hemrage

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PART ONE

The sun shone, sending a glorious cascade of light through the tinted glass and into the room that was soon to be his no longer.

It’d been his almost since the day of his birth - his nursery, his playroom, his sanctuary. It had served each purpose during his lifetime … but not any more. The brilliance of the day, the sheer beauty of it, did nothing to lighten his mood. It had been growing progressively darker as this day had drawn closer. This melancholy, this worry, this …

… dread!

Every cell in his body was infused with it. The lack of sleep and hollow nervousness were duelling with each other to make the feeling of nausea complete. He ignored the breakfast tray that had been brought in to him, too agitated to even make pretence of eating.

He needed a distraction from his thoughts. From the fears that plagued him.

He was getting married.

He’d known that for a fact for years. At first it was an abstract thing, something that would occur in the distant future. Then the inevitable passage of time had brought it closer. To this year. To this month. To this day.

A knock at the door startled him. Brought him out of his musings, his vacant staring, and he went to let the distraction in, only to be swept away by a tide of women. His sisters.

All seven of them.

It wasn’t long before he’d tuned them out. They asked why he hadn’t packed certain things to take to his new home, asked why he would even consider taking a few of the things that they could no longer see. The criticism was rife, but wasn’t meant maliciously. It was just their way. Had always been their way.

They were hard to take en masse. They didn’t all get along with each other at the best of times, but this was a special occasion. One where the whole family would turn out for this, Jensen’s day.

They all had their own ideas of how he should be preparing for matrimony – for his wedding night. For life after. Even the ones who were still single.

They twittered on about clothes and flowers, about servants and places to be seen. About how to entertain the type of people he would find himself associating with once he was the heir’s consort, and about what he would be expected to do for his husband in their matrimonial bed. And hadn’t that been fucking embarrassing? He didn’t want to even think about his sisters having sex and here they were trying to advise him on what his husband would like. It didn’t matter to them that Jensen was built differently, Jared was a man and all men were the same.

That sentiment hammered home, once again, how even his sisters refused to see him as a man. His father, and his brothers, never had, but he’d always hoped that his sisters would see at least a little more masculinity in him than his testosterone infused siblings.

It wasn’t as if Jensen hadn’t thought about sex. He had. His youngest sister, Helena, the person he’d been closest to whilst growing up (by virtue of both their ages and the proximity of her room) had handed him a book when he was twelve which compared the three genders from birth through puberty and beyond. It explained the mechanism of conception between men and women and men and carriers, and went even further, to explain the events occurring through gestation and labour. Conception was easier in carriers, and gestation periods were shorter, the resulting offspring being invariably smaller than their female-born counterparts, though still healthy, catching up with the female-born within weeks.

Carriers had a longer lasting fertility period, could produce more children in a lifetime than a woman, and were more likely to produce another carrier. More likely, but even so, carriers were still extremely rare. That was why they seldom married amongst the general populace – and were reserved, instead, for Royalty and Nobility, for people of standing and influence. How the hell Jensen’s father had ensnared one was a mystery the man never shared with his children – or at least, not with Jensen.

His reading only served to make vague fears mature into full blown nightmares, and he’d secretly harboured the wish that he’d never be called upon to breed. Well, maybe not so secretly where Helena was concerned. He’d vowed to her that he’d live a lifetime without a mate, a husband, or sex. He’d never spread his legs for another.

And then, when he’d turned fourteen, his father had brokered an engagement.

Jensen knew he should’ve just been grateful that the engagement was to be a long one, it wasn’t unheard of for carriers to marry young, but it really couldn’t have been long enough. Not if he’d had his way. But his father never really was interested with his youngest child’s desires.

Helena had once tried persuade him that their parents had loved one another … Jensen couldn’t see how that was true. Couldn’t see the man he called Father, loving anyone the way she said he had. And not a day went past when Jensen didn’t wish that his carrier, the one who would truly know him and care about his concerns, hadn’t left him when he had.

Jensen hadn't known his carrier, and perhaps that was the heart of the problem, because the idea of becoming pregnant was terrifying. Not that something had to go wrong. He had twelve healthy siblings. Twelve … and maybe his parents should have acknowledged that old superstition about thirteen being unlucky… but the knowledge that his carrier had died bringing him into the world had always felt like a promise.

A promise that he would go the same way.

Being the only carrier in the entire family, his older siblings being spared that misfortune, his father had always perceived him as an asset. A rare and unusual being, sought after by many. He’d been groomed to expect certain things out of life, prepared to follow a particular role, and his father had been proud when he’d been chosen as consort to the heir of the Padalecki house.

