Some say watching them together was like watching art. The way their bodies molded in the pale moonlight as one moved up, the other down, dancing with each other in a slow rhythm only they could hear. Soft sighs filled the air, broken apart only by languid kisses and the occasional whispered "more" from the body underneath. Tenderness was echoed in every touch, every stroke, and there was no need to hurry, to rush this along. The slowness made every nerve ending alive, and when it finally ended, both bodies spent, the kisses continued far into the night.
Jared remembered how that had felt. He remembered the easy rhythm coaxing him into oblivion as he pushed his hips up, letting Jensen's cock press into him deeper with each thrust. He remembered his pleading for more, trying in vain to seep into Jensen's skin in order to feel him everywhere. He remembered the heat that pooled in his belly gradually until it became a surge of euphoria as he came long and hard. He remembered the love he felt radiating out of Jensen's eyes as they stared at each other afterwards, sweaty and sated until it became too much and the unhurried kisses started once again. He remembered it all.
It was cruel what time had done to them. The Limousine was parked crookedly in a nearby alley as the two men inside hastily removed each others clothing. Each movement was a deliberate attempt to get closer, aroused limbs touching one another profanely as loud, breathy moans permeated the car. There was no time for kissing, only touching. The two forms moved together roughly and slightly out of sync as the one on top sank down to meet the other halfway, his pained cry drowned out only by the traffic whizzing by on the street nearby. When it was over, they quickly dressed, making themselves once again presentable, all the while avoiding eye contact.
The 100th episode party was a whirlwind. Everything went by so quickly, no one really had time to catch up, as it were. It was, after all, the most important year for both of them. Jensen remembered nothing about that night except the limo. He remembered how Jared had grabbed his wrist and pulled him towards the waiting black car, and how he had climbed in without needing to know what was going to happen. He remembered the immediate need to get Jared's clothes off, to touch him, anywhere. He remembered Jared crying out as he shoved himself down onto Jensen with no preparation. He remembered how needy it had all been, and how they couldn't look at each other for the rest of the night. He remembered everything.
Everyone knew what would happen. The angry shouts could be heard from one of the on lot trailers, two voices mingling together making a distorted kind of music. The noise abruptly stopping as a body could be heard being slammed up against the door. There was nothing sensual in this meeting, nothing hiding the raw emotions that each man bore. It wrapped around them, threatening to strangle them both until the one against the door finally broke, tiny rivulets of tears moving down his cheeks as a sob stuck in his throat. The other man paused, reaching out to wipe away the others' sadness, the motion itself bringing back a small reminder of the gentle caresses of long ago. The kiss they shared tasted of salt and memories, and as it died away, they stared at each other, almost scared of moving. It was the man against the door that finally looked away, resignation etched across his features. He glanced up one last time before he uttered the words neither of them wanted to hear. "What happened to us, Jen? We used to be art.."