Perfecting the Man - 1
Feb. 21st, 2012 01:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hemrageRETURN TO MASTERPOST
Jensen couldn’t sleep. It had barely been two when his eyes had snapped open for the third time since he'd climbed in between the sheets and no matter how many times he closed his eyes and willed for sleep to return, it refused, leaving him to watch the play of shadows across the ceiling.
The house was the embodiment of silence. He usually found peace in the quiet, but now it made him feel alone. As a young child he'd have been tempted to climb into his mom and dad's bed, or even seek out his big brother, but he wasn't a child anymore and, if there was anyone else awake, they were content to stay in their own rooms, in their own beds, lest they disturb anyone. Jensen was happy to pay them the same respect.
It wasn’t his first sleepless night in recent weeks, but it was most definitely the worst. And even though mounting exhaustion should have guaranteed oblivion until dawn, he wasn't surprised. Sleep had become harder and harder to obtain as his birthday had drawn nearer, and now that he only had hours until he turned nineteen and was legally considered an adult, it wasn’t a huge shock that this last night under his parents’ roof would prove a long and wakeful one.
Biting his lip he rolled onto his stomach and closed his eyes, but his mind wouldn't settle and grant him even a little peace. As much as he’d been anticipating what was going to happen with his impending birthday, been attempting to prepare for it mentally, he wasn’t ready for morning to arrive, wasn’t ready for the changes that were waiting for him. But the fear, slight though it was most of the time, was tinged with a more than healthy dose of excitement – and how to explain that fact to the other people in the household wasn’t something he wanted to attempt.
Everything the morning would bring was the culmination of what he'd been born for, the role and position he'd been raised to fill from the moment of his birth. He’d been educated for it, counseled. He wasn’t walking into the unknown. He wasn’t a lamb to the slaughter. Over the years, whenever he’d raised doubts or concerns, his parents and teachers had offered reassurance. Told him that what was coming was a good thing. If they told him that, and he believed them, why should he be filled with dread? How could finally fulfilling his purpose be a bad thing?
Not for him had been the doubts and uncertainties about the future. He'd not had to bear the pressure of studying for exams or fulfilling too high a parental ambition. He wasn't the least bit competitive and was more than happy to see friends and acquaintances succeed and flourish. The ruthlessness some people needed to survive wasn't a component of his psyche. The more he'd considered alternate paths for his life the more he'd realized his advisors were right. The path he'd been set on at birth was the right one for him. He was content.
It seemed his mom and dad didn't quite believe what they'd said, though, now that the day had arrived, and maybe it was their trepidation and worry he was feeling. It wasn't fair, because he'd worked so very hard to ignore the atmosphere the house had descended into of late. He’d needed their continued support as his friends questioned everything that was coming and it had all but disappeared.
He supposed he didn’t look at what was going to be happening the same way as his family and friends did. He'd been hungering for something indefinable for years, ever since puberty had started to redefine him as something other than child. Now he was getting closer to appeasing that hunger, he knew it. He couldn't be sorry. And if he was starting to crave the physical intimacy he'd always been deprived of, well he wasn't sorry for that, either. The platonic hugs and kisses of parent, sibling and friend did nothing to appease the gnawing emptiness that had begun to consume him.
His mom, usually so strong and resilient, had had red rimmed eyes for days. Even though she’d kept the weeping behind closed doors, he’d heard her often enough. She smiled to his face, blamed a persistent cold for her sniffles, but sobbed when she believed he was out of earshot.
His dad had been greedy for his attention, wanting his youngest with him as much as possible. The workaholic his father was reputed to be had been replaced by a man who took days off to do things with him they hadn’t done since he was a kid.
His brother and sister had been nothing but silent shadows, temporarily abandoning the important business of their lives and moving back in to the family home to make things as easy as possible all round, but not knowing what to say to make everyone feel better about what was going to happen.
They attempted to look cheerful, Jordan frequently falling into memories of family vacations and celebrations, while Emily tried to coax everyone into good humor by baking and discussing the plans she had for her new home. They were trying too hard and all too often the house descended into tense silences. He’d get the odd sympathetic smile then, but mostly he may as well have already been gone as far as they were concerned. It was almost as if they were in mourning, but Jensen wasn’t filled with the fear that his family expected him to be feeling, and they seemed to sincerely believe his displays of good humor and positivity were for their benefit – or was an exercise in self-deception.
How could he deceive himself when the truth of the situation had been laid out so clearly for him?
Jensen had always known he was different from his friends, some things – even those that are usually kept from innocent children - are just impossible to hide after all. Childish curiosity had taught him that he didn't look like either a little girl or a little boy beneath his clothes, and he had known what his nineteenth birthday would bring since the eve of his twelfth. He’d not been told everything then, but the years that followed had fully educated him in what was to come.
His family had gone against custom and had chosen to send him to a local, mainstream school because they believed in giving him the opportunity to live in the real world, to not be completely insulated him from the things others his age experienced, but the freedoms his friends enjoyed had always been denied him. He’d never been allowed to date, never been encouraged to have more than a few close acquaintances - and even they had been vetted by family. He'd never been allowed to go to parties or on excursions where chaperones couldn’t ensure his – and everyone else's – adherence to the rules concerning what he was – and was not – allowed to experience. Those few close friends had resented his limitations on his behalf, but Jensen had never felt bitter, had never considered his boundaries unfair - they were just there, a fact of his life, like green eyes and freckles and being the youngest member of the Ackles clan.
Giving sleep up as a lost cause he climbed out from under the covers and leaned his elbows on the sill of the window his bed lay beneath. He tucked his knees under him, sat his chin in the palms of his hands, and let his eyes grow accustomed to the meagre light the moon and stars were casting onto the grounds below.
He could just make out the beds of flowers his mother doted on. In the latest of which, silhouettes of spring flowering irises and lilies towered over crocuses. Closing his eyes he imagined colors. Blues and creams, lilacs and violets, blending in with each other harmoniously. His mom always planned the planting with color, height and season in mind. Though there had been times when she'd bowed to her youngest child's whims and planted violently clashing blooms just because he'd requested it. She'd looked pained whenever she'd given in and his creations had matured. After a few incredulous looks from her friends she'd begun surreptitiously steering clear of his latest arrangement, but all that ended when Jordan had crafted a sign, 'Jensen's', to be planted in the soil so he could lay claim to the mess of plants and she would be believed when she pleaded her innocence.
Gardening with her, sinking short skinny arms into peat dark soil, had been when he'd felt closest to her. When he'd had her all to himself and his siblings hadn't ever tried to intrude on this time. He'd watched her nurture new life and she'd ignited a desire within him to do the same. She taught him everything she could and hadn't freaked once about his love affair with soil the year he turned seven. He'd walked around with dirt in his hair, under his nails and in his pockets. It had even made its way into his bed on more than one occasion. 'Enough to plant potatoes,' she'd sighed with mock horror as his bed was stripped and linens were replaced.
He let the smile slip from his face and forced his eyes to focus further into the gloom.
The darkened gardens stretched out into the unclaimed lands. The parcels of hill and grassland that were owned by no one, and never would be.
Beyond the tree swing Jordan had constructed when Jensen had been nine – and which he still occasionally found himself perched on - was the river where he’d learned to swim. Beyond the river was the copse of trees and the meadow. Beyond the meadow was the hill where his brother had taught him to fly a kite when he was eight and where his dad had dragged him to the summit, during every winter’s snowfall, to hurtle back down on a sledge they'd built together and refined the design of before the conclusion of every fall.
If he did any of those things again it would be as a visitor… a visitor in his parents’ house. The melancholic thought was cast aside even though he knew it was an honest assessment of what was to be.
What was to be?
Focusing beyond what was visible through the window his mind strayed to the men he’d been introduced to the previous month. The ones found acceptable by both his parents and the Maker assigned to him.
The Maker – Phillipa Meehan, was her name - looked older than his mom even though, in reality, she was at least ten years younger. Jensen figured she was one of those women who looked older than her years and he wondered what life had done to her to cause that, though he never dared ask. It wasn't his place to make enquiries about her personal life or experiences, not like she was expected to ask about his, and she never volunteered any information about her relationships or family for him to even begin to speculate on any past emotional trauma.
The tall and willowy woman wore no makeup, though the addition of cosmetics probably would've made her look less harsh. He was of the opinion that she’d never married, not a surprise since the majority of Makers avoided that kind of distraction - and she gave the impression of being miserable and surly, but over the year they’d known each other she’d shown him the heart she kept well hidden. During their three interviews, once the process had begun, he’d learned about her love of music, her passion for travel and the joy she found in the written word. They developed a relationship based on mutual respect and understanding and she’d made her judgments based on what Jensen had told her. Over a thousand applicants had been reduced to two hundred after only their first discussion. The numbers had dwindled further after that, until his parents were left with the task of short listing from only thirty.
Jensen had met the final six. Six from over a thousand men who'd wanted him to be theirs. It had been explained that one of the reasons he was so sought was because he was the only fenom coming of age that year. The only one. It was a little overwhelming to think about so many men applying to be mated with him, but like everything else it was something he had to accept and not dwell upon.
The men had all been older than Jensen had been hoping for. He’d foolishly imagined someone close to his own age – or at least within ten years of it – but then few would’ve met any Maker’s high standards with youthful inexperience on their side. They had to be able to prove they could take care of their fenom and any family they produced. Mentally, physically, emotionally and, undoubtedly, financially.
