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Of Flirting, Massages, and Flirty Massages

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Jensen prided himself on being one of the better physical therapists in the city; hell, maybe even in the state.  He enjoyed his job and was damned good at it.  He didn't complain about any of his patients like some of the others were apt to do on occasion, and everyone always said he was extremely patient with them, which was probably why he was typically given the more difficult cases, the ones that had to be taken really slow no matter how quickly the other person wanted to get through the therapy.

Which was exactly how he ended up with the first client who made him grit his teeth in a mockery of a smile and caused the desire to bitch about said client to well up behind his ribs, practically suffocating him as he forced the older male onto his back.  "Mr. Collins, would you please—"

"Misha.  My name is Misha," the dark-haired male interrupted, allowing himself to be pushed back because he was too concerned about the name he was being called.

Jensen repressed the urge to groan in frustration.  "Misha," he gritted out between teeth, "this would go a lot faster if you would let me do my job.  We need to plan a schedule for your recovery."  Yeah, that's right; he hadn't even made it past the first visit with this man.  If that didn't spell out disaster, he didn't know what would.

Misha slumped back on the table, releasing a heavy sigh.  "This really isn't necessary.  I've done loads worse," he grumbled.  Jensen ignored him in favor of testing the muscles in Misha's right knee, lightly groping around it as he pushed the knee up so it was bent.  He tried exceptionally hard to ignore how soft and warm the skin was beneath his fingers, a task that typically wasn't very difficult to do.  But then again nothing about this encounter with Misha was going like a normal first meeting with a client.  He ignored the feeling of eyes on his face, reaching out to carefully test the left knee.  He hadn't even bent it the entire way when Misha suddenly stated, "See?  I'm totally fine.  This is just a waste of ti—"  The choked off words were followed by a hand pressing tightly to Misha's mouth in order to stifle the whimper that Jensen heard anyway.

With deliberate slowness, Jensen lightly repeated the motion he had just made, his eyes trained on Misha's face for any sign of pain or discomfort.  When blue eyes were covered by tightly closed eyelids, he stopped and gently unbent Misha's leg before settling it back on the examination table.

"Your report states you hurt yourself running."  Jensen leaned back against the sink, his palms pressed to the counter.  "Is that... job-related running or just recreational?"

Misha turned his head into what looked like an uncomfortable position as he answered, "Recreational; it's an easy way to release stress, and I just really like to run.  My job typically involves sitting at a desk."

Jensen nodded but didn't press for any more information.  "You can sit up now if you'd like.  It might be less strenuous on your neck muscles," he murmured, his lips twitching into a slight smile.

"You spent all that time getting me onto my back, for a five-minute examination.  That doesn't seem tedious to you?" Misha queried, unmoving.

There was no reason for that statement to grate on Jensen's nerves, but it managed to make him stiffen.  "It had to be done.  Usually I don't have patients who continuously refuse to do as I ask and make me consider bringing in nurses for assistance.  And now you're making me feel uncomfortable imagining how bad you must feel in that position you're currently in.  Will you please sit up?"

Misha suddenly grinned, all gums and white teeth, and Jensen would deny his breath catching in his throat to the end of his days.  This man was infuriatingly adorable, with his gummy smile and his head tilted with the skin crinkling at the edges of his every-shade-of-blue eyes.  "Physical therapy involves massages, doesn't it?" Misha inquired as he slowly pushed himself up.  Jensen glanced at the man's arms as the muscles strained, and he unconsciously licked his lips.  His gaze flicked back up to Misha's face when the other man continued, "So even if I did strain my neck, I have you to soothe the muscles."  It took Misha's tongue swiping over his bottom lip for Jensen to realize he was staring at the man's mouth, and he quickly looked away, resisting the urge to clear his throat.

No.  That needed to stop before it even started.  Damn it; Jensen shouldn't even have Misha as a patient.  He was having issues compartmentalizing, something he hadn't had a problem with since he was first starting as a physical therapist.  Everything in him knew he should transfer the dark-haired beauty to one of the other physical therapists, but he didn't want to.  Besides, Misha's injury wasn't so bad that he would need the therapy for too long; it was just bad enough that he couldn't do the exercises without the proper equipment just yet.

"Dr. Ackles?" Misha's voice was prompting, as if he were waiting for something.

This time Jensen did clear his throat as he automatically replied, "Jensen.  During our appointments, I ask my patients to call me Jensen.  It seems to create a less stressful environment for them."  His gaze finally shifted back onto Misha, who was grinning again.

"All right, Jensen," Misha practically drawled, his voice just the slightest bit deeper when saying Jensen's name.  Jensen barely refrained from closing his eyes at the sound of it, and it honestly just made him wonder how deep Misha's voice got when it was completely wrecked.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"About your—" his voice basically croaked, and he cleared his throat, trying his best to fight the blush that blossomed as Misha all but smirked.  "Um, about your sessions.  Going off your records and the flexibility examination I just did, I think you should see me twice a week, if possible for your schedule.  When you're not here, I'd like for you to keep off your feet as much as possible.  When you're on your feet, I want you to wear a knee brace.  Are you able to work from home?  I think it would be best for the first week or two, until your knee is healed just a bit more, so that you're not having to get up and spend all that time in the morning walking around getting ready before walking to your car and then walking from your car to your workplace—you get the picture."

Misha was frowning slightly in thought, an expression Jensen wasn't sure he liked seeing.  "Uh, yeah.  Yeah, I think I can do that.  I'll need a note, obviously, and my boss is a complete dick so he'll probably call the clinic to confirm it, but I should be able to manage it."

