Hermine Kurotowa (herminekurotowa) wrote,
Hermine Kurotowa

Bread and Blood (4/ 4)

Fic title: Bread and Blood
Author name: herminekurotowa
Artist name: m14mouse
Genre: RPS, slash
Pairing: Jensen/Jared, Jensen/OMC
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 20.000
Warnings: Hooker!Jensen, discussion of suicide, blow jobs, bloodplay, facial, handcuffs, BAMF!Jensen, naked!BAMF!Jensen, hurt!Jared, forced orgasms, drugging, attempted non-con, schmoop. And no porn, earnestly.
No bunnies were seriously harmed in the writing of this fic.

Summary: Jensen is a nice guy. He's kind and attentive, and there's a room in his apartment for his cats and bunnies he's occasionally feeding from. He works as a hooker for Frederic Lehne though he's badass when it comes to defending his ass against sleazy clients. That's one of the secrets he wants to tell his boyfriend Jared but he never has occasion to do it before he gets seriously hurt. A furious Jensen - even when naked - is something you better don't want to witness.

A little wooden toy cowboy is all Jared has left from his family. He falls for Jensen head over heels and even comes to terms with him working the streets - it makes for the best blow jobs, after all. Unfortunately, he will not get to know his other, bigger secret in this story - being shot at and lying in a coma is pretty obstructive.


What was he thinking?

Seriously – what was he thinking?

Biting Jared was like a dream come true. He tasted and smelled so good, Jensen just couldn't contain himself. The few drops of blood he swallowed were like... Christmas, and freshly baked pastries, and home. As if... as if Jared was the perfect match, Jensen's Mr Right, the one and only.

When Jared broke down and passed out, it was like Jensen was kicked out of paradise.

Now, Jensen is pacing Jared's bedroom. His boyfriend is sleeping peacefully on the bed, his cheeks flushed, his breaths regular.

Jensen is pacing the bedroom because this thought is so disturbing. As if they were both meant for each other.

He never was the religious type. When he realized that his dad was not a hero, but an unconcerned asshole, he also lost the little faith he had. Then Ty happened, and Jensen decided that there was neither Heaven nor Hell because otherwise he would be doomed.

He is not a bad person – if he is a person at all, still waiting on that verdict –, trying to make his living. By turning tricks, yes. He never hurt another human being though.

That's why he doesn't know how he deserved Jared, how his karma got so good to get a Jared for himself. He just brought himself to simply enjoy the cosmic gift, and now he fucked it up. Big time.

Finally, Jared stirs on the bed. Jensen wants to see with his own hands that he's fine, but he keeps a distance. That scent is still there, lingering deliciously, whispering try me with a hint of Jared and mine.

Confessing his nature as being a kink is weird. It's like describing breathing as a hobby, but he doesn't know what to tell. It's too soon to tell a truth Jensen himself is unsure about.

Under the pretense of getting food, he bolts out of the apartment. He is uncomfortable with his condition himself, but here is Jared enjoying it, the evidence is clearly visible.


Three pizzas are not too much when you can't decide what to eat. Or what to tell. Jensen is happy with following Jared's lead who seems to be happy with innuendos and kissing so he doesn't speak of those minor issues like the true nature of his kink or how he earns a living. Talking about being a creature out of a bad fantasy novel or how to blow other guys is something Jensen would rather not do.

Yes, he is an honest-to-goodness chicken.

In spite of that, he is not backing down the next day when Lehne refuses to pay him. Jensen can be a scary son of a bitch, and right now, he is furious enough to be one. As a matter of fact, his canines elongate a bit.

Lehne always rubbed him the wrong way, and now, refusing to pay Jensen off, he'd be as good as dead if Jensen hadn't been able to control himself. It's his threat to spread the word about Lehne's business methods – drugging his own employees – that makes him fold. Jensen even gets a bonus for his good work – to keep his mouth shut.