Jensen had ruled out two of the six – one because his gray eyed gaze had scared him with its intensity, chilling something deep inside, and the other because Jensen couldn’t bear the idea of spreading his legs for someone who reminded him so much of his dad.
Luckily Philippa had interceded on his behalf with ‘Mr Creepy’ once she astutely realized how uncomfortable Jensen was in his presence. The man had been insistent, following him around and attempting to get his attention, even when Jensen had been immersed in conversation with someone else. He’d been faultlessly polite and flattering to Jensen whenever he could get close enough for his words to be heard, but Jensen couldn’t bring himself to acknowledge him more than was required to not be seen as ill mannered.
As the evening wore on, and the man’s attempts to monopolize Jensen’s time and attention had come to naught, he’d begun to fray, anger and frustration becoming poorly masked. Jensen could’ve gladly kissed the Maker every time she stepped in to draw him away, introduce him to someone else or ask his opinion on something.
Eventually Gray Eyes - he couldn't remember his name - had asked for his coat and left, and Jensen had been able to breathe easier. Smile a little brighter.
The other man Jensen rejected? Jensen felt his gaze, his uncertainty and confusion, and felt brief pangs of guilt swell up within him. But it was his future at stake and Jensen wouldn’t compromise on his feelings.
Good looks and warm smiling eyes weren’t everything, after all.
The man had been the perfect gentleman and Jensen had fretted over the reason he had immediately felt comforted by his presence. How a sexually fuelled attraction could occur when everything about him screamed familiarity and family. The realisation of why he had seemed so perfect unnerved Jensen and he'd made himself steer clear.
Good Looking had been gracious, and perhaps a little sad, when he’d wished Jensen a good night, but he’d not made a fuss.
The sun was rising beyond the hill. The shadows growing stronger and longer as it climbed to light his childhood playground. He said goodbye to it and turned away before a return to nostalgia could incite the arrival of tears. He’d managed to avoid the tears that had plagued his mom and he wasn’t about to welcome them now.
He appraised his room with the morning light’s assistance. It was emptier than it had ever been, his belongings already having been packed up and transported away from the house. He would leave this house with only the clothes he was standing up in, and they would be returned to his parents’ by sundown. A generations old tradition, it was merely a symbolic transaction now as what mattered would already be at his new residence. In ancient times it had been dictated that those like him would have been allowed to take nothing with them when they entered the next chapter of their lives. They even left their parents as naked as the day they’d entered the world. Jensen was so glad that that little custom had been discarded.
Climbing off his bed – for the last time - he walked into the bathroom, removing the clothes he slept in and examining himself in the mirror that took up almost one wall.
Would his new mate find him acceptable?
Jensen had never seen another person without clothes except in biology texts and didn’t know what was considered appealing. He’d, fortunately, never felt a stirring for the female form. A curiosity, perhaps, especially when his brother had been going through his ‘slut’ phase before he married, but there had never been any sexual or romantic interest. That had been a blessing since Jensen was aware his eventual mate would be male. He’d thought of his few male friends as possible partners in only idle musings, knowing that nothing would ever come from his pondering. He liked Jared's dimples, Steve’s hair, Jason’s smile … but there was nothing that ever got his blood pumping. Which, again, was just as well given what would've happened if something had
He ran his fingers along his chest down to his stomach, and watched his reflection do the same. The men he’d met had all seemed to be more than interested in him. Each had said, in their own way, that they found him beautiful, but that had only been about his face. Would his body be thought of as beautiful, too? He didn't have the soft curves of a woman, or the muscular physique of a man. He was slight and pale and hairless and he didn't know how that was considered, aesthetically.
Jensen had certainly thought of his suitors as attractive – as much as anyone had ever appealed to him - even the one who had no doubt left angry and frustrated. But attractiveness was an abstract notion. He could appreciate beauty and could recognize it in all manner of things, from sunsets to faces, but nothing set his heart ablaze. Nothing woke his dormant libido.
He didn’t allow himself to think of the candidates in terms of having a favorite – he had no control over which of the four would be claiming him today.
Stepping in to the shower he allowed himself to enjoy the simple pleasure the deluge provided and turned off his mind. Let the water soothe and calm him before going out into the rest of the house and sitting with his family for the last time as a child.
Even though Emily and his mom had gotten carried away, cooking enough of everyone's favorite foods to give a football team a hearty start to the day, breakfast remained untouched on the table when they left the dining room and walked into the lounge. He’d tried to eat, but the stilted conversation and overwhelming tension served to do nothing but tie the nervous knots in his stomach even tighter.
Jensen stared at the picture that took pride of place above the mantle, at the family portrait that had been completed when he’d been five and more than a little gawky looking.
“We should’ve had a new one done.”
Jensen turned, curious, towards his mom. “Why?”
“Because you’ve never been too keen on it, have you?”
Jensen smiled, “Look at that boy mom,” he pointed to his younger self. “What were you thinking when you got his hair cut like that?”
“I was thinking he was the most beautiful boy in the world and nothing could ever change that. Not even a, what do you call it? A goddamned haircut.”
“Hey…”
Jensen’s mom patted his brother’s shoulder before she stood on tip-toe to kiss Jordan's cheek. “You’re beautiful too, baby.”
Jensen laughed at his brother’s mock look of pain, “But Jen’s prettier, right?”
His mom didn’t respond but it had been a common enough conversation over the years for no one to take offence. Of the three Ackles kids Jordan was known as the brains, Emily was the pragmatist while Jensen was 'the pretty one'. Not that his siblings weren't good looking, they were, but fenom had an otherness about them that couldn't be captured in either of the other two genders.
The small group started discussing family and friends, took walks down memory filled lanes and mentioned everything but Jensen’s birthday. The end of his nineteenth year would officially occur at 9.47, the start of his twentieth would coincide with it, and Jensen couldn’t resist a quick glance towards the clock every few minutes.
When the doorbell finally sounded Jensen found himself on his feet before the rest of his family. A quick look at the clock indicated his new mate was right on time and Jensen waited, staring at the living room door as his father went out to let the man in.
He felt his mother take one hand, his sister take the other, and his brother stand at his shoulder. Jensen’s gaze, though, didn’t waver.
And then the door reopened, his dad leading his new mate in.
“Jensen, please calm down.”
Jensen was pacing round the library, unable to focus on any one thing. He felt like trashing the place, throwing everything down to the floor, destroying it all. He wanted to overturn the desk, punch hell out of the couch… hit his dad.
“Listen to me, please, Jensen.”
Jensen focused on his breathing. Attempted to bring it down to a reasonable level even though hyperventilation seemed to be his final destination. For the first time in his life he wasn’t prepared to comply with his father’s wishes. He refused to turn, but he stopped moving. He didn't know where the aggression, the desire to strike out, was coming from. He'd never experienced it before and it scared him a little.
He concentrated on his breathing. In and out. In and out. He couldn’t look at his dad, couldn’t. Wouldn’t.
“He was the best choice.”
His dad sounded so reasonable, so sincere, but if he cared, if he really cared... Jensen found his voice and forced the words out, “I told you…” He felt as well as heard his voice break. He couldn’t carry on or he’d be screaming.
“I know you did.” He felt his father’s hand on his shoulder and he shook it off, ignoring the hurt sigh that came from one of the only two men Jensen had ever loved. His father's pedestal had been much higher than his brother's. “The Maker and I both had him at the top of our lists. We discussed your dismissal of him, but decided…”
“To ignore how I felt.”
The silence that followed accomplished two things. It allowed Jensen to bolster himself, to pretend that his heart hadn’t broken at his parents’ betrayal – because his mother had to know who had been chosen for him – and allowed him to brace himself for what needed to happen next.
He had to go out there and face his new mate.
Jensen couldn’t even remember if the man had reacted to his departure. Jensen had simply released his mother's and sister’s hands and had raced into his father’s adjoining library, seeking refuge from the tempest of emotions that were assaulting him, unprepared for his father to follow on his heels and attempt to coax out his compliance.
He walked back to the door and waited, sure he could hear his brother talking to the man just on the other side of it.
One last breath and he pushed the door open, seeing his mate rise to his feet. A forced smile falling across his face. “Jensen.”
“Mr Morgan.” Jensen replied, coolly, not wanting the storm raging within to be seen by the man he would be leaving with.
He ignored his father, who was standing behind him, as he said goodbye to his mother, holding himself stiff as she pulled him into a hug. The goodbyes to his siblings were more heartfelt and he almost lost the battle of wills he had going on with the tears that were building. Almost. No matter how tired and angry he was he would not let them fall.
He held his hand out to his father, refusing to acknowledge the broken look on the man’s face, and then he followed his Mate out of the house. Allowed himself to be guided by the proprietary hand at the small of his back.
He didn’t turn back. It could be some time before he saw them all again, but he was grateful for that right now, because he needed that time to learn whether or not he could forgive them.
Jeff Morgan’s day had begun way too early. Nervous insomnia Sam called it, and she was probably right, but that didn't alter the fact that two hours of sleep was all he'd had before he'd forced himself out of bed to check and recheck his copy of the contracts that had been signed - finally - the day before. Calling Riley, waking the man up to ensure that there was nothing he'd left undone, had probably been going a step too far, but even half asleep Riley had been able to reassure him that all of the technicalities had been addressed and all the loopholes had been neatly tied up. It had been exactly what he'd wanted to hear.
There was no backing out now, not for anyone.
He'd thanked his young secretary for his assistance, apologized for the unfortunate timing of his call, and wished the man a good vacation before hanging up.
This was actually happening.
