Lay Your Hands On Me
Song: Bon Jovi – Lay Your Hands On Me
Lay Your Hands On Me
Jensen was going nuts. There was no other way to describe it, he was losing his mind. When Jared had asked if he could teach him how to play the guitar he should have said no and made a run for it. Watching these enormous paws caress the guitar as if it was the best thing they had touched since forever was torture. Jensen didn’t even know why Jared had asked him to teach him playing. Maybe Jared wasn’t perfect at it, but Jensen wasn’t either, and he was beginning to get the feeling that there wasn’t much for him to teach. Not that that would stop him from pretending. Hell no. Jared had the most adorable difficulty to put his abnormally long pinkie to the right string, and Jensen was more than happy to help him out.
Lay your hands on me … Lay your hands on me … Lay your hands on me
Jared was going nuts. It must have been a moment of mental disorder when he’d asked Jensen to teach him how to play the guitar. Watching these beautiful, skilled fingers glide across the strings was the single most tempting thing Jared had witnessed since forever. He’d known he had a thing for Jensen’s hands, he hadn’t known he also had a thing for the person attached to them. And wasn’t sitting across from Jensen on the living room floor, so close to him he could count his freckles, the perfect moment to do so? It was a Sunday afternoon in June, it was pleasantly warm and exceptionally sunny for Vancouver standards, and their attire was therefore rather limited. Jared wore his sleeveless dark grey shirt open, his tanned chest was bare, and his worn jeans were too long even for him, almost shielding his bare feet from view. Jensen, always the more unobtrusive one, was less naked, the front of his shirt held together by a few buttons in the middle, but that only added to Jared’s longing to rip it from his body.
Lay your hands on me … Lay your hands on me … Lay your hands on me
All Jared wanted to do right now was put the guitars somewhere safe and fuck Jensen right here on the carpet, rug-burn be damned. But Jensen had probably no idea what his smile, and his freckles, and his hands did to Jared’s libido, so that would have been a little out of order. Jared sighed, misplaced his stupid uncontrollable pinkie again, and Jensen reached out and put it with gentle force on the right string. Jared had to suppress a not so subtle shudder, feeling Jensen’s hand on his, and he bit his lip. All he needed was one sign from Jensen, one little indication that he wouldn’t mind being sexually harassed by his best friend, and Jared would gladly jump him.
If you're ready, I'm willing and able
Help me lay my cards out on the table
You're mine and I'm yours for the taking
Right now the rules we made are meant for breaking
Jensen wasn’t sure if there was an unspoken rule about falling in love with your best friend. If there was, it probably stated that you had to keep quiet about your feelings at all costs and were expressly forbidden to do anything about them. But he wasn’t that intimate with the bro-code, and maybe there were exceptions if you lived with said best friend, worked with him, and he called your dad “Papa Ackles”. There had to be an exception for him anyway, because Jared’s hands were going to kill him very soon if they didn’t place themselves somewhere on his body in an expressly non-platonic manner. Jensen couldn’t remember when he’d started to feel this way, but there had been a definite feeling of relief when Jared had broken up with Sandy. Of course the relief had been mingled with guilt, but Jensen hadn’t been able to do anything about that, and he would never be. Jared’s smile and his dimples had always been his weak spot, combined with the hands, Jensen was a doomed man.
What you get ain't always what you see
But satisfaction is guaranteed
They say what you give is always what you need
So if you want me to lay my hands on you
He wanted Jared so bad it hurt – and he wasn’t talking about his boner, thank you – and seeing him 24/7 didn’t help at all. Jared was the nicest guy on the planet, he touched him all the time, and when he wasn’t touching, he was talking, and his voice was the next thing that drove Jensen mad. Thank the Lord the guy couldn’t sing. Jensen sighed silently and tried to focus on his instrument. He couldn’t help watching Jared play – he was supposed to watch him – and there must have been some hypnosis going on he’d been unaware of, because suddenly he was the one singing, and he’d had no intention whatsoever to do so.
Lay your hands on me … Lay your hands on me … Lay your hands on me
It wasn’t that Jensen minded singing when Jared was around. He pretty much didn’t mind doing anything when Jared was around … maybe apart from taking a shower, but only for the obvious reason, and not because he was shy around Jared. It was just that Jared loved it when he sang, never failed to tell him so, and the praise was just unbearable, with Jareds eyes looking at him that way, his voice being all deep and raspy, calling him “Jen”, and his hands resting on his shoulder, or his arm, or both, or wherever Jared deemed fit to put them.
