Who Will Love You (Who Will Fight) Part 3

[dime_liora]

Last Part

Jensen is laughing, low and in the back of his throat, as Jared pins him against the wall and eats at his mouth. There’s no growling alpha here, not anymore, and Jared sets the pace now that his heat isn’t a factor in their mating.

They fall into the bed together, and Jensen lays back and lets Jared take over as he peels Jensen’s clothes off and kisses the skin that’s exposed. He can smell how aroused Jensen is, see it in the strain of his dick against the denim of Jensen’s jeans, and he laps at the smooth and unmarked skin beneath Jensen’s tattoo.

There is a small growl when he nips at the skin under the tattoo, right above one of Jensen’s ribs, and he can’t help the shit eating grin he flashes his mate.

Jensen’s skin is soft, smells delicious, and Jared runs his nose along the length of his mate’s ribs and down over his hip. He hears a moan, and then his hands are pulling Jensen’s jeans down to expose his cock. He remembers thinking it was almost as big as his, but on second inspection he’s pretty sure that Jensen is almost exactly the same size.

Except for the knot.

Jared nuzzles at the base of Jensen’s dick where his knot will eventually be fully swollen, and then runs his nose up the length of mostly hard flesh as he tests the smell and texture of it. Jensen moans, hands fisted in the cover of the bed, and Jared grins again before sticking just the tip of his tongue out and running it up the vein on the underside of Jensen’s dick.

“Sweetheart. Jared. You gotta. Oh fuck, please, something. Because that’s not enough friction to do anything but make me crazy.”

When he speaks Jared’s voice sounds too wrecked for being the one in control. For having been touched so little in response. But the way Jensen is reacting to him, letting him take control, overwhelmed by the smallest of gestures, it’s making Jared hotter than it has any right to.

“What if I want you crazy?”

Jensen lets out a little cry when Jared swipes his tongue across the head of Jensen’s dick and collects the pre-come gathering there.

“Then you win.”

And Jared likes that. He likes winning. At the same time he wants to confirm that it wasn’t just his heat that made the experience so amazing the first time.

“What do you want Jensen?”

There’s silence for a tortuously long time, Jared’s tongue making random patterns and contact with Jensen’s skin as his mate’s heels dig into the bed and his hands pull at the sheets, and then Jensen speaks with his eyes screwed shut and his mouth in a tight line.

“I want to taste you again. I want to know how good you taste when my head’s clear.”

Jared looks up at Jensen’s face for a moment, weighs his options, and then moves up onto his knees to remove his shirt. He unbuttons his jeans, and is just unzipping the fly when Jensen finally opens his eyes and looks at him. Jensen can’t keep his gaze, eyes sweeping all along the length of Jared’s body as his tongue moves across his lips and his dick jumps untouched.

And that’s what makes up Jared’s mind. The intensity of Jensen’s gaze, the unpredictability of it as Jensen acts like a kid in a candy store who can’t pick which of the many treats he wants to take home. His eyes settle on Jared’s dick, follow it as Jared moves up the bed on his knees, and then Jensen’s pink lips are parting as he sucks the head of Jared’s dick into his mouth.

From there it’s a fight to go slow, to only feed Jensen so much of his dick at a time, so he can watch the way those pretty lips stretch around him. How the eyes, so beautiful and golden-green, look up at him through heavy lashes in a way that’s almost demur. Jensen’s fingers stay rooted in the bedspread, and Jared wants to link his fingers with Jensen’s.

It’s not porno quality intense.  There’s no headboard slamming, throat fucking intensity to it. Jared doesn’t want Jensen to submit to him so much as he wants to see Jensen open up for him. Let him in.

And Jensen is fulfilling that wish. Jared is a little more than halfway down before Jensen puts a hand on his hip and stops him. He can feel the tightness of Jensen’s lips around his dick, the wet and warm movements of Jensen’s tongue along the shaft, and then Jensen isn’t pressing on him anymore and Jared is sliding in until he feels Jensen’s throat.

