Snow (sweptawaybayou) wrote,
Snow
sweptawaybayou

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Excessive Heat Warning ~ Dave/Chris/Jensen

Excessive Heat Warning

By Snow

David Boreanaz/Christian Kane/Jensen Ackles
cracktrailer verse
NC/17
Not mine. So sad.
Inspired by the slashthedrabble challenge ‘Heat’
Beta by lostakasha *kisses*






Sweat trickled down his back. His cotton T-shirt stuck to his skin and the air didn’t move. A solid, invisible wall since he’d stepped down from the air-conditioned interior of the semi, shouldered his duffel and stood in the red dust that hung in the sunlight long after the truck was gone.

The town in front of him baked in the afternoon heat. Waves rose from the pavement and he wiped stinging drops of sweat from his eyes to read the sign.

Buena Vista Trailer Park It was faded. Warped from baseball bats, half a dozen bullets.

Metallic paint glittered on the Mustang driving slow, stopping. A stained cowboy hat leaned from the passenger side window. Long hair hanging under it, a charming smile and an open beer between denim-clad thighs.

“Need a ride?”

Jensen nodded.

“Get in, boy.”

The door opened, the cowboy leaned forward, pulling the seat up and Jensen slid into the back. In the shade now, but it wasn’t any cooler. He pushed his duffel over the slick leather seat and took the beer handed back. The driver glanced over his shoulder, dark brown eyes lingering for what seemed longer than polite.

“We’re headed out to the lake. That okay with you?”

Jensen leaned his head back on the seat and closed his eyes. It had been a long day already and it was an hour before noon. His jaw was sore, his lips swollen. Fucking truck driver. No matter how many times Jensen said he didn’t kiss, they always wanted a taste. They always wanted to suck the flavor of their own skin and come from his mouth and tongue and teeth.

“Anywhere is good.”

The breeze that came through the open windows did nothing to cool him off. It was like he was still standing in front of the brick pizza oven he’d worked in Philly for a few months last winter. It had felt good at first; coming in from the bitter cold and his motel room where the heater never worked and the blankets were too thin. But after a few hours, he was covered with sweat and even on his days off, he smelled like pepperoni and garlic.

“Where’re you from?”

Jensen opened his eyes, the cowboy was turned in the front seat. He leaned against the door and looked back with Jayhawk blue under the brim and a joint between his lips. Jensen opened the quickly warming beer in his hand and took a drink.

“Recently? Pick a place. Any shit-hole. I’ve been there.”

“You must be swimming with the current then, because you’ve just ended up in the sewer of the south.” The driver growled. He took a corner with practiced ease and the Mustang left the highway, heading down an unmarked dirt road.

“I’m Chris,” The cowboy smiled again, tipping his head to the man beside him. “This is Dave. Are you here for long?”

“Jesus Christ, Kane. Do you ever fucking shut up?”

Jensen watched, smiling at little at the casual banter between the two in the front seat. It’d been a while since he’d been around the normalcy of guys his own age.

“Jensen.” He reached forward and shook Chris’ extended hand. Automatically noticing the oil and grease that stained the cowboy’s fingernails and calluses. “I might. Is there a place to get a job around here?”

“Not much. Unless you know how to work on cars. Dave’s dad owns the only oil jockey place in town. I work there. We’re always needing help.”

“Yeah, because you’re never there, dumbass.”

Dave slowed the Mustang, stopping under the shade of a huge tree. Jensen followed them out of the car, blinking from the sunlight as he looked around. They were parked in what looked like a deserted camping area beside a lake. A burnt out fire pit ringed with rocks sat out in the sun away from the trees. There were two picnic tables, scarred and warped beside it. Trash littered the ground and there wasn’t a house or a barn or a car or another person in sight.

Jensen knocked back the last of the tepid beer and tossed the can into an iron barrel not far from the shade. Chris threw his hat at Dave, then stripped off his shirt, dropped it on the dry grass and kicked out of his boots. Jensen tried not to look as if he was watching the darkly-tanned man walk to the edge of the lake, shimmy out of his jeans and step into the sparkling water. Walking deeper until it was up around his bare hips and then Chris dove under. Came up yards out, brushed his long hair out of his eyes and floated face up to the sky.

Jensen glanced over at Dave leaning against the still softly ticking engine under the front of the car. He was rolling another joint without watching his fingers move and he never took his eyes off Chris. Not until he was done and he half smiled at Jensen. Pulled off his shirt and dug his fingers in his right front pocket, brought out a battered Zippo. Dave lit the joint and took a deep toke, handed it off to Jensen.

“Ain’t nothing to do around here in the summer but drink and fight, get high and fuck … around. You don’t have a problem with that, do you?”

