Archive of Our Own

Jensen knows, intellectually, that police-issue handcuffs fall into the category of things Jared has declared are Not A Toy. Also on this list are his sidearm, which he keeps locked in his bedside table drawer when he’s home, the can of pepper spray, and his radio. Jensen knows the cuffs could get stuck, or really hurt his wrists, or piss Jared off with the flagrant misuse of his professional paraphernalia.

Also, he should have figured out where the keys were before he locked himself into them.

But now he’s stuck, standing in the bedroom staring at his own stricken expression in the mirror, with his shirt and jeans still on and his wrists locked together in front of him.

“Shit,” he whispers, which is of course when Jared gets home.

Jensen has to make the best of this situation. The silver cuffs are glinting hard around his wrists, making him look almost delicate, and they’re strong as shit. No amount of rattling or praying is getting him out of here. That’s kind of the point, actually. If Jensen were a criminal, he would be totally fucked.

Fortunately, he’s not a criminal. Double fortunately, he might still get fucked.

He can hear Jared open and close the front door, the rattle of his keys on the table. He’s wearing his heavy work boots, and his footsteps are almost louder than Jensen’s thundering heart. Jensen hears him pause in the living room, the rustle of his uniform shirt as he turns to look in the kitchen, and then he calls, “Jensen?”

“In— in the bedroom,” Jensen replies. It’s not like he’s actually stuck here, he would just feel a million times more ridiculous if he emerged with the handcuffs on, like he was trying to be particularly sexy. Honest, he just wanted to see how they fit.

“Hey, hi,” Jared says, coming in. He’s in uniform from head-to-toe, hasn’t even taken off his hat, and god damn that shade of blue shouldn’t look so sexy on anyone. It’s not fair. His badge is gleaming in the afternoon light coming in the windows, and his shirt is unbuttoned two buttons, showing his white under-shirt and leaving him a place to hang his sunglasses. His face lights up at the sight of Jensen, and Jensen grins back at him, nervous and a little turned on. Jared’s eyes flick down and narrow when he catches sight of the trouble Jensen’s gotten himself into.

“What’cha doin’?” he asks, all innocence, but Jensen’s pulse kicks up another notch. Jared’s expression has gone hungry and amused, and Jensen knows that look very well.

“Um,” Jensen says, offering his wrists, “being stupid.”

Jared takes a step towards him— just one step brings him halfway across the goddamn room, he’s so fucking big— and catches Jensen’s wrists in his hands. He looks carefully at the handcuffs, checking how loose they are, and then pulls Jensen in sharply, pushing his hands over his head. He holds Jensen against his chest, looking into his eyes, and Jensen shivers under his intense scrutiny.

“You saying you didn’t meant to lock yourself up for me?”

Jensen shakes his head, trying to laugh about it, but all that comes out is a pathetic sort of whimper. Jared smiles, all teeth, and leans down to kiss him. He licks into Jensen’s mouth, opening him up on a groan, and kisses him until he’s breathless, chest heaving, cock throbbing between his legs, his shoulders aching with the strain. Jared links their fingers together behind Jensen’s head and pulls, arching Jensen’s back, and Jensen gasps.

“Fuck,” Jared says, biting Jensen’s lower lip and pulling away with a smile, “can’t leave you alone for a second.”

“Jared,” Jensen starts, but Jared slides a thigh between his legs and pushes up, grinding into his erection and making him jolt. He can’t go anywhere, pinned between Jared’s leg and hands and chest, and he just ends up squirming helplessly in Jared’s grip.

“Gotta be careful,” Jared says, and mercifully lets go of Jensen’s hands. Jensen loops his arms around Jared’s neck, taking off his hat and tossing it towards the door, and Jared wraps his arms around Jensen’s body lifts him off the floor. He carries Jensen the three steps to the bed and puts a knee down just in time to not land straight on top of him, but he’s still got Jensen on his back, under him, trapped and not a little excited. “These could really hurt you,” Jared says then, suddenly serious. “We switched to the zip ties a while ago because they’re safer, and, jesus, those kinky cuffs are supposed to be wide so you don’t break the skin.”

“I know,” Jensen says, threading his fingers through Jared’s hair awkwardly. “Swear to god, I wasn’t planning on this.”

“You have the key?” Jared asks.

