that, has been staring multiple holes and daggers into the man at this point. With his back to the camera up in the corner by the door, Jensen watches Jared’s hair bounce as he shakes his head.

“I can’t do this. I can’t. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, but—you have my word, nobody’s gonna hear it from me. My wife, my kids—I wouldn’t hurt them like that, ever. I have just as much interest as you in keeping all this private. Completely private. On my damn grave, sir; but I’m begging you, don’t make me sign them away. ’Cause I can’t, and I won’t.”

Jensen stops the clip before the next words can come from Pappy Carroll’s mouth; groaning, he rubs his face, stares blankly at the screen, the stilled video. He huffs. More wine.

Jensen switches back to the spreadsheet he had been working on before.

~

Jared doesn’t bring up the convo with Pappy. And why would he, unaware of the fact that Jensen eavesdropped? No, he’d always… Bad news, especially if it only concerns himself, Jared for once isn’t happy to share. And he’s not wrong. There’s nothing to talk about, really. Nothing Jared said in that room was news to Jensen. The fact that Pappy begrudgingly agreed, though: Jensen’s still reeling from that. (‘This is not over’ blah blah blah; Carroll let Jared walk, and that’s that.)

The mutual flailing of course draws Jensen right back to where it always leads him: straight into late-night texting, into distraction and daydreams. With the threat that had been lingering all those years finally having whacked them over the head, all that tension gone, Jared apparently rediscovered the good side of their affair. He flirts back, entertains Jensen’s horny rambles. The heat’s back on. That first date after…God, months? Has it been months? For that first date, Jensen pulls all the stops.

The perfume Jared likes, the suit, the underwear (or, lack thereof). Hair and nails and a facial and as fate decides it, his cycle is at that prime spot where his libido resembles a black hole more than anything else…! Even if Jared’s expressions weren’t so colorful, the Alpha’s scent-response would let Jensen know exactly how fucked up he’s got the man.

Jensen comes up for air with the wettest choke so far—pumping his fist where his throat just has been, he groans, lets Jared wipe and finger his mouth. The hotel carpet is so soft Jensen has no qualms about kneeling on it. The towel he put under himself is just a wise precaution.

Jared’s fingers stumble as they shove into Jensen’s hair. Those lean hips squirm and, once Jensen’s eyes pan up to Jared’s face, his hand wrings tight just under the head of Jared’s cock, perfectly still. Jared groans. Jensen tuts, his eyes still strictly on the Alpha’s twisted face, those eyes shut in that so-close bliss. Jensen sticks his tongue out to kitten-lick at the steady well of precome. Not so pre anymore, judging by Jared’s body language.

“Nuh-uh-uh… Told you, you’re not wasting any of it.”

“Fuck, just…!”

Jared whimpers. Jensen watches the slow, twisting tugs of his fist on Jared’s monster of a cock. How taut the skin pulls, how the whole thing strains in his grip.

“Oh, don’t gimme that look. This is only the third edge. We both know you can do better than that.”

“J-Jen…”

“You know where that big fucking load is supposed to go, right? So be a good, patient boy, and we’ll get it there,” and another long lap across the sensitive head, a tremble from head to toe. Jared’s barely tugging at him, well aware that this is the part of the game where he gets to sit back in this fucking chair and lets Jensen do his thing. “Or: be a bitch and all you get to stick in me is that big, nice tongue. Eating me out all night, s’ that what you want, hm?”

“God,” Jared grits, now hiding behind one of his huge hands—Jensen snickers, so fucking high on having all this back. “I’d—anything, baby, I’d… I…!”

Jensen purrs, “You’ve always been so good about begging,” as he rocks to his feet, does not waste any time straddling Jared in the (also towel-covered—hey, they’re not animals) hotel armchair. Jared’s arms fly to wrap around Jensen, his paws big and possessive on Jensen’s ass, pulling it—where Jensen’s lowering it to, anyway, under a shivering moan from the Alpha. Into Jared’s hair, Jensen reminds, “Don’t come,” and Jared makes a strangled noise. Jensen rocks his hips, lets all that cock slide between his cheeks, through the thick, body-warm slick that collected here. Jensen’s eyes flutter half-shut under the delicious drag of all those prominent veins, the flared edge of the head catching on his hole but not quite making it in there without help. Jared gasps, “God,” and, “You’re so fucking wet, fuck,” and catches Jensen off-guard with that suck-and-bite to his nipple while Jensen tries to get his hand between them so he can keep Jared’s dick steady to… Oh, “Fuck yeah,” and more rolling eyes; the delicious pleasure-pain of something this wide grinding past his sphincter and not stopping for anything, because Jensen doesn’t want it to.

