Title: "Unfamiliar Territory" Pairing: Chad Michael Murray/Johnny Messner (Jared Padalecki) Rating: NC-17 Summary: Chad's in the mood for unfamiliar. Disclaimer: Fiction, folks. Notes: Birthday fic for the most lovely, talented and awesome Max. Thanks for the laughs, the squee & your friendship. And, of course, for getting the Johnny/Chad love. ;) The bar's nowhere near Chad's normal brand of West Hollywood hotspot in-crowd hang out, which makes it fucking perfect as far as he's concerned. There's no doorman, no crowd of young, dolled up girls in platform shoes and sparkly tank tops waiting to get inside, no overpriced, watered down drinks served by out of work actors hoping for their big break, no minimalist furniture or sushi served on clear plates. This place – joint is actually the word that comes to mind – is just, well, about as normal as any bar in the L.A. area gets. Real furniture that looks like it's seen a brawl or two, a bar that boasts two beers on tap, both beginning with Miller and, despite what the local law of the land is, all the patrons seem to have a cigarette in hand. No one even looks up when Chad strolls in. He thinks he might never leave. He chooses a stool at the end of the bar, one seat between him and a square-jawed guy sporting a truly righteous leather coat and a military-short buzz. Chad rakes his hand over his own bristles, freshly shaven now that the show's done filming for the season. Hell, he doesn't even know at this rate if it'll be coming back, not that he really cares (and maybe he's lying to himself, just a little). It wouldn't be the most fucked up thing that's happened to him this year. He gives his order to the surly bartender – pint of Miller and a double shot of Cuervo – and keeps himself entertained while nursing his drinks by watching his seat mate through the mirror that runs along the back of the bar. Guy's easily mid-30s, but clearly takes care of himself, if the ripple of muscle under the leather is anything to go by. Ex-Ranger, maybe, or a Seal. Or a cop. He's certainly got the eyes for it. They're a flat, piercing shade of blue that seem to see everything. Strong fingers, with blunt-tipped nails cradle a cigarette. Everything about this dude screams alpha male to the core. Completely the opposite of the typical L.A. metrosexual, sensitive type. Jared would have loved the guy. But then, by now, Jared would have already found out the guy's name, occupation, hometown and favorite pet, Chad thinks, and smiles to himself. He should probably call Jared at some point, if only so Jared doesn't have to hear the latest through the Hollywood grapevine. Hell, maybe he'll even go up to Vancouver, visit for a few days. Change of pace might do him good. When he glances up, his gaze meets a pointed stare, and he blinks at the intensity of it. Kinda like looking into a bolt of lightning. "Cheers," he says, for lack of anything better, and lifts his glass. To his surprise, the guy raises his own glass and clinks them together. "Cheers." Even the guy's voice is alpha to the core – rough and gravelly and deep. Chad points to the guy's lighter. He's been itching for a smoke since he'd sat down. "You, uh, you mind?" "Knock yourself out." Chad fishes his pack out of his jacket, and allows himself a moment of bliss as the first acrid bite of nicotine hits his lungs. "Thanks," he says, and hands the lighter back over, keeping his hand out. "Name's Chad, by the way." "John." The handshake is firm, as no-nonsense as the rest of him. "So." Fuck, but he sucks at this small talk thing. "No offense, but this type of place doesn't seem like somewhere you'd normally hang out." Chad doesn't have to glance around again to get John's point. "It's not," he replies, downing the rest of his tequila with a mild grimace. "Didn't feel like the familiar tonight." "I see." It's all the invitation Chad knows he's going to get, and he's smart enough to take it. He's been dying to talk to someone all night. He signals for another round, and scoots onto the stool next to John. "See, it's like this," he starts, clamping his cigarette between his teeth as he unfolds a twenty to pay the bartender. "No, man, let me," when John reaches for his wallet, "least I can do, right." They toast and Chad inwardly admires the cool way John downs his tequila like it's water. "So." John pushes the glass away, and pins Chad with a cool stare. "Let me guess. A woman?" Self-deprecating smirk. "Yeah, how'd you guess?" "Call it a hunch." "Anyway, yeah. My wife. Ex-wife. Soon to be ex, something, hell, I don't know." Chad lets out a short huff of unamused laughter, and takes another drag from his cigarette. "Thing is, right, I still have to work with her, y'know, and. Jesus, but she's been a bitch about the whole thing, I mean...and it's not even like she left me for a good reason." John nods and takes a sip of his beer, listening intently. Chad's inordinately grateful for the audience, for a guy, a brother, someone on his side, for fucking once. "I mean, if I had, mind you, had fucked around on her, which I fucking well didn't, then it certainly wouldn't have been with