Jensen grimaces.

“Jensen.”

“Sorry?”

“You check the drawer where my gun usually is?”

Jensen shakes his head.

“Oh,” Jared says, and ducks down to kiss him. “They’re in there.”

“Why would you lock they keys up?” Jensen demands, but his ire is slight, and tempered extremely by Jared shifting his weight to one hand so he can unbutton his uniform shirt. It rolls their hips together again, and Jensen can feel him hard against his thigh.

“Because I don’t expect anyone to go digging in my closet for my spare pair of handcuffs so they can lock themselves to stuff.” Jensen purses his lips, trying not to laugh, and Jared rolls his eyes. “Like some people I won’t name. Hands above your head.”

And bam, just like that, Jared’s in charge again— he’s not just Jensen’s dorky, hot, cop boyfriend, he’s Jensen’s bossy, hot, orally-fixated boyfriend, and he’s going to rock Jensen’s world. After he gets Jensen’s pants off. Which regrettably, he has to lean back to do, but that also lets him strip off his own shirt and undershirt and slacks, drop his belt and all his cop shit on the floor, and then he’s crawling back up Jensen’s body, clad only in his boxers, pushing Jensen’s t-shirt up over his head to his elbows and kissing him on the mouth.

He balls Jensen’s hands into loose fists and closes his own around them, giving them a tug, testing the metal cuffs. Jensen’s totally immobile under him, trapped, and a wave of heat rushes through him, making his cock jerk. As much as he’d hate to admit it, the first cold touch of the cuffs on his wrists had his dick fattening up in his jeans, and now he’s so hard he’s leaking, the soft cotton of his boxers sticking to his cockhead, getting all wet. Jared smells good, thick like sweat and leather, sharp like Jensen’s bodywash, and sweet and warm like himself. He tastes like styrofoam-cup-coffee and the weird fruit gum he keeps in the car, which means he was thinking of Jensen on the way home and didn’t want to taste only like coffee. That thought makes Jensen flush again, arching up into his body, and trying to spread his legs. Jesus, he wants to get fucked.

Jared breaks the kiss to nuzzle the underside of Jensen’s jaw, biting the line of his throat, and Jensen tips his head back and groans. Jared’s still holding his hands immobile, and he feels strung out, vulnerable and desperate. Jared’s mouth is hot and wet, devouring Jensen, and he’s moving deliberately downwards, leaving a trail of biting kisses across Jensen’s ribcage and down his belly. He doesn’t fuck around when he gets to the waistband of Jensen’s shorts, too, just pulls them down and wraps his big hand around Jensen’s cock. He gives it a squeeze, looks up at Jensen, and says, “Put your hands on my head.”

Shit. Jensen obeys, planting both of his palms on the back of Jared’s head, and Jared grins. He tongues the underside of Jensen’s cock, licking the swollen head, and then sucks him into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks. Normally Jensen would be up on his elbows, watching him, or touching his face with one hand, but now he’s just along for the ride, with barely enough coordination left in him to shove Jared’s head down on his dick. Jared pushes his legs apart and digs his thumbs into the hollows of Jensen’s hips, head bobbing as he sucks him. The pleasure rolls up Jensen’s spine, rocking his hips and arching his back off the bed, and his fingers are clenching in Jared’s hair.

Then Jared’s letting go of his hips, sliding his fingers into his mouth alongside Jensen’s dick, and cupping his full, tight balls with the other hand. He presses wet fingers to Jensen’s hole, sliding one in to the first knuckle, and pulls his mouth off.

“Knees up,” he orders, pushing Jensen’s legs up and curling him in on himself. “Hold ‘em.”

“I can’t,” Jensen gasps, handcuffs rattling, his t-shirt getting in the way of his view of Jared.

“Then I hope you’ve been doing sit-ups,” Jared says, grinning, and cups his ass in both hands. He pulls Jensen’s cheeks apart with his thumbs and licks him, wet and dirty, from his clenching hole to the seam of his sac. Jensen shouts, abs contracting, struggling to hold himself in position. He reaches up and grabs his feet, blushing furiously, and Jared pulls back to mutter, “Oh, fuck yeah, you look good like that,” and shove his hands into the crooks of Jensen’s knees.

