Written for the original blindfold_spn, for the prompt: Jared/Jeffrey – top!Jared, established relationship, set-of-Watchmen!porn. Jared just can’t get enough of the way Jeff looks dressed as the Comedian. Leather gloves, cigars, dirty talk; bonus points for Jeff being a complete and utter slut.
Supernatural RPS. Jeff/Jared. NC-17. 1300 words. Costume perving.
Jared visits Jeff on the set of Watchmen and it turns out he’s got a bit of a thing for the Comedian’s outfit.
Wicked on the Edges
Jared surprises him during a break from filming, catching him by the arm and pulling him aside. It’s been a rough day, not like the scenes with Carla, but it’s harsh being the walking poster child for nihilism with a sidedish of sadism.
“Hey,” Jared says, giving him a squeeze on the arm. “How long do you have?”
“Long enough,” Jeff says, because there’s no question what Jared’s suggesting with the sort of wide, wicked-on-the-edges smile on his face. Under the costume, Jeff’s skin goes to goosebumps, and he’s immediately aware of how close Jared is leaning, like he’s ready to back Jeff up against the wall and take his mouth right there.
Jared might be reading his mind because he looks tempted, crowds up close enough that Jeff can feel the heat of his breath. “God, you look hot,” Jared says, straight into his ear, and he laughs quietly when he feels the shiver that shoots through Jeff’s frame.
“Yeah? You should see me in the mask.” Jeff’s joking, but Jared seems to consider it.
“Maybe later,” Jared says, and Jeff fights another shiver. “Where’s your trailer?”
Jeff gestures with the still-lit cigar he’d forgotten was in his hand. He’d meant to grind it out, but Jared’s eyes linger on it, and Jeff tucks it back in the corner of his mouth and curves a slow, wicked smile of his own.
“Fucking hot,” Jared groans.
“Not as fun to wear as it is to look at,” Jeff says. His palms are sweating in the gloves, but that’s nothing special, it’s the chest armor that’s a pain. At least wardrobe took the bandolier and the pauldrons off of him before letting him go. He fidgets with the edge of the armor curving under his arms, and is glad they put more padding on since the initial fitting.
“I’ll have enough fun for the both of us, then,” Jared tells him, and Jeff’s brain stalls on that, loops over and over on the sexy purr of Jared’s gonna-fuck-you voice all the way past craft services to his trailer.
“Seriously, Jeff, I mean,” Jared trails off once they’re inside. He shakes his head, hair falling messily across his forehead. “I could do without the stache, but the outfit? You look…”
It’s hard to sport a sheepish grin with a cigar in your mouth, but Jeff manages. “Like a vicious bastard?”
Jared laughs and takes the cigar from him, tosses it into a courtesy ashtray to smoulder. “Well, a little bit, but it’s your arms,” he says, and there’s nothing stopping him from closing in here. He curls his fingers around Jeff’s biceps, skids his grip down to Jeff’s elbows and leans down to kiss him. He’s got Jeff practically panting when he breaks the kiss to say, “And your ass looks pretty fucking good in those pants, too.”
“And we all know how much you love my ass,” Jeff says, eyebrow quirking.
Jared pulls Jeff close, says, “You expect me to deny that?” and his hands abandon Jeff’s arms to slide around to his back and stroke greedily down his spine. Jeff arches right into it, aims a sloppy kiss at Jared’s mouth when Jared’s hands cup his ass, squeeze hard. A fresh surge of blood goes straight to his dick and Jared takes a step backwards, hauling Jeff along with him. “C’mon, talk dirty to me.
“Or do you expect me to tell you just how much I love your ass,” Jared murmurs, busy running his fingertips over the seam of Jeff’s pants.
“That’s the one,” Jeff agrees, and starts shoving Jared towards the couch. The black leather of his gloves are stark as ink against the washed-out blue of Jared’s tee. “And I don’t have all day, so if you’re going to fuck me….”
“Oh, I’m going to fuck you, all right,” Jared says, and his hands are suddenly everywhere. One second, he’s figuring out how to open up the thick belt of Jeff’s Comedian costume, and the next he’s cupping Jeff’s face and straight up tonguefucking him. He’s like a kid in a goddamn candy store, the way he can’t get enough of Jeff and what Jeff’s wearing.
“Guess I’ll be taking home a few gems from wardrobe,” Jeff says, and Jared bobs his head in a series of nods.
“Then I won’t have to worry about shooting early and you going back out on set with a comestain on your codpiece.”
Jeff laughs, he can’t help not laughing, because Jared might think he looks hot, but he still feels a little ridiculous. It’s probably appropriate for the source material–if not necessarily his role–to feel a bit like a douchebag in the getup, but if it was anyone but Jared, peeling off a codpiece is possibly the least sexy thing Jeff can think of.
Somehow Jared makes it sexy, maybe in the way his breath catches when he sees Jeff’s cock outlined in his pants. Or in the way he falls back onto the couch, knees going wide as he hurriedly pulls his own cock free in one big invitation, and says, “Now, the pants. But not all the way. Just far enough for you to….”
Jeff echoes the groan that Jared’s voice dissolves into, and it isn’t easy to try and be careful about the outfit, least of all when he’s already picturing the thick push of Jared’s fingers into him.
“No, wait, stay right there,” Jared says when Jeff’s got one knee on the low couch. “You should jerk off for me.”
“Shit.” It’s not like Jeff has a thing for Jared telling him what to do, it’s more like it’s unbelievably fucking hot the way Jared knows what he likes and isn’t afraid to just say it. That’s how all this started, and it’s like a fresh kick of adrenaline each time Jared reminds him of it.
“For you? Or on you.”
“Christ,” Jared says, and he’s already peeling his tee off and tossing it away. “On me.”
“And if any of it ends up on the gloves?” Jeff palms his cock then grips it tightly, the leather as warm as his skin, but with that lack of sensation that makes it almost easy to pretend it’s someone else’s hand on him. “Are you going to suck them clean?”
Jared’s already jacking himself, slow and rhythmic, his other hand shoved down his open fly to cup his balls. “I’d rather see you do it.”
Jeff shifts his weight forward, propping a hand on the back of the couch near Jared’s shoulder and doesn’t bother trying to kiss him, not when that’d keep him from looking down the line of their bodies, watching their hands and their cocks and the flutter of Jared’s stomach.
“You’ll fuck me later?” Jeff asks, and he feels like a complete slut for wanting it so bad, but while this is good he’s not ashamed to nudge Jared for more.
Jared nods wordlessly, his teeth white on his lip, his balls out now and fingers tugging at his sac. He lets out an explosive breath when Jeff comes first, the first couple shots hitting high on his chest. By the tension in his body, Jeff guesses a dozen strokes is going to bring him off, but Jeff cuts that number in half, smearing his hand down Jared’s chest and licking the come straight off the leather while Jared moans in appreciation.
“Right after you get home,” Jared promises, legs sprawled and fresh streaks of come bright and glistening on the tan skin of his stomach.
Jeff straightens up, more than a little weak at the knees, and promises to bring a cigar.