"Awesome," Jensen answered lamely.  "I typically work Monday through Saturday, so you should have a few options for times.  One of the receptionists will help you with the scheduling.  Um, I think that's it for now.  Do you have any questions?"

Misha leaned forward slightly, a faint smirk teasing his lips.  "What, no massage today?" he teased.  "But my neck hurts."

Jensen refused to react the way he knew Misha was gunning for.  Instead, he managed a nonchalant smile and a shrug as he glanced at the clock.  He had time.  "I can give you a quick neck massage," he commented.  "This isn't my preferred room, but if you'll move to the chair over here, we can manage."

Misha blinked once in slight shock before he grinned and slid off the examination table.  He stretched his arms above his head, exposing the bare skin of his tummy, and Jensen turned to face the sink, biting down on his lower lip as he quickly washed and dried his hands.  This was quite possibly one of the most unprofessional things he'd ever done, and it was slightly concerning.

When he turned back around, Misha was seated in the chair, relaxed with his legs spread in front of him.  Jensen avoided meeting the other man's gaze as he slipped around behind the chair, his hands coming to rest on Misha's shoulders.  He gave them a tentative, probing squeeze, his lower lip catching between his teeth in an effort to keep him from making an appreciative murmur.  The guy had some nice shoulders; Jensen had to give him that.  They'd be so easy to hold onto, dig his blunt nails into for purchase while—

No.  Now was definitely not the time for thinking about that.  It was like he was a hormonal teenager all over again; damn.

Jensen forced his hands to move, shifting them closer to Misha's neck as his thumbs pressed into the areas to either side of where his neck met his spine.  He lightly kneaded the muscle along Misha's spine, as far down as he could without moving his hands completely off the man's shoulders.  He leaned forward slightly, his lips hovering by Misha's ear as he murmured, "I'll give you some back-stretching exercises next time.  Sitting at a desk all day can ruin your spine.  Your muscles are far more tense than they should be."  His lips might have accidentally brushed against the shell of Misha's ear as he spoke, if the slight shiver that vibrated through the other man was any indicator.

His thumbs worked their way back up to Misha's neck, and Jensen shifted his hands once more, cradling the sides of Misha's neck so his thumbs could knead the muscles higher up.  Jensen smirked when he heard a muffled sound, and he lightly circled his thumb nails against Misha's hairline on the back of his neck.  The sound that came from the man this time was marginally louder, and he could identify it as a whimper.  While he wanted to make more sounds come out of Misha's mouth (preferably in a setting where Jensen had his hand around Misha's cock—oh yeah, professionalism be damned), now was not the time or place to do that.  And it seemed as good a time as any to stop.

Jensen slid his hands off Misha's neck and took a step back before walking back around to the front of his patient.  "I believe that's all the time we have today.  Make sure you rest that knee, and I'll see you soon, Misha."  He offered a bright smile to the other man, far too pleased with the lovely flush that had spread across the other man's face and the blown pupils of his eyes.  Misha looked way too pretty in that moment, and Jensen wanted to take a picture to preserve it.

He nearly moaned when Misha stood and spoke, his voice husky, "Good afternoon, Jensen."  With a small smirk, the dark-haired man gave him a sarcastic salute before turning and exiting the examination room.  Oh, yeah, Jensen was so fucking screwed.



Jensen actually managed to make it through their first session without falling out of his professional mode.  Well, mostly.  If his brain happened to supply him with some fantasies involving his hands, lips, teeth, and tongue mapping out tan skin, that was purely his business.

Their second session was a little more difficult for him; Misha had started flirting the moment he'd walked through the door, and if that hadn't been bad enough, then the way the other man had exaggerated his stretches and had bent over multiple times—dropping things and retying his shoes just a bit too often—definitely had gotten Jensen's mind working, and he had been half-hard (and only half because of sheer will and the fact that there were other patients and therapists in the exercise room) by the time they'd gotten to the massage part of Misha's therapy session. 

Misha had only continued his teasing by not even making an effort to stifle his moans and whimpers of appreciation, and when Jensen was finished with him, the therapist was hard and leaking.  Misha, the bastard, had taken one look at him and smirked before practically sashaying out of the room and to the adjoining one that held his clothes (and the patient's exit).  Jensen had been past the point of no return and had jerked off with the oils still on his hands, nabbing a hand towel just before his orgasm crashed through him to keep from soiling his clothes further.  If he hissed Misha's name between clenched teeth, no one else was there to hear it.

When Misha arrived for their third session, the dark-haired man wasn't in that great of a mood.  He didn't flirt anywhere near as badly as he had the prior session, and he went through his exercises grumbling beneath his breath.  What was extremely surprising was that he tried to skip out on the massage afterward, which was something Jensen refused to allow from any of his patients, let alone one who was as obviously stressed as Misha was.

"You wanna talk about it?" Jensen asked quietly as he started the massage by kneading his knuckles along Misha's spine.  He was partially asking just out of concern and partially asking because he wanted to be distracted from the seemingly endless expanse of tanned skin in front of him.  Jensen allowed his clients to choose (within reason) how they were dressed for massages, and Misha—even in his bad mood—liked to simply just wear his dark boxers.  While it was helpful, it was also more distracting than Jensen liked.

The dark-haired man grunted.  "Are you a psychiatrist on the side, or am I just special?" Misha snarked.

Jensen was glad Misha couldn't see him flinch.  As a slight reprimand he dug his knuckles into the bridge of Misha's spine just a little.  "A simple 'no' would have sufficed," he murmured as he slid his hands to Misha's shoulders, spreading his fingers over them.  "I was merely curious if it was something I could assist with."  He didn't press for any details, instead focusing on loosening the knots in Misha's back and neck.  Really, Jensen didn't have any business doing all this; massaging the muscles in Misha's knees and calves would be deemed appropriate for the injury the man had sustained, but he couldn't just leave Misha in such a tense state all the time.  He should probably try to convince the guy to go and see a masseuse on a regular basis after the therapy was over.  There was no way this amount of stress was healthy.