Jensen removes his hand and rocks on the first few inches like they deserve it, lets them carve him open. Jared is reduced to gasping and holding on, his jaw dropped and his eyes all glassy. Jensen watches closely for those needy tremors when he grinds his hips low enough to make Jared’s glans bump up against that second sphincter to Jensen’s pussy.

As expected, Jared’s ass tries to lift off the armchair, and they both know the move has nothing to do with manual input. Jared blurts, “F-fuck,” and nearly chokes on his spit as Jensen lets out a distracted laugh, chases that half-part around the very tip of that huge cock. Three natural births and he’s still got it…! Thank fuck for all the postpartum courses.

“Daddy wants in there so bad, don’t he?”

Jared’s only response is a whimper and him, smushing his face (and mouth) into Jensen’s tits. Jensen laughs his moan, keeps rocking, careful not to take Jared even one hair of an inch deeper. Jensen’s throat clicks as he swallows the high moan that wants to escape upon Jared beginning to lap and nurse at Jensen’s sensitive tits.

“You knot early and I…I throw you out. You got that…? This is mine…”

Jared offers no verbal or nonverbal resistance. Just keeps sucking, hollows his cheeks and lets Jensen weave his fingers into his hair, lets him brush it off of his fivehead. Jensen watches, mesmerized. He lifts up to feel the wonderful tug on his asshole around that flared cockhead. Back in—Jared exhales wetly through his nose.

“…and I get to use it like I want. As long as I want.”

Jared blabbers, “Yes, yeah,” as Jensen slowly but ultimately lowers himself all the way, gets one hand taken off his ass to cup and tug his boob instead, Jared’s mouth still wetly sucking the other while every last brain cell of Jensen’s joins in on the vibration of full. Full full full, all that cock crushes him open inside, nestles fat and heavy into the very back of Jensen’s pussy where Tahmoh only makes it with artificial help; but the Alpha is bare and hot in him, all natural, made to make Jensen feel like this (complete). Jensen holds him there, circles his hips in a slow, mindless pattern… God, he’s stretched out so far Jared has not an inch to be knocked around freely. Jensen’s pussy cradles him up. Like it always has.

“T-touch my… Fuck, yeah…!” The cage didn’t go back on after Dylan’s birth, there was just too much going on. And Jensen doesn’t need his dick touched to get off (pfsh) but, oh, it makes him clench up inside so good… “Okay… Okay, good boy; you think you earned this fuck? You wanna have at it, yeah?” and then Jensen squeals because Jared stands up just like that, Jensen still on him and scrambling to hold on, to wrap his limbs around the whole-body-strain that is Jared’s not-even-shaking muscles—every step jostles ten-plus inches of prime Alpha cock in Jensen’s guts, and the relief after being lowered to the bed doesn’t last long: Jared takes Jensen by his word and, after being denied and slowed back down from that close-close high time after time, has at it, all right. Jensen shouts and shudders under the slapping thrusts—Jared’s brutal Alpha nature takes over full-throttle. Jensen missed it so much.

Jared bends him in the middle until only Jensen’s head and shoulders bear into the violently bouncing mattress. He pumps into Jensen with full, lunging thrusts that send sparks into Jensen’s vision and punch out moan after yelped moan out of him. Jensen’s arms and legs wind tighter around his lover, his ankles crossed over Jared’s mid-back so Jared can still rear back as far as he wants. The Alpha’s full, heavy balls are already pulled tight and firm and thwack down on Jensen’s tailbone with every squelching-messy downstroke.

“This what you want, huh? What you need, Jen?”

“Yesyesyes, yes, ah—”

“Got me so close, gonna cream you so fucking full…! Missed my knot?”

Jensen sobs, “Yes,” and gets a slight change in angle for it that pumps Jared’s cock straight into his g-spot. Jared shortens his thrust to really zero in on it, drops his hips in sharp, digging motions that have Jensen so fucked up he nearly pisses himself—wouldn’t be the first time, with Jared being like this. This unhinged, screwing Jensen like his personal pocket pussy he doesn’t have to hold out on with, doesn’t have to be gentle with. Jensen mewls, “Yes, yes, do it, do it,” his cunt drawing up, helpless to getting fucked straight into a spectacular orgasm. Sex with Jared always seems so inconsequential. Jensen might as well be masturbating as effortlessly as the Alpha gets him off, guaranteed, every time.