He’s fully in, buried in Jensen’s mouth, and he starts to move nice and slow letting Jensen relax around him.

It feels perfect, and the little sounds Jensen makes vibrate against his cock and set his teeth on edge as he tries to control himself. And the whole time they keep eye contact, even when Jensen’s eyes squint a bit as Jared reaches his throat.

Jared focuses on the flecks in his eyes, the way the colors shade together so perfectly, like sunlight through tree branches. He’s waxing poetic while an alpha, his alpha, sucks his dick. Maybe there’s something to this mating thing that Jared never believed would happen to him, because here he is being romantic in a time when he would historically only be thinking about the sex aspect of this.

Not that he’s not thinking about how good it feels to have Jensen suck him off, or what it’ll be like to be split open on Jensen’s cock again. He is. He’s thinking about how amazing it was when Jensen was rimming him last time, and how good it’ll be to have all that alpha muscle put to use manhandling him. But he’s also wondering if maybe Jensen can read his thoughts simply from the look on his face.

If Jensen is wondering what Jared likes best, or where this is going. If he’s thinking about the future, or the past, or rooted firmly in the present.

And that is out of character for Jared. Sex has always been about the immediate pleasure of the thing, and the exterior thought processes that go into it have simply been background fodder that Jared let work on their own.

He pulls out of Jensen’s mouth slowly, enjoying the pop sound and the way Jensen chases his dick with his mouth for a second before letting Jared escape him. He’s already wet enough, and biology is kind enough that stretching isn’t necessary at this moment. So Jared moves with less grace than he would like so that he’s mounting Jensen before he lines the head of Jensen’s dick up with his hand and slides down.

It feels so good, the thick length of his mate nudging his rim, pushing in, and spearing him open. Even better is the unadulterated awe on Jensen’s face as he watches Jared. There’s hesitation before Jensen puts his hands on Jared’s hips, and Jared lets Jensen get settled before he slides all the way down and feels the beginnings of Jensen’s knot swelling.

He rides slow and gentle, eyes locked with Jensen’s, mouth open in a long slow moan that won’t resolve itself into words, and hands settled on Jensen’s shoulders. He loves the way that Jensen opens his mouth as if he had something to say and instead simply groans Jared’s name. The way those callused fingers tighten and relax on his skin, and how he can feel the tension in Jensen’s thighs as his mate tries not to thrust up into him.

Jared keeps the tortuously slow pace going for what feels like forever, the two of them trapped in this little world they’re creating, and then he lets out a small cry as he drops faster than he planned and feels the half-swollen knot press hard against his rim.

“Jensen. Jensen.”

“What? Anything Jared. Name it.”

“Fuck me.”

And Jensen does. The gentle pace is forgotten as Jensen grips his hips and pulls him down while slamming upwards. Jared cries out again and again, prostate being hit and cock bobbing as Jensen fucks him silly.

One hand leaves his hip and wraps around his cock, and Jared tries to figure out how to properly move so that he’s fucking down onto Jensen’s cock and up into his hand. It’s delicious, perfect, and the combination of friction and penetration does him in. Jared orgasms, come splattering over Jensen’s stomach and chest, and feels the swollen knot pop into his rim and lock into place. He hovers upright for just a second, watching the look of intense pleasure twist Jensen’s face up, and then he collapses on top of his mate heavily as his heart begins to slow and his breath evens out.

They’re firmly tied, Jared’s head pillowed on Jensen’s chest, when the rumble of Jensen’s voice disturbs the peace.

“My mother was an alpha and my father an omega.”

Jared swallows, because there’s a tone here that he knows but didn’t expect. Something sad and bitter, but fond all at once.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Mom was a workaholic. A contractor like me. She taught me everything I know.”