It was when Jensen had started rolling his fists down the sides of Misha's back that the man sighed, "It's my boss.  I told you before that he was a dick.  He's been trying to throw other employees' work on me, and since I'm working from home, there's not much I can do to stop it."

Jensen hummed softly before inquiring, "You want me to call him?"

Misha snorted, but his voice was exponentially warmer when he replied, "And tell him what?  That somehow my knee injury could get worse by me sitting at a computer doing work, resting my knee!"  The end of his sentence was a mixture of a squeak and a yelp, in response to Jensen pinching his side.  Misha lifted his head to glare over his shoulder at the therapist, and Jensen grinned back unrepentantly.

"Word of advice:  you probably shouldn't mock the person who knows which pressure points can be sensitive enough to cause pain," Jensen murmured amusedly, his fingers already working on soothing the sore spot.  "Lay your head back down, Misha.  All you're going to do is strain the muscles I just finished loosening."  He was pretty sure that Misha rolled his eyes before doing as he'd asked, but he ignored it.  "To answer your earlier mocking, too much stress on the rest of your body will affect your performance when doing exercises here.  Your body is already stressed from the injury to your knee, whether you can tell it or not.  I wanted you to work from home in the hopes that you would be given less work, not more.  I'm serious about talking to your boss.  Is he the type to understand medical talk?  Because I can make your situation sound more dire than it actually is, if not."

Jensen made an irritated noise when Misha suddenly pushed himself up onto his elbows, turning his body slightly so he could look back at Jensen.  The dark-haired male looked surprised, his lips parted just a bit.  "You would do it.  If I wanted you to talk to him, you would."

It wasn't a question, but Jensen answered anyway.  "Yes, Misha, I would."

"Why?"  The question was breathed in something close to awe, and it made Jensen feel uncomfortable.

"It's something I would do for any client.  No one needs that amount of stress when they're trying to recuperate.  You were very lucky with your injury; it could have been much worse if you had only hurt yourself just a bit higher," Jensen explained, his green eyes trained on vibrant blue ones.  "Now will you please lay back down?" he grumbled, leaning forward and lightly pushing on Misha's shoulders in an effort to force him back into position.

Misha laughed, his lips twisting into a boyish grin that caused Jensen's breath to catch.  "You really need to work on that bedside manner, Jensen," he teased with a wink as he lowered himself back into position.

Jensen wouldn't admit it aloud, but he was a bit relieved to have Misha acting like his normal self again, and he would definitely be calling Misha's work.  With a slight sigh, he moved down the table in order to massage Misha's feet and calves.  His thumb dipped deep into the arch of Misha's foot, and the groan of appreciation that came from the man caused a small tremor to run through him, his nerves sparking in pleasure.  Jensen tried to ignore any of the other appreciative noises that came from the dark-haired man, but that became impossible when he returned to Misha's shoulders, not just because it was louder.

Misha had managed to put a few knots in his trapezius muscles—which really did surprise Jensen, even if he had been telling the man it was possible—and Jensen was bent over a little farther than he should be.  He was almost finished when Misha sucked in a breath before practically moaning, "Damn, Jensen, you're good at this."

Jensen forgot himself for a moment, leaning forward so that his lips grazed Misha's ear as he murmured, "I know."  And just because he could, he nipped playfully at the cartilage before he pulled back, a grin forming on his lips when he heard the other man's breath hitch.  He lifted his hands and announced, "Well, I think we're done.  I'll see you in a few days.  In the meantime give your boss's number to the receptionist, and I'll give him a call.  Have a good weekend, Misha."  This time he was the one to leave feeling accomplished.



Their next session had Misha in a bad mood from something completely different.  It hadn't taken Jensen long to realize the man was tired, but whenever he asked why, Misha refused to answer.  It sparked irritation inside him, and he made the decision that it didn't matter; Misha was going to go through the next regimen of exercises like his schedule was planned.

The dark-haired man almost made it, but when he was on the last set of exercises, he suddenly shook his head.  "I can't...  I can't do it, Jensen," he panted, looking up at him with pleading eyes.

Jensen wasn't having it.  "You can, and you will, Misha.  You've done all the others.  It's just five more of these, and they're the most important."

Misha set his jaw, and he made it through one before he bit out, "I can't."

Jensen ducked his head slightly, drawing Misha's gaze to him so he could look him in the eye.  "I know what you can and can't do, Misha.  And you can do the last four of these.  Take as long as you need between each one, but you're doing them."  His voice was soft but firm, unwilling to back down.

Misha inhaled sharply, turning his head away from Jensen.  He felt a little bad about having to push the dark-haired man, but there was no reason to stop.  Misha wasn't in pain; he was just tired—and that was no excuse to quit when he was that close to finishing the regimen for the day.  Misha managed to fight his way through two more when he once more shook his head, his voice pleading as he said, "I—I can't, Jensen.  I know it's only one, but I can't."

"Has anyone ever told you that you can be melodramatic?  Maybe you should have gone into acting," Jensen muttered teasingly, earning a glare from the man in front of him.  "Come on, now.  It's just one more, and then you can rest."  He paused before lowering his voice and adding, "I'll do something a little extra today if you'll do it now, Misha."

