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Photoshoots In One's Downtime

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"Here," Jensen loosens his tie while Misha looks on, smirking, remembering his wetsuit snap.  He keeps his gaze on Jensen as he watches him take a step back and decides his next action. His idea was to stage a saucy spntapeball photo for Instagram.

Misha smiles a little more at the memory of Jensen's look while asking, 'Saucy? Mark....that you?'

"If I'm going to look caught in flagrante, then," Misha unbuttons his shirt a little.

"Caught. Heh. Sure," Jensen's amusement only makes Misha all the more curious. He's keen on making this idea of his a reality. Misha stands, watching Jensen as he continues his work, carefully monitoring his own actions. Revels in Jensen's growing determination- he assumes it's because currently Misha is succeeding in remaining pliant yet stoic. He idly wonders if Jensen's momentarily forgotten that he can literally break him with one look. Despite Misha's best efforts.

Misha's leg twitches.

"Getting a bit personal there.."

He doesn't miss the way Jensen's smile pulls his lips at his mouth's corner; Misha watches, admusedly, the purposeful care with which Jensen is placing the tape on his body, as if it were a puzzle.

"Heh. 'Personal.' That what you callin' it?"

Misha produces a near perfect innocent confusion upon his face. Jensen's not fooled. Not this time.

"You're right, this isn't convincing enough for being caught In flagrante"

Misha doesn't miss the tone Jensen places on the last words. He produces his own smirk, until he sees Jensen step back enough and loose one of his layers and lets it fall. He perks a brow of interest and doesn't realize when it is he licks his lips as Jensen advances, but they are newly wetted. He barely processes that fact as he feels Jensen under the trench coat, pushing it off him, or his retreat backward.

Until there is no more 'back' to retreat to.

The rustle of the coat falling behind him, landing softly is the only sound. Apart from a heart beat that he didn't need reminding was there. He still smiles, a taunt, a dare, cause the look in Jensen's eyes tells him his aim was for authenticity.

Misha's response is a silent, 'I'll take this bet.'

Jensen responds by untucking Misha's shirt, then grabbing his suit jacket with each hand, advancing. He watches as Misha's eyes follow his hands and waits until their eyes lock again. He pulls him closer and only realizes he's looking at his lips when he watches as Misha's tongue darts out to moisten them. Jensen barely feels himself mirror the action. He feels his hands clench and draws Misha closer, lips pressing against lips. His hands move to that shirt, grabbing fistfuls of material as the kiss starts to deepen, as hands roam, as pulses quicken.

Misha likes the feeling of falling when Jensen is falling with him. He feels the material under him give under their weight, he inhales deeply to withhold a moan he knows Jensen is seeking to draw out of him, but fuck if it's difficult to accomplish. Even more so when Jensen's hands are in his hair, guiding their kisses.

He holds Jensen's gaze when the kisses stop. He clocks his grin and fails at containing his own as Jensen slowly, methodically, withdraws, eyes never leaving his as he retrieves the tape.

"You fucker."

Jensen smirks again

"Not yet. But if you'll have me later...I could be"