When the wrap is called late Friday night, Jensen feels like a weight has lifted off his shoulders. Things had been pretty intense on set lately, and to say he needs to get out and breathe some fresh air is putting it mildly. They had all been feeling it, that’s why Jensen arranged for the outing the first weekend they had off. Jared, unfortunately, was stuck on kid duty, but Misha was adamant that he prove to Jensen he really does know how to ride a horse, so they were going to enjoy some fresh Canadian air together and Supernatural was just going to have to wait.
Misha passes Jensen on his way off set, and quickly runs a soft hand down Jensen’s cheek. Jensen can see the smirk Misha is hiding and smiles himself. It had been their game lately, this intimate cheek caress. Admittedly, it had been more fun in the beginning, when the caress set either of them off and the scene had to be reshot. Eventually, they’d both become pretty skilled at not reacting and so the game evolved. He’s not really sure what it evolved in to, other than it does help lighten the mood when things are getting heavy.
Jensen tries not to think about why things have gotten so intense on set, because it leads down a dangerous path. The team had decided to really push things hard this season, and one of the things they had decided to push, besides Dean’s character into a really dark state of mind, was his relationship with Cas. It meant more scenes between him and Misha, it meant a lot more cheek caressing off screen, and it meant that the powerful feelings Dean and Cas have for each other was being pushed into the light.
It meant that he always left those scenes feeling shaky and uncertain, and often things were a little weird between him and Misha until they could both shake off whatever emotional baggage they were carrying from their characters. It seems lately though that shaking off that baggage is getting harder, and the weird intensity is getting stronger. Frankly, it’s off-putting and exhausting and Jensen misses the carefree days.
Jensen’s hoping this time alone this weekend with Misha will lighten things up, clear the air. So he’s grateful when Misha shows up the next morning at the ranch with a bag filled with marshmallows, chocolate and graham crackers. Because it’s ridiculous and so completely Misha.
“S’mores?” Jensen says with a raised eyebrow. “You do know we’re just taking the trail, right Boy Scout? Not camping?”
Misha’s smile, as always, lights up the morning. “I know we are going to stop and eat gooey sugar squished over more gooey sugar and you are going to like it.”
Jensen tries not to laugh as it tends to encourage him. “And did you bring any water? Any real food? We are going to be gone all day. If you don’t know how this goes-“
“Relax Ackles. The water, PB and J’s, and Doritos are already in my backpack.”
“Awesome, I’m taking the trails with a 10 year old.”
They banter while they get themselves ready to head out and Jensen knows before they even leave that his plan was the best one he’s ever had. He even has the pleasure of making his co-star jump when he runs his fingers gently down Misha’s cheek, the thin beard tickling his fingers.
The trails are gorgeous. The air is crisp and clean, but not so cold that a jacket won’t suffice. They pick their way across the wilderness and Jensen feels his mood lighten with every minute. It feels great to be out, to be able to shed Dean for a while. He and Misha don’t talk for a while, but it’s not awkward. They’ve been to that place in their friendship for a while now, where silence is companionable and warm, not stiff and uncomfortable. Jensen basks in the environment, savoring his co-stars presence in it.
Eventually the silence is broken though, and Jensen might like this even better. They talk about anything and everything that comes to mind, their characters, politics, what type of flour makes the best cookies, and Jensen has rarely seen Misha this serious for this long. It doesn’t change when they stop for lunch, as he had expected it to. Misha saves the marshmallows and chocolate for later, and they eat in a mood that is deepening slowly into something rich and more. He’s never felt this close to Misha before, and a part of him is starting to wonder about that. This isn’t typical behavior for the man, to let things get this serious, to not break it with a joke or a witty story. In fact, at times, Misha looks almost sad and wistful, and neither of those is Misha at all.
As the day wears on, it starts to feel like it does on set, on those days when it gets to be too much. That was really not the point of this, and Jensen just wants to get back to when it was comfortable and easy. So when he reaches across the distance between them to stroke Misha’s cheek, he’s rather stunned when it doesn’t lighten things back up. At all.
Instead of a laugh or smile, Misha grabs Jensen’s wrist tightly and turns to look at him, eyes so sharp that Jensen is frozen.
“Stop,” Misha whispers after a beat. “I can’t…”
Misha lets the sentence hang and Jensen is still confused. Misha didn’t even tell Jared to stop when he dropped his pants and rubbed his foot on some rather intimate areas through the thin material of Misha’s boxers.
Then Misha suddenly lets go of his wrist and plants a huge grin on his face. “How ‘bout a race, Jen? Last one to the next trail marker is a rotten kale sprout!”