Misha's eyes widened slightly, and he took a shuddering breath before nodding firmly.  Jensen had to hide a smile when Misha looked away and haltingly did the final stretch.  Knowing just how spent Misha would be feeling, Jensen was quick to come to the other man's aid, slipping one of Misha's arms around his neck while his own arm went around his client's waist, helping him walk.  He gently squeezed Misha's hip and quietly murmured praise to him.

Jensen caught sight of one of the other therapists working and called out the blonde's name, "Emily!"  The woman stopped and looked up questioningly.  "Does anyone have the big room today?"

The blonde glanced to the side before looking back at him.  "I don't think so, Jen.  Go ahead and take it; he looks like he'll need it."

"Thanks, Em," Jensen answered with a bright smile, turning and starting down the hallway that held all the massage rooms.

"The 'big room'?" Misha suddenly questioned, and Jensen found himself chuckling.

"You'll understand when you see it, but we typically use it when we have clients who will need a nap.  You fall into that category today," Jensen explained as they shuffled down to the very end of the hallway.  He pulled out his card and scanned it to unlock the door, shouldering his way inside.

There was a reason they called it the big room:  it was undoubtedly twice the size of the other ones because it actually held a bed in addition to the massage table.  There were also more cabinets that held multiple robes and even sleep masks for the clients who wanted them.  The room was dimly lit, with the warm scent of vanilla in the air.

Misha wasn't even looking at the room, though; he was frowning up at Jensen.  "When you said 'something a little extra,' I didn't think you meant a nap," he muttered darkly, sounding almost wounded.

Jensen wasn't even capable of holding back a laugh at that.  "Good thing I didn't mean a nap," he answered with a grin.  He dropped his arm from around the other man's waist and slipped out from under his arm.  "Go ahead and disrobe like you usually would and lay down on the table," he ordered as he walked to the shelf that held all the oils and lotions.  He picked out the ones he typically used on Misha and set them down on the little table beside the massage table.  He turned in time to see the dark-haired man somewhat stumbling across the room, clad only in his black boxers, and he drank in the sight, his tongue wetting his lips.

The massage went just about the same way it had previously, except Misha was far more pliant in his exhaustion and mostly hummed.  Jensen half thought the man was asleep by the time he'd finished on Misha's calves, so he was slightly startled when Misha grunted, "I'm restless.  I don't like being practically bedridden, and I'm having problems sleeping.  I might be suffering from a slight hangover."

Jensen huffed a soft laugh.  "Why do you insist on being difficult when I ask you what's wrong?  I wouldn't have gone any easier on you, but I could have gone about this entire thing a little differently."  He gently nudged the older man in the side.  "Get up and turn over for me."

Misha made a noise that sounded almost protesting, but he did push himself up and flop over onto his back in a very ungraceful movement that caused a surge of affection to bury itself beneath Jensen's ribs.  Jensen swallowed, trying to ignore the feeling because that wasn't an appropriate emotion in this situation.  The last thing he needed to do was get attached to someone who most likely didn't mean anything past the flirtations, especially when that someone was a client who would be finished with his therapy after two more sessions.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Jensen dragged his lower lip between his teeth as he contemplated just how he wanted to start.  He applied more of the oil to his hands, rubbing the liquid to warm it up before he put his hands on Misha's left shoulder, massaging the deltoid muscle slowly.  He could feel Misha staring at him, but he tried to ignore it, aiming to keep his breathing even.  He began to work his way down Misha's arms, listening as the man's breath shuttered while his thumbs rubbed circles into Misha's palm.  He bent his head as he pulled Misha's arm up just a bit higher, and he finally shifted his eyes to meet the wide blue ones of his client as he lightly nipped the pad of Misha's thumb.  He smirked at the low rumble that received, and he flicked his tongue out to soothe the area, gently taking the tip of Misha's thumb into his mouth.  He released it when the dark-haired man's pink tongue darted out to wet chapped lips; the slightly narrowed glance he earned from the other man made Jensen chuckle.  He was only marginally surprised when he felt Misha's index finger ghosting over his lower lip, applying just the slightest hint of pressure.

Jensen obliged, parting his lips just enough for Misha to press the tip of his finger in to the first knuckle.  He gently scraped his lower teeth against the pad of it, his hands dropping from Misha's so that he could continue the massage.  He took a step closer, causing Misha to have to bend his arm, and he allowed his hands to work their way down Misha's chest.  In the meantime he licked and sucked the finger in his mouth as Misha slowly pressed it further in, even opening wider to allow Misha to slip a second finger between his lips.  When he glanced back up, Misha's pupils were blown as he took shuddering breaths, and Jensen took a few steps back, allowing Misha's spit-slicked fingers to fall from his mouth.

He ignored the disappointed noise Misha made as he switched sides, moving around the table to massage Misha's right arm.  He smirked slightly when Misha's fingers twitched, but he didn't bend his head to accommodate what he was pretty sure the man wanted.  Instead, he moved his attention to Misha's legs.  He pushed them both up so they were bent at the knees, and then he started massaging the calf and shin muscles in Misha's left leg.  He heard a sharp inhale when his fingers got close to the knee, and he very gently probed at it, trying to see how tender it still felt.  When Misha didn't jerk or make any more noises, he left it alone, moving around to the other side of the table once more.  He heard Misha's breath leave him on a relieved exhale, and he concentrated on massaging the lower part of Misha's right leg.  He leaned forward to nudge his nose against the skin on the side of his knee, his lips brushing against the soft skin before his tongue darted out to taste it.

