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Title: "Making Time"
Pairing: Jared Padalecki/Jeffrey Dean Morgan/Jensen Ackles
Rating: NC-17
Summary: The best things never last.
Disclaimer: Never happened.
Notes: Because there's really not enough Jcubed porn out there.


Jeff's not a stupid man by any stretch of the imagination; he's been around the block, he knows the score. So he knows that what he's got with Jared and Jensen is fleeting, means nothing in the long run. Hell, it doesn't even mean that much in the short run. It's just a novelty, variety in the old sex life, a way to pass the time when the nights away from home get too long.

He's not stupid, which means he knows to appreciate every moment he gets, knows to value every moan, every touch. He files everything away - the number of freckles on Jensen's shoulders, the way the hollow of Jared's hips taste against the flat side of his tongue. The feel of Jensen's hair slipping through his fingers when he has Jensen pinned against the shower wall, water steaming around them, the broken moans Jared makes when Jeff's inside him, balls deep and barely moving, torturing them both until they're aching for it.

He takes mental snapshots of the way Jared and Jensen look against his sheets, all tangled together, long limbs and slow kisses, performing a private dance just for him. The way rough stubble feels against his skin when they lay him flat and take their time with eager tongues and questing hands. The soft, slurping sounds Jensen makes when he swallows Jeff's cock whole, the glint in Jared's eyes when he's talking Jeff to orgasm with a lazy drawl, saying the filthiest words Jeff's ever heard in his life.

Every moment is etched in stone, from the slippery feel of lube under his nails to the bitter way Jared tastes when his mouth is full of Jensen and Jeff's come; from the thick press of Jensen's cock inside him to the red welts on Jared's wrists from Jeff holding him down. Jeff knows it'll all end, probably sooner than he wants, maybe not. But no matter how it ends or when or why, he'll save every memory for later, for slow perusal on lonesome nights.


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