Before Jensen can process what’s happened, Misha is shooting off across the forest in a race against… well a race against something but Jensen’s not so sure what. Regardless, what Misha just did is dangerous, especially since he knows Misha doesn’t ride as much as himself, and so he has no choice but to chase after him. Partly so he can catch the man and ask what the heck just happened between them.
Misha is reckless at first, taking cuts he shouldn’t be taking, making maneuvers he shouldn’t be trying on this ground, this rocky, uneven terrain, and Jensen hollers at him to stop, but either Misha can’t hear or he doesn’t listen. After a time he does, however, stop being completely reckless. He’s only reckless enough that Jensen begins to embrace it. It feels free, to just let go and run with the wind. It’s exhilarating. They get off the trail at some point that neither of them will remember and go quite a ways dashing around like mad people (Jensen’s pretty sure at least one of them actually is mad) before they are forced to stop.
As far as reasons to stop go, rain is one of the worst. Oh sure, a horse being harmed would be far worse, but being wet on horseback isn’t a fun experience, and it drastically slows how quickly you can go. Jensen had checked the weather before leaving and it had been but a small chance later in the day. There is, however, always a greater chance the weather report is wrong.
Jensen rides up close to Misha, who has tilted his head back to let the light rain patter on his face, a faint smile on his lips. “We need to head back,” Jensen says quietly, like he’s apologizing. He supposes he is. Setting aside the weird moment that led to the mad dash across the wilderness, the day had been perfect. He could spend days, weeks, a lifetime like this, enjoying the good things in life with Misha at his side. It’s a somewhat terrifying thought, made worse by the fact that doubt has started to settle after Misha pulled so suddenly away from him earlier.
“Know the way?” Misha says, breaking his communion with the rain to look at Jensen.
“The trail is… um…” Jensen replies, looking around like the path will reveal itself. “Fuck! We’re fucking lost?!”
“Oh come on Jenny, don’t be so melodramatic. We know the general way. We’ll find it,” Misha says, turning his horse around.
“And if we don’t?”
“It’ll be an adventure,” Misha says with a wink before starting back in the immediate direction they had just come from.
Jensen just sighs. Sometimes he wishes Misha had just a little bit less adventure in him.
It does turn in to quite the adventure. Of course, it was boring for a bit, picking their way slowly over the forest floor, rain slowly seeping in through their jackets. Things start to look a little more familiar and Jensen’s worry that they wouldn’t find the path was starts to let up. It would have let up faster if Misha was talking, distracting him, telling him jokes and stories, but he seemed rather introspective again.
Then the rain picks up and the sun starts to get low and Jensen begins to really doubt they are going to find the trail, much less get back, before dark. Just shortly after that they find a small entrance to a cave in the side of the terrain and Misha stops in front of it.
“What do you think?” Misha half yells over the rhythm of the rain.
“I know you aren’t suggesting we camp in a cave for the night!” Jensen yells back.
Misha pulls his horse up closer to Jensen. “It’s getting dark and we still haven’t found the trail. We’ll be safer in there than anything else and you know it,” he reasons. Jensen knows he’s right but still hesitates. “C’mon Jen, I’ll sing you to sleep with some Tibetan throat singing,” Misha adds, wiggling his eyebrows. “We’ll build a fire, eat smores for dinner. C’mon, it’ll be great!”
Jensen apparently doesn’t get a say in the matter, because Misha is already dismounting from his horse.
“Fine!” he calls. “But no throat singing!”
Misha only laughs as he takes care of his horse and makes his way to the shelter of the cave.
The cave, it turns out, is a little bigger on the inside, which is a good thing. It’s not large by any means, but there is enough room to get a small fire going and still be able to fit two full grown men laying down, with some room to spare. Jensen is also comforted by the fact that the rock above is black with soot from previous fires, meaning they can’t be too far from the trail and the cave is probably not going to collapse on them.
So he sits on the other side of the fire trying to dry out and warm up, their wet jackets tossed aside to hopefully dry, watching a very wet Misha make them smores with an evil glee. It’s an awful mess. Misha manages to get chocolate and marshmallow everywhere, Jensen’s really not sure how. He eats the same smores and doesn’t end up covered in it. But Misha has chocolate all over his lips, barely avoiding getting it matted in his beard, and marshmallow on his fingers that he’s trying to lick off, and Jensen’s completely mesmerized. His gaze wonders from Misha sliding those long slim digits of his into his mouth and moaning obscenely, to the wet curls on his forehead and wild hair on top of his head, to the way his still damp shirt clings to him in all the right ways.