He'd waited so long to apply, but he'd known for years that this was what he wanted. The child of a mated pair, he'd always known he wanted the kind of relationship his parents had been blessed with, short though it may have turned out.
Oh, he'd been warned that things didn't always turn out as successfully for other people, but there was no way he was going to let that deter him. He'd been casually checking the register for years, looking at the bios of potentials. He'd been nowhere near ready to apply back then, but it had given him a strange kind of hope that he would know of his true Mate as soon as possible, that he would recognize him amongst the others - see beyond youth and carefully constructed ambiguous biographies and just know. He remembered vividly the day that assertion was proven true and he'd still had to wait years before he could make his interest known, before he could ask for what his heart already considered his.
Showered and changed, he inspected his Mate's – Jensen’s – new quarters. He’d made sure they were as comfortable as possible, as welcoming, since Jensen could possibly be in them for a good few months. Jensen’s belongings, the ones which had turned up only yesterday, had been sorted and many had been placed in these rooms, for Jensen to arrange as he liked. The rest were in the main body of the house, for him to enjoy when he was allowed to move around freely.
He’d sought parental approval when he’d been preparing for Jensen’s seclusion. Asked his dad what the fenom who'd birthed him had wanted out of all the time he’d spent in seclusion during his child producing years? Jeff had tried to incorporate everything, but he still worried Jensen wouldn’t like it.
His leave of absence from work had been organized, a boss' ability to delegate proving to be a wonderful thing – though he still had some obligations to fulfill to ensure smooth running until his return.
By the time his car pulled up outside the Ackles' house he'd managed to settle the hordes of butterflies stomping around inside his stomach enough that he could project the calm demeanor that saw him through many an important business meeting.
He climbed out of the back seat and stood with his back to the house, admiring the grounds, not wanting to announce his arrival too soon. He could imagine Jensen growing up happy here, had thought the very same thing during his previous visit. The house was well placed. A property that had been in the Ackles family for more than a century was surrounded by protected lands, so there would never be any development to mar either its tranquility or its beauty.
He leant across the hood of the car, looking at the man behind the steering wheel. Chris signaled that there were still a few minutes and Jeff allowed his mind to wander.
Over the last couple of weeks, ever since he’d been informed of his success, Jeff had puzzled over his victory. And in his weaker moments he'd questioned it. Something had occurred on the night when he, as one of the last few remaining candidates, had come to this house. Something that had managed to convince him that he'd blown any chance he had with the boy he’d been waiting for for years.
Jensen didn't like him.
Wouldn't accept him.
He’d been so sure.
The boy had steered clear of him once the initial introductions had been made and while Jeff had watched him interact with the others with equal measures of jealousy and resignation, his own despondency had filled him. He’d accepted that he was simply waiting for formal declaration of his failure…
Surprise wasn't an adequate word to describe how he’d felt when he'd been contacted with news of his success. When he'd answered the phone two days later to find the Maker on the line with the outcome of the match. How could he have read the situation so wrong?
He was Jensen’s Mate and Jeff had had no idea how that had happened. Jensen had obviously developed favorites in that short time they'd been together. Obviously. And Jeff had been so sure he’d not been one of them so how come...?
At this point in his musings he always managed to persuade himself that he'd been reading too much into Jensen's behavior. Jensen had to have liked him enough for the final decision to fall the way it had. But doubt is an insidious thing and it had accompanied him for the last couple of years whenever this, his most important achievement, had preyed on his mind.
Chris knocked on the glass to get his attention and Jeff checked the time for himself, just to be sure, before he walked up to the door and rang the bell.
The car ride was uncomfortably silent and Jeff found himself worrying about the boy's emotional state.
He'd been gifted with a small smile as Jeff had guided him out to the car, but the sorrowful look Jensen couldn't keep off his face made Jeff wonder how the next few days would play out.
There was obviously some tension in the house when they left and he wanted to believe he was merely a witness to it, rather than a cause, but he doubted it. The family seemed broken and Jeff had spent just enough time with the senior members of the Ackles family to know any kind of disruption of the familial bond was unusual. Sarah and Peter Ackles loved their children, adored Jensen, so a rift between them was enough to cause Jeff concern. This period in Jensen's life was traumatic enough, Jeff had no desire to exacerbate it, but it seemed that somehow he'd managed it.
He'd been startled but not really surprised by Jensen's reaction to seeing him. He should've trusted his own judgment when it came to their official introductions - Jensen really hadn't chosen him and Jeff's victory had been against his new Mate's wishes.
Despite his bruised ego and grazed feelings Jeff didn't have any regrets, couldn't. It would take more than a poor greeting to make him second guess this new partnership, but he didn't want these first few days to be unpleasant and Jensen's mood was going to go a long way to dictate how things went. He'd concocted plans, daydreamed about how they would get to know each other, but now he had to second guess himself. Did he let everything happen at a more sedate pace until Jensen was comfortable or did he go in, guns blazing, and sweep the boy off his feet?
Maybe that was what he needed to do. Act quickly so that the boy's nerves and uncertainty didn't get the better of him.
Jensen wanted to talk to his new Mate, wanted to apologize for the way he'd reacted - it wasn't his fault, after all - but he didn't know how to start, how to find the words.
Jeff had been chosen from all the men who'd applied to mate with him and Jensen had to have faith in the system he was a product of. Had to believe that Jeff was a good choice – a good man.
Had to.
He didn’t believe he’d been brainwashed by a lifetime of conditioning to think he was inferior to everyone else. He knew fenom were valued, prized. Only one in one hundred and fifty thousand births produced someone like him, after all. He was not a slave who’d been sold to the highest bidder. Jeff would have no reason to hurt him. No reason to make his life a hard one. But talking was more than he was capable of as they sat in the close confines of the car. He couldn't look at Jeff, couldn't bear the idea of pained confusion or gnawing resentment. Either could be the result of Jensen's behaviour. Instead he tried to see through the darkened glass. Tried to make out the driver that Jeff had referred to as Chris, but hadn't introduced.
As the rolling greens of hills and forest became sparser, grand houses and cultivated areas replaced what Nature kept under her influence. Eventually the green was barely in evidence - hidden behind walls and buildings. Hoarded and kept private for the select few.
This was not the Citadel. He doubted there was even this much green in the realm of metal and glass he had ventured into only twice in his life, but it was undoubtedly close. He was closer to the Citadel than he was to his parents’ home.
Jensen felt his eyes grow heavy, the lack of sleep and the motion of the car lulling him towards a slumber he was determined to resist.
The house the car eventually pulled up in front of was undoubtedly impressive - granite stonework so white it looked like marble, animal carvings beneath the roof so lifelike you had to do a double take to ensure they weren't going to pounce. Jensen had almost expected it. Jeff was both wealthy and successful – something all the final few had in common – and he could have properties all round the world for all Jensen knew. Money, and all that came with it, had never been a consideration for Jensen whenever he'd thought about his intended, though he didn't doubt wealth would've sat quite highly on someone else's list of criteria. He wondered how highly it had sat on his parents’, all the while certain that if he had been asked to compose his own list kindness and compassion would’ve graced the top places… okay, and maybe passion of another kind, too.
He was certain he wanted a passionate man. A man who could ignite flames where there had never been anything flammable before. A man who could turn him into the wanton creature fenom could sometimes embody. A man who…
"We're home."
Jensen blinked owlishly at being pulled out of what was promising to develop into quite a fantasy and hid the blush which crept across his face by lowering his head. He couldn’t believe he was thinking about sex with his Mate already. He never thought about sex as anything but an abstract concept… but then, he supposed, now was probably a very good time to start thinking of it, both as something he could do and as something that could be done to him.
As Jeff opened the car door for him, taking over from the driver who had opened Jeff’s, a guiding hand returned to rest on his back as he was led to the front door.
"The house looks lovely." Jeff was obviously gladdened by his words as a reciprocal smile warmed his face. The large oak door was opened before they reached it and Jensen was too busy looking round the exquisitely decorated entrance hall to hear the words Jeff shared with the man at the door before he left.
Jeff turned to Jensen, his face more sober. "I'm going to save the whole tour for when you're living in the main house, but there's someone I want you to meet before I take you to your rooms."
Jensen nodded and took Jeff's offered hand before he was led into, of all places, the kitchen. The woman that pulled him into a fierce hug as soon as he entered the room held him out at arm’s length moments later, examining him. "Jeff said you were beautiful and there I was, foolishly thinking he was exaggerating."
"Let him go, Sam," Jeff laughed and Jensen felt his face heat up. Jensen felt warmth at his shoulder as his new Mate stood closer to him. "That, Jensen, is Samantha. I think of her more as a friend than an employee. She's been with me for years and she oversees everything that goes on in this house. If I could I'd have her travel with me so that I always have someone with me I can rely on."
Sam's hand hit Jeff square in the chest, "Flatterer. But you're right, you'd be lost without me." She grinned at Jensen, her smile at once exuberant and comforting. She seemed the same age as his Mate, but Jeff valued her greatly, almost as if she was a valued elder - a parent or other senior relative.
Jeff rubbed his chest, laughing. "Sam's going to be the person you speak to in the house the most when I’m not around. She'll be able to make sure you get everything you need."
Sam's eyes fell to him, warm and kind beneath a tussle of brown hair that fell from atop her head to frame her face. "Think of yourself as my priority. I hope you'll be able to think of me as a friend eventually, but until then, well, I'm at your beck and call."
