InsaneJournal

Current mood:	cranky
Current music:	Kane - Rattle Snake Smile
Entry tags:	30 seconds to mars, 30stm: jared leto, 30stm: jared/shannon, 30stm: shannon leto

FIC: Massage--30stm Jared/Shannon. Mature
title: Massage
author: lisa roquin
rating: mature
fandom: 30 Seconds to Mars
pairing/characters: Jared Leto/Shannon Leto
disclaimer: lies, fiction, untrue. completely and totally made up. I know no one, know nothing of their personal lives. I make no claims of knowing much of anything.
summary: see title.
warning: see pairing
word count: 2794
author notes: written for kynxpirations anon meme prompt Jared Leto/Anyone massage.




"C'mon, wake up and get your ass to bed."

Jared groaned. "You want me moved, you move me." Fuck he hurt. The training for this film was going to kill him. Everything hurt from his hair to his toenails, and he had another eight hours of hell again tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that. This was only day four of a full month of intense training and conditioning. Supposedly these first few days were taking it easy to get into the training. The real intense shit would start the next day.

"C'mon. Up," Shannon reached for him and pulled him to his feet.

He nearly screamed.

Every last muscle protested the movement, what had been a constant pain leveled off into something steady enough to almost be tolerated as long as he didn't blink or breathe, flared into white hot agony.

Shannon was a bastard. All he did was roll his eyes and wrap his arm around Jared's waist, and steered him toward the stairs.

Stairs.

He hadn't been kidding when he said if Shannon wanted him moved, Shannon was moving him. He was pretty sure Shannon was supporting more of his weight than he was as he was nearly dragged up the stairs. His exhausted bright idea of just sitting on the couch a minute before heading upstairs to soak in the tub hadn't been that bright. He'd thought he was hurting too bad to really want to navigate the stairs when he'd gotten home three hours before. He was worse now with every muscle cramped and knotted up.

"Shower first," Shannon declared.

Jared snorted and concentrated on getting his foot to lift up and onto the next step. Only three more to go, and really, who was the fucking idiot that thought stairs were a good thing?

"You're going to crack a tooth," Shannon informed him dryly.

It took more energy than he had to tell Shannon off but he did make an effort not to clench his teeth quite so hard. He still had one more step and the massive charleyhorses that were his legs weren't too damn sure about making it that one step.

The hallway was a hundred times longer than it should be, at least it felt that way. "Shower," Shannon repeated when they got to the bathroom. "Soak would probably do you more good but I'm not tearing my back out hauling your ass out of the tub."

Jared would have smiled a little at that if he had the energy. Shannon had a point. One or the other of them would end up with a cracked skull or some goddamned thing. Shannon in Mother Hen mode was a goddamned klutz, at least when it came to Mother Henning Jared.

Jared grated out a string pained obscenities as Shannon started the water, steam rising and quickly filling the room.

"Shut up it's not that hot," Shannon automatically retorted.

As fast as that steam was filling up the room, it was that hot. Shannon's skin seemed impervious to heat. The hotter the better especially when it came to showers or baths. The fact that normal people would be scalded by what he thought was just right was a concept his brother would never fucking get. It wasn't the impending scalding that had him cussing, it was the fact he couldn't lift his damned arms up enough to get his shirt off.

"Let me help, jesus."

This was worse than Alexander had been hands down, and it wasn't just because he was a few years older. The intensity of this was a thousand times more. This wasn't just to look and move like an army, this was to end up with the muscle definition of some goddamned comic book character along with rounds of rock climbing, weapons training and fucking horseback riding after four fucking hours ran into the ground in the gym.

"This is a bad idea," Jared muttered as Shannon knelt to take his shoes, socks and the pants bunched up around his ankles off.

Shannon huffed. "You'll thank me in the morning."

Smug asshole was probably right. Shannon only I told you so'd on his predictions of how Jared was going to feel worse, until Jared gave in and admitted he was right and let him have his demented mother hen way. He didn't usually get obnoxious about being right once he'd gotten his way. And frankly right now, Jared hurt too goddamned bad to attempt to fight Shannon.

Shannon's shirt joined Jared's on the bathroom floor.

"You're gonna get your pants soaked."

"Shut the fuck up and move," Shannon rolled his eyes. His voice just—off—enough it caught Jared's attention for a second but that was forgotten in a heartbeat as Shannon insisted he actually move again. And the water was fucking scalding. Shannon only told him to stop whining and steadied him as he forced first one leg, then the other over the side of the tub to step into the shower.

Scalding and full blast, pellets of water pummeled his skin. Some part of his mind registered he had to be moving and acting as bad has he felt, Shannon was in the shower holding him upright—with his fucking jeans on.

The jeans part was the weirdest.