He kisses once over Jensen’s heart, enjoys the happy rumble that shakes his head a little, and feels strong fingers stroke through his hair, working out the occasional sweaty tangle.

“But not Dad. He was totally relaxed. He liked to watch silly movies or play hours and hours of board games. I think I must have worn holes in Monopoly from digging my piece in when I was annoyed that I was losing. And he was so dedicated to the idea of me learning. Mom may have taught me about work ethic, but my dad taught me to love learning. To question and to push. I adored him.”

Jared doesn’t want to point out the past tense verb. Imagines that the story is headed there without him pushing. Instead he rubs Jensen’s ribs softly, trying to comfort instead of tickle, and from the deep breath Jensen lets out he assumes it works.

“When I was fifteen I came home to find my dad dead. Murdered. My mom blamed herself, but an investigation proved it was just random. A home invasion gone wrong. They must have seen the lack of cars in the driveway and assumed no one was home.”

Jared sucks in a breath, an apology on the tip of his tongue, but he’s silenced by the coldness in Jensen’s tone.

“They came to steal a TV and robbed a family of its joy instead. My mother was never the same, and after the two of us moved she became even more obsessed with her work. And I followed in her footsteps.”

“Where’s your mom now?”

Jensen takes a second, fingers rubbing into the suddenly tight muscles in Jared’s neck, and he resists the urge to purr considering the topic they’re discussing.

“She retired. Took off for a spiritual journey overseas. I get an email from her about once a week checking on the business, and asking how I am. But it’s not the same. Dad was the glue that held us together and kept us…emotionally bonded. And that’s ok. That’s never really been my mom. I don’t hold it against her.”

Jared tries to imagine what it would be like to not be close to his parents. To not know, even when they’re so far apart or lacking in immediate communication, that if he needed they would be there for him immediately. Hell, he planned this trip before he even thought to call and ask if he could come home.

“Jensen. I’m sorry. I can’t- I can’t imagine how I would handle any of that.”

His mate swallows once, and then Jared feels a kiss pressed to the top of his head.

“It’s ok. Dad always used to say one day I would find a mate, and that would be my new family. That I would have to work to stay connected to my old one the same way. So, that’s how I’m looking at it. I’ve got my family right here.”

Jared almost says it. Almost lets it slip that the statement is more true than Jensen knows since pinned between them is the growing life that they created on Saturday.

Instead he snuggles closer into Jensen and lets the strong beat of his mate’s heart lull him to sleep.


---


In the morning Jared finally pulls his phone out and turns it on while Jensen is in the shower. He has three missed calls from his mom, one from his dad, six from Vitaly, and another from a number he doesn’t recognize.

He hesitates before calling his voicemail, leaving the text messages for last. His mother is the first message, asking what day he thinks he’ll arrive because she’d love to greet him with pot roast. The second message is just a grunt from Vitaly, then his mother again asking him if he’d like to sleep in his old room, or if he by any chance needs the bigger bed in the guest room, and then another grunt from Vitaly.

There are only three messages left, and Jared is starting to dread them even as he hits the button to delete the last from Vitaly and move on. His mother wants to add that if he needs the guest bedroom that’d be great because his bed isn’t made yet. He looks at the bathroom door and wonders if Jensen has time to stick around like that, or if he has to get back to Dallas and his business. Then Vitaly starts talking.

“Jared. You are not at work. You are not at home. Call me. Immediately.”

He licks his lips, hits the delete button, and waits for the last message. It’s either Vitaly again or his unknown caller. Sure enough, a voice he doesn’t know greets him by name.

“I’m trying to reach Jared Padalecki. This is detective Morgan with the LAPD. If he gets this message I need him to call me back at the precinct immediately. We have some questions about the death of Stanislav Zigursky. My number here is-”

Jared hangs up, stares at the phone, and then drops it on the bed and covers his face.

Stanislav.

Three.