Jensen didn't know what to say to that. His family didn't really employ household staff. A gardener who came in to do the heavy work his mother couldn't do herself, a caterer when they were entertaining, a cleaner twice a week. He didn't know how to address servants, what he could and could not ask of them and it felt kind of rude to think of this woman as if she was hired help, especially if she was so important to Jeff, but if that's what she wanted... Before Jensen could question anything Jeff guided him back out of the kitchen and up the main staircase.
"I wanted you to be able to put a face to the voice. She's really something special. You’ll love her."
"I'm sure."
They quickly reached what had to be the top floor of the house. "This area took a while to remodel, but your mom and dad like what I've done with the space."
"They've been here?"
Jeff laughed, "Of course. They inspected every set of rooms that had been prepared for you."
Jensen didn't know what to say about that. Intellectually he'd known every one of the final candidates would've gone through a great deal of expense and inconvenience with only the hope that Jensen would even see the work they'd had done, much less live in the spaces they'd created, but being faced with the reality of it... Maybe Jensen was a naive fool. Maybe he was immature and totally unprepared for what was happening. Everything was already so much more than he was expecting.
What would the unsuccessful candidates be thinking right now? He frowned, not really wanting to focus on the other men - those who may be disappointed and angry with the way things had turned out. He felt a kernel of guilt and sought desperately to prevent it from embedding somewhere it could grow. Nothing had been his doing. He hadn’t made the final choice.
They probably blamed him anyway.
Jensen didn't see the numbers Jeff punched into the panel by the door. He didn't need to as he wouldn’t ever need to use them. Seclusion kept him safe while he was in the throes of his ‘desires’. Even the thought of that made him blush because he’d never even felt a stirring of the desire he’d been told about in hushed voices as Emily had bemoaned her own virginity with her girlfriends - back in the days when she still possessed it. Oh, it wouldn’t be long. Jeff would no doubt find a way to ignite it – soon – but as a theory he had no point of reference.
There were so many laws concerning fenoms, their care and safekeeping, that Jensen, even now, was unfamiliar with all of them. But the law governing seclusion was a major one, and he'd learned it young.
Seclusion had been introduced to keep his kind safe. There were countless horrific stories, both from less enlightened times and modern foolishness or neglect, that illustrated what had happened to those who had been denied the safety and sanctuary of seclusion – the self-harm, the rape - and why seclusion became a matter of law, not choice. It was a fact of his life he’d prepared himself psychologically for and he didn’t question it. "Sam has the code, in case of emergencies. If the fire alarm ever sounds then the door will open automatically as long as there's no fire detected immediately outside the door."
Jensen nodded and followed Jeff inside.
The main room was large, well lit, with floor to ceiling windows along two adjacent walls. From where he stood Jensen could see that beyond the glass doors at the far side of the room there was an enclosed space. From his location he couldn't see what was inside it.
Stepping further into the main room - which boasted a real fireplace - Jensen could see that one wall served as a kitchen with counter, stove and cupboards. There were various other appliances integrated into the workspace which Jensen would no doubt become familiar with in good time. There was a large dining table near the counter and parallel to the glass wall so that Jensen would be able to look out unless he had his back to it. Between the dining table and the fireplace was the largest, most comfortable looking sofa Jensen had ever seen.
"I don't know if you cook, but if you don't there's a panel over there," Jeff pointed to a small metallic array of lights and switches. "You can just call down to Sam and she'll make you something and send it up."
There were more panels in some of the other rooms Jeff led him into, for emergencies Jensen assumed as he had no idea why he'd be wanting to speak to anyone while he was in the bathroom. Though that was where the laundry chute resided so Jensen knew that was a task he’d not be expected to undertake while he was in residence.
The bathroom was a spectacular, seamless, self-cleaning (apparently) marvel of plumbing, heated stone and ceramic. The mirrored glass wall allowed him to see out, but no one would ever be able to see in.
Next to the bathroom was a gymnasium, again with a floor to ceiling glass wall, letting him see the outside world.
Opposite the gym was a small library and games room, and next to that, opposite the bathroom, was the bedroom.
Everything about the rooms, his new home, screamed luxury and comfort. No expense had been spared.
"I didn't want you to feel like a prisoner. I wanted you to be able to enjoy outside. The sky, sunlight."
"Kind of makes me want to stay up here even when I'm not in seclusion." Jeff's soft smile showed he was pleased by Jensen's statement. No matter how wonderful these rooms were, though, they both knew that wasn’t going to be an option. Jensen could grow to hate these rooms and the restrictions on his life they represented so very easily if they both weren’t careful. If he was to ever attempt to live in them full time he’d be confining himself to a small life, unnecessarily.
Besides, the nursery wasn’t on this level and Jensen couldn’t ever imagine not having full access to his children, or they to him, once they were around.
According to some these rooms weren't just where his children would be conceived, they also symbolized his captivity and served as a reminder of his otherness.
Jensen didn't understand how there were still some who fought seclusion, who attempted to refuse it. When his body demanded he go into seclusion the only person he could be around would be his Mate. His hormones, his biology, could rob him of any semblance of rationality, or hinder his own ability to function safely. And the pheromones he produced could just as easily provoke irrationality in others. Well, male others, at any rate.
Jensen was unwilling to pay the price so many unfortunate fenom had paid in the past, when they had been considered nothing more than chattel. When they had been bargaining chips or goods to be bought and sold – or abandoned.
The only way for a fenom to live safely and never have to be confined was to live a non-life, alone. There could be no love, no hope of a family, because to even begin to ignite the passion inside would start a wildfire that would destroy him. He would have to be secretive less the unscrupulous of the world took advantage and caused the downfall that living alone and lonely he had been attempting to avoid.
Why the hell would a sane person want that?
Bringing his focus back to the tour Jeff was providing, Jensen was led to the glass doors beyond the large bed – much larger than was actually needed by just two grown men - and stepped through them into what appeared to be his own private garden.
His mind soared with the perfection of it. There was grass, and flowers and even the beginnings of trees. The array of wooden furniture looked well-crafted and comfortable. And the backdrop, what blocked his view of the garden beyond – and therefore the sight of him to others - was a large trellis hidden by an array of mature climbing plants – jasmines and honeysuckles and passion flowers.
Jensen stepped out into the sun and let the breeze lift his hair. A small part of him had worried that he’d be penned up inside but this was so much more than he could’ve hoped for. “Who’ll tend the garden when I’m not here?” There was no question that he’d do all the work while he was. He desperately wanted the garden to be his venture, his responsibility. He needed it to be something he could be in charge of. Something that linked him to a time before, when family – and yes, damn it, he loved and needed them even as the embers of his anger still glowed – had been everything and his days out in the garden with arms buried up to elbows in rich dark soil were some of his most precious memories.
“There are two gardeners who work on the grounds. Ken set this up. Designed the space and did the planting. I thought he could maintain the place, if you're agreeable?” Jensen nodded. He could live with that. If he fretted about the state of the garden too much maybe Jeff would let him take over part of the large one that was no doubt hidden behind the trellis. It had to be big to warrant the time of two gardeners.
Jensen knelt, brushing his hand along the grass, enjoying the sensation as it tickled his palm. He’d walk barefoot in it, lie naked on it…
Damn, if Jeff’s proximity wasn’t already untwisting something inside of him that had forever been tied up in the tightest of knots.
He planned minor changes to the layout of what he could see as he rose to his feet and moved to look at what was hidden round the corner.
He stopped, turned to Jeff before looking back to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. "Seriously?"
Jeff laughed, "You like it?"
"A pool. You gave me a swimming pool."
Jeff laughed, "Well, it's not very big. There’s a much bigger one in the main house, but I'm glad you like it."
"I love it, thank you." The pool was in the enclosure outside the living room. There were retractable walls that could make it either a part of the indoor living space, or the garden, and a ceiling which could be opened to the sky at the touch of a button.
Jeff's face grew more serious as he walked Jensen back inside, through the doors into the large room.
Jensen was nervous, but he knew from the sudden change in atmosphere that the tour was over. He followed Jeff back in to the bedroom and stopped when Jeff did.
"Jensen, you do know what happens next, don't you?" Jeff looked as nervous as Jensen felt and that went a long way to reassure him.
"You want me to take my clothes off."
"They need to be returned to your parents' house."
Jensen nodded, unsure if he was supposed to say anything. He couldn't look at Jeff if he was going to do this. He needed to pretend that he was on his own, in the room he'd woken up in this morning. Once the clothes came of there was a very good chance he wouldn't be putting more on for what could be a very long time.
He looked down at his feet, using the toes of one foot to force the heel of the other out of a shoe. Kicking them to one side he kept his gaze lowered as he unbuttoned his shirt, fingers shaking a little and making the task more difficult than it should be.
Jeff sat on the bed watching Jensen remove his clothes. The nerves the boy was displaying should've been enough to cool his ardor, but instead it ramped up as every inch of pale, freckled skin was revealed.
The boy was thin, not excessively so, but there wasn't an inch of excess flesh on him and Jeff was left to wonder whether Jensen had recently had his final growth spurt, urging him up beyond six feet.
Jensen didn't move and Jeff picked up his clothes, unsure how to progress from this point. The whole of their future relationship could be hinged on what came next, what he did next.
He suddenly felt a wave of nervousness rush over him, as if Jensen's had been highly contagious. He'd not really felt anything like it since his own first sexual encounter years ago. He couldn't afford to fuck things up.
Holding the clothes close to his chest he moved towards the exit, "I'm just going to take these to someone who can deliver them. Take some time, Jensen. Time to familiarize yourself with your new home. Have a shower if you want, or fix yourself something to eat. I won't be long."
