strangeallure: (jensen open collar)
[personal profile] strangeallure
Title: Off Duty
Fandom: CWRPS
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Jensen’s with the NYPD, Jared works at this bar that’s popular with police officers. One night, they both get sick of the status quo.
Word Count: ~ 3,700
Warnings: none, really (only a little uniform and authority kink)
Disclaimer: In an alternate universe, this is exactly how it happened.

A/N: I was completely stuck with my other writing, so [ profile] meiou_set prompted me for some quick and dirty porn. Almost 4K words and some charaterization later, I give you this …

Written for (and beta’ed by) [ profile] meiou_set – because she is just that awesome.

Off Duty

Sometimes, Jensen hated being a cop. Maybe it was the long hours and the endless paperwork. Maybe it was that his transfer to a plain-clothes unit hadn’t gone through. Or maybe he just hated the NYPD in general.

He knew the feeling wouldn’t last, knew that all officers felt like that every once in a while. And if it wasn’t just him, if it was simply a normal reaction to the grime and filth of the job – which was still plenty, contrary to mayor Bloomberg’s propaganda – at least that meant that it wasn’t about Jared.

Jared, who was a barkeeper at this one place where most of his precinct liked to hang out after work. Jared, who was tall, and muscular and carefree, cheeks always dimpled and hair always mussed. Jared, who had flirted with him from day one, even though he knew there wasn't a lot Jensen could do about it with his colleagues around. There was a difference between being out and shoving your sexuality in the faces of your co-workers. But Jared just didn't seem to care.

Still, Jensen found himself sitting at Jared’s, not Misha’s end of the bar most nights. He and Jared had developed a strange kind of repartee. Jared always joked about Jensen's job, throwing him a wink, keeping eye contact a little too long, brushing his fingers against Jensen's hand holding his beer as Jared wiped down the bar. Jensen mostly just listened with an indulgent smirk, sometimes deadpanning a reply, sometimes just answering with a huff – never pulling his hand away.

Every now and then, when business was slow, Jared would flip his phone open and show Jensen pictures. Photos of his speedometer at 30 miles above the limit ("And I haven't even got one speeding ticket in my life, Jensen. You cops really need to step up your game."), or of his broken taillight ("Flirted my way out of a fine three times already."), or of himself hanging out of the window of his car while driving ("I thought there were laws against reckless driving, ya know?"). He had even showed Jensen pictures of a hemp plant and a big, fat joint one time ("Not mine, of course, officer," he had grinned).

Always smirking, always teasing, never letting up - and it pissed Jensen off. So, so much. He really didn't know why he always came back.

Tonight, though, things felt different. Jensen's shift had been a lot longer than expected. He hadn't even bothered to change and was still in uniform as he went to the bar for a quick night cap.

Although business was slow, Jared seemed on edge, somehow, less friendly and more taunting. He kept talking about all the things Jensen couldn't do just because he was a cop, how his career choice was reining him in, holding him back, how much Jared would hate to always hold back, not live like he wanted to.

"Come on, that's bullshit," Jensen said, not drunk and mellow enough to just let it go. "I’m not always a model citizen. It’s not like I hold back all the time, not when I really want something."

Jared caught his eye and leaned over the bar, slowly invading Jensen's space, his gaze darker and more intense than Jensen had ever seen. His voice was low, a challenge without the smile Jensen had come to expect in there: "You really think that?"

Jensen could feel Jared's breath on his face, could feel the heat radiating from his body. He swallowed, hard, unable to look away.

"Yeah," he replied, surprised by how rough it came out.

"OK, then," Jared said in a low voice, still so close, hand falling heavy onto Jensen's forearm. "If you’d want it, really want it, you'd kiss me right here? Right the fuck now?"

Jensen couldn't think, couldn't speak; the warmth of Jared's palm against his skin making it difficult, the intensity of his gaze burning into him. He felt himself lean closer, just a fraction, then stopped. He licked his lips, felt his hands clench into fists, but he didn't ... he couldn't ... he wanted ...

Suddenly, Jared jerked back. He pulled himself up to his full height and ran a forceful hand through his hair, taking a deep breath.

"Thought as much," he said, and the sardonic smirk on his face looked all wrong.

Throwing his towel on the bar, Jared called "I'm taking a break," over his shoulder, so Misha, the other bartender, would hear.

Jensen watched him leave. Saw the tension in his shoulders, the abruptness in his movements as he walked to the back of the bar.

He took a deep breath. This was unfair, childish. Jared taunting him like that, turning into a rough ultimatum what they should probably have talked about a long time ago. This wasn't over. Jensen felt the sharp rise and fall of his own chest, sucking in the stale air of the bar, felt the thrum of his own pulse in his neck, rushing through his ears. It wasn't Jared's place to just make up rules and then decide that it was over. They weren't done yet.