He’s seen Misha naked before, more than once actually. Nature of their job. But something about this is far more intimate and Jensen suddenly doesn’t feel cold any more. He flushes when he realizes what he’s feeling, but Misha is too intent on attacking marshmallow residue to notice.
Suddenly his mind is racing a million miles a minute, and it keeps getting stuck on that moment from earlier, and he knows there’s really only one way to handle this. He waits until Misha is done eating, until all their food is gone but what they are saving for the morning, until Misha is propped backwards on his arms looking happy and content, before he brings it up.
Jensen coughs first, and Misha’s eyes snap open and fix on him with all his normal intensity, making Jensen swallow hard before starting. “I’ll stop, you know,” he says. At Misha’s slight head tilt, he continues. “The uh, the cheek thing. I’ll stop, if you don’t want me touching you anymore.”
He watches Misha take a deep breath in what he assumes is surprise while he processes the words.
“Is that what you think earlier was about?” Misha eventually asks. Jensen doesn’t respond. He doesn’t need to. He was dead serious and Misha knows it. Misha nods to himself a few times, switching suddenly to shaking his head no. When he meets Jensen’s eyes again, his blue ones look sad. “I can’t take that it’s a joke to you, Jen. Not anymore.”
There it is, this dangerous, unknown thing between them out in the open, and Jensen can’t breathe. His heart might have even stopped, he doesn’t know. What he does know is that Misha searches his face and whether it’s what he find there or something else, Misha starts crawling across the room on his hands and knees and Jensen decides his heart is definitely still pounding.
“Can you handle that Jen? If I told you I wanted more,” Misha says as he seductively closes the distance. “I want you to touch me-“ he nearly whispers as he pushes Jensen back just enough to straddle his hips, “and mean it.” For a moment, Jensen thinks Misha is going to kiss him. But instead, he gently presses four fingers to Jensen’s face, on his cheek bone to the outer edge and runs them down so tenderly and slow, so reverently, that Jensen suddenly understands what a caress can really mean.
Jensen closes the gap between and presses his lips into Misha’s so abruptly that Misha actually squeeks. It’s hard and quick and perfect, and when they break, Misha looks a little wonderstruck and Jensen knows the feeling.
“I don’t know if I can handle that Mish,” he says honestly. Before he can watch Misha’s face fall, he quickly adds, “But I want more than anything to try.”
It’s definitely the right thing to say, as suddenly every fiber of existence is filled with a wet, warm Misha. He clutches at the shirt on Misha’s back, just trying to hold on while Misha licks in his mouth and makes love with his tongue. It’s everything he never knew he wanted, and his soul rejoices with him. And when Misha rocks in his lap and he can feel hardness pressing into him through their jeans, his body rejoices.
Misha pushes him backwards until they’re lying on the ground, and they quickly find themselves moving from slow, beautiful discovery to fiery need. Misha’s grinding down on to him, and Jensen is thrusting back up, the rough drag of damp clothing heightening the pleasure. Their hands are everywhere, shirts go flying, and they are only coherent enough to make sure nothing lands in the fire. It’s completely lacking any finesse, but they can’t find it in them to care. When Misha undoes Jensen’s pants and slides those talented fingers inside, Jensen throws his head back and groans.
“Mmmm,” Misha mumbles in kind as his beard tickles Jensen’s neck where he has latched his lips and teeth, and aren’t the makeup crews going to love that come Monday?
“Mish,” Jensen manages to get out breathlessly, Misha works expertly at their cocks in his hand. “Ahhh, Mish, I uh. I don’t…”
Misha freezes suddenly and pulls back enough to look at Jensen. As much as Jensen wishes Misha hadn’t paused, he does make for a gorgeous sight, what with his hair all over the place, including that on his face, and his lips flushed and kiss swollen. He looks absolutely debauched, and Jensen put him that way. With kissing and a little groping.
“Don’t what?” he asks in a low, rough Cas-like voice, sending shivers down Jensen’s spine. He wonders what it would be like to do this in character. “You can’t tell me you don’t want this now,” Misha adds, pumping his hand on their dicks just to prove his point.
Jensen hisses at the contact and throws his head back, thunking lightly on the ground. “No, that’s not-“ he tries to say, and settles for mindlessly thrusting gently into Misha’s hand instead to get his point across. “I want this. It’s just, I don’t… I don’t have much experience. With this, that is.”