Three of his coworkers are now dead. Stanislav was the scarred alpha artist in the back, the one whose cubicle wall Jared shared, and the most offensive of his daytime companions. Never failing to make a disgusting joke or an ugly comment regarding omegas, Jared would often cringe as the man’s mouth was opening.

And now he’s dead.

Jared lets go of the careful control he’s kept on himself and lets one of his hands cup his stomach as he reads his text messages. His neighbor has sent him several messages about seeing what looked both like cops and criminals hanging around outside his door and trying to find him. Messages from Vitaly to contact him immediately.

He’s so fucked. The shower has stopped, and Jared’s hands are shaking hard. So he dials the cop’s number and waits for someone to answer before asking for Detective Morgan through a mouth that feels like it’s full of sand.

“This is Jared. Padalecki.”

“Mr. Padalecki. The Feds and I are looking for you. Where are you?”

Jared looks around the room. He doesn’t even know. He slept through the last few hours before they stopped for dinner, was focused entirely on Jensen for the drive from the restaurant to the bedroom, and hasn’t even bothered asking his mate how far they made it yesterday.

“I’m on a trip. I needed to- you said Stanislav is dead? How did he die?”

“Mr. Padalecki, we need you to come in. Or, if you’re already a good distance away we need to find the nearest federal office and get you situated there so an agent can start talking to you. There’s a good chance you’re in a lot of trouble, and from how fast you took off I’m assuming you know that.”

His hand is clutching the phone tight, the other moving in idle patterns over his stomach and the baby that is growing underneath.  As strange and contradictory to his nature as it is, Jared wants Jensen in that moment so badly it hurts physically. He wants to feel those strong arms around him and smell the comforting scent of his mate so that he knows that they’re safe.

Which is ridiculous because Jensen doesn’t know about the baby and certainly isn’t the type of alpha to go to war. Jared’s pretty sure if Jensen ever got into a fight he’d be lucky to walk away with all his parts attached. And an altercation with Vitaly or someone like him? Jensen wouldn’t survive.

And Jared is supremely opposed to the idea of Jensen not surviving.

“I don’t know anything Detective. As you mentioned I’m on a trip, and I wasn’t there when Stanislav was murdered and I don’t know anything about what happened.”

There’s a sigh, and Jared hears someone talking briefly in the background before Detective Morgan’s voice rumbles back down the line. He sounds hesitant, almost unsure, but he delivers the message without any mercy.

“Mr. Padalecki, I’m not going to sugarcoat this for you. You and I both know that you’re at least aware the people you work for aren’t on the up and up. We also both know that Stanislav isn’t the first death, and that he won’t be the last. What you probably don’t know is that the feds standing in my office right now are less interested in your boss and his men than they are in the man targeting him. Have you ever heard the name Santa Muerte?”

He remembers Vitaly and the big alpha arguing, the looks on their faces, and how even in the moment Jared had sensed a little bit of terror in them. Remembers how hard it unsettled him.

“I…might have heard it. It’s Spanish for Saint Death right?”

“Something like that yes. Except in this case it’s a contract killer that was hired to wipe out Vitaly’s little crew and send him a message. A killer that the agents in my office have a file on about a foot thick and have been chasing for a very long time. This information goes back at least thirty years. And we think you’re in danger from him.”

Distantly Jared thinks he hears the door opening, but all of his focus is on the memory of Timur hanging from the wall, throat slit and shirt covered in his own blood. Jared keeps his hand pressed tight against his stomach as he tries to make his voice not give away the abject terror pumping through his veins and the way his heart has kicked into overdrive.

“I’m not part of whatever Vitaly is a part of. I don’t even know what Vitaly is a part of. I’m just a tattoo artist. I don’t know shit. So nobody is coming after me. Why would they be coming after me?”

