Misha loved cons, but they did take a lot out of him. This Friday in particular had dragged on into the late hours of the night. He was thankful to be back at the room where he could turn public Misha off for a little while and relax. He had hoped that Jensen would aid him with his own special relaxation technique, but he opened the door to a dark room.
Misha shut the door quietly in case Jensen was asleep. Sighing, he sloughed off his sport coat and turned to the fridge to get a bottle of water.
“Late night, Misha?” came Jensen’s voice from the darkness.
Misha promptly jumped and dropped his water. “Christ, Jen! You scared the hell out of me. Thought you were sleeping.”
“Not sleeping,” said Jensen.
“So… you’re just sitting here in the dark? Everything okay, babe?”
“I saw you tonight.”
“Saw what,” asked Misha, trying to decide exactly where this conversation was headed.
“Saw what.” Jensen huffs a laugh. “Saw you and Sebastian practically grinding each other on the stage tonight. Did you think that was cute?”
Misha knows this is a trick question. Knows by the tone of his voice that Jensen isn’t playing. Still, he’s Misha and he just can’t help but poke the bear.
“As a great philosopher once said, ‘I think I’m adora...’” The words die on Misha’s lips as Jensen is suddenly right on top of him, spinning him around and slamming his chest against the door.
“Shut. Up.” Jensen growls and Misha can feel the hard line of Jensen’s cock grinding against him, and yeah, Misha can get behind that.
“It’s not enough for you to encourage those girls down there,” Jensen says quietly in his ear. “No, you have to go get all handsy with that fucking man whore.”
“Jen, baby,” Misha breathes into the door. “We were just blowing off some steam. Come on, you know Seb; he flirts with everyone. I’m pretty sure I’ve seen him come on to a coffee machine before.”
“I don’t care who he comes on to. I care about him putting his hands on things that belong to me.”
“Mmm, possessive. I like. Are you going to have to teach me a lesson, Jen?”
With a snarl, Jensen grabs a fistful of hair at the back of Misha’s head and pulls him away from the door, spinning him back around. “Clothes. Off.”
“You really know how to sweet talk a girl, don’t you,” Misha snarks, but when Jensen doesn’t say anything or break his stare, Misha swallows and quickly begins to strip, soon standing naked before him.
“Down,” Jensen says firmly, cold green eyes boring into him, practically staring him to his knees.
As soon as Misha is kneeling in front of Jensen, he reaches out for his belt but his hands are smacked away roughly. Jensen palms himself through his jeans, just inches away from Misha’s face. “My show, Mish,” he says calmly.
Misha swallows hard and licks his lips, transfixed by the motion of Jensen’s hand and the thick outline of his cock. He loves Jensen like this. Rough, demanding, not putting up with his shit, just making him take.
“Please,” he whispers.
“Begging already, Misha? But we’ve only just started.” Jensen smirks and slowly begins to undo the buckle of his belt. He yanks the strip of worn, brown leather from around his waist with a snap. “Look at me,” he says. “So beautiful, Mish. No one else gets to have you like this. All mine, down on your knees just for me. Isn’t that right?”
“Yours, Jen. Only for you,” Misha says softly, reveling in the praise.
In one fluid movement, Jensen has the belt, still warm from his own body heat, wrapped around Misha’s neck and pulled through the buckle. It’s not so tight as to cut off his air, but tight enough that Jensen is completely in control and it’s all Misha can do to not come right there on the floor.
Jensen unzips his jeans, pulling out his cock and dragging the leaking head across Misha’s dry lips, pulling back just as he tries to engulf him with his mouth. Misha pouts at the denial and licks his lips just to get some taste of Jensen.
“So fucking needy, aren’t you,” says Jensen. He gives himself a firm stroke then slaps his cock against the side of Misha’s face. The whimper that Misha lets out only fuels Jensen’s bravado. He slaps Misha like that half a dozen more times, smiling at the wet smears it leaves behind. Without thinking, he cups the side of Misha’s face and uses his thumb to rub the slick into the stubble-covered skin.
“Open.” It’s all Jensen has to say and Misha is happy to oblige. Jensen slides his thumb across Misha’s cheek and pushes it into his mouth. Misha closes around it quickly and begins to suck, teeth nipping at the pad. As much as Jensen would like to draw this out, he can’t wait any longer. He pulls his thumb from Misha’s warm mouth and quickly replaces it with his aching cock.
He has one hand holding the belt and the other fisted in Misha’s hair, thrusting roughly into his mouth. As good as Misha is at this, he still gags when Jensen hits the back of his throat. His eyes are watering and his face is smeared with saliva and pre-come and all he can smell and taste is Jensen. Misha’s in heaven.
Misha knows Jensen is close. He hums around the wet, thrusting cock, waiting to feel it spill down his throat, but instead Jensen pulls out and Misha practically whines. Jensen is stripping himself with quick, rough strokes right in front of his face and Misha just wants his mouth back on that cock. Suddenly Jensen throws his head back and comes with a loud groan, painting hot stripes over Misha from his collarbones, across his chest and down onto his stomach.