“Jesus,” Jensen hisses, squeezing his eyes shut. He can’t see himself this way. Jared licks him again, slower, and then he’s working his tongue into Jensen’s ass, tight and determined, eating him out like it’s his fucking job. Jensen’s whimpering again, squirming, cock slapping hard and wet against his belly. He’s close already, his stomach clenching hotly, and Jared pulls away suddenly.

“Don’t you dare,” he says, “I know that noise.”

“Fuck,” Jensen says, dropping his head back, “fuck me, Jared, come on.”

“Roll over,” Jared says, “on your knees. Hands behind your head.”

The way he says it, hands behind your head, hits Jensen in the gut, and he clenches his fingers and curls his toes hard to keep from coming right then, pleasure surging. Jared just laugh at him, low and rough, and grabs his hips, manhandles him onto his stomach. He pushes Jensen up a little farther on the bed and knees behind him, rubbing the head of his dick against Jensen’s wet hole. Jensen rolls his neck to the side, face against the sheets, and loops the cuffs behind his head.

“Yeah,” Jared growls, and then he’s pushing in, fat cock opening Jensen up the way he was made for it, sinking in deep. He shoves the air right out of Jensen’s lungs, making him hitch and gasp, and then— then— he grabs the chain between the handcuffs and pulls. Jensen cries out, arms ratcheting back, and he grabs onto Jared’s thick wrist with both hands. Jared holds him there for a moment, waiting for him to protest, and then he’s fucking him, using Jensen’s arms for leverage, jesus christ, grinding Jensen’s face into the bed and spitting him on his dick. Jensen’s t-shirt is trapped behind his head, and he can’t even use his elbows to keep himself up. His chest is rubbing hard against the sheets with every thrust, and his eyes are shut tight as he struggles to hang on. He’s strung out, cock drooling precome across his abs, fingers gripping Jared’s wrist so tight.

Jared’s grunting with the effort, other hand huge and wide on Jensen’s back, pushing Jensen’s hips down and drilling into him, driving into his prostate on every stroke. Jensen’s going to come, fuck, he’s going to come, just from this, from Jared’s dick and his hands and his handcuffs. He can feel it building, hot and strong, inevitable this time— nothing Jared does will stop it. He moans, tries to warn him, but it comes out garbled, and Jared just pulls harder on his hands.

Jensen’s done. His cock swells impossible, balls pulling up tight, and he comes with a shout, jerking with every pulse of his jizz all over his stomach and the sheets beneath them. Jared thrusts half a dozen more times, hard and deep, and freezes, letting out a groan of relief as he comes too, pumping Jensen full of his load. Jensen moans weakly, vision going blurry, and an instant later he’s on his back with Jared over him looking extremely nervous. His shoulders are aching, red hot, and he flexes his fingers experimentally.

“Hey,” Jared says, smoothing a hand down his face, “hey, hey baby, you okay?”

“Guh,” Jensen says, “what.”

“Dude,” Jared says, laughing weakly, “you were— you went all limp, really freaked me out.”

Jensen blinks. “Did you fuck me unconscious?”

“Don’t say that,” Jared says quickly, but he’s blushing.

“Oh my god, you did,” Jensen accuses, grinning stupidly. “You’re so good at sex you fucked me unconscious.”

“What the— that’s completely the wrong reaction.” Jared rolls onto his side beside Jensen and rubs his near shoulder with his huge, warm hand. Jensen turns his head to look at him, soft around the edges and sweet again, almost all traces of that intense, toppy bastard washed away by his concern.

“Shut up,” Jensen says, “that was awesome. Unlock me, now, I’m starving.”

Jared reaches over him for his bedside drawer and pulls it open, and Jensen can hear him feeling around inside. It goes on for too long, and he’s just lifting his head to check when Jared says, “Uh oh.”

“No,” Jensen says, “no, don’t fuck with me.”

“Sorry,” Jared says, grinning and returning to his side with a tiny silver key in his hands, “that was mean.”

“All the things I do for you,” Jensen sighs dramatically, offering his wrists.

Jared unlocks him, tosses the cuffs away and cradles Jensen’s wrists in his hands. He kisses the red marks the cuffs left, bites down gently, and Jensen moans happily.

“Okay but seriously,” Jared says after a moment of worship, curling his hands around Jensen’s again, “handcuffs are Not A Toy.”