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 Posting a reply to post #38095

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38095 No.38095
HEY time for something new!

First off, yay ho, there's an inkling of a fandom scattered about the internets

And WOAH. KINK MEME. Or something

There's some pretty decent stuff. /coq/, CAN YOU DO BETTER? Of course you can. But I'm not giving you orders. Just gonna turn you guys loose.

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Cougar's hands rest on Jensen's hips, deceptively light for all they're pinning him down. "Open up," he murmurs, almost too low to be heard over the rattling a/c. "Let me see you."

"Christ." Jensen grinds his forehead against the bed, in lieu of anything else to do while Cougar tries to freaking kill him. "Fuck, dude, you don't need to-- just-- we're good, I'm good, you can fuck me. I need you to fuck me."

Cougar grunts, like yeah right, then spreads Jensen open with his thumbs himself. Jensen grits his teeth; this reminds him too much of getting a bullet removed, trying to breathe and stay quiet and not fidget while Cougar works him over. "We'll get a hotel, you said. Not a broom closet again, you said. Man, I didn't know we were gonna need stirrups or whatever--"

He feels Cougar's long exhaled breath, like the moment before he takes a shot, and then his mouth is-- his mouth--

Jensen makes a noise in his throat that's awfully close to a yelp, then bites the pillow. Fuck Cougar for making him actually bite a pillow. It's weird and it's squidgy and it's good, it's toe-curling, he's going to bring down the hotel with all this whimpering.

Cougar pulls back, rubs his thumb over Jensen's kiss-swollen hole. His voice is scraped out like leather. "You been with a man?"

"Been with you, you fucker," Jensen mutters, muffled, his face burning. "Come on."

"Tight." Cougar's thumb slips in, enough, and Jensen shivers all over. "Ought to loosen you up. Get you off a few times before I give you what you want. Make you shake, hm?"

"Oh my God, I'm going to kill you, Cougar, I'm fucking serious here."

"No. You want my cock too much." Another finger slips in beside Cougar's thumb, a controlled burn that makes Jensen bite off a few choice curses. Which he loses in a high urgent noise as Cougar finds and ruthlessly strokes the prostate, that place he spent all of one lunch break grinding his long fingers into while Jensen bit bruises into his own forearm. Cougar purrs approval, rubbing the scruff of his chin against the back of Jensen's thigh.

"You fucker," Jensen repeats, "you-- oh, dammit, oh, I'm--" Cougar leans on the trigger, and Jensen hitches under him, digging his nails in the mattress, losing words to, "oh, oh, fuckdon'tstop--"

Cougar bites him when he comes, bright hot bruise. He doesn't stop.

"Man," Jensen says, when he can breathe. "You are so fucking dead. I know where you live."

"Fine," Cougar says, unconcerned. "Later. I'm not finished."

After a moment, Jensen presses his face to the pillow. Murmurs, "yeah. Okay."

Also by Nilchance. Huh!

Snipers have the highest rates of PSTD in the military. Jensen read that somewhere. It figures, what with all the shots they have to take through kids or hostages. He knows Cougar probably isn't immune; they heard about the Pass massacre in basic (y'know, before Jensen was yanked out of training and into Clay's unit for hacking his CO's computer) and it was some bad shit. But he crashes with Cougar in Puerto Rico, and so he also knows that Cougar sleeps like (the dead) a baby.

Meanwhile Jensen has nightmares about being six and small forever. About cleaning blood off the carpet.

How fucked up is that?

He wipes the sweat off his face-- he's running a fever from the gunshot wound. He breathes. He thinks about soccer.

Cougar is in the shitty little motel's chair, his hat tilted down over his face. In case you bleed in your sleep, he said blandly, and refused to let Jensen shove him over into Pooch's room. His gun is in reach on the table. He doesn't move, but his body stills like a guard dog just before biting. Voice muffled behind the hat, he says, "Sleep."

The gunshot wound (flesh wound, Aisha said without a trace of sympathy) is itchy. Jensen starts to scratch it, senses that Cougar is raising an eyebrow behind the hat, and stops. Instead he asks, "Clay?"

Cougar tilts his head toward the room where Clay and Aisha went. After a minute, Jensen hears the faint squeak of their bed. "Gross," he mutters, like he wouldn't hit that in a minute.

Tipping the hat back with his thumb, Cougar looks at him.

"I know. Go back to sleep." Wincing, Jensen lays back down. There's sweat streaked down his back; he's a pale-ass gringo with no heat tolerance, and Puerto Rico didn't help give him immunity. "Doesn't help that you're sitting there like Edward Cullen."

Cougar continues to look at him.

"From Twilight. The vampire dude. With the hair." At Cougar's slow blink, Jensen adds, "I have a niece, okay? And she's not reading that shit or she'll date like Clay."

In one rolling motion, Cougar gets up and retrieves the gun.

"Holy shit, okay." Hands up, Jensen grins. "I won't make you read it. You don't have to get violent."

The floor doesn't creak under his feet, which is freaking eerie, and is eerier when Cougar is looming over his bed. A car rustles past their room, spitting gravel and throwing its headlight across the wall; Cougar doesn't glance after the noise, staring at Jensen like he's the only thing he'll ever see.

"What?" Jensen asks. "What? Do I have something on my face?"

Cougar puts the gun down beside Jensen's folded glasses, and sits on the edge of the bed. It tips under him, nearly tilting Jensen onto his side. Cougar's back is to him, a column against the dark.

Roque, Jensen doesn't say. Jesus, we served with him for years.

You could have died, Jensen doesn't say. We could have both died. Why are we dancing around?

Get off my bed, Jensen doesn't say, and swallows. Rooms away, he hears Aisha cry out.

"Sleep," Cougar repeats into the humid quiet. He smells like sweat and gun oil. He's close enough to touch.

The air is electric between them. Jensen shivers. It's the fever. It's only the fever.

He sleeps. He doesn't remember nightmares.
In the morning, Cougar's still there.

WTF is this shit!?

Where the hell is the Clay/Jensen prompts!? AM I like the only one that ships that?!

oh fuck that's hot

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Sketchy bullshit, but since it's all I can make recently...


One nitpick, though (SORRY SORRY ><). Jensen doesn't have a mustache. :I


He SHOULD. :[ Problem solved.


Where is Clay and Jensen?!

In the poster he does. And in most stills from the movie he's got a 5-o'clock douche-stache.

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>>Jensen only gets to wear the hat when he's riding Cougar.
From here:

Please accept this as a humble request for MOAR FIC. ty


I like it...


Incidentally: taking requests, if you're interested.

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FFFFFFFFFffffffffffffff...ff.ffff.f.fffffffff. Ffft. Hnghawesome.

Calm down, bro, the fandom's young. Here you go.

Jensen confirmed for team bicycle.

>>Jensen confirmed for team bicycle.
I like your way of thinking, mate.


yes yes yes and you request boy. More Clay/Jensen!!

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Apologies for crappiness, but I was running out of time!

You can have my first born.

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Ways to shut up Jensen.




:p Thanks.

Still taking requests, I've got the will to draw but I have no ideas. :(


There's a part in the comic that sadly didn't make it into the movie, with Jensen hacking in his underwear, and wearing a cowboy hat. I would be a very happy loser if I could see Cougar down between his legs ^_^

(Pee ess, it's so good to see you back, Dorky. And in the Steve/Tony thread as well. We have so much love for both of you, Dorky and Tim <3)

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>>cowboy hat
Pirate hate actually, but I'm on it anyway! ;)


Curses! I knew I should have pulled the comics out to check that.

You're the best ^^


I don't know what happened! It suddenly became fic. And a rather unsatisfying one at that.

Clay was saying something, something clearly very important.

"Uh-huh," Jensen barely managed to get out, before smashing his mouth against his forearm and letting out a couple of muffled curses against his skin.

His thighs were trembling with the effort of keeping them apart to make space for Cougar. He whimpered and relaxed, only to receive a low growl from the man between his legs. Jensen looked down and immediately cursed himself for doing so; seeing that cowboy hat, the broad shoulders, tore a moan out of him and cause the phone to almost slip from his sweaty grip.

"Are you all right, Jensen?" Clay asked.

"Su- Sure," he replied, trying not to give away anything, "fii-iine!" he yelped, his voice raising an octave, when a tongue like fire traveled from his navel to the waist of his boxers.

He could almost picture Clay on the other end of the phone narrowing his eyes, suspicious. "You're naked, aren't you?" Clay asked, abruptly, "and watching porn."

"No!" Jensen exclaimed. "Nope! Absolutely not!"

He wasn't techically naked after all, he still had his boxers on, and his socks.

Cougar chuckled quietly and tugged down at his underwear with a sharp movement, making Jensen slide down on the chair and almost fall to the floor in a rather undignified heap.

Okay, make that just his socks.

Cool air hit his dick and Jensen moaned quietly and fidgeted on the chair. There had been the confinment of fabric between his dick and the warmth and hardness of Cougar's body, but at least it had been happy with the contact. Now Cougar had drawn back, presumably to stare at the utter ridiculousness that was Jensen - legs spread, still wearing his mismatched socks and a pair of Pacman boxers hanging from one ankle - and his dick missed him.

"Because I think we discussed about you hacking in your undies, Jensen," Clay continued, "and I thought I made it abudantly clear how much I don't like talking about you hacking in your undies."

"Stay <i>still</i>," Cougar growled, then his hands closed like a vise around Jensen's knees and <i>pushed</i>, spreading his legs even further apart. "Like this. Perfect."

Jensen felt far from perfect, he had slid even more down the chair and now his ass was hanging out, "fuck," he said through gritted teeth as he tried to sit back.

Cougar's hold on his thighs tightened even more - Jensen was going to have bruises, he just knew it - but it wasn't that what made Jensen stop at once and altogether give up trying to regain some of his dignity.

Nope. It was the hot, wet mouth descending down on him, slow and steady and inexorable. It went down and down and down and never stopped until there wasn't anything anymore to go down on.

Jensen's curse died on his lips and became a long, breathy moan.

"Jensen? Jensen!" Clay called, his voice getting progressively louder, so that now his words were almost audible even with the phone away from his ear. "Jensen, you still there? I swear, if you-"

But Jensen stopped caring about what Clay had to say when Cougar raised his mouth and, with that, took away all that wet hotness that was making Jensen's dick - and, by extension, Jensen - happy.

"Wh- no," he protested fleebly, nudging Cougar's left thigh with his toes. "Don't stop."

"Who is that on the phone?" Cougar asked.

Jensen frowned at the phone for a moment. "Wrong number!" he exclaimed, tossing the cellphone across the room, not really caring where it landed.

Cougar chuckled, "loco," he murmured, shaking his head.

"Yeah, just for you baby," Jensen said, tugging Cougar up by the collar of his shirt.

They kissed, Jensen's glasses painfully digging into his flesh until Cougar took them off and set them down on the desk, next to the computer he was supposed to use for hacking.

"So, huh," Jensen started when they came apart. He got distracted by the sight of Cougar licking his lips and cleared his voice a couple of times, "where were we?"