Paris Hilton, I mean –" "Your wife thinks you slept with Paris Hilton?" "Yeah, I know. Fucked up, huh." Chad shrugs, and orders two more shots before polishing off his beer. "We'd, y'know, worked together on this stupid little horror film, and yeah, Paris was all over my jock, but she was all over Jared's, too, so it's not like she – my wife, not Paris – could say anything about it. Dude, no one was encouraging her." "I hope not," John grins, showing twin dimples and crinkles around the corners of his eyes. It's infectious enough that Chad instinctively returns it. "Anyway, the point is, it's stupid, but she's left me, and man, if she's going to believe that fucked up shit, then I'm better off without her, but well..." "You still love her." "Maybe." Chad tosses back his new shot – eyes watering a little at the bite – and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, leaning in even closer. John's aftershave is something masculine and spicy. "But the thing is...Jared never really liked her, right. And I think she knew it, because, man, some of the shit she was saying when she walked out on me..." Even now, the memory still burns in the back of his throat. Steady eyes meet his over the rim of a beer mug. "Tell me." And why the hell not, he thinks, as he takes a long drag from his cigarette.  John seems like a good listener and, hell, maybe he can help Chad make some sense out of everything.  Fuck knows he needs all the help he can get. He leans in closer (can't be too careful in this day and age), barely noticing when John orders two more shots.  "Alright, see...the thing is, I may... I mean, I can sorta see where she might've gotten the idea, not that it's remotely true, dig, but she did grow up a little sheltered, so, yeah. I guess it makes a sort of weird sense that she might've thought...y'know." "Thought what?" John asks, throat working as he kicks back his next shot.  Chad follows suit – it goes down like butter now.  "That, y'know," his voice drops again, practically whispering in John's ear, "that Jared and I were...y'know." John nods, lips pursed thoughtfully.  "Are you?" "No!" Chad shakes his head - not such a good idea, really, since the room spins a little – no more shots for him, even though part of him would welcome the oblivion.  "Dude, I mean, we're not...I'm not..." "But your wife –" "Ex-wife." "Still thinks that you and Jared, is that right, are...?" "Yeah."  Chad slumps forward, resting his forearms on the bar.  His cigarette dangles loosely from his fingers.  "Like I said, fucked up." "Not really," John says, rubbing a hand over a stubbled jaw.  Chad can see the faint outline of a wrist tattoo just under John's jacket, and he wonders briefly what it's of. "Girl's bound to be jealous if her fella would rather hang with the boys than her, especially if it's one friend in particular.  You and Jared, you're...close?" Chad nods, thinking of Jared's open, ready grin and open, ready arms, about the way Jared's always been there for him, since they were both green kids, new to Hollywood and the game, how they've always looked out for each other.  "Yeah, we're close," he shrugs, glancing down at his hands. He can't help but compare them to John's – not nearly enough calluses, man, not nearly enough life. But then, Chad's been fighting his pretty boy status since his modeling days. "So...is there any truth to what she said?" Chad bristles, gaze snapping to John's, meeting steely blue head on.  "Look, man, I already –" "Because here's how I see it from where I'm sitting," John says, tilting his head a little like he's studying a painting.  "I think you're relieved she left you, because if it came to a choice between her and Jared, you already know where you'd swing. And I think you do have a thing for your friend, but you're afraid to do anything about it. Afraid it'll hurt whatever Hollywood image you have."  John leans in, closing the space between them, heat and menacing control radiating from his body, from his softly spoken words.  "And I think that you've been practically in my lap since you stepped into this place, so if you'd like to learn a few tricks to dazzle your friend when you go after him, I'll be in the last stall.  Five minutes." Chad feels John's hand skim up his thigh to his crotch, cupping it in a firm grip, before he slides off the stool.  His eyes, dark and direct, never leave Chad's as he throws a few bills on the counter and then he turns, heading towards the bathroom in the back of the bar.  What. The. Hell. It takes Chad a moment to catch his breath, his bearings.  He stubs out his cigarette absently, body tingling from the sense-memory of John's touch. "Fucking crazy," he mutters to himself, staring at the bathroom door, wondering when his life had become so fucked up. His wife's left him, his best friend's in another damn country, he may not have a job come fall, and he's just been propositioned in a seedy bar by a guy that looked like he could eat guys like him for breakfast. And I think you do have a thing for your friend, but you're afraid to do anything about it...   