He got up to follow.


Jared hadn’t meant for things to escalate.

And yet he ended up pushing too hard, too soon, like he always did, and now it was done. Stopped before there was a chance to really start … something.

He took a deep drag from his cigarette. They weren’t really supposed to smoke in the small room that served as the on-site office, but Jared always opened the skylight and stood right under it, back pressed against the concrete wall.

As he slowly blew out the smoke from his lungs, he surveyed the room. Anything to keep his mind away from what had just happened. There was a big wooden desk with a laptop and Katie, the owner, had left some paperwork on it. Across from him, a storage rack for the expensive liquor was mounted to the wall. There was a water basin in the corner and a full-length mirror stood next to a few employee lockers, opposite a couple of filing cabinets. Nothing was new, but everything was well-kept enough to be functional.

Functional. Jared took another drag when the door opened.

For a moment, the dark figure blurred with the shadows, but then Jensen stepped in, quickly shutting the door behind himself.

"Put it out," he demanded, his chin jerking ever-so-slightly.

Jared didn’t know what he expected, but the voice surprised him, the command surprised him. "Why should I?" he challenged.

"Put it out," Jensen repeated, enunciating each word slowly as he gave Jared a pointed look, and reached behind himself to lock the door.

Jared couldn’t help tracking his movement, couldn’t help the indefinable prickling sensation Jensen’s calm, confident voice sparked in him. Without really making a choice, he bent down to rub the stub against the metal trash can next to his feet before throwing it in. "I was done anyway."

Jensen smirked. "Of course you were."

The way he just looked at Jared, eyes dark and fixed on him, was unsettling. With slow, deliberate motions, Jensen finally walked closer, until he was just out of arm’s reach, eyes never leaving Jared.

He felt the air in his lung starting to grow hot, to expand, even though he wasn’t smoking, just from the way Jensen’s gaze felt on him. Intense. He couldn’t move.

Jensen stood and squared his shoulders, widening his stance a little as he put his hands on his hips. Jared couldn’t control himself, couldn’t keep his eyes from travelling Jensen’s body. He hadn’t actually seen him in uniform before. Jensen had always come in after work, usually decked in jeans and a casual sweater. Of course, Jared had thought about what Jensen would look like if he met him on the street, on duty. He’d conjured up the image many times. Maybe that was part of what had set him off today, had made him feel so off-kilter, like he should challenge Jensen.

Now, Jensen was so close, but not close enough to touch. His black shirt spanned across his shoulders, a little crinkled and no longer tucked in neatly into his pants after a long day on the job. No black tie to grab, to haul him closer, like Jared had imagined. The pants hung a little too low on his hips, their black fabric making Jensen’s legs look long and narrow. Jared couldn’t look away.

Finally, Jensen spoke: "There seems to have been a misunderstanding," he said calmly.

Jared couldn’t quite gauge him, didn’t know what this was about, just felt a weird sort of buzz slowly filling the air. He wanted to know, though, wanted to know what Jensen was thinking, what he wanted from him. He focused his eyes on Jensen’s again, challenging him to go on, tell him.

"You seemed under the impression that you could call the shots here." Jensen walked up closer, but not yet into Jared's space. "Which is really not the case."

Involuntarily, Jared's eyes flickered down to his uniform again, taking in the star-shaped badge, taking in Jensen’s posture. He flicked out his tongue briefly to lick his lips. "Is that so?"

"Very much so," Jensen replied evenly, taking another step closer. "If I want something, I really, really want something, I take it."

"Didn't seem like it to me." Jared tried not giving in so easily, tried to sound cocky, but Jensen silenced him with a warning look.

"But," Jensen continued, his voice commanding and dark, "I get to decide when and where."

He stepped all the way into Jared's space now, pressing their chests together, making Jared feel the solidity of his body as he tilted his head so his mouth touched Jared's pulse point. Jared could smell him, could smell the mixture of sweat and detergent and aftershave and the city.

"Because I'm in control here," Jensen said lowly, hot air from his mouth blowing across Jared's skin, making him shiver.

"Really?" Jared breathed, but the cockiness was completely gone, not even a pretence anymore. His blood pumped faster, and he felt his skin prickle. He tried to resist it, to hold his own, but what he really wanted was to give in. To let Jensen take what he couldn’t ask for, couldn’t take himself.

When Jensen’s hands slid onto his hips, drawing him close, he came willingly, pressing up to him, letting him feel Jared’s own arousal, already so obvious through his jeans.

"Really." Jensen’s voice, that fucking voice. Jared just wanted. He put his arms around Jensen, making their bodies touch more, fit better.

Jensen’s palms travelled up from his hips, skimming his sides, until he held Jared's jaw in both hands. He pulled away enough to look straight into Jared’s eyes.