“Mmmh,” Jared growls, switching the angle again to work himself easiest, but that doesn’t matter with Jensen already rippling inside, moaning his head off as Jared prolongs the pleasure without even trying. “Tell me you love it… Tell me how much you fucking love getting bred like this, baby…”

Jensen does his best to gulp and whimper his responses—yes, your hole, your pussy, Alpha, it’s yours, come deep in me, fill my pussy with your come, I love it, I love you—until, finally, Jared’s stamina meets its limits. Jensen swears he can feel the first pump of blood into that soon-thick knot at the base of Jared’s Alpha cock; feels Jared’s breath catching and then escalating, his needy little grunts as he just drives home and home, doesn’t give Jensen’s pussy a second of rest. The climax aftershocks turn everything even rawer, as if every nerve in Jensen’s body is wired to where he’s getting pounded—where Jared’s hips push forward to give him a chance to lock in. With a groan from Jared, the first throb of that knot and those balls, that first spurt of come shoots deep into Jensen’s pussy, and Jensen moans along because he feels that, too. Held open painfully wide on that knot, Jensen is stuck throbbing and clenching around it, Jared’s massive weight holding him down. After months of being extra careful about protection with Tahmoh, Jensen finally gets to have gush after gush of highly potent, oatmeal-thick Alpha come emptied right where it’s supposed to be—there’s so much it leaks around the milking second sphincter separating his cunt from his ass, will creep deep into him there, too… The mental image of Jared’s flexing cock creaming up all that pink would have been enough to send Jensen back over that lingering edge, but Jared chooses that exact moment to tilt is hips for more comfort which stirs the thick, kicking pole of his cock inside the already-crammed clutch of Jensen’s hypersensitive insides, so—Jensen comes so hard that Jared moans from it, that he starts rocking their tie before he’s even remotely done coming.

“God, you’re so perfect,” he slurs right into Jensen’s ear while Jensen is still spasming through back-to-back orgasm after orgasm—the constant tug and pressure on his sphincters would drive him crazy regardless of the state of his cycle, but on these days even Tahmoh can easily make him come several times in a row… Needless to say, Jared’s horse cock would be more than enough even when static. Grinding as it does, though, Jensen sobs. Unrelenting, Jared catches his mouth in an open, sloppy kiss.

“Mmmmh, feel so good on me… It’s like you wanna milk me dry, ‘s that it? Every single drop’s supposed to be fed right into this slutty little pussy… Only cream it’s gonna get, isn’t that right? All mine… My beautiful, sloppy little baby…!”

Reduced to nodding and open tears, Jensen for once has nothing to correct.

~

Of course, the Padaleckis show up to that one campaign event Jensen doesn’t expect them at: early Saturday (more expensive babysitting rates), formal dress code (Jared hates ties), mostly boring (but powerful) old people brown-nosing each other (okay…kinda Ruth’s playground)…

Up on the little town hall podium, Jensen’s eyes are soft on Jared in the crowd just as Tahmoh announces loud and proud, “We’re pregnant again,” so, conveniently, he can feel that pit of dread opening up in his stomach at the devastation in Jared’s face while the applause and cheers around them erupts. One juice-only flute pinched in his grip, Jensen feels himself smile and curls his arm around his husband who squeezes him close, and he’s not looking directly at Jared anymore. God, could he pull a quick slip into the kitchen, get into the damn champagne? He’ll just excuse himself for the restrooms, surely, nobody would even notice.

Jensen doesn’t end up doing that. Doesn’t end up drinking or eating much at all, this pregnancy, because nothing will quite stay down in the first trimester. His doc pulls him out of work during the second and he spends his own birthday and the weeks around it flat in bed. The kids and Tahmoh take turns doting on him, and, yes, it’s overly sweet, but Jensen is aware: this is it. This is the very obvious sign that he has to quit doing this shit. Karma or not, his body can’t take another of Jared’s babies. Maybe not anyone’s. Jensen’s not even in his thirties yet—well, four is a good number.

Jared’s texts stay sparse and practical. For a bed-selfie with the three pups, Jensen receives the first emoji in months plus a meek ‘how are you doing?’. Jensen understands—Jared has Ruth’s kids, all of them old enough to actually do something with. Jared’s at a different theme park or sports game or kiddie birthday every weekend. Aiden’s almost finished with high school… Jesus Christ.