After getting his stuff from his workroom, he says goodbye to his fellow workers in the break room. Jensen is too solitary, that's why he doesn't have friends – except Jared, and it's not easy being a nice guy when having an identity crisis – but most of the guys are sad to see him leave. Tom and Mike, huddled together on the old raggedy couch as they usually are, seem genuinely sorry, hugging him and patting his back.

Fortunately, Tahmoh is nowhere to be seen, and Jensen is glad. That is, until he's leaving the building through the rear exit.

There he is, hidden in the shadows of the back alley, reeking of arrogance and curdled milk, working on a young man who smells like clouds. It's weird for him to work during his break and, in addition, off the premises. And to cap it all off, the bastard's usurping Jensen's specialty, judging by the blood on the guy's throat.

Jensen snorts. Blood play is not an art for any man. But he doesn't care anymore, he's out. This is the last he is seeing of Lehne and his club. Jensen is on his way to Jared and a better life. He is working the streets again, but his life will take a turn for the better, eventually.

Thinking about the money he got from his ex-employer, there is only one way for Jensen to spend it. His boyfriend needs a new means of transportation.


He shouldn't work when he is on his time off. But sometimes he's just greedy, and the guy smells nice, and that's why he agrees. It's a quick blow job and more gulps of blood than he actually needs. Afterwards, leaving the club's restrooms, he sees Jared waiting the tables. He looks good enough to eat in his tight jeans and white working t-shirt, but why of all things had Jensen decided to turn tricks here, at his boyfriend's workplace? He didn't know Jared was waiting the tables here, now that he does, it is leaving a sick feeling in his guts.

He just wants to escape undetected, but that asshole in the back booth is obstructing his plan. He declares open season on the guy when he gropes Jared's indeed nice ass.

His mind is only capable of one thought – mine –, and Jensen had never thought how staking his claim could turn his Jared on, resulting in blow jobs and some heavy cuddling in Jensen's bed.

He has never been this happy.

Deeming it the right time, he starts Operation Bicycle. Once he knows what Jared needs, it's pretty easy to buy a new bike for his boyfriend. It's only a little effort to make it look like an older one, some scratches, a little dirt. Jared's face is worth the trouble

“What's that?” he asks incredulously.

“I'd reckon it's a bike, dude.”

Jared rolls his eyes. “I know that it's a bike. What do you want with it?”

Jensen can't stifle a smug grin. “It's for you. It came to my mind that I stored it. I don't use it, that's why I want you to have it.”

“It's for me? Jensen. I-I can't...”

“Yes, you can. I want you to have it.”

Jared's hazel eyes are big and shining with unshed tears. It's a sight to break anybody's heart, and Jensen is no exception.

“Oh, come here,” he says, holding him tight. Jared's odor is fresh like a summer rain. “The bike's for you, really.”

“I'm gonna pay you back.” Jared says, pressing his face against Jensen's shoulder.

“No need to. I just want to see you happy, and I know that you need a bike to go visit your dad. I really don't need it, but you do.”

Lifting his head, Jared looks into his eyes, smiling uncertainly. “I – thank you. But I want to pay you back, somehow.”

After a beat, he continues, “I'm good at screwing. I-I mean I could mount the shelves in your living room.”

Laughing low at the image of a bare-chested Jared mounting his shelves, Jensen responds, “Yeah, I'd like that.”


Working together is fun, even though Jared is doing the actual work. Jensen is helping as good as he can, hand feeding muffins when Jared's hands are dirty, checking for injuries – yeah, ok, there's no need to check these wonderfully sculpted abs when he scratched his fingers.

It's fun until Jared mentions Lehne's goons.

Lehne is the only one who knows Jensen as Sam Winchester. Jensen is not scared, he can take it up with the goons and Lehne.

He is more scared of revealing his secret to Jared. Sweet, innocent, lovable Jared who promises to wait until he is ready to tell him about johns and working the street. He needs a diversion, and what's better than a hand job?

