Word Count: ~10,600
Warnings: Mpreg, Alpha/Omega, knotting/barebacking, and rimming.
Summary: In which Jensen is a football star on the rise and his Sophomore year doesn't exactly go as planned.
Notes: For ebcdic as part of the spn_j2_xmas exchange, based on the prompt for a cracky or serious version of 16 & Pregnant/Teen Mom, (this ended up falling on the serious side). I tried to work in as many of your likes as I could as well, and I'm extremely sorry this is so late. My enormous gratitude to the mods for allowing me the extension.
Jensen Ackles is from Richardson, Texas.
Primary exports: phone companies and stifling heat. But his world was football. Sweat dripping into eyes, dirt caking fingers, and good, ol’ All-American guts puked out into trash cans from exhaustion—he loved it. And with no college program in town, the Friday night lights at the high schools were the main attraction. Get good enough, let ‘em know your name, and you were a hero.
That was him.
He figured it was in his blood. His Dad played, went to State, and made sure he had a Nerf football in his hand as soon as he was old enough to close chubby fingers around it. Football was King in the Ackles household, and his parents never let him forget that it was more than a game—it was a golden ticket to a great college. No one expected him to make Varsity, no one saw him coming, and he was finally on his way. Plenty of friends, a bright future, and life was good.
But when the season ended months ago, he had to watch the last few games from a perch in the stands. School was dwindling down for the year and all the calls and invites he used to fend off had long stopped coming. Just about the only thing he had to look forward to this summer was endless days of avoiding his parents and his sort of, ex-best friend, Jared.
Last time he saw the guy, Jared ended up on the receiving end of a severely disgruntled fist. See, Sophomore year didn’t exactly go the way he had planned, and it wasn’t even over yet.
Because he’s pregnant.
Jensen scratches at the back of his neck as he plods into the overly bright kitchen. Feels a draft that his sleep-addled mind eventually registers as air moving over his swollen stomach, part of it exposed where his white tee is too small to cover. He pulls down on the fabric regardless, instinctively self-conscious as he notices his parents seated at the floral patterned table.
“Morning,” Mom offers, biting into a piece of toast. Dad is silent as usual, face hidden behind a newspaper. Jensen sighs internally, wishing he’d slept long enough for them to have left for work already.
Turning his back, he opens a cabinet and roots around for something appetizing, maybe the box of chocolate Pop Tarts he knows is hiding amongst the cupboard’s dark corners. After a moment of fruitless searching, he settles for cereal and pulls out a chair at the table, jamming his hand into the box and pouring a handful of O’s into his mouth.
“Nothing in this house is edible,” he complains through his mouthful.
His Mom looks up. “Your legs aren’t broken and you’re free to drive to the store. Might do something for that attitude of yours. Negativity isn’t healthy for the baby,” she puts down her toast and levels him with a probing look. “When was the last time you left the house anyway?”
Jensen munches sullenly.
“Get a bowl, Jensen,” his father chastises without looking up from his paper. God forbid they make eye contact when they’re in the same room. Sighing, he pushes the box to the middle of the table.
“Everything is about the baby somehow with you. Any pressing news from the Middle East, Dad?” he questions with a thick tone of sarcasm, “We might need to know about it for the baby.”
She responds, unfazed, “Gee, Jensen, it’s not as if I speak from experience in the department. I’m only saying, the smoother your pregnancy goes, the faster it’s over and you can get back to thinking about playing.”
“Yeah, sure,” he says tonelessly. Picks at a chipped part of the table and keeps his eyes downcast as she launches into a one person discussion of the results of some anonymous survey she read that detailed common experiences of Omegas in collegiate athletics departments.
In the middle of it, Dad quietly leaves the room.
“Okay, Bar B is supposed to fit into Slot B, but I can’t—“ Mom works the wooden piece but remains unsuccessful in securing it into its designated location. Against the far wall, Jensen disinterestedly watches her wrestle with the IKEA crib. It took a week for him to submit to helping her put it together and he’s no more eager to be a part of it now that it’s happening than he was when she first brought it up.
“Are you even paying attention?”
“I’m standing like two feet away from you.”