Smoke lined the question as the bigger man finally exhaled. Jensen shook his head. He leaned against the dark blue paint of the Mustang and toed off his boots. Took another short pull off the joint before giving it back to Dave and pulled his sweat stained gray t-shirt over his head, dropped it beside Dave’s on the hood of the car.

“No problems.”

Shit, Jensen had absolutely no problem with that at all. After these two had picked him up off a heat sticky asphalt and gravel road, given him a beer and some weed and a ride to a lake that shimmered like a mirage under this blazing sun … fuck. If getting down on his knees and blowing them both would make it even, Jensen was all for that scene.

The pot was good, going straight into his blood and softly clouding his mind. The steaming air seemed at least ten degrees cooler here and Dave shared another cold beer with him before he popped the button fly of his worn jeans and slid them down over narrow hips to puddle on the ground around his shoes and was gone, out into the water.

Jensen finished the joint and his beer. He spent the rest of the afternoon swimming with Dave and Chris. Playing some kind of fucked up, naked football in the shallows with mud squished up between his toes and coating his calves in black and brown spatters. He hid his own hard-on treading water as the sun finally started to slip down to tree level and he could hear Chris’ voice sigh and whisper as Dave stood next to him, hip deep, one hand reaching down under and Chris’ head fell back on Dave’s shoulder. Wet hair stuck to tanned skin as Chris’ mouth opened and Dave covered it with his own, neck bent down as if they were birds feeding and not boys jerking off.

They lay in the late afternoon sun, dried off on uncut, yellowed grass before getting dressed again.

“I’m fucking starving, D-Bo. Why do we always forget to bring something to eat?” Chris moaned as he pulled on his jeans and shirt.

“Because we’d never leave if we did, Kane.”

Jensen slid in the back of the Mustang, he dug his wallet out of his pants and counted his money again. He had just enough saved from his last job for a couple nights in a cheap motel, a couple meals and then he’d be digging through the trash, which he didn’t want to do in the summer, in the south. And on the road again, if he didn’t find a paying gig.

“Got a cheap place nearby I can stay?” He asked as Dave started the car. His foot pushed the accelerator and made the big engine roar under the hood.

“Yeah. Got just the motel for you.”

Jensen let the warm air dry his hair as he watched the small town pass by. Dave drove as if he owned the place, blowing through stop signs and past slower farm trucks on the left. He pulled into the parking lot of a single level, cheap-looking motel and swung open his door, pulled up the seat.

“Come on. I’ll get you a good rate.”

Chris lit a cigarette and stayed in the car. He shook his head when Dave asked if he was coming and even Jensen -- who’d just met them both -- could feel the sudden, out-of-place tension. He threw a look at Dave as they walked into the tiny lobby, air conditioning hit them both like they’d never felt it before.

“He’s got issues.” Dave mumbled and nodded his head forward as a pair of heavy black boots came down from the desk and a girl stood up behind it. “With her.”

Her hair was long and as a black as her boots. Her lips were dark cherry red and shiny and she smiled as she cracked her gum and leaned over the desk, her dark eyes sparkling and dangerous. Something in them that Jensen recognized and knew.

“What’s up, pretty boy?” Her voice was low and hoarse and pure sex and she didn’t look at Jensen at all. Her eyes trained on the man beside him, dragging up and down Dave’s body as if she was touching him. As if she was undressing him and fucking him.

“Need a room for my friend here, ‘Liza. And not at the regular fuck-you-up-the-ass price, okay?”

“That’s fine, Dave.” She pushed a form at Jensen blindly. Smacked her gum again and licked her lips. “As long as you do. Been a long time, big boy.”

Jensen grabbed the pen that skittered from her long, blood red-painted and chipped fingernails and started filling it out. Glancing up every once in a while to watch the banter between them. He slid it back when he was done, along with three bills. The girl scooped up two, tossed one back at him. She put one in the drawer and one down the pocket of her too-tight jeans. Then she finally looked at him and smiled. And for a moment, Jensen felt as if he was being eaten alive. She tossed him a key and tilted her head to the right.

“Fourth one down. Don’t get busted for drugs. Don’t hit the TV, it only gets two channels. Check out is at noon, so see me before that if you want another night and damn, you are cute. Get lonely, all you have to do is call the front desk. Might work out a better deal than this.” Then she turned her attention back to Dave and held out her hand, palm extended. “You still owe me something.”

Jensen stuck his wallet back in his jeans. He pretended to look out to the car as Dave handed the girl a couple of pills and the baggie of weed from his front pocket. Then they were back out in the fading sun. Jensen walked to the room, the Mustang followed him and both boys got out as he unlocked the door.