This time Misha did jerk, a breathless giggle escaping him.  "Don't do that; it tickles," he admonished, but his voice only held amusement.  Jensen smirked before doing it again, and the action earned him a barely-managed tug on his hair, followed by Misha's laughter.  "Stop it," the older male mock-whined, and Jensen did as requested before pulling Misha's knee out so that it rested gently against Jensen's chest.  His fingers deftly rolled up the legs of Misha's boxers, purposely brushing the sensitive skin on his inner thighs in the process.  His eyes glanced up to meet Misha's briefly before he focused his attention on the tanned skin of Misha's right thigh; the sight caused him to suck his lower lip in between his teeth as he started tracing patterns against the skin.

Misha's hitched breaths and moans as the dark-haired man not-so-subtly shifted his hips made it difficult for Jensen to continue ignoring just how hard he was as pleasure tripped down his spine.

"Jen...sen..." Misha breathed, his voice sounding slightly wrecked.  "Please."

Jensen licked his lips, momentarily closing his eyes in an effort to calm his own body down.  After a few breaths he felt more collected, and he opened his eyes while righting Misha's knee and moving up the table a pace.  His eyes settled on Misha's half-lidded ones as his hands found the warm skin of Misha's hips.  He trailed his fingers across the toned stomach, smiling at the feel of Misha's muscles jumping beneath his hands.  Jensen's thumbs dipped under the waistband of Misha's boxers, one barely grazing against the head of his cock.  Misha's head dropped back, a harsh gasp filtering through his lips as the muscles in his neck strained, his shoulders slightly arching off the table.

Swallowing roughly and forcing himself to look away, Jensen carefully pulled on the waistband of Misha's boxers, waiting for him to lift his hips in consent before he dragged the cloth down Misha's thighs, past his knees, and off his legs, draping them on the edge of the massage table.  He finally allowed his gaze to shift to Misha's cock, which was red and leaking, larger in girth than in length.  He was barely aware of licking his lips; it had been a while since he'd felt one, thick and heavy, on his tongue.  But that wasn't part of his plans; perhaps next time, if there was a next time.

Jensen started by gently tracing a vein along the underside of Misha's cock, wringing a harsh breath from the man as his hands gripped onto the edges of the massage table.  "Fuck!" the dark-haired man hissed, his hips lifting off the table in a blind search for pleasurable relief.  "Stop teasing."

Jensen would have grinned, but he was barely even capable of such an innate act as breathing.  Misha was literally breathtaking, and Jensen was suddenly concerned only with what the man looked like upon reaching orgasm.  Without true consent from his brain, his fingers closed around Misha's cock in a loose grip and slowly stroked up and down a few times, testing how slick his hand still was from the oils.  Deciding it wouldn't hurt to add more, he reached across Misha with his free hand and snatched up the bottle, releasing Misha long enough to pour a liberal amount of oil into his palm before grasping Misha's cock once more, pumping his hand a few times.  Mollified that it shouldn't be painful, he dragged his thumb across the head of Misha's cock, his thumb dipping into the slit just barely as he gathered the beads of precome in order to aid with the lubrication.  A deep groan sounded from Misha at the action, and Jensen had to press at the base of his own cock with his free hand to allow himself to focus on Misha.

His grip around Misha's cock grew tighter as he alternated between short strokes around and beneath the head of Misha's cock and longer strokes down to the base.  Misha's hips jerked at random intervals, throwing off the rhythm, so Jensen (not as concerned about coming in his pants like a horny teenager anymore) lifted his other hand and settled it firmly on Misha's hip, squeezing it once and dragging a louder moan from the man.

"Jensen," the older man gasped.  "I can't—it's so close."

Jensen hummed softly, leaning down and pressing his face into Misha's neck, unable to resist taking a taste of the heated skin beneath his lips; salt and spice and something just inherently Misha exploded across his tongue, and he latched his teeth onto the skin, sucking on it when Misha emitted a strangled whimper, his hands coming up to slide into Jensen's hair before gripping the locks tightly.  Jensen moaned involuntarily, his hips rocking in midair, trying (but unable) to find relief for his throbbing cock as he bit down harder before relenting and soothing the area with his tongue.  The hand around Misha's cock continued to jerk faster, grip alternating between loose and tight, while his free hand pressed harder into Misha's hip, fingers digging in hard.  Jensen couldn't help but chuckle against Misha's neck when he heard the man biting out curses.

"Jensen, ple—ah, fuck, fuck—I need—I can't... keep holding back," Misha panted out between gasps.

Jensen grinned as he nudged along Misha's jaw, giving little bites and sucks, before he found the man's ear; his lips brushed against it as he answered, "Then don't."  His tongue traced the shell of Misha's ear, and he purposely growled, "C'mon, Mish, come for me," before his teeth sank into Misha's earlobe.

Misha's breath hitched, and for a long moment, the only sound was slick flesh sliding against each other, but then Misha's body jerked hard, just once, before going completely still, and a broken, wrecked cry passed through the man's chapped lips as he came.  Jensen loosely worked him through his orgasm, trying not to overstimulate him as he slumped limply into the table, his muscles twitching.

Lifting his head to look down at Misha, Jensen slowly released the older man's spent cock.  He smiled slightly, his stomach clenching painfully at how pretty Misha looked with his damp and messy hair, his blown pupils, and his flushed and sweaty skin.  In an effort to distract himself from that thought, Jensen brought his own hand to his lips, his eyes locked with Misha's, and he slowly licked along one of his fingers, smirking to himself when Misha groaned and shut his eyes.  The slightly bitter taste was tempered by the warmth and spice of the massage oils, which wasn't a bad thing, but he kind of just wanted to taste Misha.  He glanced at the fluid mostly pooled on Misha's stomach and hesitated only briefly before dipping his head down to lick a stripe of it.  This time it was more potent, though there was still the hint of the massage oils beneath it; Jensen had definitely tasted a lot worse, and as he deliberated over it, he found he maybe even liked it.  There was hopefully going to be a chance for him to figure that out, though, but not today.