She braces herself on the partially assembled crib and tiredly pushes a stray wisp of hair from her face. “It’s not my crib. It’s not going to be my baby in there,” is all she says before she leaves him alone in the room, staring at the thing like it’s a hornets’ nest.
The accuracy of her words is a sudden and unwanted weight on his chest. One he’s pointedly kept from dwelling on even through the doctor visits, as his stomach grew and his life fell apart around him. Stooping down, he picks up the wooden bar and manages to slot it into place after a couple of tries.
Before he got pregnant, he rarely ever thought about what being an Omega meant. The possibility of a life growing inside of him one day. It was one of those subjects he never had reason to bring up to people, and practically no one outside of family and his doctor had a clue about him.
For good reason. The hierarchy.
Being a Beta was painfully ordinary, like having brown hair, nobody gave a damn about that. But finding out you were an Alpha, that was instantaneous word of mouth. It was status and the moronic assumption that your random fate in genetics roulette meant you were somehow a specimen of virility and badassness.
He knew this upper classmen, Carlson, that even trotted it out for his Student Council campaign. Meant he was a natural leader, he explained with a shit-eating grin at one of the debates. People ate it up. Hadn’t worked out too badly for the other Alpha Jensen knew either, although to Jared’s credit, he’d never ascended to Carlson’s miraculous level of assholishness.
Being an Omega on the other hand, well, he knew enough to hide his stomach until he couldn’t anymore. After that, it was nothing but stares and the infuriating, lingering sense that people were talking about you the second your back was to them. His, “undefined medical condition,” benched him for the rest of the athletic season. Most of his supposed friends conveniently got too busy to be seen with him.
He was a freak and Jared got to be a God. Congratulatory backslaps in the hall, the works. Jensen hated him, the school, the world that told him that hey, he’d had a good run but now his life was over at sixteen. But no one ever claimed the world was fair or anything but dominated by agendas and bullshit double standards.
Despite it all, he doesn’t wish he’d been born an Alpha. The only thing wrong with being an Omega was the crap the world decided to assign to it and he could hate the world, but he was tired of hating what he was because of it. No, he doesn’t need to be an Alpha. Doesn’t even wish he was an average Beta.
He just wishes he’d been a smarter Omega.
A pair of guys are leering at him as he steps into the crosswalk, heading toward them. As he passes them, he can hear one inhale deeply, taking in Jensen’s scent. He curls his fist at his side and clenches his jaw, keeping his constantly simmering temper in check best he can manage.
“Hey, breeder,” one calls out to his back, “Got anyone lined up after that one’s done baking?”
Jensen throws his arms out as reaches them, reckless. What was the worst that could happen—even these two braintrusts weren’t going to start a fight with a heavily pregnant dude in public. “I don’t know, man,” he says doubtfully, “You standing out on the street playing badass makes me think you’re trying to compensate for some faulty equipment.”
He leaves on that note, can hear the guy’s friend guffaw as he rounds the corner and pulls open the chiming door to a crowded fast food joint. In the corner, already stuffing fries in his mouth, is Chad. He’d always been more Jared’s friend in the past, despite he and Jensen being on the team together, but with Jensen’s pool of acquaintances dramatically reduced these days, Chad was one of the few standing in the dust.
He honestly hadn’t seen that one coming.
“What’s up, man?” Chad nods at him as he carefully scoots into the booth, minding his stomach.
“Thanks for waiting,” Jensen quips, eying his half-eaten meal.
Chad scoffs. “You’re going to eat twice as much as me anyway. Now it averages out. Next time don’t take so long to waddle here.”
“Fuck you,” Jensen says without teeth, craning his neck to check out the menu. After he’d stepped up to the counter and procured a bag full of burgers to accompany a large fries, he settles back into the booth and they eat for a few minutes in companionable silence. Nice change of pace from home.
Soon Chad is balling up his wrappers and decides to take to watching Jensen eat like he’s studying him. Luckily, Jensen’s too starved to tell him to knock it off at first, though he does eventually glare at him with a pointed, “What?” in his expression.
“Sorry, sorry,” Chad offers. “It’s still just a little—weird. I mean, you of all people.”
“Being an Omega?” he sighs.