Jensen couldn’t sleep. It had barely been two when his eyes had snapped open for the third time since he'd climbed in between the sheets and no matter how many times he closed his eyes and willed for sleep to return, it refused, leaving him to watch the play of shadows across the ceiling.
The house was the embodiment of silence. He usually found peace in the quiet, but now it made him feel alone. As a young child he'd have been tempted to climb into his mom and dad's bed, or even seek out his big brother, but he wasn't a child anymore and, if there was anyone else awake, they were content to stay in their own rooms, in their own beds, lest they disturb anyone. Jensen was happy to pay them the same respect.
It wasn’t his first sleepless night in recent weeks, but it was most definitely the worst. And even though mounting exhaustion should have guaranteed oblivion until dawn, he wasn't surprised. Sleep had become harder and harder to obtain as his birthday had drawn nearer, and now that he only had hours until he turned nineteen and was legally considered an adult, it wasn’t a huge shock that this last night under his parents’ roof would prove a long and wakeful one.
Biting his lip he rolled onto his stomach and closed his eyes, but his mind wouldn't settle and grant him even a little peace. As much as he’d been anticipating what was going to happen with his impending birthday, been attempting to prepare for it mentally, he wasn’t ready for morning to arrive, wasn’t ready for the changes that were waiting for him. But the fear, slight though it was most of the time, was tinged with a more than healthy dose of excitement – and how to explain that fact to the other people in the household wasn’t something he wanted to attempt.
Everything the morning would bring was the culmination of what he'd been born for, the role and position he'd been raised to fill from the moment of his birth. He’d been educated for it, counseled. He wasn’t walking into the unknown. He wasn’t a lamb to the slaughter. Over the years, whenever he’d raised doubts or concerns, his parents and teachers had offered reassurance. Told him that what was coming was a good thing. If they told him that, and he believed them, why should he be filled with dread? How could finally fulfilling his purpose be a bad thing?
Not for him had been the doubts and uncertainties about the future. He'd not had to bear the pressure of studying for exams or fulfilling too high a parental ambition. He wasn't the least bit competitive and was more than happy to see friends and acquaintances succeed and flourish. The ruthlessness some people needed to survive wasn't a component of his psyche. The more he'd considered alternate paths for his life the more he'd realized his advisors were right. The path he'd been set on at birth was the right one for him. He was content.
It seemed his mom and dad didn't quite believe what they'd said, though, now that the day had arrived, and maybe it was their trepidation and worry he was feeling. It wasn't fair, because he'd worked so very hard to ignore the atmosphere the house had descended into of late. He’d needed their continued support as his friends questioned everything that was coming and it had all but disappeared.
He supposed he didn’t look at what was going to be happening the same way as his family and friends did. He'd been hungering for something indefinable for years, ever since puberty had started to redefine him as something other than child. Now he was getting closer to appeasing that hunger, he knew it. He couldn't be sorry. And if he was starting to crave the physical intimacy he'd always been deprived of, well he wasn't sorry for that, either. The platonic hugs and kisses of parent, sibling and friend did nothing to appease the gnawing emptiness that had begun to consume him.
His mom, usually so strong and resilient, had had red rimmed eyes for days. Even though she’d kept the weeping behind closed doors, he’d heard her often enough. She smiled to his face, blamed a persistent cold for her sniffles, but sobbed when she believed he was out of earshot.
His dad had been greedy for his attention, wanting his youngest with him as much as possible. The workaholic his father was reputed to be had been replaced by a man who took days off to do things with him they hadn’t done since he was a kid.
His brother and sister had been nothing but silent shadows, temporarily abandoning the important business of their lives and moving back in to the family home to make things as easy as possible all round, but not knowing what to say to make everyone feel better about what was going to happen.
They attempted to look cheerful, Jordan frequently falling into memories of family vacations and celebrations, while Emily tried to coax everyone into good humor by baking and discussing the plans she had for her new home. They were trying too hard and all too often the house descended into tense silences. He’d get the odd sympathetic smile then, but mostly he may as well have already been gone as far as they were concerned. It was almost as if they were in mourning, but Jensen wasn’t filled with the fear that his family expected him to be feeling, and they seemed to sincerely believe his displays of good humor and positivity were for their benefit – or was an exercise in self-deception.
How could he deceive himself when the truth of the situation had been laid out so clearly for him?
Jensen had always known he was different from his friends, some things – even those that are usually kept from innocent children - are just impossible to hide after all. Childish curiosity had taught him that he didn't look like either a little girl or a little boy beneath his clothes, and he had known what his nineteenth birthday would bring since the eve of his twelfth. He’d not been told everything then, but the years that followed had fully educated him in what was to come.
His family had gone against custom and had chosen to send him to a local, mainstream school because they believed in giving him the opportunity to live in the real world, to not be completely insulated him from the things others his age experienced, but the freedoms his friends enjoyed had always been denied him. He’d never been allowed to date, never been encouraged to have more than a few close acquaintances - and even they had been vetted by family. He'd never been allowed to go to parties or on excursions where chaperones couldn’t ensure his – and everyone else's – adherence to the rules concerning what he was – and was not – allowed to experience. Those few close friends had resented his limitations on his behalf, but Jensen had never felt bitter, had never considered his boundaries unfair - they were just there, a fact of his life, like green eyes and freckles and being the youngest member of the Ackles clan.
Giving sleep up as a lost cause he climbed out from under the covers and leaned his elbows on the sill of the window his bed lay beneath. He tucked his knees under him, sat his chin in the palms of his hands, and let his eyes grow accustomed to the meagre light the moon and stars were casting onto the grounds below.
He could just make out the beds of flowers his mother doted on. In the latest of which, silhouettes of spring flowering irises and lilies towered over crocuses. Closing his eyes he imagined colors. Blues and creams, lilacs and violets, blending in with each other harmoniously. His mom always planned the planting with color, height and season in mind. Though there had been times when she'd bowed to her youngest child's whims and planted violently clashing blooms just because he'd requested it. She'd looked pained whenever she'd given in and his creations had matured. After a few incredulous looks from her friends she'd begun surreptitiously steering clear of his latest arrangement, but all that ended when Jordan had crafted a sign, 'Jensen's', to be planted in the soil so he could lay claim to the mess of plants and she would be believed when she pleaded her innocence.
Gardening with her, sinking short skinny arms into peat dark soil, had been when he'd felt closest to her. When he'd had her all to himself and his siblings hadn't ever tried to intrude on this time. He'd watched her nurture new life and she'd ignited a desire within him to do the same. She taught him everything she could and hadn't freaked once about his love affair with soil the year he turned seven. He'd walked around with dirt in his hair, under his nails and in his pockets. It had even made its way into his bed on more than one occasion. 'Enough to plant potatoes,' she'd sighed with mock horror as his bed was stripped and linens were replaced.
He let the smile slip from his face and forced his eyes to focus further into the gloom.
The darkened gardens stretched out into the unclaimed lands. The parcels of hill and grassland that were owned by no one, and never would be.
Beyond the tree swing Jordan had constructed when Jensen had been nine – and which he still occasionally found himself perched on - was the river where he’d learned to swim. Beyond the river was the copse of trees and the meadow. Beyond the meadow was the hill where his brother had taught him to fly a kite when he was eight and where his dad had dragged him to the summit, during every winter’s snowfall, to hurtle back down on a sledge they'd built together and refined the design of before the conclusion of every fall.
If he did any of those things again it would be as a visitor… a visitor in his parents’ house. The melancholic thought was cast aside even though he knew it was an honest assessment of what was to be.
What was to be?
Focusing beyond what was visible through the window his mind strayed to the men he’d been introduced to the previous month. The ones found acceptable by both his parents and the Maker assigned to him.
The Maker – Phillipa Meehan, was her name - looked older than his mom even though, in reality, she was at least ten years younger. Jensen figured she was one of those women who looked older than her years and he wondered what life had done to her to cause that, though he never dared ask. It wasn't his place to make enquiries about her personal life or experiences, not like she was expected to ask about his, and she never volunteered any information about her relationships or family for him to even begin to speculate on any past emotional trauma.
The tall and willowy woman wore no makeup, though the addition of cosmetics probably would've made her look less harsh. He was of the opinion that she’d never married, not a surprise since the majority of Makers avoided that kind of distraction - and she gave the impression of being miserable and surly, but over the year they’d known each other she’d shown him the heart she kept well hidden. During their three interviews, once the process had begun, he’d learned about her love of music, her passion for travel and the joy she found in the written word. They developed a relationship based on mutual respect and understanding and she’d made her judgments based on what Jensen had told her. Over a thousand applicants had been reduced to two hundred after only their first discussion. The numbers had dwindled further after that, until his parents were left with the task of short listing from only thirty.
Jensen had met the final six. Six from over a thousand men who'd wanted him to be theirs. It had been explained that one of the reasons he was so sought was because he was the only fenom coming of age that year. The only one. It was a little overwhelming to think about so many men applying to be mated with him, but like everything else it was something he had to accept and not dwell upon.
The men had all been older than Jensen had been hoping for. He’d foolishly imagined someone close to his own age – or at least within ten years of it – but then few would’ve met any Maker’s high standards with youthful inexperience on their side. They had to be able to prove they could take care of their fenom and any family they produced. Mentally, physically, emotionally and, undoubtedly, financially.
Jensen had ruled out two of the six – one because his gray eyed gaze had scared him with its intensity, chilling something deep inside, and the other because Jensen couldn’t bear the idea of spreading his legs for someone who reminded him so much of his dad.