Whatever Jared expected before waltzing into the nursery slash master bedroom of the Penikett household after Jensen’s text apparently was not the sight—the scent—of another Jared Junior. The idiot nearly drops the fucking flowers, but Jensen is too wrung-out to mock him. Not even a full day after Anthony’s birth, he’s surprised he manages to roll his eyes and beckon the Alpha closer. Suffice to say, Jared nearly falls over his own feet to meet who Jensen and Tahmoh decided should be named after Tahmoh’s dad, with this most probably being the last opportunity of contributing the honor.

Jensen mumbles, “You made that one time count, I guess.”

Stunned with tears and the softness of his son’s cheek against his gentle knuckle, Jared gets out nothing beyond a sniffle. Under the attention, Tony weakly squirms on Jensen’s chest, exhausted from the birth as well. No hospital this time since Tahmoh knows excellent doctors and midwives (he knows everyone, really) and ‘my mom had me at home and I always thought it was such a magical experience from how they talked about it’. Just in time with Jared taking a shaky, wet exhale, Jensen’s husband returns with a round of drinks and snacks. Jared scrambles to get up from the edge of the bed; Tahmoh smiles as he passes him.

“Hey there, pal. You met the little man yet?”

“Congratulations,” Jared says, knuckling his eye. Jensen busies himself with adjusting the now-fussy newborn. “He’s beautiful. I’m so happy for you guys.”

“He looks just like my dad, it’s so crazy. It’s like he knew.”

Tahmoh crawls into the nest of a bed they made for this very purpose, and if Jensen had it in him, he’d blush from the embarrassment to be seen this soft. This bloated and weak and cared-for, sheepishly mumbling, “Thank you, babe,” whilst accepting the soup-in-a-cup, putting Jared’s baby to nurse.

“Of course.”

Tahmoh beams, nestles in. God. Jensen can’t even look at Jared right now.

Tahmoh marvels, “He’s amazing, isn’t he?” and brushes Tony’s little cheek the same way Jared had done it a moment ago. “I mean, Dylan was, too, of course… But it’s just different when it’s your own, you know?”

“Oh, yeah,” Jared says, nodding, somewhere. “Totally.”

“Hungry little caterpillar. Just like his siblings were,” Tahmoh coos.

Jensen wishes the soup wasn’t at drinking temperature so it would actually scald him while Tahmoh giggles, so full of love and just the absolute sweetest, and Jensen is the worst. Is the actual devil incarnate, and thank God he can just blame the emotions on the general chaos of birth when the tears shoot in and roll down his cheeks. The guys don’t even notice it, at first, too mesmerized by the wildly nursing Tony. The dark, full tuft of hair on his huge-little head.

~

After weighing the pros and cons of getting it over with now versus after breastfeeding the everloving shit out of Tony for another two years (if his siblings were of any indication), Jensen gladly opts for having his tubes tied half a year postpartum. Recovery comes comparatively easy and the side effects hit him not nearly as violently as they could have: sure, his hormones go mayhem, and then he goes so depressed he doesn’t leave the house for a month straight, but it could be worse. When his libido slams back into him three months post-surgery, Jensen’s decision is reaffirmed. All the sex, no repercussions—just like he wanted. No more semi-planned accidents. Just good ole rough, satisfying minutes that leave him a little more relaxed, a little less insane. Tahmoh is crazy over him more than ever, now that Jensen had ‘his’ son. Jensen can pride himself on turning this traditional, proper Beta into a territorial bastard.

“You’re so wet,” Tahmoh moans, rocks deep and steady and his arm flexes as he shoves Jensen’s knee a little closer to Jensen’s shoulder, and Jensen sees—stars, and nods, and gulps, lets himself get kissed long and sloppy. The curtains still drawn, Tony in the adjacent room, the other pups still asleep… It’s a cozy winter morning, the decorations plenty all over the house. If Tahmoh had his way, mistletoe would dangle from every square inch of ceiling. The rhythmic clatter of the metal lock on the plastic of Jensen’s cock cage though is the kind of romance both of them can dig.