"Here, I think," Cougar said, bending his head down until all Jensen could see was his cowboy hat, some locks of hair peeking from under it and the long line of his back.

But feel him he did, all around him, almost unberably so.

"Fuck," he choked, "this beats all the pirate hats, ever."


Oooohhhh Dorky. oh Dorky. You are way too good to us.

That was just as perfect as a picture could have been. THANK you!!

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Done, btw. :)

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Anyone know if there are any vids on Youtube for this fandom? Also, the world needs more Jensen with a crossbow.


This has made what was a fairly rough day. There is absolutely nothing better than coming home and seeing everything you love about fandom represented so perfectly. God damn. That's beyond hot, and awesome, and phenominally drawn. You kick serious ass.

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Hrngh sorry, I don't know why I can't draw Jensen without goofy vacant glasses. Maybe one day I can draw him wonderful and adorable like Dorky does. ONE DAY. While we're still dreaming, maybe I will draw some decent porn too.

Oh jesus, that grin. HE'S SO FULL OF GLEEEE. Dreamwidth/Kink Meme is full of delicious stuff, by the way. Just as a heads-up.


Augh! Oh, the adorable, it hurts me...!

Honestly, I like the vacant glasses. It reminds me more of the comics than anything, and that's always a good thing. And yes, Jensen, please cling to Cougar forever...

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D'aaawwww. And I quote tg: goofy glasses are the best. :)

Also, from the comic: Jensen&Cougar's bromance.

Where is CLAY/JENSEN!? I demand it!

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Second page, WHAT?

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Whoops! Seems to have slipped off the first page. Fix'd

I love this fic SO MUCH


Title: I’m just a soul (whose intentions are good)
Author: storm_petrel
Word count: 4600
Rating: Nc-17

Oh my god, this was supposed to be nice cheerful porn set in an Uzbekistani goat shed, and then this happened instead. This is now the long and mostly-incompetent courtship of Cougar by Jensen, with associated warnings for swearing, violence, gore and sex (in that order). Cougar/Jensen, pre-movie.

Jensen has always been a little odd in the head, so it takes Cougar a few weeks to realize something is – off—about him. It’s hard to pin down, because Jensen’s baseline for weirdness is probably at *least* an order of magnitude above the rest of the team put together, but still. Something’s not right.

At first, Cougar thinks maybe it’s just stress. They’ve been active in the field for weeks without a proper stand-down, and everyone’s getting a bit raw. Clay’s jaw gets tight, and the lines around his eyes get a little deeper, Roque’s temper gets a bit closer to the surface as each day passes. Pooch’s fingers stray to his wedding band more and more often, and Jensen—

—well, the whole mess started with Jensen and his disrespect for personal boundaries.


Their command post on the Uzbekistan border hardly deserves the name, a cluster of rusted-out sheds that someone’s clearly been using to store livestock. Goats, by the smell of it, and it took Cougar four days to get bored enough to start identifying barnyard animals by smell. Snipers are patient by nature, having a job with an *extremely* high ratio of mindfuck-boredom to action.

Still, he’s lucky that he’s set up on this side of the valley, as opposed to the tents that Clay, Roque and Pooch are making do with on the opposite cliff. Cougar’s up here with a clear line of fire for the road that supplies what the brass are pretty sure is a training camp for an Al-Qaeda splinter group. Knowing the brass as Cougar does, it could also be a training camp for militant puppies.

So it’s been four days with nothing but the wind, the drone of the gasoline generator, and Jensen’s running commentary for company, and Cougar, sniper-patient or not, is starting to twitch under the skin.

Jensen is actually some kind of random conversation generating machine, that’s the only possible explanation. “Jesus, these sat feeds are dead. Nothing moving except a couple of trucks going back and forth and this random guy who keeps popping into the frame like the asshole cousin at a wedding—and look at this, lag time and one frame per minute? I paid my taxes last year, you think Uncle Sam could invest in some better surveillance technology for spying on the definitely-not-terrorists. I mean, Christ, their firewall’s for shit, those crates are probably full of bootleg Chinese porn, and if asshole in the frame here doesn’t start dancing for my goddamn entertainment pretty soon, I’m going to be seriously pissed off.”

Jensen grabs the two laptops, one in each arm and props them on his hips like a pair of babies as he crosses the room and drops down on the dirt floor of the doorway. Cougar shifts his body to make room as Jensen leans into the thin corrugated wall. He bends forward, and his breath puffs warm on the back of Cougar’s neck. Cougar ignores him, keeps his eye on the scope of the RPA Rangemaster, and sinks into that almost-blank state where nothing can touch him, where there’s only the green-lit world of the targeting scope, and the horizon is a cross-hair.

He has to zone back in because, abruptly, Jensen’s practically on top of him, still talking, and he’s close enough to smell four days in the desert on Jensen’s skin, close enough to see individual glints of stubble on Jensen’s jaw. Cougar has no idea what conversational tangents he’s missed in the meantime. “—and then we found out the smell was the goldfish, which was in the vacuum cleaner bag—which is why I wasn’t allowed to have pets anymore so computers were the next best—you hear that?”

Jensen, for all his ongoing monologue, has good ears. There’s a car, definitely not designed for desert mountain roads, speeding along the valley road below. Jensen drops down to his elbows, puts his lips to his ear, so close that Cougar almost flinches back. “Clay’s signalling. He says hold positions and wait.”

So they freeze, Jensen locked into place just behind his right shoulder as the car, not even slowing down, plows through the gates of the compound in a hail of machine-gun fire and hits the main building with an explosion so bright, Cougar has to duck away from the scope. When he looks up, it’s just in time to see the satellite feeds on Jensen’s laptops go from tranquil to inferno. Clay’s voice is crackling across the radio, *Report—the fuck was that?!* resonating through static, and Jensen grins, brushing his knuckles hard against Cougar’s shoulder. “Well, at least things are getting *interesting*.”


After the clusterfuck in Uzbekistan, Jensen’s suddenly *there* in a way he hadn’t been before, and Cougar is starting to feel his calm erode. His boots knock against Cougar’s under the table, their shoulders brush in the truck. Logic dictates that he should back up, get Jensen out of his *space*, but that feels too much like retreating, and besides, when Jensen’s within his bizarre new one-meter orbit of Cougar, he’s not out attracting trouble. Cougar had to shoot out the tires on the two guard trucks chasing Jensen’s motorcycle when he came blasting out of the compound. Granted, Jensen had just hacked their servers on-site and made off with a drive of heroin shipment manifests, but Cougar would really prefer to live in a world where he doesn’t have to perch over the edge of crumbling sandstone cliff and use his second-worst rifle to blast the tires of two speeding trucks, with Jensen weaving back and forth between them, small and fast and vulnerable.

Still, Jensen’s constant tactile presence is starting to get to him, makes him want—something. He wants Jensen out of his space. He wants to keep Jensen right where he is.
He wants to know what the hell game Jensen’s playing.

Clay corners him one day a month later, alone by a decades-old Twin Otter on the airstrip of some broken-down town 100 miles outside of Arkhangel’sk. “You want to fill me in on what’s happening between you and my tech support?”

There’s a lot of answers Cougar could give, ranging anywhere from a debilitating brain parasite affecting Jensen’s impulse control all the way to not being hugged enough as a child, and now he’s transferring those issues to Cougar, because Pooch is completely married and Roque would probably gut him after twenty minutes of exposure. He settles on the most honest answer he can. “Nothing.”

Clay snorts, gives him that look he gets when he could call you on your bullshit, but isn’t going to yet because he wants to see how big an asshole you’ll make of yourself. This look is most often levelled at Jensen; Cougar’s not used to seeing it pointed in his direction.

“Work it out,” is all Clay says, and then Jensen’s bounding across the tarmac, all smiles like they’re at fucking Six Flags instead of some overgrown tundra airstrip in the fuck-end of nowhere.

Cougar feels something tight turn over in his chest.


Clusterfucks don’t like to occur in isolation because they get lonely, and that’s how Cougar wakes up to find himself stripped naked and handcuffed to a pipe in a half-finished condo development on the outskirts of Rio. Stupid, *stupid* mission, cover blown and they took his hat. Someone is going to *pay*.

There’s a bit of stiff wire wrapped under his hair tie, but the angle’s awkward and it’s proving difficult to work loose. The pipe behind his head is making a racket, and it’s hard to focus. The water’s not connected yet, so the pipe shouldn’t be clanging so much. It takes him a moment to recognize the pattern, but he’s officially blaming that on the concussion.

*Clink clank clank clank, Clink clank clank clank, clink clank clink, clink clink clank--- thr, JJ, r u thr---*

Jensen. That tight spot in his chest clenches again. He lines up the cuff and start tapping back with one hand, the other gradually working the wire out of his hair. *CGR, 1 flr dwn immblzd. Cn u gt ot?*

*Ngtv. Immblzd. Men cmng.* There’s a pause, and then *CGR, lv-* Then a clang and a thump, like someone yanked Jensen away hard, and Cougar’s fingers are working frantically, un-looping the wire, pulling hair out with it—

There’s footsteps outside the door, and Cougar’s only got a moment, but he manages to palm the wire before the door opens and Jensen walks in. He got to keep his boxers. Life is not fair. Four heavily armed men follow behind and shove him to the corner, automatics trained on both of them.

Rodriguez, the shit-dealing hijo de puta that got them into this mess, smiles down at him. He’s wearing a thousand-dollar suit with a gold tiepin. He’s got Jensen’s glasses in one hand and he’s spinning Cougar’s hat in the other. Bastard bastard *bastard*. In the corner, on his knees, Jensen’s eyes are hot and tight, like he’s holding himself still through sheer force of will.

The closest heavy holsters his automatic and pulls a very thin, very sharp knife. Rodriguez smiles, and grinds the sharp heel of his loafer down on the toes of Cougar’s left foot, *hard*. Cougar hisses air through his teeth. Jensen, thank god, doesn’t make a sound. They can both see where this is going, and there isn’t a single way that it’s not going to end bloody.

Rodriguez, in a reasonably calm tone considering he’s just broken three of Cougar’s toes as an opening statement, turns to address Jensen. “Now, you’re going to tell me where your Colonel stashed the Uzbekistan manifests. You think my life is easy? Heroin just walks through customs with a smile? No, that route out of Afghanistan took too long to set up, cost too much goddamn money. So, you’re going to tell me where that information is, or I’m going to have Diego here cut pieces off your friend until you do.”

“Mámalo,” says Jensen, and his accent is awful but his voice is steady, and Cougar suddenly wants to wrap his arms around him and just hold him for a few hours or days. Given the situation that they’re in, that’s probably not going to happen, but a man can dream.

Incredibly, that tight knot in his chest unclenches for a moment. Cougar, holding on to his hard-won stillness, very gently eases the tip of the wire into the lock of the right cuff, directly behind his head.

Rodriguez doesn’t look happy with Jensen’s answer. He waves Diego forward, and that knife, Cougar tries not to think about the knife, and gently wiggles the wire back and forth. He tries not to think about the knife until he feels cold steel on his face and Diego grabs his left ear and pulls hard.