“No, man, getting knocked up. I look at your face and you’re still Sarge, yelling at my ass when I was lazy during drills or showed up hungover to practice and then I look down—“ he whistles. “I always had a feeling you and Jared were messing around—”
“Then do me a favor and remember that, yeah?” Jensen interrupts. “Sometimes all it takes is one screw-up to screw it all up.”
Chad chews on it for a minute before talking again, “So, you still planning on getting back into shape after? Coming back next year?”
That question makes him set down the burger he’d been about to bite into. “I don’t know,” he says cagily. Can’t voice that he pretty much feels like that part of his life is finished. “My Mom seems to think so,” he says instead, “But then, my Dad acts like I’m dead most of the time, so, no consensus.”
His phone vibrates and he pulls it out of his pocket to look, although there are only so many people it could be these days.
The screen informs him that he missed a call from Jared. He goes to clear it but his finger hovers over the button for a moment.
“Jared,” Chad says, not asking.
“What about him?” Jensen feints.
“He says you’re still not answering his texts.”
“I’m sure he’s real broken up about it,” Jensen rolls his eyes, “That why he threw that party last weekend?”
A rare occurrence in knowing Chad, him considering his words. But he does before he speaks again. “Look, I know you don’t want to hear it and that a lot of shit sucks for you lately, but man, you do realize it takes two to have nasty, animalistic sex, right?”
“Would you shut the fuck up?”
“Just saying,” he holds up his hands in peace. “You should give him a chance. He wants to help. I mean, I’m not saying he won’t fuck it up, but you know him, better than me. He’s a good guy and aren’t you kind of tired of being pissed off at this point?”
He has a point and he’s definitely not wrong, but.
Making peace with who he is and making peace with everyone else are two wildly different things, and seeing Jared again, having the weight of all of it brought back, the sloppy, undefined feelings toward him he’s been burying beneath all his hostility—
It’s a tall order, to say the least.
“Besides,” Chad shrugs, “Your baby daddy’s loaded.”
Jensen takes a swig of his drink, mostly quiet the rest of the day as Chad starts recounting his half-remembered time with the girl he left Jared’s party with last week.
Jared was a good guy. Would’ve been around more if Jensen had asked instead of decking him the last time he showed up on his porch, telling him he wasn’t leaving until they talked. Jared hadn’t attempted that particular tactic again.
But a bang-up guy wasn’t didn’t necessarily translate to someone he could rely on once this kid was born. Pinning him down on minor shit had always been a feat of epic proportions. He could still distinctly recall Jared flaking on picking Tom and him up from the Taco Bell they’d ended up stranded at one, frigid night.
His dependability as a parent? Jensen didn’t know. But Chad was right about one thing. He did at least owe Jared a chance and maybe, hard as it was to swallow, it was time to get over what went down and focusing on what was going to happen.
His baby. Their baby. And Jensen wasn’t getting any less pregnant.
Jensen’s foot taps with restless energy as he waits for Chapman to finish going down the rows, collecting the Geometry final he doubts is going to have an impact on his final grade. Not because he wasn’t decent in the subject, had kept a healthy B in most of his math classes over the years, but more due to the whole pregnancy thing knocking much of his scholastic effort down to C-level.
Nothing to do about it now when he just wants to get out here and to the parking lot before he loses his nerve.
When Chapman finally reaches Jensen’s seat in the back, he announces the class dismissed, wishing the line already pouring out the door a happy summer in a rumbling, monotone. Jensen files out with the group, following its winding, serpentine progress to the exit.
The last couple of weeks hadn’t been that bad. He’d been reconsidering his outlook and there was that, but he figured the lack of attention was more likely due to everyone wanting out of this place and into the summer as him. Either way, he’d take fading into the scenery for a while.
Through the glass doors of the front entrance, the familiar sight of Jared’s black Rover looms and he swallows down the sudden surge of adrenaline that sings in his veins. He’s put this off too long and let it turn into something huge.
It’s Jared. The goofy asshole he’s known since the two of them were still pedophilic wet dreams in Boy Scouts. These are the things he tells himself as he approaches the small crowd hanging around the truck.
Only, he hasn’t been just Jared in oh, about eight months.
Conversation grinds to a halt like a bloody pileup on the highway. Jared’s broad grin at something Katie had been saying falls completely, but he recovers quickly.
