tiptoe39 | Weird tippy is weird

Weird tippy is weird

Give me an AU and i will write a J2 kiss in that AU.

Inspired cause I read good J2 AUs yesterday.

You don't actually have to do this, but I had a whim.

EDIT: (O.o) o hai thar explosion of love!!! I will get to as many of these as I can. :D Feel free to run with a prompt if it gives you an idea too <3

EDIT 2: All prompts answered; prompting bar closed! *flops* Wow, you guys do work a girl hard <3 Hope you liked...

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You are a lovely human being for increasing happiness and joy throughout the interwebs!

Hows about Jared is a prince, and Jensen the chief groom in his stables?

He shows every sign of being a commoner. His skin is sun-dappled, his hands raw from exposure and hard work. Jensen has nothing in common with the nobility, not even his way of speaking - coarse and laced with insult. There's nothing about him that should appeal to Jared, there is nothing that they could possibly have in common.

The only thing that does pull them together is their shared love for the mare, Harlequin, with her doe eyes and caramel coat. Jensen brushes her down with loving hands, and Jared watches, content as he soothes her with pats on the nose, his pale hands a contrast to the tanned ones that wield the brush.

Jensen's concentration is absolute. His eyes remain on the horse. He doesn't see Jared staring at him, doesn't see Jared's eyes rake over his hands and wonder how well those hands might grip him in a thousand forbidden places. He misses the unconscious lick of Jared's lips when he gazes at Jensen's mouth, pressed together, but with lips so plush they might as well be a court lady's painted bow of a mouth.

Or maybe he does notice. Maybe the heat Jared feels on the back of his neck as he returns to the palace is Jensen's gaze. Or maybe Jared's just falling into a fever, a delirious state where all he can think about is close-cropped hair and furrowed eyebrows, a roll of the eyes when "Your Majesty" is said, hands that stroke an animal's fur with the tenderness one strokes a lover, and now Jared is stroking himself, alone, in a lonely bed, prey to wants he doesn't know how to name.

He finds himself in the stables late at night, with the moon glowing outside and his hair sleep-tousled and his breath quickened.

"I wish to ride," he hears himself say.

"At this hour, y'can wake her yourself," mutters Jensen, rubbing his eyes and getting to his feet. He gives Jared a cursory bow and stumbles toward the stable door where Harlequin snoozes comfortably.

Jared steps between him and the door. "Do you think it is not wise, then? To wake a sleeping horse?"

"I think s'not wise to wake a sleepin' groom," Jensen says, looking him straight in the eye. The contact has never been so sharp or so prolonged, and Jensen checks himself and looks away, his face coloring in the dim light. "Forgive me, y'Majesty, I..."

"No, you know better than I," Jared hastens to assure him. "But I'm curious now. I know well an angry horse can trample me, but what pray tell can an angry groom do, should I wake him?"

Jensen places his hands on his hips - wide arms, Jared thinks, and strong, and even, like the struts that hold up the stable itself - and frowns. "Y'want to find out?"

"Are you threatening me?"

"You think I'm that foolish?" Jensen laughs, brash, and the sleep seems to have fallen from his eyes now. "You're a crown prince. Y'could do to me whatever strikes your fancy."

"Whatever strikes my fancy." Jared chews over the thought as though it's the first time he's realized it. His gaze wanders, and he paces across the straw, struggling for further words.

"Indeed." Jensen is watching his eyes, carefully; Jared can feel the press of their gaze. "What room would I have to complain, should you decide, as a for-example, that I'm the one you'd like to ride, rather than the horse?"

Jared's lips part. He turns, whip-quick, to stare.

"As I said," Jensen goes on, "I'm not foolish. I see you look at me."

"I don't intend," Jared begins, but Jensen moves silently on bare feet over straw and touches a rough fingertip to his lips.

"Pardon, your Majesty," he whispers, "but yes, you do."

Something breaks in Jared then, something he didn't know he had, and he reaches forward, grabs the groom by the stable-strong arms, and yanks him in. Their mouths meet and it's savage, it's unrefined - it's nothing Jared has ever experienced before, and he doesn't know how to handle it, crushing Jensen's mouth beneath his, shaking all over, liquid pouring through him.

Jensen knows, though. Jensen guides him, pulls him to the floor, pulls his weight down and over Jensen's body. "Yes," he urges, "kiss me, there, Prince, everywhere--" And he holds Jared by the hair, solid and gentle, bringing his eager starving mouth to every spot in turn that makes Jensen's breath hitch and his body arch up. And Jensen knows
when Jared can take no longer, knows when to push him down into the soft straw and bid him relax into the sensation of rough hands and plush mouth exploring him everywhere.

In the end, the moonlight peeks through a crack in the door and illuminates their bodies, smooth white flesh on tanned muscles. They kiss, they linger, they laugh, and they stay together until morning, when Jared will be Your Majesty again and they will have nothing in common. Right now, they're Jared and Jensen, and they're everything to each other.

Oh to be a horse in that stable to get a front row seat of that sweet sweet groom-lovin'.

*fans self*

Lovely and poignant, as forbidden loves are wont to be.

Oh my stars and garters! Marvelous, dear Tippy. I do love purple prose, and the boys are so much more sweet and intense for denying themselves all that time. Love it!

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Weird tippy is weird

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purple prose totally intentional :D 1/2

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