There’s a hot flood against the side of his face, and he has a moment to realize, albeit dizzily, that it’s cut to the inner cartilage, not severed, because Diego flinched at a crashing sound a floor or two away. Rodriguez spins in place, gestures two of the heavies out the door, and turns back, looking murderous. “His right eye, then the left, Mr. Diego, and try not to botch the job so badly this time.” Diego flips the knife in his hand, the grip slick with blood, and Cougar has a half-second to lock eyes with Jensen.

He winks.

The cuff lock pops open and Cougar surges forward, just as Jensen bellows and launches to his feet, plowing into the other guard, bringing him down with one arm across his throat and his gun hand smashing against the floor. Rodriguez, the fucking coward, backpedals out the door.

Then Cougar has to focus on Diego, the very large man who’s trying to stab him. He dodges two cuts, and god *damn* Diego is fast, so Cougar ducks in and jams the jagged edge of his wire pick *hard* at the man’s right eye.

Diego screams, and hits him *hard* on his bleeding ear, and holy mother of *god*, that hurts. He drops, and Diego follows him down, and stabs down hard. Cougar’s shoulder is burning fire, but he pins the knife in his own flesh with one fist, and strikes once, twice at Diego’s bloody eye. The man rears back, but it’s not enough, and he pulls the knife free.

And maybe that would be the end except Jensen’s got the guard’s gun and he fires once, twice and Diego goes down on top of Cougar, two bullets in his back.

There’s blood in his eyes and a corpse on top of him, but things could be worse. If he doesn’t bleed to death in the next ten minutes, Cougar will definitely chalk this one up as a win.

Jensen’s there, suddenly, hauling the body away and pressing down *hard* on his bleeding shoulder. Everything goes white for a few moments and Cougar hears someone yelling on the other side and has the bad feeling that it’s him. When he blinks out of it, he can hear footsteps and Pooch’s voice in the hall, getting closer. Jensen is leaning over at him, some indefinably ferocious look in his eyes. “You fucking asshole, Cougar, if you die here I’m going to kick your ass *so hard*.”

And then Jensen kisses him.



He wakes up on a motel bed when the morphine wears off. His shoulder is a throbbing mass of pain, his left foot is swollen and the stitches in his ear itch like hell. There’s an impromptu IV line taped to his arm, and the fluid bag’s hanging off—a hat rack. Next time he’s holding out for a real hospital, with real doctors and real sanitation, and not Roque’s loopy-looking sutures. He manages to turn his head, and there’s Roque and Pooch, playing cards by the window. Pooch sees the movement, and he’s by the bed in a second.

“Cougar, man, good to see you.” He’s got a cup of ice chips, for which Cougar’s profoundly grateful. There’s a bandage taped to Pooch’s arm, and he raises an eyebrow. Pooch shrugs. “Rodriguez has eyes on all the decent hospitals and clinics, we’re just lucky we had the transfusion kit in the truck. You got 500 cc’s of Pooch-juice in you, you can buy me a drink later.”

Roque gives him another morphine shot, and he’s out before he can try talking. When he wakes up again, it’s night, and Clay’s sprawled in a chair, his boots propped on the bed by Cougar’s knee. Clay’s got wide shoulders and good upper-body strength and between the two of them, they manage to stagger to the john without ripping Cougar’s stitches.

Clay props him over the sink and splashes some water on his face and Cougar studies his reflection, shaky. Bloody, beat up and he’s going to have two new scars. And Jensen kissed him.

The morphine’s been keeping that thought at bay.

They stay at the motel for two more days while Cougar sleeps, mostly. The few times he’s awake, he only sees Jensen once, just for a moment, framed in the doorway, and then he’s gone.
It’s the longest he’s been out of Cougar’s sight for months. It’s unnerving.

He wakes up one afternoon to find his hat sitting on the bedside table and his fingers warm, but the drugs are making him fuzzy, and he can’t remember if anyone was there.

The cas-evac flight shows up two days after it would actually be useful, but it lands in the Florida Keys a few hours later, so Cougar’s not inclined to pick a fight. He’s still mostly out of it, and when he wakes up properly, they’re in the old CIA safehouse in Key Largo, on a week-long stand-down.

It’s just as well they got dumped someplace warm, because Cougar’s foot is still too swollen to fit his boot. He can’t get a shirt on properly, so he sits on the back step of the house with his hat tipped over his eyes, letting the sun soak his injured shoulder while Roque and Pooch swim laps in the old concrete pool. Clay’s been on the phone all morning, filing their mission report, and Jensen—

-is nowhere in sight. Clearly this is going to require an ambush strategy.

He tips his hat to Roque. “Going inside to sleep.”

Roque shakes off water, grabs his towel. “You need watching?”

Cougar shakes his head, winces when the movement tugs at the stitches there. “No, it’s okay. Just going to sleep.” Roque shrugs, wanders over to where Clay’s still reporting, albeit tipped back in a lounge chair with the phone propped against his ear and a beer in his free hand.

The house is cool and dark after the sun in the yard, and Cougar weaves down the hall, passing the kitchen where Jensen is hunched over his laptop. He doesn’t look up, but Cougar deliberately scuffs his uninjured toes over the old linoleum, marking his passage. His room’s off the main hall at the foot of the stairs, and Cougar closes the door halfway, and settles back on the bed to wait.

It doesn’t take long. He’s got his eyes shut, his breathing deliberately slow when the door opens, very quietly, and someone slips inside.

The footsteps are too soft, and if Cougar hadn’t been hyperaware of every sound, every interrupted air current in the room that’s being blocked by someone’s body, he’d have missed when they stopped by the bed, and someone leans in.

And Cougar may have been stabbed this week but he’s still fucking *fast*, and he grabs Jensen’s wrist in midair.

“Jesus *Christ*!” Jensen is wide-eyed, every line of his body quivering taut like he’s poised to sprint, so Cougar hooks his leg around the back of Jensen’s knees and yanks him off-balance, down onto the bed. Jensen scrambles back, but Cougar pins him with a look.

“Now we talk.”

Jensen snorts, nervous. “That’d be a change of scene. Look, Cougar, I’m fucking sorry, okay? I just wanted to make sure you were okay, my sister would be pissed if you died, she said I need a keeper and you’re the best one to come along so far—”

Cougar turns Jensen’s hand over and brushes his knuckles along his palm, slowly, along Jensen’s lifeline. Jensen stops, swallows hard. He looks less like he’s about to bolt, though, so Cougar is reassured.

“Now,” he says, quietly, “Talk.”

Under the sunburn and bruises, Jensen is pale. “Fuck, I’m sorry, it doesn’t have to mean anything, I thought you were gonna die, I’ve been all kinds of fucked-up over this, and if you let me go I swear to god, Cougar, I swear I’ll never mention it again—”

If he leaves this conversation in Jensen’s hands, it’s going to run in circles for another hour, so Cougar decides it’s time to be proactive. He leans suddenly into Jensen’s space, and kisses him.

As technically-second kisses go, it’s not great. The angle is awkward, their stubble scratches, and Jensen’s mouth is *still* opening and closing like he’s trying to talk. Cougar pushes gently, follows Jensen down, and kisses him again. It’s strange, he’s never wanted anything like this before, never felt desire for another man, but Jensen feels *good* under his hands, his chest solid and strong under his thin t-shirt, and he’s breathing hard like he’s going to pitch Cougar off. Suddenly, though, he lifts his head and now they’re kissing properly, hot and smooth like they’re passing something unspoken back and forth between them.

This is good, it’s better than good, Jensen’s hands smoothing up and down his spine like he can’t stop touching Cougar’s skin. It feels *good*, and it’s been a long time since anyone touched Cougar and wasn’t trying to kill him. Jensen suddenly shifts, sits up and pushes Cougar down until he’s straddling his hips, and pulls his shirt over his head. Cougar kisses him again, then Jensen drops his head, puts his lips to the edge of the stitches in the hollow of Cougar’s collarbone, and breathes against his skin. “I’d never have told them, not a thing, I swear. But after you were dead, I swear to god I was going to take them apart.”

It might the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to him, which might say something sad about the state of Cougar’s love life, but he can’t bring himself to care because Jensen is a long line of heat against his body, and if he doesn’t move his left arm, he’s okay. He’s never done this before, fuck, but he’s not backing down now, so he drops one hand down and runs his knuckles lightly down the front of Jensen’s board shorts, where his dick is starting to strain against the thin fabric.

Clearly he really needs two functioning arms for this, because Jensen gasps and almost bucks him off. Cougar manages to catch himself, locks his arm around Jensen’s neck, and *grinds* down. Jensen makes an incoherent sound, and thrusts up, his eyes wide and his mouth panting.

“What do you want, hmm? Tell me what you want,” Cougar leans in and presses his lips to the hollow under Jensen’s ear, because he suddenly wants to feel Jensen’s skin under his mouth. He bites down, just because he can, and then rubs his face against the mark, his stubble scratching the soft skin there. Jensen moans, pushes him back.

Jensen swallows, and it looks like it takes an effort to get himself under control. His mouth is slick and swollen from kissing, and there’s a small red mark blooming below his ear. He looks *amazing*. Cougar wants to bite him again, wants to mark him all over his body. Then Jensen pushes him back slowly, and follows him down. “Lie down,” says Jensen, his voice low, “I want—oh god, I want—”

He never quite manages to get the words out, but then he’s on top of Cougar, one arm bracing his weight, and the other – clever, clever fingers—are opening Cougar’s jeans. Jensen palms him through his underwear, and Cougar curses, grabs at Jensen again.

“No, let me, just let me—” Jensen gives up on words again, kisses Cougar and pulls his jeans and his underwear down his thighs, pausing a moment to stroke his thumb over the leaking head of Cougar’s dick. And *god*, that’s good, and Cougar thinks for a moment about flipping them, grinding down on Jensen until he makes those incoherent noises again. But this is Jensen’s show, so he stays down and watches with hot, hooded eyes as Jensen straightens up and shimmies out of his shorts, those slim hips working back and forth, his dick long and sleek, a bead of precome welling at the slit. He’s got his hand to his mouth, one long wet lick against his palm and fingers. Cougar may never have done this before, but Jensen is giving him *ideas*. Jensen drops down, lines up their hips, and wraps his long fingers around both their dicks.

Cougar closes his eyes and breathes out hard, something dangerously close to a moan. Then he has to open his eyes, because Jensen’s right above him, his hand working both their dicks together. It’s hot and slick, and Jensen’s panting harshly, his own eyes squeezed shut.

And it should be strange, but it’s *Jensen*, Jensen’s hands on his body, Jensen who’s been orbiting for him for months, Jensen who he’d die for, Jensen who suddenly makes a hell of a lot more sense. Cougar is close, so he gets his hand in that slick place between their bodies, twines his fingers with Jensen’s. “Look at me,” he says, a voice that almost shocks him, a low growl that’s half-feral, “Jensen, look at me.”