Ignoring his own arousal for the time being (no matter how painful it was), Jensen managed to gather a hand towel and wet it with warm water before rinsing off his hand and returning to Misha's side to clean him up.  The man hissed softly when the cloth dragged over his still-sensitive groin, his eyes fluttering open.  Jensen tossed the towel aside before softly cajoling, "Come on, let's move you to the bed over there.  You look like you could use a nap."  Misha made a noise that was likely in agreement, and after a brief struggle, they managed to stumble the few feet over to the bed, where Misha allowed himself to plop down ungracefully.  Jensen felt a slight swell of affection that he beat back down as the dark-haired man easily slipped off to sleep.

Chapter Text

Misha was in an exponentially better mood during their next session, though he kept giving Jensen a somewhat guilty look that Jensen kept trying to ignore.  He'd been acting that way since he'd startled awake a few days prior, remembering that he'd fallen asleep without even attempting to aid Jensen to orgasm.  Even though Jensen had insisted that hadn't been part of the bargain anyway, Misha hadn't really relented, and apparently he was still feeling bad about it.  Jensen didn't really care (because he'd dealt with it) and honestly just wanted Misha's cock in his mouth, which was how he managed to find himself kneeling on a folded towel on the ground, his lips parted around said cock as fingers twisted somewhat roughly in his short hair.  Misha was sitting on the edge of the massage table—a position Jensen had managed to coax him into after the massage was over—with curses hissing from between clenched teeth.

"Fuck, Jensen, your mouth," Misha groaned, his hips rocking forward in short, abated movements.  Jensen hummed in response, swallowing around Misha's length as the tip pressed back into his throat.  He swallowed a couple of times reflexively in an effort to keep from triggering his gag reflex, his eyes watering slightly, before he heard Misha inhale sharply and push his head back, causing Misha's cock to slip from his mouth with a rather obscene noise that had both men shuddering.  Misha's eyes were dark, with just a hint of blue around the pupils, and his breaths were coming in pants.  His thumb traced along Jensen's spit-slick lower lip as Jensen stared up at him.

"Why'd you stop?" Jensen rasped, and Misha didn't answer for a long moment as he pushed the tip of his thumb past Jensen's lips and into his mouth.  Jensen quirked a brow but teased the skin with his lips and teeth as he waited for an answer.

Misha smirked, shrugging a single shoulder lazily.  "Just trying to draw things out a little bit.  It's a shame we're not in the big room today.  The bed could have been quite useful," he murmured, his eyes rising from Jensen's lips to meet his gaze before dropping back down.

Jensen hummed and gave a single nod in response, matching Misha's smirk when he gently tugged his thumb from between Jensen's lips.  "Maybe I can reserve it for our next session," Jensen replied, watching as Misha's eyes somehow managed to darken even more.  "But for now we need to speed this up.  I have another client after I'm finished here."

The hand still in Jensen's hair tightened its grip, tugging roughly enough to tilt his head back as a mix of pleasure-pain caused him to gasp.  The hair-pulling wasn't a kink Jensen got to experience often because his hair was typically too short to get a decent grip on.  The look on Misha's face as he tugged again, this time wrenching a moan from Jensen, led Jensen to believe the man would probably utilize the knowledge against him as often as he could.  "Strange as it sounds, those words make me want to take this slow," Misha drawled, his other hand smoothing along Jensen's jaw.  "Why don't we make a game of it?"

Jensen released a frustrated noise.  "I don't really have time for games, Misha," he sighed with a frown.

"It'll be a short game.  Three questions; you answer them truthfully, and I'll let you have what you want," Misha explained, his teeth flashing slightly as he smiled widely.

Jensen contemplated it before licking his lips and nodding.  "All right, Misha, we'll do it your way.  What's the first question?"

Misha's head tilted in thought, the hand cradling Jensen's jaw shifting slightly so his fingers ran gently over Jensen's neck.  The soft pressure tickled slightly, but Jensen fought hard to ignore it.  "How many clients have you done this with?"

Jensen's brows furrowed.  Of all questions for Misha to ask, he hadn't expected that one.  "Technically, none, excluding you.  The last one was before I was named a physical therapist."  He'd expected something difficult, so if these were the sorts of questions, he was not going to complain.

Misha seemed pleased, and his lips curled into a smirk just before he tugged sharply on Jensen's hair.  Jensen hissed as pleasure sparked down his spine and straight to his cock.  "The hair-pulling aside, what else do you enjoy?"  Misha's fingers started grazing his scalp, causing short bursts of pleasure to burn through him.  It was quite distracting, but then he was fairly certain Misha knew that.

"Nothing that really stands out," Jensen bit out, his eyes slipping shut.

Two fingers gently tapped on his jaw, and Misha chuckled, "That's a lie."  His voice was more firm when he added, "And look at me while you're answering, Jensen."

Jensen's eyes fluttered open, his gaze meeting Misha's easily; the commanding expression on the dark-haired man's face made Jensen stifle a moan, rolling his lower lip between his teeth.  There was something undeniably hot about that look on Misha's face, and Jensen found himself blurting, "Sometimes I like being ordered around."  He didn't even get the chance to feel remotely embarrassed about saying that out loud because Misha's lips curved into a devilish smirk, his eyes practically glowing.  Jensen swallowed roughly, feeling a little emboldened by the way Misha was watching him.  "Even though it sounds like a cop out, I... um, I really enjoy kisses."  Misha didn't say anything; he simply titled his head to the side slightly as if committing it to memory.  "In the right sort of mood, biting is also a, uh, thing.  I also really like knowing I'm giving someone else pleasure.  Accents can kinda be a thing...  Um, I'm not entirely sure about anything past what you might find out during rough sex.  Not many of my past partners were up for much experimentation.  I think my neck and ears might be more sensitive than most people's, but I'm not too certain about that."  He cleared his throat and glanced away before glancing back up at Misha.  "Doing all of this in a semi-public place, especially since it's my workplace, is possibly one of the most adventurous things I've done, and I like it a bit more than I thought I would."