"And right now," Jensen’s voice was firm, without a tremble, "I want this."

He dove in and kissed Jared harshly, tilting his head just right as he mashed their lips together before nipping at Jared’s lower lip. Jared opened up, his tongue licking against Jensen's, all slick and hot and cool at the same time.

Jensen pushed at Jared's chest, making him stumble backward until he hit the wall. God. He used his knee to make Jared spread his legs, pressing in closer. Jared was so hard, so ready and eager, just rutting up against Jensen’s body. He felt Jensen respond in kind, hands roaming and rubbing everywhere they could reach. Their breaths too short and fast to really keep kissing.

It was good, so good, but Jared wanted more, needed more. Couldn’t just take it, though, could never just take it. Had to make Jensen take it for him, he thought, hazy and kiss-drunk.

When Jensen’s mouth left his, biting along his jaw as they ground their bodies together, he finally managed to pant out a challenge: "So this is all you want?"

To Jared’s surprise, Jensen went still immediately. His breath was hot and labored against Jared’s ear. "What did you say?"

Jared was thrown off-balance again, didn’t know what to say, how to tell Jensen what he wanted. He’d never really known. He was good at teasing, not taking.

Jensen pulled away, taking a step back. When Jared tried to follow, he put a hand against his chest to keep the distance. "What did you say?"

And Jared did what he always did when he didn’t know: amp it up, tease more, push away. He formed his mouth into a cocky smirk: "I said: that’s all you want, officer?" He threw in a wink, even as he still drew breaths heavy with arousal and rejection, not getting what he craved. "A little kissing, a little rubbing? Start small, right? Don’t reach for the stars."

He hated doing that. Hated that he always did it, that he pushed away when he wanted something else entirely. He wanted Jensen. Wanted him to see what he needed, but he couldn’t show him. The slow throb in the back of his skull had already started.

Suddenly, Jared just wanted this to be over. For Jensen to snarl at him or maybe give him a hurt look before he left. Wanted to take out another cigarette and maybe open up a bottle of the good stuff before going back to work. Make the tension that was starting to settle deep in his muscles go away.

Jensen didn’t speak, though, didn’t move. His eyes were on Jared, deliberate, unwavering. And then a smile, slow and small, started to uncurl his mouth. Jared hadn’t expected that, didn’t quite get it.

Jensen took another step back and motioned at him with a finger: "Clothes off."

Jared almost huffed, confused: "What?"

"You heard me," Jensen’s voice was back to cool and level, but at Jared’s facial expression, he seemed to allow himself a smirk: "Strip search."

There was a burning in Jared’s throat, his pulse speeding up, even as lightness settled over him at the order, at Jensen telling him what to do. He obeyed, taking off his shirt and his boots and his socks and his jeans, until he stood there, only in his briefs, his hard-on clearly visible through the fabric.

Jensen looked at him, scowling. "I said strip. Everything."

Jared felt himself flush, irrationally, felt it on his cheeks and his chest. He wanted to give himself over, to just comply and follow orders, but there was also this other part, which knew only to push and tease.

"Afraid you can’t handle my concealed weapon, officer?" he asked with a leer, even as he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his underwear.

Jensen didn’t bite. "Just do it."

And then he stood there, naked and exposed, hard cock straining towards his belly. Potential for all kinds of things, good and bad. His blood pounded too loudly in his ears. He didn’t know what to expect next, how to act next. Still didn’t know what Jensen wanted. Jensen, who he only knew as a customer at the bar; Jensen, who he maybe didn’t know at all. Jensen, who was still fully dressed, still in uniform, still standing a foot away from him. Not touching, not telling him what was to come. He couldn’t take it.

"Quid pro quo, officer. How about you go next?" He hadn’t even really formed the words in his mind, but when they spilled from his mouth, they brought a smartass grin with them, projecting a confidence he didn’t feel.

Jensen’s eyebrows rose up, his expression disapproving, and Jared had a feeling Jensen saw right through him. He liked the idea.

"You," Jensen said, "remain silent."

There was a movement, and it took Jared a moment to realize that Jensen had pulled his baton from his belt. He felt his eyes widen, expectations swirling in his head. He didn’t move, though, just looked at the weapon, black and slender in Jensen’s hand.

Jensen pointed the baton at him. "You don’t get to talk." He took a step closer. "Open your mouth."

Jared followed the order, and Jensen put the baton between his teeth. When he closed his mouth around it, it felt good, somehow. Like it took away the obligation to talk, to try and mouth off.

Jensen grabbed Jared and stirred him away from the wall, lining up behind him, pushing his hips against Jared to let him feel how hard he was. Fuck. Jared was so … relieved to know Jensen was turned on by this. That Jared turned him on.