Jensen opens his eyes and that’s it for Cougar, he thrusts up into Jensen’s hand once, twice, and then he’s coming, hard and hot between them. It’s intense, makes his legs draw up around Jensen, a flare of pain from his bandaged toes that only drives him higher.

When he drops back, Jensen buries his face against his good shoulder, his hips working helplessly. “Cougar, Cougar, oh my god,” he says, and then comes all over their hands, his breath coming in harsh gasps against Cougar’s skin.

He’s still for a few moments, and Cougar brings up his good arm, strokes the short hair at the base of Jensen’s skull. Then Jensen makes a sound against him.

“You bastard, I chase after you for months and months, what were you doing, *saving* it for when you almost die? Because that is really fucked up, I gotta say, and you could have really saved me a lot of mental pain and anguish if you’d just jumped me in the goddamn goat shed three months ago.”

Well, things seem a hell of a lot more obvious in *retrospect*, for all the good that does him. He remembers every look, every unnoticed touch, Jensen’s last Morse message as they dragged him away, and he winces inwardly. Retrospect, right.

Meanwhile, Jensen’s still talking “—and Clay said he wasn’t asking as long as I never, ever, *ever* told him anything and that if I fucked things up for the unit, I wouldn’t have any balls *left* to cause trouble with, and Pooch’s been *laughing* for weeks, and Roque’s going to *sprain* something if he ignores it any harder—”

“I didn’t know,” he tells Jensen, as honest as he knows how to be. “I really didn’t. You never said.”

Jensen looks incredulous. “I never said? I’m sorry, have you *met* me? Mostly, I was kind of hoping you’d notice me *pining* for you, asshole!” Jensen retorts, but the heat is lost when his voice shakes just a little at the end.

Cougar kisses him. It’s a very effective way of shutting Jensen up. When they come up for air, Cougar shrugs with his good shoulder. “Never been with a man before. I never thought about it.” While Jensen’s still speechless, he gropes around for Jensen’s discarded shirt, and wipes the come off their skin, because it’s starting to dry and stick. Jensen makes a soft sound when he grazes his still-sensitive dick, and Cougar files it away with the all the others for a *thorough* examination later. He grabs the edge of the sheet, pulls it until it covers their hips. He pushes Jensen’s head down to his chest, rests his hand in the hollow at the back of Jensen’s skull. “Go to sleep,” Cougar says, then adds as an afterthought, “This is a bad idea.”

“Are you joking?” says Jensen, his voice a little muffled against Cougar’s skin. “This is a great idea. This is my life’s fucking work right here.”

“This is a bad idea and it’ll end in bloodshed.”

“Pot-ay-to, pot-ah-to,” says Jensen, and falls asleep almost immediately.

Bad idea, *bad idea*, and Cougar really can’t bring himself to care. He strokes the soft skin at the nape of Jensen’s neck and just drifts.


Mmmm, delicious.

I love this thread.

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Still taking /r/s anon.

prompt: Would a gun in his mouth shut Jensen up? Is Cougar willing to find out? pleasepleasepleasethankyou


Nngh, yes, something involving guns inserted into one or more of Jensen's orifices.

File: 12736193175.png-(155.08KB, 922x691, jensen_gun.png)
No Cougar, but Jensen is getting molested by a gun.


Incidentally: requesting fic where Jensen gets molested by gun-wielding bad guy.


Absolutely gorgeous!

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Woah. Suddenly a completely change of pace.

HNNNNNNGHH fluff with Jensen and Cougar makes me wibble like a girl. brb time machining back to freshman year

We need moar!

"Roque: Okay, you stay with us. But if anything smells like a trap, I get to put a bullet in your skull. Does that sound fair?
Aisha: That sounds fun.
Jensen: Sounds like my parents... "

Let's pretend Jensen had a horrible nightmare inducing childhood and Cougar's grown used to comforting him <:

Humble request!
"Cougar, be gentle!" Jensen likes it slow.


Somebody could do better, undoubtedly. Also no porn. D:<

Jensen swears softly to himself, and tries not to panic. It’s not the first time he’s been captured by the enemy, but these particular groups of baddies are NOT VERY NICE. In all caps, with some exclamation points thrown in. And italics.

The point is, if Jensen gets out of this alive, Clay will never let him forget it. If he doesn’t.... Well, then. The plan was a bad one to begin with, but he assured Clay he could take care of himself, he even remembered his gun this time, for all the good it did. But look at him now, stuck in some abandoned warehouse (not very original there, guys) surrounded by seven men that look like the Steelers defensive line.

“I don’t suppose you’d just let me go?”

Jensen’s at a wrong angle to roll with the punch that comes, so it hurts more than it should. He runs his tongue over his teeth to check for loose ones and realizes that the big one on the left is talking, “—get your mouth around somethin’ else, boy.” Shit. They warned you about this, in the Army. Not explicitly, but it was understood. Men could be— Shit.

Someone yanks his head up, hard, and Jensen doesn’t make a sound as the man fiddles with his belt buckle. He feels disassociated suddenly, as if this is happening to someone else. Idly, he thinks of Cougar. Of the ways these men are going to die once Cougar finds them. He grits his teeth so hard they squeak, and his jaw cracks as something is shoved into his face. Jensen smells the thick stench of skin and musk, before a crack rings out and then he smells blood.

The men behind him and in front him drop suddenly. On instinct, Jensen grabs the gun, and shoots two more as three more shots ring out and the other men die a quicker death than they deserved.

He tosses the gun away as his team steps out of the shadows like goddamn superheroes.

“You guys killed Ben Roethlisberger.”

the football player?

I feel dumb since I usually get the joke.

Yeah, he plays with the Steelers. I don't know why I threw that in...

I thought maybe his nickname was the "the gun" or something which is why you put him in there


FFFfffff. YES.


On it. I'll try to finish it tomorrow, real life is getting in the way.

My hero~






So the thing is he got hurt again and yeah it was something stupid, something really fucking moronic but it wasn’t his fault really, well not his fault in the way that he didn’t see the damn elephant coming because Pooch was too busy laughing over some boob joke that Clay made and he was too busy laughing because Pooch was laughing way too damn hard about it when it was really a kind of stupid ass joke.

The point was that he didn’t see the damn tank of an animal coming right towards him until it was right there and really considering he could have gotten trampled to god damned death he figured jumping over the only moderately high cliff into the hair from too shallow but still deep enough water below to be a plus, not a negative.

The only problem with his thinking was that Cougar didn’t share his opinion on the matter, nope, not at all. Cougar was pissed and for a government bred Spanish Sniper god that pretty much meant he was screwed.

He just wished he could be the good kind of screwed and not the bad kind that involved ignoring, cold shoulders and dirty looks from under the brim of that judgmental hat.

He wasn’t accident prone hell he wasn’t even suicidal it just happened that these kind of things kept happening to him lately these freak accidents, human anomalies and that kind of smart sounding perfectly legitimate but still not convincing to Cougar type bull.

So here he was stuck in a room with him well not so much stuck as he forcibly placed his self in the same vicinity so he could soak in the bastard whether or not he was ignoring he existed. Which was so not okay with him by the god dang way, this non-communication malarkey he had to endure just because he wanted to remain alive for himself, the team and especially Coug, but no, he was a big fat moron who couldn’t save his own ass if he was handled a manual and a year to learn to do how to do it properly.

And it wasn’t like he didn’t get it, oh he got it, Cougar worried as weird and silly as that probably seemed to everybody else sometimes cause Cougar was Cougar and well he was all stoic and quiet and calm and he wasn’t usually the go to guy when you imagined one of them chewing their nails down to the quick but still when it came to him, yeah he knew the guy worried.

He just hated it. Hate, hate, hated it.

So he did the only thing he knew, the only thing he could try to get forgiveness and yeah it was gonna be low and really fucking risky because Cougar could swing either way when he pulled this kind of card but it was worth it to try and god if it worked he would get the kind of screwing he wanted to begin with when he was whining and holed up in a stinky room on horse tranquilizers with a broken wrist in the first place.

“Cougar…Cougar….Cougar…Cougar…Cougar.” He repeated over and over as a start just working the laces of his boots loose with one hand because the other was way too fucking useless to even speak about right now. He couldn’t even work properly cause of the damn thing but whatever he didn’t have to type right now he just had to convince the dirty, filthy and oh so god damned sinfully hot Spaniard to do him until the pain melted away and left only the kind of ache he could deal feeling day in and day out.

Kicked off his boots when it seemed the stubborn jerk wasn’t gonna fall for the childish route and went for plan b which basically consisted of taking everything his momma gave him because momma didn’t raise no fool and using it at his advantage and even if that meant looking a moron as he pulled, tugged and generally undressed clown style he would do it for the end result.

So he was naked, he was spread out on the way too tiny bed he had to sleep on and he just stroked the fingers on his good hand over his slightly sweaty and muscled skin. “You know I’m sorry, you know that. I didn’t mean to be an idiot Coug, I really didn’t. It was just fight or flight and let’s face it I’m good but I’m not K’O a god damn fucking elephant good. I just wanted to live and I know that’s why your pissed cause you think I did something dumb that would have killed me but really, I fucking swear I was going for survival.”

He got a snort for his rambling effort and god it was the best snort he ever heard and he would take, he would take it and keep it and pet it and call it George he loved that snort so much.

“Come on, man, please just forgive me. I know I can be an idiot.”

“The kind that belongs on the buses.”

Twitched up an eyebrow and let his mouth quirk at the quiet response because yeah it was insulting but god it was just like Cougar and he wanted him, all of him and everything he came with even if it was to call him mentally handicapped to his face.

“Yeah, alright, I get it I’m dumb, I’m simple but you’re the one that can’t live without me so what does that say about you.”

Cougar stopped cleaning his gun then to tip his hat back and finally, fucking finally look at him. “It means I belong on that list, the list with all those people who give everything they have of themselves and then some. I should have a medal, a ceremony and a key to some hippy kingdom for what I put up with for you.”

“Yeah, okay, true and I accept that but I can’t take you being mad at me so…so just look at me, look at all his delicious and edible me and just forgive me Coug cause I need you and fuck I want you real damn bad and if I have to beg I will, I will get on my hands and knees and I don’t give a shit that I have a bum wrist either, I’ll do that shit.”

“Shut. Up.”

He sealed his mouth shut then because it was that tone. That Spanish tone that meant ‘I’m deliberating whether to shoot you in the brain pan and be done with you or take you so hard, so deep and so fucking thoroughly that you’ll cry to our savior Jesus for the gift that has been bestowed upon you’.

“I planned on taking you as soon as you came in…” Cougar started his eyes gleaming as he carefully removed his hat and sat it on the same chair he put his rifle on. “I just wanted to see how much you would grovel before I took pity on you.”

“Oh, well, that’s real nice of you Cougar.”

“Didn’t I say to shut up?”

“Yes.” He squeaked and fuck was that gonna come back to haunt him before he watched Cougar, his fucking gorgeous and should be illegal in all states and countries Carlos stand up and start shedding clothes like he was shedding skin.