Jared's skin is soft and warm against his hands, his leaking dick hot and silky, his scent changing with every new peak of pleasure – dark musk, earth, and lemon. He is sighing and moaning, and it's enough to arouse Jensen until he is aching. But then Jared smells so deliciously wrought with pleasure, he just has to taste him, just a few drops of Jared.

“Do you trust me?” he asks, and Jared's answer is not more than a breath.

Jared's eyes are closed, his pink tongue is peeking through his lips. He looks sensual and debauched.

Jensen's tongue is searching for the perfect spot, moistening the long column of blissful flesh, tasting sweat and salt. There it is, the perfect spot, waiting for him, warm and tender. Jensen's teeth scratch the skin, then break it. It's only a tiny wound, but it's enough for some drops of blood. They taste like Heaven and Hell and bliss, like Jared and winter and summer and sea.

Jensen comes untouched, just from tasting and scenting Jared.


Life is wonderful.

His boyfriend is the most gorgeous and adorable man he has ever met. His little black kitten – he still refuses to name his pets because they are not pets, but food –, well, Kitty seems to back down or at least be in a forgiving mood, not scratching at his feet when he brings food.

Yes, life is wonderful.

Until he sees Jared standing at the street corner in the night. He is standing there, looking with wide eyes at Jensen working, and this is what he was afraid of.

He lost his love because he was too chicken to tell the truth, at least a part of it. Now Jared knows about him, but he couldn't explain himself, had no chance to say that he'd rather work as a waiter or a bagger.

He tries to drink himself into oblivion with whiskey and vodka, but it doesn't work. Then he tries to get inebriated by bleeding a drunk man, but that doesn't work either. The rest of the night, he is sitting on his couch, petting his kittens, nursing his heartbreak.

In the morning, after a night without sleep, he gets a text saying to meet Jared at noon in the park. Hope is not dead yet, raising its tired head as Jensen showers and shaves. While he's not eating his breakfast, hope evolves into a full-blown panic. What if Jared wants him to go? What if he says to get lost?

When they finally meet at the park, Jared is obviously nervous. He is fiddling with the hem of his button-down, and Jensen understands. There is too much at stake.

Jensen is still scared that his boyfriend wants to break up. He'd do anything for Jared, so it's easy to promise to stop hustling. If this is all Jared wants him to do, he can do it easily.

Kissing Jared is inevitable. The sweet taste and soft texture of his lips are pleasures Jensen can't resist.

He can't believe that he is getting a second chance. That is, if he can make Jared understand his... condition. He can't tell here, though, where people are milling about.

“Can we go to your place or mine? Please?”

Jared's looking at him, eyes shining. He is so gorgeous, so wonderful, Jensen just can't believe his luck.

“Jensen, I lo-”

Something is hitting him, going through his back straight through his chest. Blood's splattering everywhere between the both of them and Jensen has the urge to kissbitedrink for a moment. Jensen can't comprehend where the blood is coming from, but it's everywhere, tasting like Jared because it is Jared's.

Jared's blood is everywhere.

“Somebody call 911!” he screams at the top of his voice.

Tearing at Jared's clothing, he sees a hole in his button-down, in his t-shirt, and in his chest. There's a hole in Jared's chest leaking a stream of blood.

“Jen... “ Jared says, closing his eyes, his voice faint and cold. “I'm so tired.”

Jensen tries to stem the flow of blood, but it's too much, leaking through his fingers.

“Baby, stay with me.” His fingers are leaving red stains in Jared's face, red flowers in a field of snow. “Stay with me. Please.”

With every heartbeat, life is running through his digits, seeping down pale skin, vanishing into the grass. He has to staunch it, has to keep it inside this body that is slowly growing colder. There is only one way, one chance.

Jensen licks at the wound, pressing his tongue into it. He has only ever sealed the tiny damages caused by his teeth, but this one, this is too big, too serious to heal with saliva.