“Because the last living member of your work place besides Vitaly has already turned himself in for protective custody, and he states that there was another death recently. And that you not only saw the body, but were attacked by Santa Muerte in the process. Whatever you may have seen, or heard, or even smelled would provide the federal government or the men that Vitaly works for with more evidence than they’ve ever had before. You’re a witness Mr. Padalecki. Even if you don’t want to believe it. And whether you plan on talking to us or not I assure you Santa Muerte is not going to care. You’re a loose end, and he’s been around for too long to leave any.”

A whole series of images plays out in Jared’s mind. Movies and television shows he’s seen, books he’s read, all painting a vivid portrait of the sort of future that Jared is in for. At best he will be thrown into some mediocre life in witness protection, not allowed to do what he wants and probably forced to work the kind of job where he has to cover his tattoos and pretend to smile at shithead customers. And that’s the best case scenario. Never seeing his family again and living a mediocre life being both bored and miserable. More likely, he’ll go in to see the officers, and never make it to the stand alive. Especially if this hitman is as good as the detective is saying he is.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know anything. You put that down in your files. Jared. Padalecki. Doesn’t. Know. Shit. And you tell the agents that too. I’m not talking to anyone, I’m not going into protective custody, and I’m not a witness. I don’t know shit. You got me?”

“I understand you’re scared but I-”

Jared blinks at the sudden silence, the emptiness of his hand, and then he realizes Jensen is standing in front of him and holding his phone. Jensen’s voice, when it comes out, is unrecognizable. Cold and controlled. But his mate’s hand is shaking just the tiniest bit as it holds the phone.

“Detective. This is Jared’s mate. I suggest from now on you speak to his lawyer, a gentleman in Dallas, Texas named Christian Kane. Until you’ve done that my mate has nothing else to say to you and would like to continue his vacation without being harassed by incompetent cops.”

Jensen hangs up, and then drops the phone on the bed and watches it bounce before turning to Jared. The coldness in his mate’s face dissolves into concern and warmth as Jensen crouches down and cups Jared’s face gently.

“You ok? Jared? You alright?”

He swallows, lip trembling, and then throws his arms around Jensen. It’s childish, everything he’s ever hated about omegas, but Jared clings as he cries because oh god it is good to have another human being on his side. To have someone there to hold him up while everything around him falls apart. If Jensen was just a little different, a little more traditional, Jared wouldn’t be able to enjoy this comfort because he would focus on the fact that everything affecting him outside of Vitaly is Jensen’s fault.

Or partly Jensen’s fault. Or their biology’s fault and Jensen as the convenient scapegoat. If he’s being fair, which at the moment Jared is inclined to do.

Jared tries to think of a way to explain this to Jensen that won’t sound insane, or make him sound stupid for staying even though he knew something was wrong with Vitaly and his shop. A way that won’t make him finally admit out loud what he always subconsciously knew; that he had basically chosen Vitaly to repeat Mark’s experiences with the bike club.

Except there is no way. He put himself here. He opened this door and didn’t care where it went. Jared’s need to be revolutionary, to be edgy and wild, has made him the target of a contract killer, on the run with a baby in his stomach and a clueless mate behind the wheel. His bullshit philosophy that being just like Mark would make him unique has doomed the two of them, and Jensen doesn’t have the slightest clue. Is trying to protect Jared from himself without even knowing it.

“I’m marked for death.”

Jensen’s eyebrow shoots up so high that it makes Jared burst into high and hysterical laughter, tears leaking out at the same time, and Jensen’s shock turns back into worry pretty rapidly. He starts to pet Jared gently, voice low and soothing, and that only makes Jared feel worse.

“It’s ok. It’s ok Jared. No one’s gonna hurt you. Just tell me what’s happening ok? What did the cop want?”

It spills out of him, wild and uncontrolled, and it feels so good to say it out loud to someone who cares, even if Jared knows there’s nothing Jensen can do about it.