Jensen made him walk towards the other side of the room, and after a few steps, Jared knew where they were headed. He swallowed uncomfortably, the clicking noise in his throat louder because of the baton between his teeth.

Jensen didn’t seem to care, though. He positioned them until they were standing next to the basin, right in front of the large mirror. Jared closed his eyes, even as he felt Jensen’s arms hooking under his armpits, like he’d be ready to hold him up. Jensen’s palms closed warm around his throat, making Jared more aware of his pulse thundering beneath them.

"Eyes open," Jensen said sternly, molding his body even closer against Jared’s. "I want you to see this."

Reluctantly, Jared complied, but caught Jensen’s eye in the mirror right away.

Jensen smiled darkly at him, his mouth close to Jared’s ear. "Take a good look, Jared." He let his gaze drop to their feet in the mirror, and Jared’s eyes followed. His bare feet trapped between Jensen’s black boots, the shine of the shoe polish still visible beneath the day’s thin layer of dust. Jensen urged him on to look up slowly, let Jared take in the contrast of his own fair October skin and the black of the uniform. Showed him the way only Jensen’s radio and weapon were visible behind Jared’s waist, the way Jared’s cock was so hard, so wet at the tip, and how Jensen held Jared, cradling his neck in his hands.

Finally, Jensen’s eyes found his again, and his voice came out a little softer, but still firm: "Take a good look because that, right there, is what I want." His fingers tightened ever-so-slightly around Jared’s throat, and his hips pushed into Jared, hard. "And this is exactly how I want it."

At that, Jared let his head fall back against Jensen’s shoulder, biting down on the baton when really he wanted to cry out. It felt so good to hear it, to feel it, to see it – to finally fully believe it.

Jared brought his hands, which had hung limp to his sides, up to Jensen’s hips, pulling him closer, making him thrust into Jared, letting him feel his hard-on, letting him feel how much Jensen wanted this, too, with every push.

Jensen’s one hand started roaming, even as the other held on to Jared’s neck. He felt Jensen nibble at his throat, saw it, too, almost mesmerized now by the image in front of him. Saw him bite and suck and soothe with his tongue as he rolled Jared’s nipples between his fingers in turn, pinching them and making Jared arch. It was so strange, wanting to cry out, to be loud and filthy and tell Jensen how good it felt, but not being able to, the baton reducing him to guttural sounds, to grunts and animal noises.

He felt sweat spring up on his skin, warm and tingling, as he dug his one hand into the flesh of Jensen’s ass and reached for Jensen’s cock with the other, rubbing and kneading through his pants, shameless and uncoordinated because of the weird position.

"You can take it out, if you want," Jensen panted low against his skin, his hand skimming down from Jared’s chest, across his belly, not yet touching Jared’s dick.

And yeah, Jared wanted. He couldn’t fiddle with the belt like this, but he managed to pull down the zipper and get Jensen’s cock out through the fly of his boxers. It was good to feel Jensen in his palm, feel the precome-wetness and the hot, heavy hardness, knowing that it was because of him.

Jared’s eyes closed, not out of embarrassment this time, but out of sheer good and yes and oh my god. Jensen’s hand left his belly and pulled Jared’s hand from his crotch, bringing both their hands to Jared’s front instead. He made Jared fist his own cock, then closed his palm over Jared’s hand and started a fast, hard rhythm, just as his own cock rode the crease of Jared’s ass, slick slide of pre-come and sweat feeling good on Jared’s skin, the rub of the harsh material of Jensen’s pants only heightening the sensation.

There was an unexpected flick of Jensen’s wrist, a sharp bite into Jared’s shoulder, and then Jared was coming, his hips jutting forward helplessly, his body taut and arched back as far as it would go, his teeth clamping down hard on the baton. Jensen holding him, never letting go.

Only when he opened his eyes after a few moments, still dazed and lids fluttering, did he realize that Jensen had come as well, had bit his orgasm into Jared’s skin – and was now removing the baton from his mouth.

Slowly, gingerly, Jared turned, Jensen letting him, but keeping him close.

Jensen’s lips pressed softly against his a few times, tender and close-mouthed. Jared returned the kisses lazily.

After a while, Jensen tilted Jared’s head with one hand and looked at him. "So. We’re on the same page now, right?"

"Yeah," Jared grinned, relaxed and loose and open for the first time in a long time.

He quickly got dressed again while Jensen tried to straighten up, putting away the baton and washing out the stains on his pants with water and a few paper towels.

When Jared had made himself presentable, he glanced over at Jensen. "I got to get back to work now, but maybe …" he swallowed, then smiled, "we could do dinner sometime?"

Jensen smiled back: "Definitely." The fondness on his face turned into something more playful. "But before you go back, you should probably clean that mirror."
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March 2011

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