There's no time to savor the blood's taste, its multifarious flavor. There's just the urge to keep it inside his boyfriend.

By the time the medics arrive, Jensen's still pressing his face against Jared's chest, sobbing.


He puts his jacket on so they don't see the bloodstain on his back and tells them the stains on his front are from Jared's blood. He says, yes, he's my boyfriend and no, I don't know who did this but that's a lie. He knows for sure who did this, but he has to take care of Jared first.

He sits in the hospital's waiting room, feeling numb, until a kind nurse tells him to clean himself and change, handing him some scrubs. Standing in the restroom in front of the mirror, he can see his pale, bloodstained face that is still pale after cleaning. The pain in his chest caused by the bullet eases soon, the pain in his chest caused by the bullet hitting Jared doesn't.

He sits in the waiting room, waiting for news. Two police officers come, asking about what happened. He tells them what he knows without telling them what he knows. The more he thinks through this mess, the more he's seething with rage though he doesn't show it, keeping his cool on the outside.

He sits in the waiting room, still waiting. Hours later – it's almost dark outside –, the doctor finds him, telling him that Jared was lucky. Fortunately, he didn't lose as much blood as might be expected, there was only an entrance wound, no exit wound which would have caused a blood loss too great for the doctors to handle. He is in an induced coma now for the next days. He will make a full recovery, even if it will take a long time.

Jared will live.

Sitting in the waiting room, he cries.


He is allowed to visit for a few minutes.

Machines are breathing for Jared, nursing him, keeping him alive. He is pale, looking tiny and vulnerable in the hospital bed, his hands cold. How can this big, overeager puppy look so tiny?

It's Jensen's fault that he almost died. After years of working for Frederic Lehne, he assumed he could just walk out without further consequences. That a little threat would keep him covered. He was such a fool, and Jared is paying the price.

Although it's his fault, Jensen is getting off scot-free. All that remains are the stains on his clothes, the bullet went right through his ribcage, no harm done, above all no permanent damage. That's because he is a freak and a fool, getting his boyfriend killed. Maybe he should leave, go to LA or even South America.

Walking out on Jared is impossible, though. It may be the wise thing to do, but it's impossible. The man lying pale and helpless in the bed in front of Jensen is what keeps him alive, maybe even human.

He will live, the doctor said, but it hurts so much just looking at him.

The nurse checking on Jared a few minutes later is sympathetic. She says 'the poor boy' and 'I hope they get this sniper'. Nevertheless though, Jensen has to leave. He was only allowed to see him because there's no one left of his family.

He is walking home because he needs time and air. His feet are moving without instruction, as his mind is planning cold revenge on the man responsible for shooting his love. He remembers when Jared told him about the goons asking for Sam Winchester. They probably saw Jared with Jensen, and knew that where they found one, they'd find the other.

There is bloody dirt under his feet. How he ended in the park, right where it happened, he doesn't know. It's already dark now, the blood on the grass invisible in the darkness, but he can smell it. It's cold sun and lonely Christmas and still Jared. It's mixed with Jensen's blood, smelling of pain and honeysuckle.

Soon, there will be more blood shed. Lehne's, the sniper's, the goons', they are all going to bleed. Jensen never chose to be a creature of the blood, refused to accept it, but now he embraces it. Tilting his head back, closing his eyes, he breathes long, deep breaths. Breathing in and in and in.

Scenting the air, he listens to his whispering blood. It tells him about the little girl with the skinned just a few drops of blood knees playing hide and seek with her that time of month mother under the trees. It tells him about the young man and his fiancée making arousal and drool out at the pond. It tells him about the arrogance and the smugness of the man sitting in a tree, and when he is scenting curdled milk, his blood roars a name.