“I work for this Russian guy, Vitaly, and I knew he wasn’t a good guy. I knew it. But he was willing to let an omega work in his shop, and my mentor worked for criminals, and I thought it would teach me a lot and give me stories I thought it would make me someone interesting and tough instead of gangly, dorky old Jared Padalecki. Mark did it. Mark did it and all he had was stories and what the fuck did it matter, right? I would get some experience and be able to parlay it into my own shop and who cared what I was doing? I saw that stupid movie, too. I saw it. I knew what I was doing even if I told myself I didn’t.”

Hard hands wipe tenderly at his wet face, and the fingertips catch on the smooth skin of his cheek and drag.

“What movie? Jared, I don’t understand.”

Of course he doesn’t.

“The one about the Russian mafia and their tattoos. They’re symbolic. Each one tells what kind of criminal they are. And that’s what I’ve been doing. Putting their fucking badges of honor on their skin. I knew it but I just didn’t want to know it. And now they’re dying. Vitaly’s men are dying, and I saw- I witnessed one of them dying. I was in the same room as the guy that’s killing them and they think I smelled him. And the cops want me to testify. And Vitaly wants to find me because he probably thinks I will. So there’s a hitman out to kill me and an angry Russian mobster that wants to kill me and I’ve dragged you into this and I’m pregnant.”

He feels the shock unfurling from Jensen, and he waits for the anger and recrimination that he so richly deserves.

“You’re- you know that? For sure? You know for sure that you’re pregnant?”

Leave it to Jared to find a mate that can’t put two and two together, but can give him his space and autonomy.

“Yeah. I mean I haven’t gotten a test, but my heat stopped that first night. There’s only one reason for that.”

Jensen’s mouth is partially open, big green eyes wide and shocked, and then he proceeds to throw Jared totally off by wrapping his arms around him and pulling him into a tight hug.

“Oh my god. Oh my god Jared. Jared you’re pregnant. We’re pregnant.”

He hugs back, tight and desperate, and absorbs the way Jensen’s chest rises and falls rapidly, the way his mate’s heart is beating against him so strong, and how incredibly enveloping that smell is. Bonfires and pine trees. Home. His mate smells like home.

“Yeah. We’re pregnant. But Jensen, the-”

The grip on him tightens, and Jensen’s voice is a comforting rumble that shakes Jared even as it soothes him.

“No. No buts. You’re going to be safe and fine. I promise. We’re going to get you through this, and you’re going to be fine. Both of you. Jared. Thank you. Thank you for this.”

“For what? For getting knocked up or putting you in the middle of a firefight between killers?”

Jensen laughs, surprising Jared for the millionth time since they met not so long ago, and then pulls back enough to look Jared in the eye. His face is nothing but joy and awe, and Jared isn’t sure if he should be impressed by Jensen’s optimism or afraid of the sheer arrogance of it in the face of everything else.

“For giving me a family. An incredible mate, and now a baby. For doing that despite it not being what you wanted. “

“You’re not even mad I didn’t tell you and took off on you?”

Jensen tilts his head, and then leans in and kisses Jared. It’s sweet, dry and warm lips pressing firmly against Jared’s and the warm tongue he’s come to know so well pressing softly before Jared gives it entrance. They kiss for a long time, Jared wrapped in Jensen and letting himself be consumed and comforted by his mate.

When Jensen finally pulls back Jared is so dumbstruck he can’t even think to form words.

“I’m not mad. Not mad in the least. We all have baggage Jared. One day you might have to forgive me for mine, so it’s good for me to set a precedent, right?”

Jared is going to have to get used to Jensen throwing him off balance, or else this relationship is going to drive him totally insane.

“I think you’re insane.”

“I think you’re wonderful.”

He feels his lower lip shaking again, unsure about how to deal with being forgiven so completely and immediately for something so terrible, and then he pulls Jensen back into a tight hug.

“Yeah. I think you are too.”

And the way the hug tightens? How happy Jensen seems in response to that?

Well, it’s a lot more touching than Jared imagined it would be.

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