Luckily Philippa had interceded on his behalf with ‘Mr Creepy’ once she astutely realized how uncomfortable Jensen was in his presence. The man had been insistent, following him around and attempting to get his attention, even when Jensen had been immersed in conversation with someone else. He’d been faultlessly polite and flattering to Jensen whenever he could get close enough for his words to be heard, but Jensen couldn’t bring himself to acknowledge him more than was required to not be seen as ill mannered.
As the evening wore on, and the man’s attempts to monopolize Jensen’s time and attention had come to naught, he’d begun to fray, anger and frustration becoming poorly masked. Jensen could’ve gladly kissed the Maker every time she stepped in to draw him away, introduce him to someone else or ask his opinion on something.
Eventually Gray Eyes - he couldn't remember his name - had asked for his coat and left, and Jensen had been able to breathe easier. Smile a little brighter.
The other man Jensen rejected? Jensen felt his gaze, his uncertainty and confusion, and felt brief pangs of guilt swell up within him. But it was his future at stake and Jensen wouldn’t compromise on his feelings.
Good looks and warm smiling eyes weren’t everything, after all.
The man had been the perfect gentleman and Jensen had fretted over the reason he had immediately felt comforted by his presence. How a sexually fuelled attraction could occur when everything about him screamed familiarity and family. The realisation of why he had seemed so perfect unnerved Jensen and he'd made himself steer clear.
Good Looking had been gracious, and perhaps a little sad, when he’d wished Jensen a good night, but he’d not made a fuss.
The sun was rising beyond the hill. The shadows growing stronger and longer as it climbed to light his childhood playground. He said goodbye to it and turned away before a return to nostalgia could incite the arrival of tears. He’d managed to avoid the tears that had plagued his mom and he wasn’t about to welcome them now.
He appraised his room with the morning light’s assistance. It was emptier than it had ever been, his belongings already having been packed up and transported away from the house. He would leave this house with only the clothes he was standing up in, and they would be returned to his parents’ by sundown. A generations old tradition, it was merely a symbolic transaction now as what mattered would already be at his new residence. In ancient times it had been dictated that those like him would have been allowed to take nothing with them when they entered the next chapter of their lives. They even left their parents as naked as the day they’d entered the world. Jensen was so glad that that little custom had been discarded.
Climbing off his bed – for the last time - he walked into the bathroom, removing the clothes he slept in and examining himself in the mirror that took up almost one wall.
Would his new mate find him acceptable?
Jensen had never seen another person without clothes except in biology texts and didn’t know what was considered appealing. He’d, fortunately, never felt a stirring for the female form. A curiosity, perhaps, especially when his brother had been going through his ‘slut’ phase before he married, but there had never been any sexual or romantic interest. That had been a blessing since Jensen was aware his eventual mate would be male. He’d thought of his few male friends as possible partners in only idle musings, knowing that nothing would ever come from his pondering. He liked Jared's dimples, Steve’s hair, Jason’s smile … but there was nothing that ever got his blood pumping. Which, again, was just as well given what would've happened if something had
He ran his fingers along his chest down to his stomach, and watched his reflection do the same. The men he’d met had all seemed to be more than interested in him. Each had said, in their own way, that they found him beautiful, but that had only been about his face. Would his body be thought of as beautiful, too? He didn't have the soft curves of a woman, or the muscular physique of a man. He was slight and pale and hairless and he didn't know how that was considered, aesthetically.
Jensen had certainly thought of his suitors as attractive – as much as anyone had ever appealed to him - even the one who had no doubt left angry and frustrated. But attractiveness was an abstract notion. He could appreciate beauty and could recognize it in all manner of things, from sunsets to faces, but nothing set his heart ablaze. Nothing woke his dormant libido.
He didn’t allow himself to think of the candidates in terms of having a favorite – he had no control over which of the four would be claiming him today.
Stepping in to the shower he allowed himself to enjoy the simple pleasure the deluge provided and turned off his mind. Let the water soothe and calm him before going out into the rest of the house and sitting with his family for the last time as a child.
Even though Emily and his mom had gotten carried away, cooking enough of everyone's favorite foods to give a football team a hearty start to the day, breakfast remained untouched on the table when they left the dining room and walked into the lounge. He’d tried to eat, but the stilted conversation and overwhelming tension served to do nothing but tie the nervous knots in his stomach even tighter.
Jensen stared at the picture that took pride of place above the mantle, at the family portrait that had been completed when he’d been five and more than a little gawky looking.
“We should’ve had a new one done.”
Jensen turned, curious, towards his mom. “Why?”
“Because you’ve never been too keen on it, have you?”
Jensen smiled, “Look at that boy mom,” he pointed to his younger self. “What were you thinking when you got his hair cut like that?”
“I was thinking he was the most beautiful boy in the world and nothing could ever change that. Not even a, what do you call it? A goddamned haircut.”
“Hey…”
Jensen’s mom patted his brother’s shoulder before she stood on tip-toe to kiss Jordan's cheek. “You’re beautiful too, baby.”
Jensen laughed at his brother’s mock look of pain, “But Jen’s prettier, right?”
His mom didn’t respond but it had been a common enough conversation over the years for no one to take offence. Of the three Ackles kids Jordan was known as the brains, Emily was the pragmatist while Jensen was 'the pretty one'. Not that his siblings weren't good looking, they were, but fenom had an otherness about them that couldn't be captured in either of the other two genders.
The small group started discussing family and friends, took walks down memory filled lanes and mentioned everything but Jensen’s birthday. The end of his nineteenth year would officially occur at 9.47, the start of his twentieth would coincide with it, and Jensen couldn’t resist a quick glance towards the clock every few minutes.
When the doorbell finally sounded Jensen found himself on his feet before the rest of his family. A quick look at the clock indicated his new mate was right on time and Jensen waited, staring at the living room door as his father went out to let the man in.
He felt his mother take one hand, his sister take the other, and his brother stand at his shoulder. Jensen’s gaze, though, didn’t waver.
And then the door reopened, his dad leading his new mate in.
“Jensen, please calm down.”
Jensen was pacing round the library, unable to focus on any one thing. He felt like trashing the place, throwing everything down to the floor, destroying it all. He wanted to overturn the desk, punch hell out of the couch… hit his dad.
“Listen to me, please, Jensen.”
Jensen focused on his breathing. Attempted to bring it down to a reasonable level even though hyperventilation seemed to be his final destination. For the first time in his life he wasn’t prepared to comply with his father’s wishes. He refused to turn, but he stopped moving. He didn't know where the aggression, the desire to strike out, was coming from. He'd never experienced it before and it scared him a little.
He concentrated on his breathing. In and out. In and out. He couldn’t look at his dad, couldn’t. Wouldn’t.
“He was the best choice.”
His dad sounded so reasonable, so sincere, but if he cared, if he really cared... Jensen found his voice and forced the words out, “I told you…” He felt as well as heard his voice break. He couldn’t carry on or he’d be screaming.
“I know you did.” He felt his father’s hand on his shoulder and he shook it off, ignoring the hurt sigh that came from one of the only two men Jensen had ever loved. His father's pedestal had been much higher than his brother's. “The Maker and I both had him at the top of our lists. We discussed your dismissal of him, but decided…”
“To ignore how I felt.”
The silence that followed accomplished two things. It allowed Jensen to bolster himself, to pretend that his heart hadn’t broken at his parents’ betrayal – because his mother had to know who had been chosen for him – and allowed him to brace himself for what needed to happen next.
He had to go out there and face his new mate.
Jensen couldn’t even remember if the man had reacted to his departure. Jensen had simply released his mother's and sister’s hands and had raced into his father’s adjoining library, seeking refuge from the tempest of emotions that were assaulting him, unprepared for his father to follow on his heels and attempt to coax out his compliance.
He walked back to the door and waited, sure he could hear his brother talking to the man just on the other side of it.
One last breath and he pushed the door open, seeing his mate rise to his feet. A forced smile falling across his face. “Jensen.”
“Mr Morgan.” Jensen replied, coolly, not wanting the storm raging within to be seen by the man he would be leaving with.
He ignored his father, who was standing behind him, as he said goodbye to his mother, holding himself stiff as she pulled him into a hug. The goodbyes to his siblings were more heartfelt and he almost lost the battle of wills he had going on with the tears that were building. Almost. No matter how tired and angry he was he would not let them fall.
He held his hand out to his father, refusing to acknowledge the broken look on the man’s face, and then he followed his Mate out of the house. Allowed himself to be guided by the proprietary hand at the small of his back.
He didn’t turn back. It could be some time before he saw them all again, but he was grateful for that right now, because he needed that time to learn whether or not he could forgive them.
Jeff Morgan’s day had begun way too early. Nervous insomnia Sam called it, and she was probably right, but that didn't alter the fact that two hours of sleep was all he'd had before he'd forced himself out of bed to check and recheck his copy of the contracts that had been signed - finally - the day before. Calling Riley, waking the man up to ensure that there was nothing he'd left undone, had probably been going a step too far, but even half asleep Riley had been able to reassure him that all of the technicalities had been addressed and all the loopholes had been neatly tied up. It had been exactly what he'd wanted to hear.
There was no backing out now, not for anyone.
He'd thanked his young secretary for his assistance, apologized for the unfortunate timing of his call, and wished the man a good vacation before hanging up.
This was actually happening.
He'd waited so long to apply, but he'd known for years that this was what he wanted. The child of a mated pair, he'd always known he wanted the kind of relationship his parents had been blessed with, short though it may have turned out.