They'd shared a room all through their childhood, a couple times shared a bed when they were small. The last time they'd ended up in the tub or shower at the same time was hardly the time that was the subject of one of their mother's favorite pictures—which was of sixteen month old Jared and three year old Shannon grinning up from a mountain of bubbles in the bathtub. Hasty chances at showers when they'd first come to California, even before that when things were tight and they were bumming places to sleep where they could on the demo circuit. Fights and benders they'd ended up taking a turn at shoving the other into the shower or tub, cleaning them up, patching them up. Quick washing up after a show, if it was a venue that a chance for that was possible...No not a regular occurrence, but certainly something that happened by circumstances and the jeans were weird.


*

“Be right back.”

Jared made a vague sound in response. The shower had helped, but he wasn't telling his brother that. Hopefully the ibuprofen Shannon made him take would help too. He didn't particularly want to move for at least a week.

Shannon was back—wet jeans changed for dry. That was just fucking bizarre.

“Roll over.”

“Fuck off.”

“C'mon, front first.”

“Just let me die in peace, gotta do this again tomorrow.”

“Uh huh. So turn over. Front first.”

Jared groaned.

The pushy bastard wasn't going away though. He pushed at Jared's shoulder trying to get him to roll over.

“You're the world's worst brother,” Jared complained.

Dead silence, not even a breath for a long moment. “Maybe.” Shannon agreed with that off note in his voice again. No, this wasn't off, this was just wrong.

That wrong tone to Shannon's voice got him to move. The shower had helped a lot. It nearly boiled the skin off him, but it had helped.

“Shan?” Jared frowned and forced himself over onto his back.

“Cover yourself. I don't wanna stare at your dick,” Shannon muttered sounding so fucking wrong Jared couldn't begin to describe it and grabbed the sheet tossing it over Jared just enough.

Jared swallowed and wondered if that fucked up dream from a month or so ago was a dream after all. What the fuck had that weed been laced with anyway?

“Did I piss you off?”

“No,” Shannon said avoiding Jared's eyes, voice thick and rough. “This burns some but it'll help.”

Jared frowned, a tight ache settling in his chest at how fucking strange his brother was acting. Shannon settled on the bed. The burning scent of cinnamon and something almost like Red Hots or a fireball jawbreaker. He recognized the scent, it drifted out of Shannon's room on occasion.

Shannon didn't look at him at all as he poured a bit of the oil onto his hand, snapped the cap and sat the bottle between his legs.

Cool slowly warmed as Shannon started with his shoulder and arm, working the oil in as Jared's muscles protested the prodding of Shannon's fingers. Warm slowly turning to heat, Shannon's hands unrelenting and fingers finding knots and aches Jared hadn't been aware of as he worked his way all the way down to Jared's fingertips. Between the growing heat of the oil and Shannon's fingers his arm had pretty well been turned to jelly.

“Gettin' too hot?” Shannon asked breaking the odd heavy silence thumbs pressing into the palm of Jared's hand, fingers working the oil into the back of Jared's hands and knuckles.

“Feels good.” Jared managed, unnerved as hell by the way Shannon wasn't looking at him at all.

“Shan?”

Shannon's eyes actually flicked up, looking—to the pillow at Jared's temple, not anywhere near meeting Jared's eyes. “You okay?”

“Fine.” Shannon said sounding anything but fine. He sounded wrong completely and totally wrong and Jared was at a loss for how. It wasn't drunk, wasn't pissed. It definitely wasn't hyper-giddy you would fucking swear Shannon was stoned but wasn't good mood that was just rare and bizarre and made him vibrate when he tried to stifle it to give some semblance of sane behavior in public.

Shannon poured a little more oil into his hand, recapped the bottle then leaned and set to making Jared's other arm just as boneless, asking again if the oil was getting too hot. Jared assured him the increased heat felt good.

“Shan?”

“Just shut up and let me do this, Jared. You need to be able to move tomorrow. Just—shut up.”

Jared frowned and studied Shannon. The tips of Shannon's ears were red, his jaw clenched and mouth in a tight grim line. “Shan, you don't have to...”

“Shut. Up.”

Jared shut up and silently tried to put his finger on what was off about his brother. Shan had lost weight. The little bit of “fluff”, the five or so extra pounds that gave Shan just the hint of a belly, Tomo razzed Shannon about was gone. His face was thinner, shadows under his eyes.

“You better not be sick, you asshole.”

“M'not,” Shannon shook his head.

“You look like shit.”

Shannon shook his head. “I'm fine. Not sleeping for shit that's all. Shut up.”

Jared hated the way Shannon was so deliberately not looking at him. He let his eyes drift close to avoid watching Shannon not look at him, try to ignore the wrong around his brother that made his chest hurt and his stomach a little queasy. That had been just a dream—that fucked up shit with the weed that sure as hell wasn't just weed. It had to have been. God. It had to have been a hallucination.