“Stay,” Jensen says, as he drops the end of the belt and walks to the bathroom. Misha closes his eyes and tries to get his breathing back to normal. Several minutes pass before Misha hears the shower being turned on. He can feel Jensen’s come drying on his chest and his legs are getting the first tingles of falling asleep, but he stays, because Jensen told him to. He does love shower sex and doesn’t want to miss out on that opportunity because he couldn’t stay still for a few minutes longer.
Several more minutes tick by but Jensen still hasn’t come for him. The shower is turned off and now he is confused. At least ten more minutes pass before the bathroom door is finally opened. Jensen stands in the doorway, skin red and damp, a white towel slung low across his hips. He smirks as he sees that Misha is exactly as he left him. Walking over to him, Jensen cups the side of Misha’s face and strokes his thumb across the stubble. “You didn’t move. I’m surprised.”
“You told me to stay,” Misha says, matter-of-factly.
“So I did.” Jensen’s eyes travel down Misha’s body. Hands resting on his thighs, cock still half hard, hanging between his legs. “Up.”
Misha pushes himself to his feet and tries not to stumble as the pins and needles take over his legs. Jensen drops the towel from around his waist, grabs the belt close to Misha’s neck and walks him over to the cream leather chaise lounge.
Standing face-to-face, Jensen grabs Misha’s slender wrist and pulls his hand up to his mouth. Misha sucks in a sharp breath as Jensen takes his index and middle fingers into his mouth and begins to lavish them with his tongue, green eyes never leaving blue. Once he feels the job has been done to his liking, Jensen lets them slide from his mouth and holds the shiny, wet fingers in front of Misha’s face.
“I’m going to lie down on this chair and you’re going to ride me until I fucking come in your ass. Now, open yourself up.”
Jensen sits, reclining against the back of the chair pulling Misha down with him. “Turn around. I want to watch you.”
Misha kneels between Jensen’s legs, facing away from him. He reaches around his back, sliding a wet finger along the cleft of his ass, circling slowly around his rim and finally pushing right inside. He doesn’t waste any time before adding the second finger, groaning as he scissors himself open, knowing that Jensen is getting off on watching him. He adds a third finger and starts to rock back, fucking himself on his own hand, smiling as he hears Jensen’s sharp intake of breath.
“Jesus, Misha!” Jensen’s control falters and he bends forward, pulling Misha’s hand away and licking a hot trail over the wet hole in front of him. He spreads Misha’s ass with his hands and plunges his tongue as deep as he can, moaning as he feels the other man cry out, muscles clenching around his tongue.
“Fuck,” Jensen growls and grabs the belt. “Turn around; I want you on my cock.”
“Thank fuck,” groans Misha as he turns around. “Lube?”
“Spit on it.”
Apparently all of the blood rushing away from his brain caused Misha to forget the English language because he stares dumbly at Jensen and says, “What?”
“Spit. On. My. Fucking. Cock,” Jensen growls in his best Dean voice. “And you’d better make it good. That’s all you’re going to get.”
This may just be the day that Jensen Ackles kills him, Misha thinks. Jensen’s been in control before, but this is uncharted territory. Maybe he should start looking for pods, because this sure as hell isn’t his good little Texan boy.
A sharp yank to the belt jolts Misha back to the present, and, oh yeah, raging hard-on waiting.
Staring at Jensen, Misha works his tongue around in his mouth, gathering as much saliva as he can before leaning over and spitting down onto Jensen’s cock. Both men let out a, “FUCK,” as they watch the glistening liquid sliding down Jensen’s length.
Jensen’s done playing. He slams his head back against the chair with a groan and tugs on the belt. “Giddyup, cowboy.” And that is all the direction Misha needs before moving up to straddle Jensen’s waist, one foot on the floor on either side of the chair. He is so far gone he can’t even take his time, sinking down onto Jensen in one swift movement, lifting his feet a few inches from the floor causing the weight of his entire body to grind down against Jensen’s groin as he rocks back and forth.
Misha is riding him like an animal and Jensen has never been more thankful for runners’ thighs or chaise lounges. He knows he needs to take back control of this situation because the sounds that Misha makes every time he bounces down onto Jensen’s lap has him ready to blow.
Jensen bends his knees and plants his feet flat on the chair. He grabs hold of the belt with his left hand and pulls it to the back, causing Misha to cry out and arch with it. Jensen pulls down hard as he bucks his hips up, each thrust practically hurling the smaller man into the air. Misha is howling and spewing obscenities at the top of his lungs and Jensen is starting to worry that Clif might burst in at any moment to rescue them from another rabid fangirl wearing Matt Cohen’s gold karaoke jacket.