Misha's lips quirked up wider, and one thumb gently traced Jensen's jawline.  The fingers on Misha's other hand resumed their pleasurable assault against his scalp, and Jensen wasn't able to trap the moan the feeling produced.  "Although you technically tried to lie to me, I'll let it slide this time," Misha murmured, eyes narrowing almost playfully.  It caused Jensen's stomach to clench uncomfortably with an emotion that he refused to pay any mind to, once more.  "Hm.  Do you prefer sex with females more, or do you prefer it more with males?"

Misha's touches were distracting, and Jensen honestly couldn't figure out exactly how to answer the question because it really wasn't easy to answer.  It didn't help that his body was currently thrumming with arousal, either, and he hissed softly as he clenched his hands into fists.  "It's not...  I like them both for... majorly different reasons.  Uh, most of my actual relationships have been with females... so I typically have a deeper emotional bond with them, and that helps.  I like hearing males more, though... and the few times I've been permitted to bottom were—ah—more intense—mmm."  His hips rolled forward in search of relief as Misha's fingers suddenly tugged on his hair with just the right intensity, sending a burning tremor of arousal through him.

"So if you were to find a male with whom you could enter into a relationship, who would be willing to switch between top and bottom every so often, would you enjoy that?" Misha questioned, an odd note to his voice that Jensen couldn't quite place, even while looking at the semi-thoughtful look on the other man's face.  "Or do you think you would like a woman who would fuck you with a strap-on?"

Jensen hissed slightly, managing to give a slow shake of his head.  "The former.  I don't—I've tried the second option, but it's not...  It's okay to appease the itch, but it's not the same."

Misha hummed, smiling.  "All right.  I just have one last question."  Jensen's eyes narrowed, and Misha moved the hand caressing his jaw to gently cover his mouth.  "Hush.  You'll get what you want, Jensen."  Misha paused a moment, simply watching him and waiting just to be an asshole, probably.  "I just want to know if you want me to stay as still as I can, or if you want me to fuck that pretty mouth of yours."

Jensen groaned, his eyes fluttering closed, and he felt Misha's hand move from his mouth.  Fuck, that second option shouldn't sound so good, especially since he had another client to take care of after Misha was done.  His professional sensibilities won out.  "We'll have to save that latter option for another time.  I mostly ask that you warn me when you're close, so I can accommodate for it."

"Of course," Misha replied, as if he were baffled by the request.  Jensen had to repress a snort; he hadn't thought he'd need to ask that, either, until he'd had it happen to him twice, and then he'd resolved it wouldn't happen ever again if he had a say in it.

As Misha's hands gently threaded through his hair, Jensen leaned forward, his gaze flicking up to Misha's as he quickly swiped his tongue over the bead of precome he found on the head of Misha's cock.  The dark-haired man's grip tightened momentarily before relaxing, and Jensen smirked slightly before making small, quick licks down Misha's cock.  He curled his left arm and hand around Misha's right knee in order to help him keep his balance while the fingers of his right hand gently teased Misha's perineum.  A sharp breath from Misha, as well as a tug on Jensen's hair, had him licking his way back up Misha's cock, pausing with his lips parted above the head; when Misha's gaze found and held his, he took the head into his mouth to reward the other man.  His tongue stroked over the head, dipping into the slit every few swipes to wring a curse from Misha's chapped lips, and then he sucked, the edge of his teeth just barely scraping against the sensitive flesh, and Misha's fingers twisted deliciously in his hair, causing him to moan.

"Shit," Misha hissed, his hips rolling in a short movement before he could stop himself, and Jensen allowed the inch to slip into his mouth, following the movement down with his head when Misha's hips came back to rest on the massage table.  He hummed softly before hollowing his cheeks and starting a slow, short bob of his head.  He kept up the slow pace until he could feel Misha trembling, the fingers in his hair twisting almost painfully.  A shiver wracked through his body as his own cock pulsed in need.  "J-Jensen, please.  I need—fuck—need more."  Misha's words were needy gasps, and he was having a harder time controlling the slight rocks of his hips.  Jensen moved his right hand's attention to Misha's balls, rolling them gently in his fingers as he bobbed his head fast a few times before pulling completely off.  His jaw and his knees were aching, but he ignored that as he dropped his head back down, taking Misha as deep as he could.  One of Misha's hands slipped from his hair, finding purchase on the back of his neck, while the other hand jerked his hair at an angle that had intense pleasure-pain rushing over him.  "Fuck, fuck, Jen,baby, I'm—"

Jensen groaned loudly as his own orgasm rushed through him suddenly and unexpectedly; his hips jerked through it of their own accord, and Jensen barely had the mindset to pull back, his mouth wrapped only around the head of Misha's cock, and suck once, hard.  Misha came with a bit-off cry, his hips stuttering through his release; Jensen swallowed as much as he could, aiming to gently work Misha through his orgasm, but it was hard to do in the haze of his own post-orgasm.  As a result he ended up with come on his lips and partially across his face.