Shannon laid Jared's boneless arm back on the mattress. The click of the cap on the bottle of oil. Cool slick wet pooled in the center of his chest. His eyes flew open. Shannon was maybe grimmer than before as he reclosed the bottle, settling it once again between his legs and his hands moved for Jared's chest.

Jared's breath caught and his mouth went dry as Shannon set to work on his pectorals...

“FUCK!” Jared yelped as the oil and Shannon's fingertips then palm grazed over his nipple.

“Too hot?”

“Jesus.” Jared swallowed. “No. Not too hot...” What the hell was he supposed to say... “Just—I'm fine.” Something keeping him from pointing out his nipples were sensitive as hell to his brother, the strange charge in the air, the absolute weird and wrong hanging around Shannon like a cloud. Of course the way Shannon eyed his reaction with the first swipe of his oiled fingers over Jared's nipple, he probably knew anyway. Noticed at some point over the years, Jared was the one with the voyeur streak but Shannon would watch on occasion and god knew they'd shared more than one lover—not often but they had.

Now Shannon looked at him, assessing and something Jared couldn't bring himself to name, and kind of made him want to squirm.

“Need unknotted, you're going to have a hell of a time tomorrow with the rock climbing and sword practice.” Shannon said.

“I'm fine,” Jared insisted.

Shannon had a point. Fingertips worked over his chest, pectorals—fuck—his nipples which were hard points and the oil that ended up worked across them driving him just a little nuts with the increasing heat of the massage oil. The heat edging up in intensity with exposure to skin and air, and he was kind of thankful for the weird bent of modesty Shannon suddenly developed, hopefully the bunched up sheet over his crotch would camoflauge the first stirs of interest from his dick. Not much, he was too fucking tired and hurt too bad, but a stir. Damned traitorous thing didn't care how miserable the rest of him was, or that it was Shannon.

Jared swallowed and willed his dick to behave as Shannon finally stopped with his chest and moved down to his thighs. Hands and heating oil coming uncomfortably close to his balls.

“Don't even fucking think it! I'll kick you!” Jared threatened as Shannon's hands reached his ankle.

“Shh, I know. I won't,” Shannon murmured.

Shannon did know. Hell, Shannon had been the one to actually explain why Jared couldn't fucking stand his feet touched at all—to Jared, as well as Tomo and Tim who'd gotten a reflexive kick in the gut when he grabbed Jared's feet to move them off the couch on the bus so he could sit. Tomo had asked what the hell Jared's freaky deal with that was anyway, Tomo had known for years not to touch Jared's feet, just not why. Jared himself had never had a better answer than he just couldn't stand it until Shannon had told the story of a barefoot three year old Jared running off and straight into a massive patch of cockleburrs chasing after a damned cat. It had taken an hour of hysterical screaming with tweezers to get them all out of Jared's feet. Jared didn't remember that, but Shannon obviously had.

Jared had all he could do to keep still and attempt to keep his body under control as Shannon's hands moved back up to his other thigh, working down his leg.

“Roll over.”

Jared didn't argue. Fuck no. The bunched up sheet wasn't going to disguise the growing reaction to Shannon's touch for much longer. His brother was so wrong just now that Jared couldn't begin to imagine how much worse Shannon noticing might make this, make the wrong around Shannon worse.

Jared stifled the gasp that threatened as Shannon straddled his hips, Denim against the outsides of his thighs, oil poured between his shoulder blades and sliding down to pool at the base of his spine. Shannon's hands moved over his back, starting at his shoulders fingers unforgiving as they worked into muscle, digging out the knots. Lethargy creeping in as Shan's hands and the heat of the oil melted away everything.

He groaned as thumbs worked at his base spine just above his tail bone. Fuck that felt good.

“Fuck, Shan!” Jared yelped in shock as Shannon scooted downward, straddling Jared's legs and those hands, and that heating oil were on Jared's ass.

“Shut. Up,” Shannon grated out.

Jared shut up. Shocked into silence by the tone. He knew that tone. There was no question of what that tone was. Heat and confusion bubbled up chasing away the lethargy induced by the massage. He took a shaky breath fighting the urge to grind into the mattress. Shannon scooted down giving the same slow thorough attention to Jared's hamstrings and calves. Jared fought not to groan or hump the goddamned mattress.

“You okay?” Shannon demanded getting up and moving away. Voice sharp and tense and so fucking wrong it sliced through Jared.

“Yeah, I'm good. Lot better. Thanks, Shan.”

“Welcome. Night.” Shannon said sounding curt and strange and was out of the room like a dart, Jared's bedroom door closing with a little too much force behind him. Jared ground down into the mattress reflexively as his mind skittered in a thousand shaky directions trying to figure out what the hell just happened.