It's early afternoon when Jensen enters the building through the back entrance, walking cautiously through the corridors. It's better to stay unseen, even though the club will be sparsely attended, only a few patrons in the bar, looking for some pretty flesh. Lehne will already be working in his office, and this is where he is headed.

He dodges the break room where Tom and Mike are drinking coffee, still reeking of cheap soap and the johns of that day, and gives the showers a wide berth. He can smell the guys in there, distinguishable by their own odor.

Jensen is pretty sure he could find his way with his eyes closed. There are so many smells everywhere, in the corridors, behind the doors, and he can make out every single one. It is as if fully embracing his heritage that he doesn't know a thing about makes him whole on another level than Jared does.

He is aching for Jared. His body's already been deprived of his gentle touch for too long, and he hates Lehne even more because his boyfriend was hurt due to his orders to kill Jensen. Most of the time, he hates himself, though at the moment, he is too busy.

There is arrogance and smugness in the air, rolling down the stairs from the upper floor, choking him. Climbing the stairs cautiously, he approaches the smell's origin slowly.

“Welcome back, Mr Winchester.” Tahmoh says, his voice cold, his gray eyes colder.

“So you're a sniper now?” Jensen asks, his voice matching Tahmoh's.

“Oh, I'm a man of many talents. I just needed to get back on Fred's right side after my little... hmm – screw-up.”

“You call shooting Jared a screw-up?”

“No. I'd call you surviving a screw-up but I told Fred that shooting you would be a waste of effort. I wanted to go after your neck but he... anyways. The screw-up was that little bastard getting a heart attack while I was feeding.”

Jensen is shocked. “Feeding? You mean you...”

Tahmoh sneers. “Please don't tell me you didn't know about me.” His eyes grow wide. “No way! You have no idea, do you? That's priceless!”

He is laughing, tempting Jensen to smash his face against the wall, hard.

Tahmoh's getting serious again. “Apparently, Ty chose you because of your looks, not your brains.”

A shiver runs down Jensen's spine. “You know Ty?”

“Yes, of course. I can still smell him all over you. He has a thing for the pretty ones, the twinks, you're totally his type.”

“Where is he? Where can I find him?”

“You think I'd tell you? Even if I didn't kill you right now? You stupid little fuck.”

Tahmoh's smell changes, it's like iron and grapefruit now, metallic and bitter. Jensen knows that he's ready to attack. He, too, wants to kill Tahmoh. Unfortunately, he also wants some answers.

“Maybe you can do that bad guy monologue? Tell me everything and then kill me?”

Tahmoh laughs out loud. “You mean, like in a bad action movie? Not gonna happen!”

He charges, jumping at Jensen.

Jensen bears the brunt. Grabbing Tahmoh's button-down, they both tumble down the stairs until they come to a dead stop on the landing. His attacker is on his feet a second later, waiting for Jensen to get up.

Jensen heard his ribs crack on the stairs, hitting them hard. Now there's not enough air in the world to breathe through the pain in his side. He is getting up slowly, stifling a groan.

The landing is big enough for them to fight. Jensen's fighting on the back foot in order to watch and assess his enemy, favoring his left side.

Tahmoh is cocksure of himself and his fighting skills. His attacks are furious, bruising Jensen repeatedly, but he is holding his ground. He learned a long time ago on the streets that being too sure of oneself is making you imprudent. And he learned to fight dirty.

Taking a hit to his face, he lets Tahmoh come close, then he grabs him and throws him over the banister rail. He can hear the impact two floors below.

Jensen is breathing heavily. His entire left side is one big bruise, and so is his left leg. He can feel that the healing has already started, but it will take some time. Gingerly, he limps downstairs.

Blood is trickling down from the corner of Tahmoh's mouth, he smells like rain and tar. He is severely injured, both legs are broken, maybe his back, too, but he still tries to get up. Staring down at him, Jensen can see his legs straightening out, bones and skin knitting together.

Tahmoh is healing so quickly, it's uncanny.