Oh, he'd been warned that things didn't always turn out as successfully for other people, but there was no way he was going to let that deter him. He'd been casually checking the register for years, looking at the bios of potentials. He'd been nowhere near ready to apply back then, but it had given him a strange kind of hope that he would know of his true Mate as soon as possible, that he would recognize him amongst the others - see beyond youth and carefully constructed ambiguous biographies and just know. He remembered vividly the day that assertion was proven true and he'd still had to wait years before he could make his interest known, before he could ask for what his heart already considered his.
Showered and changed, he inspected his Mate's – Jensen’s – new quarters. He’d made sure they were as comfortable as possible, as welcoming, since Jensen could possibly be in them for a good few months. Jensen’s belongings, the ones which had turned up only yesterday, had been sorted and many had been placed in these rooms, for Jensen to arrange as he liked. The rest were in the main body of the house, for him to enjoy when he was allowed to move around freely.
He’d sought parental approval when he’d been preparing for Jensen’s seclusion. Asked his dad what the fenom who'd birthed him had wanted out of all the time he’d spent in seclusion during his child producing years? Jeff had tried to incorporate everything, but he still worried Jensen wouldn’t like it.
His leave of absence from work had been organized, a boss' ability to delegate proving to be a wonderful thing – though he still had some obligations to fulfill to ensure smooth running until his return.
By the time his car pulled up outside the Ackles' house he'd managed to settle the hordes of butterflies stomping around inside his stomach enough that he could project the calm demeanor that saw him through many an important business meeting.
He climbed out of the back seat and stood with his back to the house, admiring the grounds, not wanting to announce his arrival too soon. He could imagine Jensen growing up happy here, had thought the very same thing during his previous visit. The house was well placed. A property that had been in the Ackles family for more than a century was surrounded by protected lands, so there would never be any development to mar either its tranquility or its beauty.
He leant across the hood of the car, looking at the man behind the steering wheel. Chris signaled that there were still a few minutes and Jeff allowed his mind to wander.
Over the last couple of weeks, ever since he’d been informed of his success, Jeff had puzzled over his victory. And in his weaker moments he'd questioned it. Something had occurred on the night when he, as one of the last few remaining candidates, had come to this house. Something that had managed to convince him that he'd blown any chance he had with the boy he’d been waiting for for years.
Jensen didn't like him.
Wouldn't accept him.
He’d been so sure.
The boy had steered clear of him once the initial introductions had been made and while Jeff had watched him interact with the others with equal measures of jealousy and resignation, his own despondency had filled him. He’d accepted that he was simply waiting for formal declaration of his failure…
Surprise wasn't an adequate word to describe how he’d felt when he'd been contacted with news of his success. When he'd answered the phone two days later to find the Maker on the line with the outcome of the match. How could he have read the situation so wrong?
He was Jensen’s Mate and Jeff had had no idea how that had happened. Jensen had obviously developed favorites in that short time they'd been together. Obviously. And Jeff had been so sure he’d not been one of them so how come...?
At this point in his musings he always managed to persuade himself that he'd been reading too much into Jensen's behavior. Jensen had to have liked him enough for the final decision to fall the way it had. But doubt is an insidious thing and it had accompanied him for the last couple of years whenever this, his most important achievement, had preyed on his mind.
Chris knocked on the glass to get his attention and Jeff checked the time for himself, just to be sure, before he walked up to the door and rang the bell.
The car ride was uncomfortably silent and Jeff found himself worrying about the boy's emotional state.
He'd been gifted with a small smile as Jeff had guided him out to the car, but the sorrowful look Jensen couldn't keep off his face made Jeff wonder how the next few days would play out.
There was obviously some tension in the house when they left and he wanted to believe he was merely a witness to it, rather than a cause, but he doubted it. The family seemed broken and Jeff had spent just enough time with the senior members of the Ackles family to know any kind of disruption of the familial bond was unusual. Sarah and Peter Ackles loved their children, adored Jensen, so a rift between them was enough to cause Jeff concern. This period in Jensen's life was traumatic enough, Jeff had no desire to exacerbate it, but it seemed that somehow he'd managed it.
He'd been startled but not really surprised by Jensen's reaction to seeing him. He should've trusted his own judgment when it came to their official introductions - Jensen really hadn't chosen him and Jeff's victory had been against his new Mate's wishes.
Despite his bruised ego and grazed feelings Jeff didn't have any regrets, couldn't. It would take more than a poor greeting to make him second guess this new partnership, but he didn't want these first few days to be unpleasant and Jensen's mood was going to go a long way to dictate how things went. He'd concocted plans, daydreamed about how they would get to know each other, but now he had to second guess himself. Did he let everything happen at a more sedate pace until Jensen was comfortable or did he go in, guns blazing, and sweep the boy off his feet?
Maybe that was what he needed to do. Act quickly so that the boy's nerves and uncertainty didn't get the better of him.
Jensen wanted to talk to his new Mate, wanted to apologize for the way he'd reacted - it wasn't his fault, after all - but he didn't know how to start, how to find the words.
Jeff had been chosen from all the men who'd applied to mate with him and Jensen had to have faith in the system he was a product of. Had to believe that Jeff was a good choice – a good man.
Had to.
He didn’t believe he’d been brainwashed by a lifetime of conditioning to think he was inferior to everyone else. He knew fenom were valued, prized. Only one in one hundred and fifty thousand births produced someone like him, after all. He was not a slave who’d been sold to the highest bidder. Jeff would have no reason to hurt him. No reason to make his life a hard one. But talking was more than he was capable of as they sat in the close confines of the car. He couldn't look at Jeff, couldn't bear the idea of pained confusion or gnawing resentment. Either could be the result of Jensen's behaviour. Instead he tried to see through the darkened glass. Tried to make out the driver that Jeff had referred to as Chris, but hadn't introduced.
As the rolling greens of hills and forest became sparser, grand houses and cultivated areas replaced what Nature kept under her influence. Eventually the green was barely in evidence - hidden behind walls and buildings. Hoarded and kept private for the select few.
This was not the Citadel. He doubted there was even this much green in the realm of metal and glass he had ventured into only twice in his life, but it was undoubtedly close. He was closer to the Citadel than he was to his parents’ home.
Jensen felt his eyes grow heavy, the lack of sleep and the motion of the car lulling him towards a slumber he was determined to resist.
The house the car eventually pulled up in front of was undoubtedly impressive - granite stonework so white it looked like marble, animal carvings beneath the roof so lifelike you had to do a double take to ensure they weren't going to pounce. Jensen had almost expected it. Jeff was both wealthy and successful – something all the final few had in common – and he could have properties all round the world for all Jensen knew. Money, and all that came with it, had never been a consideration for Jensen whenever he'd thought about his intended, though he didn't doubt wealth would've sat quite highly on someone else's list of criteria. He wondered how highly it had sat on his parents’, all the while certain that if he had been asked to compose his own list kindness and compassion would’ve graced the top places… okay, and maybe passion of another kind, too.
He was certain he wanted a passionate man. A man who could ignite flames where there had never been anything flammable before. A man who could turn him into the wanton creature fenom could sometimes embody. A man who…
"We're home."
Jensen blinked owlishly at being pulled out of what was promising to develop into quite a fantasy and hid the blush which crept across his face by lowering his head. He couldn’t believe he was thinking about sex with his Mate already. He never thought about sex as anything but an abstract concept… but then, he supposed, now was probably a very good time to start thinking of it, both as something he could do and as something that could be done to him.
As Jeff opened the car door for him, taking over from the driver who had opened Jeff’s, a guiding hand returned to rest on his back as he was led to the front door.
"The house looks lovely." Jeff was obviously gladdened by his words as a reciprocal smile warmed his face. The large oak door was opened before they reached it and Jensen was too busy looking round the exquisitely decorated entrance hall to hear the words Jeff shared with the man at the door before he left.
Jeff turned to Jensen, his face more sober. "I'm going to save the whole tour for when you're living in the main house, but there's someone I want you to meet before I take you to your rooms."
Jensen nodded and took Jeff's offered hand before he was led into, of all places, the kitchen. The woman that pulled him into a fierce hug as soon as he entered the room held him out at arm’s length moments later, examining him. "Jeff said you were beautiful and there I was, foolishly thinking he was exaggerating."
"Let him go, Sam," Jeff laughed and Jensen felt his face heat up. Jensen felt warmth at his shoulder as his new Mate stood closer to him. "That, Jensen, is Samantha. I think of her more as a friend than an employee. She's been with me for years and she oversees everything that goes on in this house. If I could I'd have her travel with me so that I always have someone with me I can rely on."
Sam's hand hit Jeff square in the chest, "Flatterer. But you're right, you'd be lost without me." She grinned at Jensen, her smile at once exuberant and comforting. She seemed the same age as his Mate, but Jeff valued her greatly, almost as if she was a valued elder - a parent or other senior relative.
Jeff rubbed his chest, laughing. "Sam's going to be the person you speak to in the house the most when I’m not around. She'll be able to make sure you get everything you need."
Sam's eyes fell to him, warm and kind beneath a tussle of brown hair that fell from atop her head to frame her face. "Think of yourself as my priority. I hope you'll be able to think of me as a friend eventually, but until then, well, I'm at your beck and call."