There’s heat flickering to life in Jared’s eyes as he takes in the sight of Jensen, lingering on his stomach. It makes the hazel go dark as their gazes lock and Jensen shifts the strap of his bag on his shoulder, lifting his chin up in near defiance. He’s no blushing virgin and he pushes past the traitorous tugging at his groin, clearing his throat. “Got a minute?”
Before Jared can disentangle himself from the pull between them and formulate an answer, Chad helpfully interjects, “Give me a ride, Katie. You know, over there.”
She sighs, put-upon and not wanting to miss the fireworks, but grudgingly follows Chad’s lead to her car across the parking lot. The rest of the group disperses in their wake, Jared managing to nod distractedly at them as they depart.
“Did you—“ he finds his voice, “Want to go somewhere? To talk,” he clarifies quickly. The fact that he’s as unsettled about this as Jensen lightening the edge gripping him a little.
“Your house free?” Jensen shrugs.
“Like always,” Jared answers, then hesitates before nodding at the passenger seat. “Are you okay getting in?”
“If you offer to hold the door for me, I’m going to pop you again.”
“Just keeping you sharp. Let’s go.”
There’s a lot of money in Richardson, but while Jensen’s family has always been middle-class comfortable, both his parents have to work to keep it that way. No one would ever describe them as rich in any classic sense of the word—Mom was a nurse and Dad worked in the marketing department at AT&T. Jared, on the other hand, lived in a house with staff, and Jensen remembers asking if the imposing view of Casa Padalecki was a hotel the first time Jared invited him over when they were kids. His parents travelled, ostensibly for work, more likely for the hell of it. Jensen figured it went a long way toward explaining why Jared could never stand being alone.
Before the bombshell, Jensen practically lived in the Padalecki house on weekends, bullshitting and hanging out. Including the notable weekend that started all of this.
When Jared parks in the spacious garage and gets out, Jensen follows him wordlessly, and it’s almost like old times. They throw their bags on the couch, Jared offers him a drink he waves off, but things diverge somewhat when Jensen has to stop himself from watching Jared’s throat work as he downs a glass of some unidentifiable green juice.
Truth be told, being pregnant had made him hornier than normal the last few months, but half an hour with Jared in the car and Jared’s breathing was damn near a cocktease. Maybe there was some kind of—mating connection between them now, some instinctual claiming when Jared bred him up—
“Thank god It’s not just me then,” Jared breathes, and Jensen hopes he wasn’t doing anything too embarrassing with his face for Jared to have caught that.
“I’m sure it’s just some—freakish, hormonal thing. Because of the baby. Probably disappear once he’s born,” Jensen declares.
“Yeah, totally,” Jared offers him a brief, cautious smile and that isn’t helping. “So, what did you want to talk about?”
The subject change is appreciated. “I just wanted to apologize,” Jared waits for him to go on and he sighs resignedly. “For hitting you. For not calling you back. For being a dick in general.”
Jared laughs lightly, shrugs one shoulder. “Apology accepted. I know school hasn’t exactly been full of good times this year.” He pauses. “I wanted to sit with you. At lunch. But every time I looked over you were looking like you’d stab me if I came over.”
“Stabbing is a little extreme. Mess you up with a spork? Maybe.” They both laugh at that, but the guilt still pangs for Jensen. “Look, I appreciate the thought. You—you’re the last person I should’ve taken shit out on. But I’m trying to work past it now. Think about this kid, you know?”
“Deep,” Jared remarks sagely. Jensen shoves playfully at his shoulder, prompting Jared to consider him for a long moment, and making Jensen shift under the scrutiny. “You’re really ready to let me help?”
“Definitely,” he confirms, relief washing over him when Jared stop fixes him with that stare. “I’m not about to be stuck alone with my parents day in, day out.”
“Ackles family relations that great, huh?”
“I’ve had plenty of time to get used to people not looking me in the eye, but my Dad—” he shakes his head. “He just sits there. Like none of it’s real if he doesn’t look at me for too long.”
“That’s fucked up. I’m sorry,” the sincerity in Jared’s expression makes Jensen’s throat tighten in anger whose hold over him he’s determined to break. “He’ll come around. It’ll probably be different when the baby’s born. That grandparent switch will get flipped.”