Jensen knows he doesn’t have much left and he grasps Misha’s dripping cock with his right hand, alternately fucking him down onto his cock and up into his fist. Then Misha is squeezing around him and the man flat out screams in that fucked-out, gravelly Castiel voice and that’s all it takes for Jensen to follow him over, still jacking Misha through his orgasm, making sure that he is spurting all over himself, all over where Jensen had coated him earlier.
Their movements slow and they are both flushed and drenched in sweat. Carefully, Jensen pulls the belt open and tosses it to the floor. He wraps a hand around the back of Misha’s neck and pulls him down into a long, deep kiss, thumb rubbing gently along the angry red marks on his skin. They stay collapsed on the chair for a few minutes, foreheads pressed against each other until the text alert on Jensen’s phone goes off.
Sighing, Misha straightens up and pulls off of Jensen’s softening cock. As Misha turns away from him, Jensen can’t help but feel a surge of possession as he sees a trail of his own come running down the back of those muscular thighs and he thinks that Misha should always have to walk around filled with his come.
Jensen picks up his t-shirt from the floor and wipes the sweat from his head and chest. Once he’s sure that his legs are going to support him, he heads to the desk to check his phone. “Jay,” he says, tossing the phone back down. “We’ve got a panel in an hour and he wants to meet up ahead of time. So much for sleep.”
“Sleep is overrated,” grins Misha, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “I think I might go down and grab a bite to eat. I seem to have worked up quite an appetite.” He pulls on his boxer briefs, although he’s not quite sure how they ended up hanging from the TV. “Have you seen my shirt?”
“Here. Put this on,” Jensen says, tossing him the sweat-covered tee.
“Because I don’t have enough of your bodily fluids on me?” Misha laughs, but when Jensen doesn’t move, he slips the shirt over his head.
Jensen goes to the mini fridge and pulls out two bottles of water, tossing one to Misha who is now perched on the couch typing away on his phone. Once he’s satisfied that his overlording duties are complete, Misha stands and stretches before heading for the bathroom.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Jensen casually leans across the doorway to the bathroom with his arms crossed.
“For some reason, I need to shower. You’re more than welcome to join me.” After everything they’ve just done, Misha is still up for shower sex.
“I don’t think so, Misha.” Jensen straightens up, continuing to block the doorway, and why the fuck does Misha always feel so damn short around these giants?
“Alright, come on. You know I love when you go all Dean on me, but I really do need to shower, babe. I’m getting a little crusty here.”
Something dark flashes in Jensen’s eyes as he fists his hand in Misha’s shirt, yanking him forward until they are barely an inch apart. “Don’t you dare shower, you little slut,” Jensen growls against Misha’s lips. “I want you walking around this con all day covered in my come and wearing my sweat-drenched shirt so that you don’t forget for a second who owns you.”
It doesn’t happen often, but Misha Collins is speechless. Not to mention, half hard again. He grabs his key card and shoves it into the pocket of his jeans. Are these even his jeans? And where the fuck are his shoes? Probably under the bed, he thinks. Screw it, it’s just breakfast. He is definitely not flustered. He’s not.
Just as Misha turns the handle to open the door, Jensen pokes his head out of the bathroom.
“If Speight even so much as TOUCHES you, he’ll have hell to pay. Got it?”
“Got it,” Misha smiles to himself.
“You’ll be held accountable too.”
~ ~ ~
“Well now, what do we have here,” Sebastian drawls as he puts down his steaming cup of tea and lifts his phone.
“Do you smell something,” Ty asks as he wipes his mouth, turning around just as Sebastian clicks the photo.
Standing just behind him, a very debauched Misha Collins is browsing the breakfast buffet, no doubt looking for some fruit or yogurt or granola.
“Looks like Jensen is a hair-puller,” purrs Sebastian. “Lucky bastard.”
“Jesus fuck, Misha,” groans Ty, “You smell like a goddamn come bucket.”
Sebastian can barely manage to contain his smirk. “Misha, darling, you could have at least showered before coming down. It’s not really necessary to wear Jensen to breakfast.”
“Apparently it is,” shrugs Misha. “It turns him on.”
Ty throws down his fork with the piece of sausage that he was getting ready to put in his mouth.
~ ~ ~
The day passes quickly and Misha spends it in a perpetual state of arousal. He is sure that everyone in the building can smell the sex on him and he has never been more turned on. He’s actually starting to wonder if blue balls can cause permanent damage.
Late in the afternoon he briefly crosses paths with Jensen and Jared as they are heading in for their autograph session. Gen wants to take a picture of the trio and they push Misha in the middle. She ends up with a photo of Jensen and his always-charming smile, Misha blushing awkwardly, and Jared scrunching up his nose and glaring down at the man beside him. Jensen grins and asks her to forward him a copy.
Jensen and Jared head into the autograph room leaving Misha and Genevieve. “Where are you off to now, Misha,” she asks. “Do you have a break?”
“Actually, the archangel panel just started. I think might go drop in on Richard,” Misha says with a smile and a wink.