“Just a couple of minutes, and I'm good enough to go for round two.” Tahmoh's teeth are red when he is grinning.

“No round two. Gonna finish you off now.” Breathing is hard for Jensen. His ribs are poking his lung a bit too enthusiastically for his liking.

For the first time, the smugness on Tahmoh's face is wavering. “You can't kill me. If you kill me, you'll never know about Ty.”

“I don't care about Ty, I care about Jared. He needs to be safe from you.”

“You don't understand. You can't kill me.”

Tahmoh's legs are completely healed now, as good as new. Jensen needs to act quickly if he wants to avoid another fight to the death.

“Oh yes, I can. You told me how.”

Bending low at the waist, he cups Tahmoh's face with both hands, jerking it to the side quickly. The neck breaks with a loud crack.

Tahmoh is dead.

He really is dead. Breaking his neck killed him permanently. Jensen killed another man. Because Tahmoh is dead.

With shaking hands he rubs his face. He is a killer. His knees are shaking, too, that must be the reason why he is kneeling on the floor. Because Tahmoh is dead. Vomiting is the only thing he can do at the moment, bringing up what feels like all the food he ate in the last year. But Jared is safe now.

He doesn't know where to look for Ty, and with killing Tahmoh, he may have lost the only chance to find him. Maybe he'll never know what he is, how this being not a person works exactly. He has so many questions, but he knows two things for sure: He is a killer, and Jared is safe.

It's worth the anguish and the pain in his heart, maybe even an eternity in Hell.

Jared is safe.


Hiding Tahmoh's body is easy. Jensen won't need too long for Lehne, he will be long gone when he is found, and he is not afraid of the investigation that will ensue.

There is someone with Lehne in the office. Standing in front of the door, Jensen can hear the voices behind the wood. Recognizing the voice, he grins, feral and dark.

Indeed, it is the senator. When Thomas recognizes the intruder, his eyes bulge, a blush painting his face and neck crimson, his smell turning green.

“But... but... but...” he splutters.

Lehne, by contrast, is getting pale. The odor he is emanating in hot waves is bitter lemon. He doesn't say a word, but his right hand is crawling slowly towards the desk's edge.

Carefully closing the door and leaning against it, Jensen addresses his ex-employer, his voice cool and dangerous.

“I wouldn't do that,” he says. “See, yesterday someone already tried to shoot me, and it didn't work. Do you really think you can pull a gun before I rip your heart out?”

The thought is only faintly appealing to him. He already killed a man today and doesn't want a repeat, but Lehne doesn't know that. And apparently, his scowl is scary enough for the other man to draw his hand back. And his fangs, of course.

“What... what do you want?” rasps Lehne, cold sweat on his brow. The delicious smell of fear is getting stronger.

Jensen revels in the feeling of superiority. That the king of the underworld knuckles under to Jensen lifts his spirits immensely. That's a good start.

“I don't think you can give me what I want. I want my boyfriend unharmed, I want him safe and in my bed, but that's not possible because he's in the fucking hospital! You just couldn't let me go, could you?”

It's only a few steps to the desk cluttered with papers, books, and photographs. With each step Jensen takes, Lehne slides back in his chair until he hits the office cabinet behind him.

Jensen is now standing right beside the senator. He just inclines his head to look at him, showing off his elongated canines, and the senator is shrinking into his chair.

“My gut's telling me that you're more than a run-of-the-mill customer.” Jensen says, addressing him.

Senator Thomas looks like fainting. “P-please... don't hurt me. I can- I can give you money.”


Like a rubber ball, Thomas' head is nodding affirmative, almost at risk to falling off.

A wry grin is spreading on Jensen's face. Oh, this could be fun.

Though the figure he names is ridiculously high, the senator is writing out a check before his mouth is closed, handing it to him with a pleading look.

The check in his hands is crisp, the figure on it staggering. The grin on his face is spreading wider. Oh yeah, this is fun.