It was just that easy, just that burning, smoking hot. The fluid motions, the way every muscle seemed to flow and ebb into the next and god fucking save him he didn’t even know he liked a body without breasts and a vagina until Cougar came along but he does oh god he loves this body and all the wicked, sick and twisted things it can do to him.

“God…”He murmured even though he knew he had to be quiet now, quiet was the key because to disturb this, this fragile bubble of pre-forgiveness sex would be like telling Clay Aisha had a bigger dick than him and he really should start taking orders from her which was true but nothing any of them would utter ever for fear of torture and a slow and agonizingly painful death.

As it turned out though after the nice long eye fuck he was employing while watching Cougar undress it only took a small detour to the bottle of slick Coug had hidden somewhere stealthy because for some reason he wasn’t allowed to diddle his self silly if Cougar wasn’t present and then he was on him and oh thank you God and all the angels in heaven because fuck yes.

Cougar was rough and rock hard in all the right places and malleable and flexible everywhere else and god he wanted to spread himself wide and let his self be taken over by him all that strength, all that power just waiting to crawl out and into him.

“Look at me. Let me see you Jensen. I want to see you when I give you what you want. You always make the prettiest faces for me.”

“Ugh, god, don’t start that already.”

Cougar smiled and it was not at all nice and god why did he have to let the brain to mouth filter detach now because all his words did was let Cougar be that much more intense which meant when slick fingers pushed into him they made sure to twist deep and hard right where it mattered.

In that secret fucking spot that wasn’t so fucking secret anymore since Coug took it upon his self discover, pillage and place his Spanish flag there months upon months ago.

“God, fuck, oh God, shit, shit…oh shit come on don’t do it to me, don’t, fuck please.”

“I thought this was what you wanted. I thought you were asking me for it. It seemed like you were.” Cougar practically purred as he just kept pressing and prodding and shoving the tips of his fingers into him again and again making him squirm and pant and dig his glasses into nose and temple because of-fucking-course he would do something stupid like that.

Cougar didn’t seem to mind though Cougar never seemed to mind any stupid thing he did or said in bed. In fact it only seemed to inflame the fucker’s high octane libido more.

“You want me to fuck you now, hum, I will, I will, I’ll fuck you just like you like but you just have to do one thing for me, just one, tell me you want it.”

And this, right here, right now, was why he was the one who always fucking got to get it and never give it because in times like this he usually only had one response. “Fuck. Me. Right. Now.”

“As you wish.”

He didn’t like the tone of that reply to his demand but he didn’t have a chance to worry about it, to think he might have been a bit more bossy then the situation called for because everything after that was a blur as he was tossed onto stomach his wrist being babied enough that it wasn’t tossed around so much as much as placed above his head with the other one along with his ass being pushed up and pulled back so that cock, that gloriously fucking evil dick could carve its way inside him making damn sure to sear remembrance to kingdom fucking come and way, way beyond it.

And all he knew was that the things that passed through his lips weren’t so much words as garbled fucking moaned out nonsense but the slide of hot, hard and persistent cock did exactly what he wanted it to do. It erased all pain, erased all of everything and anything but what was happening in this shitty room, in this shitty cramped bed right at that moment because this, just fuck, this was the be all and end all of his world lately and he didn’t even give a crazed elephant fuck what that said about him.

Reached back when he could think again, slid fingers over hipbone and pulled and tugged as he started to give as good as he got just slip sliding his own hips back to match the rhythm, to even for a fucking moment match the strides and ruin this fucking man when inside of him could fucking create.

Just like the waves and ripples of silent and deadly fucking destruction he could create with one perfectly aimed shot with his Sniper rifle.

“Jesus, oh fuck, come on, come one, need it, need it, oh god Carlos, good Christ God give it to me, fuck, fuck please.”

“Shh, my pretty Jensen, no need to cry to Jesus, when your god is right here.”

And god help him later, much much later when he looks back on his this night he’ll blush, he knows it, that it was that easy for him to come but until his dying breath he’ll just say that it was the cock inside of him and the fact he hadn’t had any in days that brought him off like a rocket at those whiskey whispered words.

For right now though he was too busy having his screams muffled by a gun callused hand and feeling the rush, the heady thrill at hearing Cougar growl, feel him bite at his neck and come hard, come thick inside of him.

After that, a few minutes, maybe a half hour tops when Coug had pulled him from under him to sort of half sprawled over the Spanish Ninja his wrist sort of cradled and protected by the haven of Cougar’s own hand all he could think was that he really sort of was going to love the shit out of Elephants for now on.

Or at least the kind of Elephant you found in a zoo.

Forgot: give the author love.


Dude needs to use some commas, IMO. Other than that, it was fun.

could be worse... I know some people... that treat the ellipsis as the only period.... and coma they us...

really... hard to ignore...



Dude, chill. Why don't you post something if you want more life in the fandom?

Because I can't draw and my writing is horrible


Then you should be extra grateful for what the people with talent give you. Don't be a bitch.

geesorry, I didn't mean to come off like that :/

Though those that are posting/have posted are amazing and please continue plznthx

They were not trying to be mean.

They said losers because HELLO THIS IS A LOSERS THREAD. how is it different from posting "MOAR"?
stop causing drama.


It's not. I wasn't taking offense to being called a loser, just to the demanding. It's a tiny fandom and the thread wasn't anywhere near dying. This person is whining over not getting new content in the last 24 hours at most. Regardless of whether someone is posting content themselves, they should be grateful there's as much fic and art as there is.

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Back to sexiness, or Jensen will stop your heart with his mind.

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>>39859 through >>39831

Can't we all just get along?

Also, I can't draw, but I can kindasorta maybe write sometimes, on a good day. If y'all are alright with some amateur stuff, I'm totally up for some prompts.


Once the adrenaline of the fight wears off, once they check into their hotel – their first air-conditioned hotel in too long – and drink a little celebration champagne, Jensen realizes he ripped his stitches.

The blood is dry, cementing his shirt to his arm. He tries not to wince as he plucks it off, thankful Cougar's back is turned. He edges his way into the bathroom, splashes water on the wound, clearing it up a little. Shit, he ripped most of his stitches. Aisha had better be amazing in the sack, or Jensen's going to have to find some way to repay Clay this little favor. Or maybe have Cougar do it.

The room is dim when he steps back out; Cougar's turned off all but one lamp. There are pistols on both the bedside tables, and Coug is sitting at the edge of the bed, looking a lot less happy than he should be, considering they just saved LA from partial annihilation. Or total, maybe. Jensen's not sure how that bomb thing was supposed to work.

"Cheer up, Cougs, we're the good guys again. Sort of. We're better than the worst guys, that's something, right?"

Cougar quirks his almost-smile, nudging his hat up so Jensen can see his eyes. He gives Jensen a once-over, which always makes him feel like he's being sized up through a scope, and then tilts his chin, beckoning.

It's kind of embarrassing that that's all the guy needs to do to get Jensen to fold to him, but Jensen's getting more and more comfortable with the idea of Cougar being in control of this. Because, like, it's Cougar. Of course he's in control.

Jensen doesn't even blush as he straddles Cougar's lap, which probably says a lot about him. Cougar pulls him down for a kiss, nipping at his lips, clearly still a little amped from the day's activities. Jensen is happy to play along, because Cougar is really good at the rough stuff, at biting and bruising and making Jensen—

"Ah, ow, fuck," he hisses, involuntarily wrenching his arm out of Cougar's grip as it's pinned behind his back. His bicep feels like it's tearing in half, since it sort of is, and that's a disturbing image, and the wound throbs in agreement.

Cougar frowns, grabbing Jensen's arm and holding it still, inspecting it in the low light. He lets out a long, low exhale, which would precede a lecture with anyone else, but with Cougar just precedes him dumping Jensen onto the bed and striding toward the door, muttering something containing the word idiota. Jensen's pretty used to that word.

"Cougar, hey, where—"

The door clicks shut, and Jensen flops down onto his back, gingerly pressing at the inflamed skin around the gash, which is gaping open now. He's just wondering if Cougar's actually planning on coming back when the door opens again, and the man comes in with an armful of stolen pharmaceutical supplies.

"You have those in your room?" Jensen tries to sit up, but Cougar growls and pushes him down, hauling a chair over to the side of the bed. "I mean, did you actually predict me being an idiot and ripping my stitches out?"

Cougar ignores the question, getting to work soaking Jensen's arm with acid, or something equally as painful.

"You're always an idiot," Cougar says, his voice low and dangerous as he practically assaults the wound with a cotton swab.

"Jesus, alright, I'm sorry, can you please calm down? I'd like to keep the arm, if it's possible," Jensen grits out, trying to flinch away, but Cougar's got him pinned with his free hand. "Just, fuck, be gentle. Gunshot wounds hurt without your help."

There are a few more curses, a mixture of Spanish and English, but he eases up, dabbing the disinfectant gently around the rest of the cut.

The stitches aren't as painful as before, and they take a lot longer. Jensen watches Cougar's face as he works, concentrating like he's staring at a target. He's threading the last one before he speaks again.

"You know what's worse than getting killed by a crazy bitch because you forgot your gun in the van?" he starts taping a bandage around Jensen's arm, and doesn't give him time to guess. "Getting killed by an infection from the gunshot you got from the crazy bitch because you were too stupid not to tell me you ripped out your fucking stitches."

Everything sounds so much more threatening in that accent. Jensen blinks as Cougar lets him go, gathering up the supplies and walking across the room to dump them on the table.

"I'm sorry, I…That's the longest sentence I've heard you say in six months." Oh yeah, and, "Thanks, Coug."

Cougar grunts noncommittally, sitting on the edge of the bed, his back to Jensen, shoulders hunched. Jensen gives a halfhearted swipe at his hip, grins when Cougar looks at him.

"I'm fine," he says, wiggling his bandaged arm, " I always got you to patch me up, you know I'm gonna be fine."

Cougar gives a smile then, a real one, which is rare. "Shouldn't need me to do it," he mutters, but he's turning, crawling up the bed to lie on top of Jensen, which feels even better than it normally does, right now.

"Well let's be realistic—" he's cut off by Cougar's mouth, and he expects something rough, braces himself for bites, but they don't come. It's a kiss, and that's the only way to describe it, and Jensen feels a little awkward admitting that, but it's good, really really good, and he relaxes into it, parting his lips for Cougar's tongue.

He moans a little, reaching up to take his glasses off, somewhat awkwardly with Cougar still attached. He stretches to put them on the nightstand, then sinks back into the mattress, kind of just laying there and letting Cougar take care of things, because Jensen is really enjoying this slow and steady thing they've got going on now.

Fingers pull at the fly of his jeans, and he bucks his hips a little, happy at the promise of contact. But Cougar's hand stays outside his boxers, just brushing over cotton, like he's not even aware there's a raging erection right there. Jensen lets out a sound that's a lot higher pitched than he was hoping. He's not whining. He's not.

The hand leaves completely then, and Cougar's thigh presses down instead, grinding a little until Jensen raises his hips, and the contact is suddenly gone. He tries again, and Cougar practically chuckles against his lips.

"Fuck man, you gotta give me something," Jensen tries to growl it, but it ends up more like a whimper.