If Jensen had been worried that would be a mood killer, that Misha would call it off, it ends when Misha’s eyes widen and his pupils dilate even further and his face turns down right feral. He attacks Jensen’s lips again and just as quickly pulls back to whisper in his ear, “I’m going to make this so good for you.”
Before Jensen can ask what that means, Misha’s sucking at his neck again and all he can do is groan. Then he’s traveling south and those full lips are taking a nipple between them and Jensen yelps. His hands scramble over the ground, flexing, looking for purchase while Misha sucks at one, moving over to bite at the other. Misha doesn’t focus on his nipples for very long before his tongue is sliding lower and Jensen’s brain just can’t keep up.
“We need to get these off, Jen,” Misha says, tugging at his wet jeans. He doesn’t even think to protest that the ground is cold and dirty. Those two things don’t even register, because the second the pants are off, Misha is back over him, sucking marks into his hips and thighs while his cock bobs hard in the middle.
“Mish, please,” Jensen whimpers.
Misha is apparently done dicking around and torturing him, because he moves with shocking speed, sucking Jensen straight into his mouth. He suddenly switches gears though and stops short, flicking his tongue over the sensitive head, dipping slightly at the slit and lavishing the glands.
“Shit,” Jensen mumbles, tangling his fingers in Misha’s damp hair. He doesn’t push, but he does grip tight, and if Misha’s moan is any indication, he approves.
When Misha finally slides down his length and back up, Jensen’s eyes roll back in his head. Sure, he’s had plenty of blow jobs in his life, but none of them were like this. None of them felt this incredible, this intense.
None of them involved Misha.
And apparently Misha can deep throat. Of course he can. Given that it’s Misha, Jensen’s a little surprised it wasn’t on that old resume. Jensen’s cock is sliding into Misha’s throat over and over again, and Misha is working both his throat and his tongue around him while his fingers ghost over his balls.
“Not gonna last Mish,” he has the presence of mind to ground out breathlessly and weak, incase Misha wants to draw this out or switch it up. What Misha does instead is speed up, and without his conscious mind letting him, Jensen follows the cue and finds himself fucking up into that brilliant mouth hard and fast.
It isn’t until Jensen feels the fingers on his balls slide lower, behind, ghosting over his hole that he snaps. He’s not completely new to this and so the movement doesn’t spark any worry, but it is still such a powerfully intimate act from someone he trusts so implicitly that show’s over. His hips snap up as his back arches and he releases himself full force into Misha’s mouth. Misha works him through it though, not thrown by the sudden bucking, and continues to swallow and flutter his throat around Jensen’s emptying cock. It’s only when Jensen settles back and whimpers from the sensitivity that Misha pulls off and sits back on his knees.
Misha’s flushed with pride and accomplishment, and yes, arousal still. His cock, just barely free of his jeans and boxers, has apparently been leaking precome this entire time, if the wet spot is anything to go by.
“Lie down,” Jensen says, moving around to make room. He works Misha out of his soggy jeans as quick as he can before he settles himself over Misha. He takes a selfish moment to enjoy the beauty of Misha’s face as Misha gazes back in equal awe. Jensen kisses him again, the scruff on Misha’s face tickling his skin. It’s small details like that which have Jensen falling fast, and this kiss lacks all of the crazy need of moments ago. As he tastes himself on Misha’s tongue, and his hand find’s Misha’s length and begins to stroke, it’s all about the slow, simmering passion.
The intensity he’d been feeling on set- he understands now what its source was. This is it, right here, only a million times stronger. He should be scared by the force of it, he should be worried about what it means, that Jensen’s feelings for Misha blend so easily with Dean’s boundless love for Cas that he didn’t even know there were two sets of feelings there, but he’s not worried or scared. Not when Misha kisses him back like he feels the same way, not when Misha shudders beneath him and rides out what must be one hell of an orgasm if the way he keeps trembling is any indication.
Jensen, still resting his weight on one arm, watches Misha watching back with that familiar intensity that he knows he’s projecting as well. This undefinable thing between them is both new and old, and it is definitely breathtaking. He reaches up and gently rests his finger tips on Misha’s cheek, stroking his thumb back and forth over that beautiful cheek bone. Misha is still trembling with the force of it all, but he won’t break from the heat of their eye contact. As Jensen flips his hand and rests the back of it on Misha’s cheek, Misha reaches up and places his own palm softly on Jensen’s arm, completing the physical connection between them. His breath hitches almost imperceptibly as Jensen runs his hand ever so softly down Misha’s cheek.
It’s not a joke. Not any more. Never again.