Jensen groans, “You, too,” and Tahmoh groans back, slaps his hips forward faster, tucks his face into the crook of Jensen’s shoulder—blankets him more, bends him tighter in the middle. Jensen’s eyes roll and he clings to his mate—doesn’t have to think of Jared to enjoy it, the way Tahmoh’s been acting, lately. Almost makes Jensen regret not being able to potentially refresh the Beta’s joy over a biological child…only almost, though. The whole ‘I made you have surgery to turn you into my personal sex toy’ roleplay is really, really doing it for Tahmoh. And for Jensen. Hell, their marriage is the best it’s ever been—emotionally, sexually, financially…! Jensen whines as the constant pounding to his g-spot leads him straight to that hands-free orgasm Tahmoh so diligently works him up to every single time they fuck, now. Sometimes even multiple ones per session. But this morning, it’s just a quickie; Tony will need his milk and the others will wake up soon, and all that is fine. Would be fine even if Jensen hadn’t scheduled that Zen meditation workshop across town for the late afternoon.

Jensen is mentally already grinding on Jared’s fat knot on this supreme, clean hotel bed as Jared says, “She knows.”

Jensen blinks, swallows.

God. Okay, his arousal isn’t going anywhere.

This is…uncomfortable.

“Okay?”

Jensen rubs the inside of Jared’s thigh, perched on the hotel bed like an idiot. He licks his lip, blinks more. Blinks at the father of his children, the sharp, familiar face of him.

“Okay…so?”

“She just knows. Might have known for a while.”

“Okay.”

“We talked about it.”

“…”

“She didn’t kill me,” Jared says.

“I noticed,” Jensen says.

They look at each other for a while. Jensen might not be able to fuck himself out of this one, and the realization hits…weird. Hits off-center, graze shot, and he has to swallow again. Over those oh-so casual jeans, he cups Jared’s nuts, because why not? Might be the last time he gets to. That dick is swollen and hot just from them sitting close, from the vague promise of Jensen’s pussy waiting for it. Jensen wants to cry. It’s not fair.

He begins, “So, we’re done?” and maybe he says it with too much weight or his voice breaks because Jared blurts, “Baby, no, of course not,” without a hint of hesitation, and that sends Jensen choking up for real. “Hey, it’s—hey, hey there… No, don’t cry, I—shit, I should have—written this down or something, oh my God—she’s—baby, she’s okay, we’re okay… Not cheering, of course, but she’ll be fine, she loves you and she loves the babies and it’s all gonna be—oh, God, you’re scaring me, please stop crying… Please, baby, come on, I had no idea you…! That it means so much to you, I thought you’d know…”

But Jensen bawls, and he had it coming. Can’t stop it, now that the dam broke—years worth of dread and mourning and tension bleed from him as he sobs and sobs, cradled and rocked, a miserable, curled-up pile in his Alpha’s arms. They lay down, and that helps—helps Jensen’s stupid body to remind him what he wants, what he needs to make all this better. It’s all right. It’s okay. He’s gonna stay, Jared is gonna stay—you’re not losing him. The kids are not losing their dad.

Jared blurts, “Wow,” for getting his pants unzipped, for a sniffling Jensen to reach right in there and tug him out, rolling on top of him. “You recover—fast…!”

Jensen croaks, “Don’t act surprised now,” and Jared just huffs against his tongue in reply, his eyes drawing shut, his big hand—roaming, cupping. A shoulder, an ass. Jensen makes it good, writhes his thigh tight up against those balls. He frees those, too, eventually; worms down to lap and suck at them, the tears only reluctantly drying on his cheeks, even after wiping them away.

“Oh my God,” he hears, throaty, wrung-out. Jared’s hands find their way into Jensen’s hair, help him smush his nose even snugger up under Jared’s cock, Jensen’s cheeks bulged and flushed as he works, as he grunts with the stretch and effort. Belly down, he drives his crotch against the bed, the inseam of his slacks. Jared holds him down, mindlessly, so used to Jensen’s forgiving lung capacity that it relaxes Jensen along with him. Pulled into that good, deep mind space where there is only Alpha and cock and balls and come, the warm, hungry pulse of Jensen’s backside, the wet clench of where all this weight Jensen’s massaging in his big, stupid mouth is gonna spill into, soon… Yes, yes; that is all Jensen wants, right now. All he can process. What he is owed.

Somewhere outside of the slick suction inside Jensen’s head, Jared whimpers, “Fuck, I can smell your pussy,” and Jensen’s throat flutters to agree with a hum, but maybe Jared doesn’t hear it. And maybe, it doesn’t matter.