Jensen shrugs stiffly. “Whatever, it beats my Mom living in some fantasy world where, even if I get back into playing form, any decent division school would even want to recruit me. I keep telling her, they want Alphas with two brain cells to rub together on the cover of Sports Illustrated. No offense,” he glances up, “PC terms in textbooks about alternative biological niches are all well and good, but in the real world, no one’s clamoring for Omegas with Caesarian scars.”
The line between Jared’s brow wrinkles in consternation. “Hold on, so you’re just going to bail on football?”
“I doubt I’m even going to go to school next year, man,” he explains bitterly, “My parents can’t take that kind of time off work and someone has to be home for the baby. School’s gotta be the thing to give.”
“Whoa, just stop. Jensen, I can pay for someone to watch him during the day. What’s going through your head? You can’t just quit school. What do you think you’re doing for this kid by checking out with a tenth grade education?” Jensen takes the point, but his expression remains resolute as Jared continues, “And you’re sure as hell not giving up football. College ball has been your dream since birth.”
“That’s nice and all, Jared, but I don’t have time for old, pipe dreams. I have to live in reality where this kid is going to be born and he’s going to depend on me.”
“You mean, us,” Jared corrects. “Listen to me. You spent your whole life working toward something, putting blood and sweat into it. That’s more than me and a lot of other people can say. Don’t throw it away because your Dad or the assholes at school make you think you can’t have it.”
“I just—don’t want to let anyone else down,” Jensen admits, hand unconsciously resting on his stomach. “Least of all him.”
“This isn’t a death sentence, alright? You can have both. And I’m gonna be there, backing you up. Come here—“
Jensen allows himself to be pulled into an embrace, can feel Jared attempting to keep it as platonic as possible and the comfort does help loosen the lump blocking his throat. He exhales heavily and just lets himself be enveloped by Jared’s warmth. Misses it when he pulls back slightly, looking down at Jensen’s stomach.
“Is it okay if I—“
“Go for it.”
Gently, he splays a broad hand across the swell of it. When he slips his hand under Jensen’s shirt, it makes Jensen shudder in surprise, Jared’s skin surprisingly heated against his own. His hand moves, reverent and deliberate, like touching something precious.
Jensen realizes he’d let his eyes fall closed when Jared speaks again, “What’s his name?”
“Joshua,” Jensen replies, “If it’s good with you. Figured I’d keep up the whole alliteration thing, seems to work in the comic books—“
He’s cut off as Jared snakes a hand behind his head, leaving the other resting protectively on the curve of his stomach. He brings their mouths together in a deep kiss, and Jensen responds immediately, tongues moving against each other in a desperate tangle that’s been lingered unfinished between them since the last time they were in this house together.
When Jensen closed his eyes and took his cock in hand to ease the tension the only way he could anymore, it was that night he came back to. Regardless of his simmering resentment and anger, despite the fact that he’d spent most of his pregnancy wishing he had never gotten himself into it, the overwhelming sensation of being knotted for the first time was guaranteed to have him shooting all over his fingers in a few minutes.
Like most days that change somebody’s life, it had started out as ordinary and indistinguishable as any other. There was always company at Jared’s. Jensen, Chad, Katie, or any other number of people he half-knew from school and kept around because it was a big, fucking house and he hated the sound of silence.
They’d been dicking around, him and Jared, playing Left 4 Dead 2 and raiding the almost barren cabinets for whatever junk food was around. The guy that went shopping for Jared wasn’t coming until tomorrow, he informed Jensen. To which, Jensen wondered out loud if that was also the guy responsible for wiping Jared’s ass when he didn’t feel like it.
It was good. Got better when Jared produced a bottle of Tequila. That was another thing that attracted people to him—plentiful, illegally purchased booze. But Jensen, he didn’t need the perks to want to be around Jared.
Once the alcohol was flowing, things got hazy. At some point, they got into a wrestling match that had Jensen’s dick aching in his jeans, but it didn’t go anywhere. He remembered Jared yanking him off the ground and grinning, and then making a mental note to himself that his heat and birth control pills were in his bag. That he’d make sure he took them before he passed out.
So much for that.
The next morning, before his eyes were open, he could smell himself. Strong, pungent scent on the air accompanied by wetness and warmth between his legs. He shifted against the alien sensation, flipping onto his stomach and instinctively rubbing his painfully urgent morning wood against the bedpsread until enough awareness penetrated to have his eyes flying open.