Jensen would’ve liked to have had a say in whoever his mate turned out to be, but only his father and his two eldest brothers had had anything to do with the negotiations. Jensen hadn’t been consulted once.

He’d been left to imagine an older – or even elderly – man, mean spirited, a bully who saw Jensen as a trophy and a womb and very little else. He’d been pleasantly surprised when he’d eventually seen pictures of his betrothed. For his sixteenth birthday Helena had snuck the images into his room, having had enough of him moaning about the man who was, in his mind's eye, probably older than his father.

So his husband wasn’t going to be an old man … but he still had no idea how personable the man would be. What he would expect of his carrier mate.

Besides the obvious, of course.

The ceremony was a blur of questions, responses and declarations, and Jensen had been so struck by the appearance of his husband that he’d needed prompting more than once. The images Helena had shown him had been taken so long ago. They were of a boy. They didn’t compare with the man who stood standing tall and proud before him.

Jared – his name was Jared - appeared strong, imposing and sure of himself. He was physically impressive in height and musculature and Jensen hated how his body had responded to the sight. But more than that, he’d hated the way his mind did. Admiration and lust conspired with an inborn desire to be submissive to the man. To spread his legs and just let him do whatever he desired, whenever he desired it.

Luckily, Jensen had had years to plan for this eventuality, because he didn’t doubt what would be expected of him on his wedding night, or every night thereafter. Thanks to the research he’d undertaken in his more desperate moments, his body would not be able to betray him - no matter how much lust coursed through his veins.

His preparations made the knowledge of his approaching surrender that much easier to bear.

“I’ve waited for tonight for so long.”

Jensen looked up at his husband and knew he was expecting some kind of response, some reciprocation, but his voice failed him. He knew that once he opened his mouth the words – if they came at all – would be the wrong ones. The truth wanted to spill forth. The truth about how he’d dreaded this day, this moment. How their union was the last thing Jensen wanted.

Jared smiled softly, interpreting the silence as nothing but nervousness, and stepped closer, invading his space. “It’s alright if you don’t want to talk. You don’t have to say anything.”

Jared’s fingers loosened Jensen’s tie, casting it to one side. Then each button was unfastened, one after another. His shirt was pushed from his shoulders, dropping on to the floor. The shivering had nothing to do with the temperature of the room. Jared smiled, held a palm to Jensen’s jaw before ducking down for a kiss. Chaste, just lips on lips, no evidence of the hunger Jensen had caught in his husband’s eyes. “So long.” A kiss. “I’ve been dreaming of you.”

Jared’s hands were at his waist, his pants dropping to his feet moments later. Jared wrapped his arms round him, pulling him close and lifting him up, out of the pools of fabric that had gathered round his feet.

Jensen felt arousal building, his traitorous cock filling, as a large hand settled on the naked swell of his ass. Rubbing and squeezing. The fear that danced in his stomach was ignored as the heat built up between them and then pooled in that space between his legs.

Moments of his life disappeared as Jared suckled at his skin, trailed kisses along his collar bone and then latched onto a nipple. Jensen felt his legs shake and threaten to give way, but then he wasn’t standing anymore. Jared was holding him up, carrying him towards the bed that Jensen had tried to ignore the presence of when they’d entered the room countless lifetimes ago.

“I want to see you. I want to see…” Jared’s words were mumbled into his chest, and then his back was pressed into silk as he was lowered to the bed, his legs naturally spreading to accommodate Jared’s presence between them.

Jared pulled back, dipping his mouth back down to kiss at a navel, suck at the tender skin beneath it and then nibble along the sensitive crease where leg met body. And then Jared pulled away completely. Jensen felt a hand on his cock, stroking, holding it out of the way so that Jared’s view was unobscured, and then moments of eternal silence were filled with moaning – his own – as Jared licked and tasted what no one but physicians had touched since Jensen was a child.

Jensen stared at the ceiling, trying to keep each sound inside even as it was being dragged out. He both loved and hated Jared’s scrutiny, his investigation, with equal measure. He knew how he differed from Jared’s previous bedmates. Knew the orifice that Jared was so intent on devouring was what separated him from the rest of men. What defined him as other than man. And oh Goddess, it was aching to be filled. He was aching. And the words that streamed out from between his lips acted without the consent of his conscious mind.

He was begging. Pleading for Jared to do what was his right to do. It was more than he could bear. A lifetime without physical intimacy and now he craved it.

As Jared took what was his to take, even midst the fire that was consuming him and the pain of penetration, Jensen prayed to a parent he’d never met, that his own deepest desire would be granted. Just as he prayed that Jared’s ... would not.

Return to the MASTERPOST ~0~ Onwards towards PART TWO