Except he doesn't. Does he? No fucking way Sophia could be right about that, there just wasn't. Yeah, sure he and Jared are totally tight, but shit, they're brothers. Except maybe that funny flip in his gut he got from Jared's smile and the way it lit up an entire room was exactly brotherly. And yeah, maybe Jared's, like, the first person Chad thinks about when he thinks of something funny or off-the-wall or is the person he calls when he wants to hear a friendly voice, but that doesn't make him... No. He's not, man, he's not. Except that his thigh hasn't stopped tingling from the warmth of John's hand, and he's half hard from the memory of the look John had given him. From the way John had talked to him. And he wonders if John really can... "Fuck it." He stands, knocking the stool back a little with the abruptness of the motion. The room spins again, but he resolutely ignores it. He adds a few more bills to John's, just in case, and strides, as nonchalantly as he can, towards the back of the bar. He deliberately doesn't look around. The bathroom is just as rundown as the rest of the place – stained tile floors that might've been white once upon a time, two urinals that've seen better days, and three stalls, all covered in graffiti. The mirror has a hairline crack in it and the sinks have rust-stains. But it's (mostly) clean, and it's empty, except for the very last stall – the handicap stall – and Chad steps forward on nervous feet, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves. He wonders again just what the hell he's doing here, and then the stall door swings open and he forgets to think at all. "Jesus," Chad breathes, all control leaving his limbs in a rush as he takes in the sight before him. John, leaning against the wall, jacket and shirt still on, jeans pushed over his hips as he lazily strokes his cock. Blue eyes, intent and aware, alive with need and lust, pierce into Chad's, and he finds himself stepping forward before he can think to talk himself out of it. "Glad you could join me," John rasps, and Chad's gaze drops, mesmerized, to the curl of John's fist as he lazily moves over his cock with slow, steady twists. "Step inside and shut the door." Chad latches the lock on the door without looking away from John's hand. "C'mere," John says, and Chad steps forward into John's space, clearing his throat. He can feel how hot John's skin is, even though the layers of clothing separating them, and John's hand nudges against the front of his thigh with each rhythmic movement. "What..." Chad has to lick his lips to continue "...what do you...?" "C'mere," John repeats, and tugs on the back of Chad's neck with his free hand. John's lips are surprisingly soft as they coax Chad's apart, rubbing against his, and Chad relaxes into the kiss, allowing John to take the lead, when he's never allowed anyone to take the lead in anything since he could walk on his own. The kiss isn't so different from kissing girls – it's still lips and breath mingling and shifting until the right angle is found – but the way John tastes is different, darker, than anything Chad's ever known, and the feel of rough stubble sliding over his skin is definitely new. "Open for me," John murmurs, the sound vibrating between them, and Chad obediently parts his lips, allowing John's tongue to sweep inside, tasting and licking. Chad moans, shifting forward, pressing against a hard chest, strong thighs, pressing John into the wall as he sucks on John's tongue, tangling helplessly for control of the kiss. John's fingers tighten on his neck, then slide along his jaw, persuading him to open his mouth wider, tongue sweeping, languorous and slow, with his, the taste almost unbearably sharp. When the kiss ends, degree by slow degree, Chad rests his forehead against John's, clutching tight to John's shoulders, heart stuttering, breath stuttering, legs trembling. It's all he can do to remain upright. "Knew you'd taste sweet," John says, velvet-rough sex dripping from every word, and Chad shudders again, wondering (but not really caring) when he'd lost control so completely. If he ever even had it to begin with. "I..." Chad huffs out a short breath, bites his lower lip. "I want..." Need, so much of it, inarticulate and wild, throbs through him. He can't remember the last time he's been so hard, wanted so much. "I know," John murmurs, and leans forward, soothing Chad's lips with his tongue. "And I'll show you everything." "Please..." "Shhhh." Another soft sweep of tongue, and John pulls back far enough that Chad can see the patience, the want, in steel-blue eyes. "No begging. Not just yet," John says, with a soft, crinkled smile that somehow, inexplicably, makes Chad even harder. "Right now, I want you on your knees. I want those pretty lips around my cock." The breath Chad had been about to take dies in his lungs. He can still feel John's cock, hard and insistent, against the crook of his hip, can feel John's steady heartbeat against his chest. Somewhere, beyond the roaring in his ears, he can hear the sounds of running water and voices from the other side of the stall, and he thinks he should be a little more concerned about the fact