All you got to do is
So, naturally, Jensen stopped singing, and Jared looked up and stared at him. Jensen noticed the weird gleam in Jared’s eyes, the pupils blown as if he was in a fever or something, and Jensen’s throat went suddenly dry.
“Don’t stop,” Jared said, and he sounded a little breathless.
Lay your hands on me … Lay your hands on me … Lay your hands on me
Jensen shook his head and put the guitar away, and Jared did the same, but only to reach out and wrap his hands around Jensen’s.
“What’s wrong, Jen?” he asked silently, his voice barely audible, and Jensen couldn’t help himself, he had to look down at their hands. Sure, Jared was a touchy guy, loved to wrap him up in this freakishly long arms of his, but wasn’t this a little bit … strange? They were holding hands, for God’s sake!
I'm a fighter, I'm a poet, I'm a preacher
I've been to school, and baby, I've been the teacher
If you show me how to get up off the ground
I can show you how to fly and never ever come back down
Jared noticed Jensen looking down at their hands, and he felt a wave of heat rush through his body. It felt amazing, holding Jensen’s hands in his, but maybe it hadn’t been the best of ideas. Jensen looked fairly alarmed, and Jared couldn’t blame him. Jensen was a full grown man, a manly man, apart from the sporadically outburst of feeling in surprisingly different circumstances, but holding hands with your male best friend wasn’t considered exactly masculine. Not in Texas, anyway. What a lucky coincidence they currently were in Canada.
Everything you want is what I need
Your satisfaction is guaranteed
But the ride don't never ever come for free
If you want me to lay my hands on you
Jared bit his lip and started to pull back his hands, but Jensen wouldn’t let him. He held onto them, squeezed them gently, and Jared was very, very close to a heart attack. He wasn’t prepared for such an assault, wasn’t prepared for Jensen’s hands closing around his, and wasn’t prepared for the feeling of his warm, rough palm on his skin. It felt amazing. At some point, Jared forgot how to breathe, and he was very grateful that Jensen didn’t underestimate the seriousness of the situation, and leaned in to press some air back into Jared’s lungs. Except that was not what Jensen was doing. Jensen was kissing him.
Lay your hands on me … Lay your hands on me … Lay your hands on me
The noise escaping Jared’s trembling lips was embarrassing and decidedly unmanly, but Jensen didn’t seem to mind, he pushed Jared on his back, suddenly all predatory, and Jared mildly wondered why he had been so obsessed with Jensen’s hands and completely forgotten to pay attention to the lips. Jesus. Kissing Jensen was like … like … he didn’t know what it was like, but it was awesome, and when he put his hands on Jensen’s perfect ass and gave it a good, firm squeeze, Jensen moaned and started sucking on Jared’s tongue. Jared thought he’d died and gone to heaven.
All you got to do is
He spread his legs to give Jensen enough room to do whatever he wanted to do with him, and Jensen laid down on top of him like he belonged there and kissed every coherent thought Jared might have had left out of him, sucked it directly out of his mouth. Jared, never the quiet guy, moaned and groaned, and rubbed up against Jensen’s solid, hot body above him, and Jensen was so very polite to hold still and let him.
Lay your hands on me … Lay your hands on me … Lay your hands on me
Jared’s hands were close to burning a permanent mark in his ass, and Jensen was completely fine with that. He could not exactly remember who’d started this, but he’d definitely kill anyone who interfered and tried to stop them. God, Jared tasted good.
Don't you know? I only aim to please
And he was so pliant and warm and there, and he smelled so good, it drove Jensen wild. He started to counter the desperate movement of Jared’s hips, and they parted their mouths in a simultaneous gasp. Jensen shuddered, hearing his name coming as a soft groan from Jared’s lips, and the look in Jared’s eyes, molten and hot and pleading, was more than any living thing with a heartbeat could bear. Jared was driving him nuts.
If you want me to lay my hands on you
Jensen sat up, got rid of his shirt by ripping it open and throwing it across the room, took Jared’s hands in his, and placed them on his naked chest, the right one directly over his racing heartbeat.
Lay your hands on me
The End