Cougar grins in that disconcerting way that makes Jensen feel like he's missing some major piece of the puzzle. "You want me to take care of you, you gotta let me take care of you. Okay?"

Jensen nods, feeling a little dazed at the blatant display of affection that's now suddenly a part of their relationship. Not that he's complaining, it's just that normally it's Cougar spitting Spanish curses at him for doing something insane and reckless, then fucking him into a wall with his hands pinned behind his back. That's a good method, but… this definitely works too.

"Yeah," he breathes, "Yeah, Okay."

"I want you to be still for me," Cougar says, leaning down to lick Jensen's collarbone.

Jensen snorts, every muscle tensing simultaneously at the thought of not being allowed to move. "I'll… try?"

"Gracias, cariño," Cougar murmurs, and Jensen's not sure if it's the breath on his neck or the words that make him shudder. He wonders if this is how Cougar treats women – there's got to be something besides that dark and mysterious vibe to keep them coming back. Whispering sweet foreign nothings into their necks is probably pretty effective. It's certainly doing a number on Jensen.

Cougar's hand finally finds its way back into Jensen's pants, underneath his boxers no less, and he fists his hands in the blankets to try and stop himself from bucking. "Come on, just – ah, ah," he breathes as warm fingers get a firm grip on his cock, stroking really fucking slowly.

"Oh, fuck… I can talk, right? I can't handle being paralyzed and mute at the same time," and without waiting for an answer, because talking isn't something he can control even if he was supposed to, "That's—that's—" kind of nice, actually, the slow pace on his dick, with Cougar sucking a mark onto his clavicle like he owns him. "… You're really good at this."

Jensen tries to breathe steady as Cougar's hand leaves his pants again, but this time it's just to tug them down and off. It's weird being entirely naked with a fully clothed dude on top of you, and, perhaps sensing Jensen's discomfort, Cougar somewhat unhelpfully pushes his hat off before reaching into his jeans pocket and producing what looks like a brand new bottle of lube.

"It's so great that you stole lube," Jensen remarks, "I got shot in the arm, and you were still so sure you were getting some before the next time you were near a drug store that you actually had to—" he tenses, voice dying, as Cougar's finger presses against his hole.

"Breathe out," Cougar says, and it sounds like a purr or a growl or something equally as clichéd and sexy, and Jensen obeys, exhaling as the finger eases up inside him. It always takes him a second to adjust to that intrusion, but it's getting easier lately to trust Cougar not to mess with him when his defenses are down.

"—Though I guess you weren't wrong," he admits, relaxing into the feeling, tilting his head so Cougar can keep working on that mark on his collar bone that they might both seriously regret in the morning, depending on whether Jensen can find a shirt with a high neck.

Another finger nudges in, and Jensen shakes with the effort it takes to keep still, to not buck and squirm and flail. When Cougar's fingers drag slowly against his prostate, Jensen's nerves light up, and he lets out a sound that's dangerously close to a sob, and if Cougar makes him cry in bed he might just have to kill him.

"Coug, aw fuck, fuck—" Cougar does it again, slow, deliberate movements, lifting his head to watch Jensen gradually descend into insanity. It's full and constant pressure, that toe-curling kind of good that Jensen can only ever seem to get from Cougar lately. "You- you- christ—fuck me," he gets out, wishing he could do something dramatic like rip the sheets.

Cougar still doesn't take any of his clothes off, just opens his jeans, slicking himself with a really irritating lack of urgency. Jensen bites back a whimper when Cougar pulls his legs around his waist.

"You did pretty good," Cougar says, leaning over Jensen again and speaking right into his ear as he nudges his cock up against Jensen's ass. "Didn't think you could stay still that long."

When he pushes in, Jensen is a little blown back by what a relief it is, almost like an orgasm. And that's weird, isn't it – It shouldn't feel this fucking awesome just to have someone's dick completely still in his ass. "Fuu-uuck, yeah, does— does that mean I can move now?"

"Go ahead," Cougar says, his voice gravelly and low, like he might finally be losing a bit of that composure. Jensen immediately tangles his hands in long dark hair, arching his back and finding that perfect angle for Cougar's dick, wedged up inside him like it's gonna split him in half.

Cougar starts moving then, the zipper on his jeans scratching against Jensen's ass, and that shouldn't be sexy but it really kind of is. It takes five, six thrusts before Jensen notices that the pace is a hell of a lot faster than what Cougar seemed committed to earlier, which might just mean the game is over, but-

"Wait, wait," he rasps, and Cougar stops, looking uncharacteristically alarmed and making a move like he's about to pull out. Jensen tightens the grip he's got with his legs, "Fuck, don't fucking stop, just, slower… do it slow."

Cougar's face breaks into a smug grin, and he leans down, whispering against Jensen's lips, "You see what you learn when you listen to me?"

"Ahh, sh-shut up," his voice shakes as Cougar rolls his hips, dragging his cock against Jensen's prostate and smiling like this was his plan all along. Jensen chokes on a breath, tugging a little roughly at Cougar's hair. "God I hate that that feels good."

Now when Cougar thrusts he stretches it out for an eternity, staring at Jensen like there's actually something to watch. Jensen's used to feeling exposed, but it's rare that it goes hand in hand with feeling sexy, and Cougar does that to him, fucking him like they've got all the time in the world with those sharp eyes locked onto his face like he can't look away. Surges of pleasure start to morph into a constant buzzing on his nerves, and Jensen's arms fall back to the bed, weak and useless, and he shuts his eyes against Cougar's scrutiny, because it's too much.

Jensen is way too far past coherence to be embarrassed at the keening noise he makes when Cougar hitches his legs over his shoulders, folding him in half, sending him into a dizzy tailspin.

"Ahhh-ahh, you—" he tries weakly, oversensitive and twitching with Cougar's cock pretty much just assaulting his prostate in slow motion, "Gotta, you, give me—"

Cougar's pretty good now at deciphering near-orgasm Jensen-speak, and reaches between them to grip his dripping cock. He doesn't even have to stroke, the contact is more than enough, and Jensen comes with a wail, feeling like someone punched him in the gut and really, really enjoying it. Cougar grabs his chin, plunging his tongue into Jensen's mouth, moaning deep in his chest as Jensen tightens around him, still shuddering.

It might be seconds later or it might be minutes, but he tenses all over when Cougar comes, the hot surge inside him making him gasp. He hopes he never gets used to that feeling, because the shock is always so good, the heat rising in his cheeks as Cougar bites his lip and groans, hips snapping, fingers pressing bruises wherever they land.

Cougar's polite enough to collapse off to the side, letting Jensen's legs fall to the bed. Come is already leaking out of him when he shifts, making his cock give a hopeful but futile twitch, and he distantly acknowledges that he should really get a shower before he sleeps.

There's a grunt as Jensen tries to roll away, Cougar tugging him back and positioning Jensen's head on his chest.

"I came on your shirt," Jensen slurs.

Cougar's response is to shush him, hooking their legs together and pulling Jensen tighter against him. Showers can wait.


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The first time Cougar pointed a gun at his head is exactly when Jensen developed the beginning of his raging crush, and it was almost a year before he managed to come to the conclusion that, you know, trying to act on it wasn't actually going to make Cougar shoot him, because while guns are hot, actually being shot by them is not one of Jensen's favorite leisure activities and never has been.

First spark was just tall-dark-hot-quiet-intense guy pointing a gun at him; it just didn't help that covert observation absolutely demonstrated that Cougar's hands moved on his guns, especially his rifle, the way most guys touched their girlfriends.

It took a year for him to be really sure that finding some way to say you're really hot, wanna fuck? wasn't going to get him killed, and another few months to figure out it wasn't going to get him rejected, either. And that was great. He was a serious fan of that, and a serious fan of Cougar's hands and his mouth and his cock and really, most of Cougar, if not Cougar's habit of occasionally getting annoyed at Jensen's inability not to talk. Which is what got him the first gun-threat, way back when - and gets him the second one.

The second one came when they were curled up in a really tiny hut waiting to see if they were going to die or if the cavalry were going to arrive and they'd be drinking and laughing about this tomorrow, or at least, drinking and trying not to laugh at Roque listing all the ways this was Clay's fault, and Clay laughing it off.

In Cougar's defense, he did tell Jensen to shut up five or six times; in Jensen's they were really likely to die soon and keeping a running line of chatter actually helped him calm down.

Then Cougar was pointing his sidearm at Jensen's forehead and saying, "Shut. Up." and Jensen was absolutely shutting right up. He's also biting his tongue to keep from choking and telling his body that this was really, really not the time for that particular reaction thank you do not pass Go do not collect two hundred dollars, Jesus Christ, body, you are the worst roommate ever.

He didn't expect Cougar to notice; he really didn't expect the look, behind the gun and the brim of Cougar's hat, to turn from irritated to speculative, before Cougar put a finger to his lips in the universal gesture of shhh and went back to keeping watch out of the spaces between the slats.

The nice thing about Cougar is that you don't have to have all of those awkward conversations you might have with other people, conversations along the lines of, why Cpl. Jensen, do you really get hard when people point guns at you, and why no, only really hot snipers on my team, why do you ask - those kinds of conversations. Granted, this is because you don't have many conversations at all, at least not ones that are two-sided, but it was kind of a relief when the next time it came up (so to speak) is five days later (after they were rescued) when they were being put up in a real hotel room, and Cougar put a gun, a revolver, to the back of Jensen's head and said, "Get down on your knees."


Since then Cougar has become remarkably proprietary about the right to point loaded guns at Jensen, and other people who do it tend to get shot themselves. It's probably because he didn't get to unload five or six rounds into Aisha's head that Cougar's as pissed off as he is.

You can tell when Cougar's really angry when his silence gets loud. Not that he talks, no, not much, he talks more when he's happy, frankly, but when instead of just being an absence of talking his silence becomes an oppressive force, like being smothered in, Jensen doesn't know, felt or something, like someone muffling a piano string. It actually manages to get to him, too, which is always impressive, because not much shuts off the desire to talk, for him.

But right now, as Cougar redoes the stitches on his arm, Jensen actually makes the effort to talk anyway because he doesn't know what to do with this silence, because, well, his gun being in the van was pretty fucking stupid and he's pretty sure that at this point, Aisha saving their lives and all, if Cougar's pissed off, it's mostly at Jensen and after the day, after Roque, after everything, Jensen doesn't actually have it in him to deal with that, so he's putting up the best wall of defensive babble he can.

Everything stutters a bit when Cougar puts the tape down for the last time and then reaches over to take Jensen's glasses off, fold them up, and put them aside, but stuttering isn't stopping and Jensen just switches tracks with, "Woah, hold on, I need those - "

And because the world turns into a blur of colors that move, and Cougar's turned into an impressionist painting, Jensen doesn't see the revolver until the cold metal's right over his throat, right over his pulse-point, and he stops.

"No you don't," Cougar says, quietly.