that he's acting like some cheap pick-up, but all notions of morality are no match for the look in John's eyes. "But..." He glances down, then up, shrugging helplessly. "I...I don't know how to..." "It's alright. I'll teach you, John smiles. His hand pushes, insistent and possessive, on Chad's shoulder. Chad sinks to his knees almost before he's aware that he's done so, cold, damp tile seeping through the denim of his jeans. John's hand slides from his shoulder, along his neck, and curves over the back of his head, fingers splayed comfortably over the bristles of his hair. It's comforting, almost, and Chad shivers into the touch as he takes a deep breath, gaze raking over John's cock. Odd, really, that he's never taken the time to study one up close before, but it hadn't really occurred to him. He makes up for lost time now, studying the long, thick curve, the ridges and veins, sliding the tip of one finger along the underside, marveling at the feel of silky-hot skin. John lets out a low, contented hum, one of the sexiest sounds Chad's ever heard, and he wonders briefly if Jared would make that sound for him. If Jared would frame his face with those big hands of his and kiss him, gentle and slow, before asking him to go to his knees. He wonders what Jared's cock would feel like, taste like, in his mouth, if Jared could make his skin prickle and his pulse throb the way John does... He touches his lips, tentative and unsure, to the head of John's cock, then slides down, testing the musky taste on his tongue, the thick feel of another man's cock between his lips. He glances up, seeking approval, ignoring the ruthless press of his own cock behind the zipper of his jeans, curling his tongue along the slit, then around the head. It's a trick that Sophia used to use on him. "Yeah, there you go," John encourages, gravelly voice rough and thick with need, and it doesn't seem to bother him at all that Chad is an utter novice at giving head, and has no idea what the hell he's doing. He just cradles the back of Chad's neck, giving him wordless encouragement, staring down at him with those intense blue eyes, man, and it's too much. Chad closes his own eyes, tries to concentrate, despite the gagging thickness down his throat, to do the best he can, to make this good, perfect, even though he's not sure why he's even here. Because this totally isn't like him (no matter what Sophia had screamed when she's stormed out the front door), but here he is, on his knees in some bathroom in a dive bar with his lips around some stranger's dick. "Doin' just fine...yeah, suck it like that...that's it, baby, suck my cock..." Chad's own cock tightens in response to John's voice, to the careful way he's maneuvering Chad's head, and he thinks he could probably come just like this, without anyone even touching him. Part of him thinks he should be humiliated by this, but, mostly, he's finding he doesn't care. And, what's worse, he likes it, man, likes that he's just totally whoring himself out and giving up control. He likes the weight of John's cock in his mouth. He likes the feel of it sliding down his throat, filling his mouth, stretching his lips, heavy on his tongue. He likes the soft, low groans that John's making above him. The way John's angling his head this way and that, gently guiding him to what he likes best, pushing his hips up, forcing Chad to take more with each thrust. He likes everything about this, as fucked up and perverted as it is, and maybe, just maybe, when John's done teaching him, he might catch the next flight to Vancouver and see if there's any truth to what Sophia had said... John pushes on Chad's shoulders, pushes him back in his haunches, and Chad starts to protest the loss of John's cock in his mouth before John shudders and comes. The taste is warm, thick, bitter, and Chad flickers out a tentative tongue to capture more, tilting his head back the way he's seen countless porn stars do so John can get a good look at his come smearing over Chad's cheeks, mouth and chin. "Just as I thought," John says, voice scratchy, and hauls Chad to his feet, nuzzling and licking at Chad's skin, licking at his come, and Chad thinks this might possibly be the hottest thing he's ever known. He digs his fingers into John's shoulders, turns his face into John's, and the kiss is messy, slow and hot. "What else would you like to learn?" John licks along the underside of Chad's jaw, rubs his lips along Chad's neck. He palms Chad's cock, rubbing over worn denim, and Chad wants nothing more than John's hands everywhere on his naked skin, marking him. "Ev-everything," Chad stutters, inhaling John's spicy, masculine scent with each shuddered breath, the scent of arousal and lust. He wants everything John has to offer, wants to learn everything John has to teach him, wants to know every trick. Jared's never going to know what hit him. "Hope you don't have plans the rest of the night then," John smiles, and no, Chad thinks, just before John's mouth settles over his, he doesn't have any plans tonight at all. Onto New Territory If you enjoyed this fic, please leave feedback here. Thanks!