It was musty, smelled like mold and cigarettes and stale food. But the window a/c started up with a rush of cold air the moment he pushed the button and the curtains over the one front window were heavy and thick. The bed was made and the bathroom was clean. It was more than enough.

Jensen dropped his bag on the rack by the bathroom door and turned around. Chris was already bouncing on the bed and Dave had the phone up to his ear.

“Want pizza?”

Three extra-large specials and a twelve pack of Bud later, they were sprawled out on the mattress. Boots on the floor and shirts tossed. The top buttons of their jeans undone for a little bit more room and the only light came from the television. It played some old movie from the eighties about kids in school on a Saturday and all Jensen would have to do was turn his head to the left and open his mouth and Dave’s chest would be there. All that velvet-smooth, hard-looking tanned skin and Jensen tried not to think about how much he wanted a taste.

“Not shy are you?”

Dave’s voice rumbled and Jensen gave in and turned and looked and smiled.

“No.”

“Good. Didn’t think so.”

Then those big hands with those long fingers were on him. Pulling the last three buttons of his fly open and dragging denim down his thighs. Skimming over his cock and up to his throat and wrapped around. Squeezed just hard enough that Jensen opened his mouth to suck in air and opened his eyes and stared into the darker ones above him.

“We may be hicks in the sticks, but we play safe. Don’t let me ever hear about you fucking anyone bareback. Girls or boys. Or I’ll find you and come down on your ass so hard you won’t ever be able to fuck anyone again.”

Jensen nodded, felt a little more relieved. Can’t be too careful these days. Not anywhere.

The fingers on his neck relaxed a notch and the bed shifted as Chris climbed over them both. Warm breath blew on Jensen’s cock and his hips lifted to get closer. He felt the scrape of teeth on his balls and fingers pulled his thighs apart. Dave scooted over and inch or two and dry, hot lips covered the head of his cock. The wet heat of a tongue slid down over him and Jensen turned his head, his mouth finding one of Dave’s small, brown nipples and his hands reached for Dave’s groin and his cock.

Jeans were kicked off, the bed squeaked and the headboard rattled against the wall. The television played on, the light flickering over them as they rolled and grabbed and sucked and fucked. Condom wrappers crinkled and folded under backs and thighs and when they finished, it was only because not one of them had another one to use.

Jensen moved to the bathroom slowly. He pulled the door closed and turned on the harsh, bright fluorescent light. He washed his hands and splashed his face and stuck his head under the faucet for a moment, then he stared into the mirror at his reflection. Watched as water ran down from his hair to his neck to his chest to his hips.

His legs spread achingly wide as Dave pounded deep into him. Rocking back and forth and twisting under Dave and unable to grab his own cock because Chris held his hands down to the thin blankets. Hearing the sound of Dave’s voice as Chris rode them both from above. Slamming Dave down into Jensen and it felt like he was being split wide open ...

Rolling over on his stomach and whose mouth and chin and teeth was that between the cheeks of his ass … whose lips were on his cock and whose cock was at his mouth … on his knees, sight blurring as sweat dripped into his eyes from his forehead and his fingers sank in and tangled and pulled Chris’ hair.

Jerked Chris’ head back as Jensen sucked bruises on Chris’ neck and fucked into the other man with a passion that startled them both and Dave watched, pulling on his own cock beside them, coming all over Jensen’s thigh as they did and it was smeared it in to his skin and Dave’s long, slick fingers fucked him, pushed him deeper and harder and faster into Chris until he came and came and came and it hurt because it was dry now and it felt too good and Jensen didn’t even care if anyone walking by, driving by, flying by could hear him scream. Hear them all.


Fingerprint bruises covered Jensen’s arms and his chest and his hips. His ass was sore, his dick spent and his lips swollen and numb. And he couldn’t remember ever feeling so fucking at home in a place he’d never been before. With people he didn’t know and he couldn’t decide whether to trust this feeling or run away from here as fast as he could.

The door to his room was open when Jensen came out of the bathroom. Chris was no where to be seen and Dave was pulling his shirt over his head. Warm air rushed through the false cold of the room and Jensen could hear the slam of a door on the Mustang. The singing of crickets and cicadas drowned out the tinny sound of the television speakers and the late night news from Atlanta.

Dave smiled. He pulled Jensen in close, one big hand heavy on the back of Jensen’s neck. Brought him in tight and kissed him one last time for the night. Tongue chasing his own until Jensen felt the dull, breathtaking ache in his groin of his cock trying to rise again.

“Time to go, dude. Gotta make sure that Kane gets home safe. Come by the shop this morning, it’s just down the street. Around eight, I’ll introduce you to my dad and get you a job. I think you’ll fit right in.”


~fin



*buys you an icee at the local QT*
Tags: cracktrailer, dave/chris/jensen, fic, rps
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