"I really don't," Jensen says, happy to agree. The revolver's loaded. It's always loaded, cocked, ready to kill him or at least make him really regret being alive, because that's kind of the point, two times over now - the first point being, this person could kill me but probably won't, and the newer, second point being that he has absolute and complete and utter and total faith in the fact that Cougar only, only ever shoots when he means to.

The muzzle trails up from his throat down across his cheek. Cougar traces Jensen's lower lip, still-cool metal; Jensen opens his mouth for it, lets it rest on his tongue, staring at the one thing close enough to be sharp in an otherwise blurred world, which is Cougar's face, and Cougar's eyes on him.

Jensen kind of expects this to be orders and angry, harsh, hard and fast, and he's actually okay with that. He's not expecting, when Cougar moves the revolver from Jensen's mouth to his stomach, that the Cougar's mouth on his is going to be -

Okay, insistent, yes, possessive, yes, Jensen doesn't really think he's been kissed this thoroughly in his life, but it's as slow as it's deep, and, well, gentle and that winds up with the feeling of the gun resting at his hip, now, into whole new electric spikes in Jensen's brain and the corresponding interest below the belt.

"Get your clothes off," Cougar says, "and get on the bed." And it is kind of an order in the sense that it doesn't actually cross Jensen's mind not to do exactly as he's told, but it's not a snarl.

"I can't exactly see the bed," Jensen points out, because obeying and obeying without commentary are two very different things and when Cougar steps back the world really is divided into large blobs of coloured blur, with a near-by moving blur.

"It's the white blur," Cougar says. Jensen could swear he sounds amused.

He figures, philosophically, that he's lucky he hasn't gotten a pointed impression of his defensive Cougar be gentle!, in the brain-killing rush of Jesus Fuck I'm alive and in pain but alive and alive is GREAT. He even manages to make it to the bed without tripping over anything (bed included) and getting undressed doesn't actually need sight.

Cougar says, "On your stomach," and Jensen's mind tries to distract him, for a second, from the whole thing by bringing up the usually important issue of his glasses being over there, until the sheets against his erection take care of that much.

When the cold metal touches his back, and Cougar draws the gun from the back of Jensen's neck and down his spine, to the base of his spine and, well, Jensen's caught between a categorical inability to breathe and a slightly panicked thought that possibly getting fucked by the gun is a little further than he wants to take this kink.

Luckily, the touch of metal stops, and he can hear Cougar set the revolver aside, which is reassuring. Then Cougar's up against his back, still in his clothes and goddamn it that shouldn't be quite that hot, one knee between Jensen's leg. Cougar bites the back of Jensen's neck, making him jump, and then sucks over where he bit.

Jensen manages, "If you give me a hicky, I'm stealing your scarf," before Cougar's moved already. He has one hand on the back of Jensen's neck, like a physical command to stay exactly where he is, and that thumb strokes over the side said neck with a movement that might, in some other world, be considered soothing but right now is exactly the opposite, and normally, Jensen's neck isn't actually one of his bonus erogenous zones.

He still can't see much, can only really hear Cougar going for the lube. Being completely without his glasses or any contacts to replace them is almost as good as a blindfold and he's just about ready to start talking again when Cougar's pressing a finger in, which combines Jesus-COLD with Christ-yes and what comes out is a small and normally embarrassing noise, instead.

Normally, by which Jensen means around anyone else because frankly, that is nowhere near the most embarrassing noise he's ever made having sex with Cougar. Most of the most embarrassing ones, actually, come out when Cougar has Jensen's dick in his mouth; comparatively, this is pretty easy.

Jensen spreads his legs a little. Cougar slides another finger in, still slow, and Jensen thinks maybe he could get his legs under him, push back a little, but when he tries he hears the very distinctive sound of the hammer on a gun cocking. Again.

"Stay down," Cougar says, and now there's maybe some kind of growl in his voice that goes right to Jensen's cock, trapped between Jensen's belly at the bed.

"Staying down," he says, breathless, and Cougar goes back to working him, fingers twisting and spreading a little and then finding Jensen's prostate and working over it again and again and oh, Jensen realizes very suddenly, this is revenge for the Cougar-be-gentle thing and he is not, not going to have a voice when he's done.

Because Cougar's pressing these little fucking kisses all over the back of Jensen's neck, the edge of his jaw where his head's turned, all over his upper back and then down his spine and Jensen's already got a fist-full of sheet and also, Cougar's fingers are still there, slick and fucking him and yes, those would be his noises, right there - and he can't get a hand on his dick, and he's pretty sure Cougar would stop him trying anyway.

And Cougar hasn't even taken his clothes off.

Jensen's panting, and he's actually started to talk again, not a lot of coherent but just, "Cougar, okay, please - fuck, please, just - " by the time Cougar pulls his hand away and says, "Roll over on your back."

Jensen gets to see the slightly-clearer-but-still-blurry motion of Cougar pulling his own shirt off, kicking out of his jeans and underwear before he moves back between Jensen's legs, spreading them and pulling them up around his waist, Cougar's dick sliding slick against his ass.

And then because he's a bastard Cougar stops, just looking down at him for a second with one hand cradling Jensen's neck again and the other one holding him up, which is unfair, Jensen would normally find being stared at like this extremely hot but right now there is thank you very much just about too much "hot" here, thanks, so he winds up pulling at the back of Cougar's neck so that Coug will fucking move, kiss him and fuck him already, before he just goddamn well dies.

It's a bad sign when Cougar's laughing softly like that, but Jensen is completely distracted from thinking about that by Cougar's dick sliding in, pushing in, opening and filling him finally.

Cougar fucks him like he kissed him before, slow and deep and like he could just keep doing this all fucking night, and Jensen's reduced to begging, again, faster than he'd like, and the potential hicky on the back of his neck is the least of his worries because Cougar's leaving marks all over his collar-bone, his throat, the sides of his neck.

And pinning his hands to the bed, because Cougar can be like that sometimes.

When Cougar does let one hand go, so Cougar can wrap one of his around Jensen's dick, it takes all of one stroke before Jensen's coming, hard, arching up and keening, and Cougar just fucks him through it, strips the last of it out of him before he catches Jensen's mouth with his again and buries himself one last thrust in Jensen to come.

Jensen's brain is officially pudding, and so are his bones, and the bed is really nice, really soft and supportive to just lie there on, panting, with Cougar's weight over half of him because Cougar's sufficiently un-bastard-like to fall over at least mostly to the side.

Cougar's mouth is right by Jensen's ear when he says, "Don't leave your fucking gun in the fucking van again," with each curse like a dig.

"Yeah," Jensen says. "Okay." Then, because pudding brains have even fewer filters than normal, he adds, "She's on our side, though."

"For now," Cougar replies. And then, in what has by now become basically a term of endearment, he says, "Idiota."



ffffffuck that was hot.

Can I /r/ some good hxc Jensen rape? Maybe with a dash of murderous!white knight!Cougar? It kind of saddens me that this hasn't really happened yet. I'd take a (fic) prompt from anyone who's willing to do this. (Preferably porn, but I'm up for writing h/c or fluff or whatever gets you off.)

File: 127414345687.jpg-(102.93KB, 950x632, the_losers06.jpg)
Am I the only one who kinda wanted to see some Roque/Clay?

Non-con or otherwise...

Well with a screenshot like that you are no longer the only one.


For all I go on about Cougar/Jensen, I'm actually up for any and all pairings within this group.

Clay/Roque would be so angsty and violent. It needs to happen.

Oh, I'm not happy with this, but Somebody might like it so I'll post anyway.


(The first time Jensen tops, is balls deep in Cougar's tight Spanish ass - so fucking fine - when it's Jensen's turn to fuck the other through the mattress, things
couldn't have gone worse.)

It starts out well enough. The foreplay is great what with the way Cougar leers at him from under his stupid sexy hat and backs him into the hall of the shabby apartment they're shacking up in. The way he pushes Jensen onto the bed and straddles his lap when Jensen sits up on the edge. Cougar's hair feels great between his fingers, but then it always does, whether or not they're immersed in an intense bout of tonsil hockey. Things just seem to get better when Cougar tugs on the hem of Jensen's gaudy tee, pulls up up and over, and Jensen doesn't care when his glasses are knocked askew, just takes them off and tosses them onto the side table.

His hat was already barely hanging on and it falls to the ground when Cougar decides that Jensen has a very fine neck and the marks he left last time are fading and that just won't do. Jensen whimpers into the side of his lovers head, hands grabbing and pulling and tugging at the stupid denim vest he's wearing, harumphs when he can't get it off because Cougar refuses to move his hands from the blond's waist.
Eventually they're both topless and their chests are pressed against each other and their tongues are slipping and sliding and so wet and hot and Cougar gets Jensen's jeans open and palms at his cock through his tighty whities, the same ones Cougar cocked a brow at so many months ago on the first night they started up with this. They were Jensen's favourite and they were stained a darker colour where the tip of his cock was leaking.

Jensen's making a fool of himself the way he babbles mindlessly and begs and pleads and Cougar just fuck me already! and Jensen almost sighs in relief when Cougar reaches over to the same side table Jensen's glasses sit on, digs around in the drawer and pulls out the strawberry-kiwi flavoured lube Jensen insisted upon. Cougar stands up to shimmy out of his pants and boxers, the white ones with the red lips on the tush that Jensen bought for his birthday, and Jensen follows suit, eager as ever. He's confused though when he lays on his back and spreads his legs - Cougar can't help but think of Pavlov's Theory - and the Spaniard once again positions himself astride his team mate. Jensen wants to question him but is way too distracted by the motions of Cougar slicking three of his gorgeous, deadly fingers and reaching behind and Oh.

Cougar pulls a face and bites his lip, winces just slightly as he wastes no time in plunging two of those slick digits into himself. At some point Jensen's hands had found Cougar's thighs, and they tighten and his eyes roll back and his hips twitch upward, leaking cock brushing against the other's and you'd swear from his reaction that Cougar's fingers had just entered HIS ass. But, no. Cougar was doing a fantastic job of fucking himself above Jensen and he nearly crushes the blond when he falls forward as he pushes the third finger in and all three abuse his prostate. Jensen's rolling his hips and their cocks are rubbing and twitching and Cougar's hips are rocking with the movements of his fingers. His free hand is clutching the sheets, and that arm is the only thing propping him up, keeping him from falling against Jensen's chest and burying his face in the crook of the communications expert's neck.

And you know it's been a few minutes and yeah it's fantastic and hot and Cougar has the best expressions but Jensen's getting really super impatient and tells this to Cougar who is only too happy to climb off his lover and get on all fours. Jensen follows him, they barely stop touching his motions are so fluid, he and Cougar move like they've practised this dance a million times over. Which they haven't and Jensen's actually really surprised he hasn't managed to muck this up.


So now Jensen's behind Cougar, and the sexy bastard looks over his shoulder at him, gives him a look like What are you waiting for? So Jensen rushes in for the kill, doesn't remember to slick himself up because the last time he was inside some one
(Cougar's mouth doesn't count) was months before Cougar and it was always a woman and they're pretty self-lubricating right? He barely has the time to think that maybe all that slick isn't the fruity flavoured lube and maybe he's hurting Cougar, but if the faces Cougar are making are any indication, well he's clearly not bothered in the slightest.