Jared was standing at the foot of the bed, mouth opening to say something but then clamping shut.
Grabbing a pillow and covering his boxer-clad lower half, Jensen stammered, “G—get out.”
Shit. He knew Jared was an Alpha. Fucking knew it for years, everyone did. He fumbles around on the nightstand, a clumsy, futile search for his meds. His hard-on is tenting out his boxers and panic rising, he can’t help but run his hand over it, molding the sodden fabric to its shape in trying to relieve the ache.
“Jesus Christ, Jensen,” Jared’s voice is rough, practically a growl. “Gotta let me—please?”
It makes the throb in Jensen’s balls deepen, makes him choke down a pained noise of his own. Screw it, he can’t just— He nods jerkily at Jared and pushes the elastic of his boxers down, exposing his flushed, leaking cock to the air as he licks his lips.
His hand is knocked away immediately as Jared crowds up against him, pulling his boxers off completely and discarding them over his shoulder.
“Oh, fuck,” he blurts when Jared’s tongue suddenly thrusts into his slick hole. It’s already so wet down there and Jared laps at the liquid, leaving Jensen quivering before putting his lips around the shadowed pucker and sucking hard to get it wet all over again.
Jensen writhes like a rabid thing, and Jared clamps down on his hips with those enormous hands of his, ensuring that the skin will be mottled with bruises tomorrow. Jensen purposefully works himself into a thrash, making Jared press harder, needing the marks, the claim. Eventually Jared lifts up, licking a long stripe from Jensen’s hole to the tip of his dick and making his vision swim.
The burning glint in Jared’s eyes isn’t like anything he’s ever seen.
“This isn’t going to do it, is it?” Jared punctuates the question by swirling his tongue around the glistening head of Jensen’s cock. “My tongue, my fingers. Not enough.”
He would’ve responded if Jared hadn’t kept short-circuiting his higher thought processes, burying his nose in Jensen’s pubes and inhaling deeply, then dragging his tongue over Jensen’s cock, making it twitch when he took the glorious heat of his mouth away before wrapping his lips back around it to tease it to an even angrier shade of red.
Jensen operated on instinct, intrinsic knowledge of what he did need, what he was made for, prompting him to spread his legs, exposing his hole even more. “Empty,” Jensen gasps, “Feel so fucking empty.”
Hurriedly, Jared shed his own boxers and shirt, causing Jensen to strain toward him at the sight of all that skin. Jared eased him back down, shaking his head in awe at the sight of him, “I’ll take care of you. Never thought I’d—“ the thought trails off, indicating Jared’s own trouble with pulling his brain cells together. “Want this so bad. Wanna fill you up,” he rubs circles into Jensen’s stomach intently, as if that’s where he’s going to feel it when Jensen’s done.
“Then do it,” Jensen rasps. “M’yours.”
“I love you.”
That declaration is almost enough to snap Jensen back into clarity, but Jared is draping himself over him and the head of his thick cock is prodding at Jensen’s entrance before he can consider it any further. He groans, canting his hips downward as Jared holds his length steady, bulbous head breaching Jensen’s well lubed hole easily. There’s an obscene squelch as he slots into place entirely, and Jensen’s mouth falls open on a pant at the feeling of fullness.
He locks his legs in the small of Jared’s back, ordering him to move. Jared pulls out halfway and then glides back in and the position is even better. But—
Jensen grabs onto both of Jared’s shoulders until he gets the hint and hefts Jensen’s weight up, cock staying secured inside of him the whole time. When they’re done shifting around, Jensen is sitting on his cock, arms wrapped around his neck and eyes giving him permission to move.
“God, bossy as hell.”
Jensen laughs shakily, vibration sending ripples throughout his body, down to where they’re joined. Biting his lip, he swivels his hips, rubbing Jared’s dick all over his insides, and it’s enough to get Jared thrusting in erratically. They manage to find a rhythm, staring at each other as Jared fucks up and Jensen bounces down, the result spearing Jensen, prodding insistently against that spot that has his timing faltering.
The bed rocks gently under their movements, the empty house magnifying their panting and the slick sound of Jensen getting fucked, bred up by Jared, and god, he’s never wanted anything more in his life.