Jensen didn't know what to say to that. His family didn't really employ household staff. A gardener who came in to do the heavy work his mother couldn't do herself, a caterer when they were entertaining, a cleaner twice a week. He didn't know how to address servants, what he could and could not ask of them and it felt kind of rude to think of this woman as if she was hired help, especially if she was so important to Jeff, but if that's what she wanted... Before Jensen could question anything Jeff guided him back out of the kitchen and up the main staircase.
"I wanted you to be able to put a face to the voice. She's really something special. You’ll love her."
"I'm sure."
They quickly reached what had to be the top floor of the house. "This area took a while to remodel, but your mom and dad like what I've done with the space."
"They've been here?"
Jeff laughed, "Of course. They inspected every set of rooms that had been prepared for you."
Jensen didn't know what to say about that. Intellectually he'd known every one of the final candidates would've gone through a great deal of expense and inconvenience with only the hope that Jensen would even see the work they'd had done, much less live in the spaces they'd created, but being faced with the reality of it... Maybe Jensen was a naive fool. Maybe he was immature and totally unprepared for what was happening. Everything was already so much more than he was expecting.
What would the unsuccessful candidates be thinking right now? He frowned, not really wanting to focus on the other men - those who may be disappointed and angry with the way things had turned out. He felt a kernel of guilt and sought desperately to prevent it from embedding somewhere it could grow. Nothing had been his doing. He hadn’t made the final choice.
They probably blamed him anyway.
Jensen didn't see the numbers Jeff punched into the panel by the door. He didn't need to as he wouldn’t ever need to use them. Seclusion kept him safe while he was in the throes of his ‘desires’. Even the thought of that made him blush because he’d never even felt a stirring of the desire he’d been told about in hushed voices as Emily had bemoaned her own virginity with her girlfriends - back in the days when she still possessed it. Oh, it wouldn’t be long. Jeff would no doubt find a way to ignite it – soon – but as a theory he had no point of reference.
There were so many laws concerning fenoms, their care and safekeeping, that Jensen, even now, was unfamiliar with all of them. But the law governing seclusion was a major one, and he'd learned it young.
Seclusion had been introduced to keep his kind safe. There were countless horrific stories, both from less enlightened times and modern foolishness or neglect, that illustrated what had happened to those who had been denied the safety and sanctuary of seclusion – the self-harm, the rape - and why seclusion became a matter of law, not choice. It was a fact of his life he’d prepared himself psychologically for and he didn’t question it. "Sam has the code, in case of emergencies. If the fire alarm ever sounds then the door will open automatically as long as there's no fire detected immediately outside the door."
Jensen nodded and followed Jeff inside.
The main room was large, well lit, with floor to ceiling windows along two adjacent walls. From where he stood Jensen could see that beyond the glass doors at the far side of the room there was an enclosed space. From his location he couldn't see what was inside it.
Stepping further into the main room - which boasted a real fireplace - Jensen could see that one wall served as a kitchen with counter, stove and cupboards. There were various other appliances integrated into the workspace which Jensen would no doubt become familiar with in good time. There was a large dining table near the counter and parallel to the glass wall so that Jensen would be able to look out unless he had his back to it. Between the dining table and the fireplace was the largest, most comfortable looking sofa Jensen had ever seen.
"I don't know if you cook, but if you don't there's a panel over there," Jeff pointed to a small metallic array of lights and switches. "You can just call down to Sam and she'll make you something and send it up."
There were more panels in some of the other rooms Jeff led him into, for emergencies Jensen assumed as he had no idea why he'd be wanting to speak to anyone while he was in the bathroom. Though that was where the laundry chute resided so Jensen knew that was a task he’d not be expected to undertake while he was in residence.
The bathroom was a spectacular, seamless, self-cleaning (apparently) marvel of plumbing, heated stone and ceramic. The mirrored glass wall allowed him to see out, but no one would ever be able to see in.
Next to the bathroom was a gymnasium, again with a floor to ceiling glass wall, letting him see the outside world.
Opposite the gym was a small library and games room, and next to that, opposite the bathroom, was the bedroom.
Everything about the rooms, his new home, screamed luxury and comfort. No expense had been spared.
"I didn't want you to feel like a prisoner. I wanted you to be able to enjoy outside. The sky, sunlight."
"Kind of makes me want to stay up here even when I'm not in seclusion." Jeff's soft smile showed he was pleased by Jensen's statement. No matter how wonderful these rooms were, though, they both knew that wasn’t going to be an option. Jensen could grow to hate these rooms and the restrictions on his life they represented so very easily if they both weren’t careful. If he was to ever attempt to live in them full time he’d be confining himself to a small life, unnecessarily.
Besides, the nursery wasn’t on this level and Jensen couldn’t ever imagine not having full access to his children, or they to him, once they were around.
According to some these rooms weren't just where his children would be conceived, they also symbolized his captivity and served as a reminder of his otherness.
Jensen didn't understand how there were still some who fought seclusion, who attempted to refuse it. When his body demanded he go into seclusion the only person he could be around would be his Mate. His hormones, his biology, could rob him of any semblance of rationality, or hinder his own ability to function safely. And the pheromones he produced could just as easily provoke irrationality in others. Well, male others, at any rate.
Jensen was unwilling to pay the price so many unfortunate fenom had paid in the past, when they had been considered nothing more than chattel. When they had been bargaining chips or goods to be bought and sold – or abandoned.
The only way for a fenom to live safely and never have to be confined was to live a non-life, alone. There could be no love, no hope of a family, because to even begin to ignite the passion inside would start a wildfire that would destroy him. He would have to be secretive less the unscrupulous of the world took advantage and caused the downfall that living alone and lonely he had been attempting to avoid.
Why the hell would a sane person want that?
Bringing his focus back to the tour Jeff was providing, Jensen was led to the glass doors beyond the large bed – much larger than was actually needed by just two grown men - and stepped through them into what appeared to be his own private garden.
His mind soared with the perfection of it. There was grass, and flowers and even the beginnings of trees. The array of wooden furniture looked well-crafted and comfortable. And the backdrop, what blocked his view of the garden beyond – and therefore the sight of him to others - was a large trellis hidden by an array of mature climbing plants – jasmines and honeysuckles and passion flowers.
Jensen stepped out into the sun and let the breeze lift his hair. A small part of him had worried that he’d be penned up inside but this was so much more than he could’ve hoped for. “Who’ll tend the garden when I’m not here?” There was no question that he’d do all the work while he was. He desperately wanted the garden to be his venture, his responsibility. He needed it to be something he could be in charge of. Something that linked him to a time before, when family – and yes, damn it, he loved and needed them even as the embers of his anger still glowed – had been everything and his days out in the garden with arms buried up to elbows in rich dark soil were some of his most precious memories.
“There are two gardeners who work on the grounds. Ken set this up. Designed the space and did the planting. I thought he could maintain the place, if you're agreeable?” Jensen nodded. He could live with that. If he fretted about the state of the garden too much maybe Jeff would let him take over part of the large one that was no doubt hidden behind the trellis. It had to be big to warrant the time of two gardeners.
Jensen knelt, brushing his hand along the grass, enjoying the sensation as it tickled his palm. He’d walk barefoot in it, lie naked on it…
Damn, if Jeff’s proximity wasn’t already untwisting something inside of him that had forever been tied up in the tightest of knots.
He planned minor changes to the layout of what he could see as he rose to his feet and moved to look at what was hidden round the corner.
He stopped, turned to Jeff before looking back to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. "Seriously?"
Jeff laughed, "You like it?"
"A pool. You gave me a swimming pool."
Jeff laughed, "Well, it's not very big. There’s a much bigger one in the main house, but I'm glad you like it."
"I love it, thank you." The pool was in the enclosure outside the living room. There were retractable walls that could make it either a part of the indoor living space, or the garden, and a ceiling which could be opened to the sky at the touch of a button.
Jeff's face grew more serious as he walked Jensen back inside, through the doors into the large room.
Jensen was nervous, but he knew from the sudden change in atmosphere that the tour was over. He followed Jeff back in to the bedroom and stopped when Jeff did.
"Jensen, you do know what happens next, don't you?" Jeff looked as nervous as Jensen felt and that went a long way to reassure him.
"You want me to take my clothes off."
"They need to be returned to your parents' house."
Jensen nodded, unsure if he was supposed to say anything. He couldn't look at Jeff if he was going to do this. He needed to pretend that he was on his own, in the room he'd woken up in this morning. Once the clothes came of there was a very good chance he wouldn't be putting more on for what could be a very long time.
He looked down at his feet, using the toes of one foot to force the heel of the other out of a shoe. Kicking them to one side he kept his gaze lowered as he unbuttoned his shirt, fingers shaking a little and making the task more difficult than it should be.
Jeff sat on the bed watching Jensen remove his clothes. The nerves the boy was displaying should've been enough to cool his ardor, but instead it ramped up as every inch of pale, freckled skin was revealed.
The boy was thin, not excessively so, but there wasn't an inch of excess flesh on him and Jeff was left to wonder whether Jensen had recently had his final growth spurt, urging him up beyond six feet.
Jensen didn't move and Jeff picked up his clothes, unsure how to progress from this point. The whole of their future relationship could be hinged on what came next, what he did next.
He suddenly felt a wave of nervousness rush over him, as if Jensen's had been highly contagious. He'd not really felt anything like it since his own first sexual encounter years ago. He couldn't afford to fuck things up.
Holding the clothes close to his chest he moved towards the exit, "I'm just going to take these to someone who can deliver them. Take some time, Jensen. Time to familiarize yourself with your new home. Have a shower if you want, or fix yourself something to eat. I won't be long."
RETURN TO MASTERPOST | ON TO PART TWO