Let's get the show on the road.

Pocketing the piece of paper, Jensen sashays past the desk. Grabbing the letter opener from a stack of paper, he stops right behind Lehne who goes stiff as a poker. Bending at the waist and putting his arms loosely around his ex-employer, Jensen tilts his head and whispers into his ears.

“Well, Fred, I know you like to watch. And to record. I'm sure you have some nice videos, the senator and me, that's a pretty hot couple. Eh, no, it's only me that's hot. Right?”

The letter opener is poking Lehne's neck. The poor man nods. Yes, Jensen almost pities him because he knows what's going to happen.

“We'll have a little chat about those videos later. I want to show you first what you're missing out on. You've never had a nice blow job from one of your boys, have you? You don't use them, at least not in that way.

“Senator Thomas!” The senator flinches at the address. “I have one last chore for you before I let you go on your merry way. Come here.”

Thomas is getting paler than the office's walls, but slowly, he is rising, obeying the order reluctantly.

“I think, dear senator, you need to know what it's like to do something you don't want to do but you're forced to do it anyway. I think you know what I'm talking about. Kneel down.”

Obviously, the senator only wants to be on the receiving end, but doesn't want to give head. Anyway, Jensen talks him through getting Lehne's flaccid dick out of his pants, stroking and kissing it. The clicking sound of Jensen's phone startles him.

Jensen really is pleased. Now he has a couple of photographs of the senator kissing another man's dick.

“Well, senator. I think you get the gist. If anything happens to me, these pictures will be published. You'll be able to see them everywhere. Do you understand? - Good. Now get the fuck out of here. I don't want to see you ever again.”

Two seconds later he's alone with Lehne in the room. Still poking the letter opener into the soft flesh of his neck, he says, “Alone at last.”

“Wh-what are you going to do with me?” Lehne's voice is thick with terror, his scent spiking, and Jensen's loving it.

“Don't panic. I'm pretty sure you'll gonna like it.”


Jensen takes his time, biting and nibbling at soft flesh, but never tasting blood.

The first two orgasms he gets out of Lehne are quite pleasurable, judging by his moaning and writhing. The next three are demanding, followed by promises of everything for Jensen to stop. Instead he keeps on teasing the skin of Lehne's neck and nape with his teeth, tasting salt and sweat, smelling lemon and cotton.

Lehne, insulting Jensen and attacking him verbally, tries to get rid of his bonds, but the cords strapping him to the chair are tight. Jensen's not overly into bondage – hell, too many sessions with the senator – but he quite likes the view.

After orgasm number seven – the come is long gone, only a few drops of a clear fluid are ejaculated –, Lehne bursts into a flood of tears, uttering nonsense. He gives away the combination for the safe and the passwords for his computer after the next one, before losing consciousness.

Jensen takes every single video he finds in order to destroy them later. He doesn't want to ruin the hookers' lives even more, and there's enough evidence on the computer to cause the clients a lot of trouble. He's copying, and deleting, and sending emails for almost an hour, and transfers most of Lehne's money to homeless charities and animal shelters.

Before he leaves, he makes sure to not leave traces – save for the big, black mustache he draws on Lehne's face with a Sharpie.

This was more fun than killing the bastard who will soon be too busy dealing with the police and his furious clients. Now that there's nothing left to do, Jensen can go home.

Home is where Jared his. He still has to tell him about his diet, he will wait though, until his boyfriend is well again. He's hoping that Jared won't leave him, but if need be, he'll wait for him as long as he needs to.

The sun is setting when he enters the street, carrying a duffel bag full of porn videos and a valuable check in his pocket. It's going to be a beautiful spring evening, the flora blossoming in anticipation of summer, birds tweeting and chirping.

Life is good, and Jensen is going home.

Tags: bigbang 2014, fic, fic:bread and blood, hooker!jensen, hurt!jared, jared, jensen
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