(Now things start rolling downhill.)

Jensen wonders when the last time Cougar was with a man, if ever, because ho-ly fuck is he tight. Jensen wonders if he was this tight the first time they were together, and anytime after that. Cougar is better than any floozy he's been with, better than his prom date not quite a decade ago. Jensen, naturally, gets carried away. He babbles and mumbles to himself and to Cougar and nuzzles between his shoulder blades. His stubble is probably uncomfortable but Cougar doesn't say anything, just groans and pushes back against Jensen and Jensen goes wild.
Fuck oh, Jesus! Cougar, ohmyguh-hawd, shitshitholy-- Mngh!

He doesn't notice the two of them tumbling off the bed until they hit the hardwood floor.

Oh my god, he says. Shit, Cougar, are you ok? Did-- I, oh fucking hell.

He buries his face in Cougar's shoulder and wants to cry and scream and die of embarrassment but Cougar's grinning and not-giggling against the blond's temple with his arms wrapping around Jensen's shoulder.

Jake, Cougar says. He loves the way it sounds when Cougar says it, his accent mangling the J in such an adorable way and something in his chest tightens.

Jake, he says again, and he only ever calls him by his first name when they're like this. Well, not exactly like this but-- Jake, look at me, cariño.

So he does of course, because Cougar could ask and get anything of Jensen when he uses that tone.

Jensen's looking up at Cougar and his heart flutters at the look of affection on the sniper's face. Cougar shakes his head, lips still quirked up into a sort-of-smile, the kind reserved for Jensen, and he kisses the blond. His right hand comes up to cup Jensen's face and his left traces lazy patterns on his hip. Their tongues meet again and Jensen always forgets how great kissing Cougar is, never realises how much he misses it until their lips meet.

Ten seconds of that, his fingers in Cougar's hair again, and he's nearly forgotten
their little tumble. Except there's a bruise that's probably formed on his knee as a reminder, along with the hardwood floor that's almost warm from the body heat, but still cool enough to be a bother.

(Ok, admittedly, things didn't go as horrible as Jensen thinks they did, but everything is so much worse at the time.)

So they're kissing-- Well, that's a tame way of putting it. They're really like two kids with the amount of tongue and spit and teeth clattering. Ok it's mostly Jensen, but he acts like a bratty teen most of the time anyway: Sex is no exception.

The blond genius has his erection back at full force and is really missing the tight heat of his amante around him. Cougar seems to be missing it too because he's got that look back in his eyes and that quirk at the corner of his lips. Jensen moans against a tan cheek and Cougar understands exactly what Jensen needs so he gets on his knees and leans over the bed displaying his still lubricated ass. Jensen whines because fuck that's seriously the hottest thing he's ever seen and it's so unlike Cougar to be like this, this submissive. Jensen doesn't complain as he shuffles behind Cougar, this time remembering to grab the lube and slick himself before plunging into that beautiful toned ass.

Cougar gasps and Jensen could swear he felt it around his cock. He throbs inside of Cougar and when he reaches around to grab the other's cock he notices he's not the only one throbbing. He can feel Cougar's pulse through his erection and it shouldn't be as hot as it is, but well, it is. He tries thrusting and pumping at the same time, but he can't get good purchase like this so he grabs both of Cougar's hips and - Yes it's much better this way.

He hopes Cougar doesn't think of him as a selfish lover (but maybe he is a little bit, always with the More Harder Faster Deeper) but it's way too good and Cougar's jerking himself off anyway. It's Ohmygod So fucking hot, and the brunet is twitching and clenching around his swollen member and it encourages Jensen to thrust faster, deeper. It's really beyond thrusting at this point. Jensen's about as deep as physically possible and he just rolls and snaps his hips trying to get that impossible half inch deeper. The hand that isn't on Cougar's dick is fisted in the sheets again and Jensen is more than ok with this.

The sniper's cheek is buried in those crumpled sheets and he's probably drooling, and he's definitely looking back at Jensen with a sideways half lidded gaze, and when Jensen catches that stare he doesn't break it. The eye contact is intense. It says everything Cougar doesn't. It says everything Jensen's trying to convey with his incoherent rambling and broken, half sentences. That gaze cries out just as loudly as Cougar does when Jensen find his prostate, and it tells Cougar that Jensen loves that sound and do it again, please, I want to hear you.

Surprisingly, Cougar looks away first, eyes rolling back then squeezing shut as the blond is relentless in rubbing that sweet bundle of nerves. It's ok though, Jensen counts that as a victory.

The Spaniard is moaning things in his native tongue, most of which Jensen doesn't understand. But there are a few phrases that stand out: So good, Just like that, Almost there. Jensen loves these phrases. Even more, he loves when his name is hugged by these phrases, is gasped and choked out and whispered. It hits Jensen deep in his gut, makes him lose his pace so he starts up a new one. Long thrusts now, he decides. Pulling out until the head of his circumcised erection is all that's inside, and thrusts back in, deep and hard and so damn good. Cougar whines, actually whines, like a bitch in heat and pushes his forehead into the sheets. He pants and squeezes his cock and Jensen thinks maybe it's an attempt to stop himself from cumming - which is confirmed when Jensen recognizes another phrase: Are you close?

And yes, thank you, Jensen is very close. He switches back to shallow almost-thrusts, quick and erratic and desperate as he drapes himself over that scarred, tanned back. His hands leave Cougar's hips and instead opt for tangling in the sheets by Cougar's head and twining their fingers together. Jensen mouths and kisses and bite-lick-soothes Cougar's back and shoulders and neck, nuzzles his face in that dark hair and breathes in one deep breathe before--

Oh fucking hell, ohmygod, yes, baby, I'm so close, so fucking-! Hah, nnghhmm so good baby, god yes, please, oh pleeease! I-i love you, oh jesus, Carlos I love younnngh!

It's amazing when it happens: Cougar cums seconds before Jensen, clenching and pulsing around him, dragging Jensen into that white hot abyss with him. Cougar doesn't make a single noise when his orgasm hits, but his mouth is open in a silent cry against the sheets. Jensen on the other hand is true to his reputation. He screams and cries out and carries on like a child desperate for attention and it's so endearing to Cougar, makes his stomach flutter with something other than intense pleasure.

When every last drop of release is on the cheap cotton sheets and in Cougar's lovingly abused behind, Jensen pulls out, collapses back on his legs as Cougar slumps forward. Jensen smiles at how exhausted they both are, thinks about making a joke, thinks better of it. Instead he sidles up next to his lover, wrapping his arms around that lean muscled torso and pulling it back against his chest.

This is nice, he says.


Minutes later, Jensen's trying and failing to wake Cougar up, but he's also not trying that hard. He sighs as he's left with trying to get the both of them in bed, but as strong as he is, Cougar is a heavy son of a bitch, so it takes more than a few tries. Jensen doesn't bother to cover his shame as he travels the short distance down the hall to the bathroom to grab and wet a washcloth. He trips more than once on his way too and fro, probably should have at least put his glasses back on, but what can you do.

He almost wants to smack Cougar when he comes back and starts cleaning up and Cougar smirks down at him. It was a hell of a trial to get Cougar in bed and have you put on weight? Cougar rolls his eyes but smiles anyway. Clean up is done with and the two super secret government agents are cuddled up together but mostly Jensen deems himself a better blanket than the stained sheets and is draped over Cougars chest. Cougar's breath tickles the back of his neck and Jensen thinks that he probably made a fool of himself for acting like an over eager virgin. He wants to ask Cougar if it was good for him, if he was hurt at all, if there was a way Jensen could have bettered his performance and they should really do this more often... But Cougar's breathing has shallowed and evened out and sleep comes fast when you're sated and in love and curled up with your favourite teddy.


Sooo sorry D:

File: 127423503629.png-(1.17MB, 1016x581, mexicanmotherfucker.png)
I loved this, but (and I hate being nitpicky, but this really irks me) Cougar is Mexican, not Spanish. Óscar Jaenada is Spanish, but in the comics, Cougar is referred to as Mexican.


A lot of Spaniards play Mexicans. It really shouldn't bother you.

every fic I have read calls him a Spaniard.

So I don't think it matters.

It doesn't bother me that a Spanish dude is playing a Mexican, it bothers me when people write fanfics and call the character Spaniard when he's not. I mean, he's just not, it's a canon fact. Just because a lot of people do it doesn't mean it's not wrong.

It was one thing that bugs me in the fanfiction. I didn't attack anyone, so you guys need to chill.

Oh my god I'm actually really sorry. I've only seen the movie and I don't think it's established that he's Mexican in it? So, yeah, like you guy's have said, he's referred to as Spanish in the fics I've read and I kind of assumed. That's just horrible on my part, I'm really sorry.

I wasn't offended, don't sweat it. Just nitpicking.

I'm half Mexican so I do get a little touchy about this, since it's so rare to have such a great Mexican character in any sort of popular media. I apologize if I came off defensive, I'm a bit protective of Cougar.

IMO, Coug being Mexican, not Spanish, is just common sense. It's a lot more likely for a Mexican immigrant to even be in the US, nevermind part of their special ops stuff. IDK, it just makes sense.
It doesn't matter, as long as we get more Cougar porn in here ASAP.

Sage for lack of content.

I think it isn't a big deal, they never mention in the movie what his background is and every fic I have seen they call him a Spaniard.
So can we not talk about this anymore? nothing ruins a thread like nitpicking.


There's a big damn difference between Spain and Mexico. I agree that nitpicking is bad for the thread, but for the anon who's part Mexican, I can see where they're coming from. If Cougar is Mexican, people calling him Spanish is kind of a big deal.

Sage because this is getting ridiculous.

what the hell?
you think it is getting ridiculous yet you still feel the need to post about it?
I wasn't saying that being from spain and being from mexico were the same.
I was saying the mistake isn't a big deal because they never mention what he is in the movie and everyone else calls him a Spaniard because they are just going by what the actor is.

Motherfucking shit guys, I seriously did not mean to cause racewank here.

I never SAID it was a big deal, and I don't know why someone who's not the author is getting so touchy about it. Regardless, the Mexican/Spanish thing is just something that bothers me that I've seen in a lot of fics. I pointed it out. I expected that to be the end of it. It's NOT a big deal and my making a harmless comment about it shouldn't have been either.

Whatever, call him Spanish if it's going to make this conversation end, let's just move on and get some more porn up in this bitch.

(By the way, OP of the fic, I'm really sorry that this got in the way of your story. I really did like it, it deserved more attention than what it got here.)


Jensen demands you all forgets this and focus your attention on him again.

File: 127424937744.jpg-(153.63KB, 535x803, losers_poster_08-535x803.jpg)
Yay back on track!

No more bitchy bitchness on this thread please. Lets keep it to wankfest.


Yeah, OP, I loved it. I liked the writing style, & it was hot as hell. Keep up the good work, Private.

File: 127431544387.jpg-(52.32KB, 450x600, Hummunah.jpg)
Oh hey, Cougar. Didn't hear you come in.

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