“You can take it, so good, I know you can,” Jared is babbling as his hips snap furiously off the bed. Jensen is riding as good as he’s getting, doesn’t follow what Jared is saying until it becomes harder to lift himself off Jared’s length and back down, and suddenly, his already massive cock is impossibly swelling inside of Jensen.
It’s coming. Want it, need it, he notes pointlessly to himself, slowing to a stop and rubbing his forehead against Jared’s collarbone while Jared’s hips gradually switch from thrusting to grinding against his ass. Working the beginning of the knot into more, as Jensen clenches his eyes shut, at a loss for anything to say.
This isn’t his first sexual experience, but being with girls and being with an Alpha—two great things that were just night and day. The heat was like possession, being overwhelming by some primal desire to have his aching hole claimed, filled with jizz and plugged all up. As he starts to shift uncomfortably on the knot, he’s shocked to find his stomach twisting in impending orgasm. He presses sloppy, open-mouthed kisses along Jared’s chest when he comes, painting the planes of his abs and slumping against him, smearing his release between them.
Wrapping his arms around Jensen’s sweat-slickened back, Jared groans at the orgasmic clench of his ass, gasping as the first spurts of his own come issue forth. Jensen sighs contentedly, post-orgasm high making him lax, focused on the spreading wetness inside of him. He’d heard what it was like when Alphas came, but as they sit there locked in the embrace, it feels like Jared won’t ever stop coming and Jensen will always have a part of him. His eyes shut tight and he doesn’t think it would be a bad thing whatsoever if that were the case.
After, it was different.
What they’d done, the things they said—Jensen’s parents had made sure he was on suppression and birth control meds from the time he hit puberty. This had been his first unrestrained heat. The pamphlets they gave you at the doctor’s office were for shit in preparing you for the reality of it.
Once Jared’s knot went down enough for them to disentangle, Jensen bolted for the shower and left. Didn’t go home, not at first. Just drove to school and sat in the deserted bleachers by the football field, wondering how the hell he’d gone this long doing almost everything right only to fuck up this royally.
They barely exchanged two words for the next couple of weeks and didn’t really speak again until Jensen broke down and took a pregnancy test. The resulting conversation consisted of him cursing Jared out on the phone and ending it by calling him a goddamn jinx.
“People put their babies in some very heinous clothes,” Jared notes, inspecting a dubious, blue and yellow polka dot pair of pants.
“Babies don’t even know what the hell clothes are,” Jensen retorts. “Except that they want to be out of them.”
“The principle, man. The principle.”
Jensen shakes his head and continues down the rows, silently agreeing that most of these clothes are pretty terrible. Josh is going to be a t-shirt baby, he can tell.
He catches sight of a blue tee with a green T-Rex on the front and holds it up for Jared to weigh in on. The “not bad” expression he gets is good enough. Neither of them are exactly raring to stick around a baby store all day. Especially with the cashier looking over at them every few minutes and virtually cooing.
“Check this shit out,” Jared announces, lifting a bulky box Jensen reads the side of. A carousel that doubles as a night light with various dinosaur shapes. Apparently Josh is also going to be a dinosaur baby.
Jensen crosses over him to him, examining the price tag on his arrival. “Dude, that thing is way overpriced.”
Jared scoffs at him. “Remember who you’re talking to. My kid is going to have the best overpriced crap there is.”
With a laugh, Jensen starts to say he’s going to hit the bathroom before they get out of here but an odd, warm sensation washes over him before he finishes. Looking down, his jeans are darkened and sticking to his legs. Which leads him to the clear puddle pooling at his feet.
“Holy shit,” he breathes.
Jared gestures inarticulately. “Was that your water?”
The cashier rushes over to them, all earnest concern and rapid-fire questions. Another worker reappears from the back with an orange caution cone with a cutesy picture of a pregnant lady on it. At the sight of it, Jensen just laughs, uproariously, everything taking on a surreal bent. It’s really happening.
“Um, we’ll be back for the carousel,” Jared offers, almost laughing now himself and ushering Jensen toward the door.“Sorry about your floor!” Jensen yells as they barrel out into the street, breaking down into outright, side-holding chuckling as they get into the Rover and buckle up, setting a course for the hospital.