Misha's hands were suddenly tugging at him insistently, and the older man managed to gasp, "Come here," which Jensen willingly obliged.  He carefully pushed himself to his feet, and then Misha was pulling him into a sloppy kiss with more strength than Jensen thought was possible at that moment.  As far as first kisses between two people went, it was probably the strangest, but it was also possibly the best one Jensen had ever had.  It wasn't awkward in their post-orgasmic bliss, and when Misha moaned at the taste of himself in Jensen's mouth, Jensen found himself shuddering, his hands tightening in Misha's hair—which he honestly didn't remember grabbing.  They only separated when one of Misha's hands cupped Jensen's sensitive cock through his pants, causing him to jerk away with a hiss.  Misha's eyes were wide as they stared up at him, and Jensen felt embarrassment color his face.  "Did you...?"  Jensen nodded, and Misha followed his question up with, "Without touching?"

Jensen cleared his throat, his eyes skittering away from the look in Misha's.  "Um, yeah.  The... the hair pulling and the, um, 'Jen, baby' thing at the same time wasn't really playing fair."

Jensen wasn't expecting the sudden hard kiss Misha jerked him into, and he couldn't repress a moan when Misha's teeth sank into his lower lip, tugging at it before releasing it.  "Fuck, Jen," Misha growled, resting their foreheads together.  "Do you have any idea how hot that is?"  Jensen smiled and blushed, shrugging a shoulder.  "Shit.  You need to go.  You're probably late, and you need to attempt to clean up a little."  Misha pressed one more kiss to his lips before gently pushing him away.

He knew Misha was right, but he couldn't keep from grinning and simply standing there, taking in the moment.  He shook his head and gave the other man a wink before walking to the employee's entrance/exit.  There was a bathroom directly across the hall that he could use to clean up.  "See you in a few days, Mish," he called over his shoulder before walking out.



Their next (and sadly, last) therapy session ended up working out fairly well.  Jensen had managed to finagle his way into obtaining the big room for the last time slot of the day, and he'd made certain that Misha was his last client.  Emily had proven to be quite helpful in such circumstances, and Jensen could not have been happier to have her on his side.  To top it all off, Misha had been in a good mood and had been able to do his exercises easily and efficiently, though his knee wouldn't be healed for a few more weeks.  Jensen was going to be sad to let it go because the two days a week he looked forward to were because of the dark-haired man, and things would definitely not be the same after this last session.  The thing he would miss the most was probably the brightness of Misha's blue eyes when he looked up at Jensen with pure amusement.

But Jensen didn't need to start missing Misha yet because the man was currently shuffling down the hallway beside him.

Honestly, he should have expected things to be different this time, but he was unfortunately oblivious to the subtle differences in Misha's demeanor because of how deep in his own thoughts he currently was.  That didn't last long.

The moment after Jensen had closed the door and locked it, he found himself turned and pushed back against said door as Misha's lips met his with bruising force.  Jensen allowed it for a couple minutes; he waited out Misha's impatience as the older male bit and nipped at Jensen's lower lip.  Misha made a somewhat whiny noise when Jensen refused open-mouthed kisses, and Jensen felt fingers dig hard into his hips.  When Misha gave up and attempted to direct his ministrations to Jensen's jaw, Jensen chuckled and took the other man's face in his hands.  He forced Misha to meet his eyes, touching his tongue to his slightly bleeding lip.  "We have plenty of time, Mish, and I want this as much as you do, but not like this."  He leaned forward and brushed his lips gently across the other's, smiling when Misha tried to apply more pressure.  "Ah-ah.  Maybe we should discuss what each of us is looking for here, though I'm fairly certain you're going for rough, hard, and fast."  He nipped at Misha's lower lip before soothing it with his tongue.  "I'm not; at least not yet.  I want warm and leisurely."  As if to demonstrate his words, he coaxed Misha into a slow, open-mouthed kiss; they both moaned when he finally allowed Misha to lick into his mouth.  They parted when they were breathless, and Jensen chuckled against the other man's lips.  "Is there a way we can meet in the middle?"

Misha nodded, pressing brief kisses against Jensen's mouth.  "I'm willing to let you lead this however you desire," Misha murmured, pausing to suck once on Jensen's lower lip.  "But I want to fuck you, Jensen."

Jensen smirked, threading his fingers into Misha's dark locks.  "I do believe that can be arranged, Mr. Collins."  He pulled Misha's lips firmly back against his, opening up to the other man's tongue easily.  They kissed languidly, Misha slipping one leg between Jensen's, pressing close to each other.  Misha managed to work his hands up underneath Jensen's shirt to grasp onto warm skin, and Jensen moaned softly at the contact as one of his own hands slipped from Misha's hair to his neck, gently massaging the muscles there.  A groan vibrated through Misha's chest, and his hips rolled forward, his half-hard cock rubbing against Jensen's hip.  Jensen huffed a laugh as their kisses became a little sloppy, and he gently rocked his hips forward to grind against Misha's.  The dark-haired male made another noise of satisfaction, and he slowly started to fuck Jensen's mouth with his tongue.  Jensen started trembling and then emitted a soft whimper as Misha's blunt nails dug into his skin.

Jensen's head dropped back on a gasp when Misha changed the angle of his hips so that their clothed erections rubbed against each other.  "Fuck, Mish, bed," he bit out, oh-so-eloquently.

Misha chuckled, moving his attentions to Jensen's neck.  "As enticing as that sounds, I think we should undress first."  He teasingly bit at the warm expanse of skin beneath his lips, causing Jensen to hiss and tighten his grip in Misha's hair.  Jensen could feel him smile against his neck as he added, "Don't you think so, Dr. Ackles?"  He punctuated the name with a short suck to the sensitive skin below Jensen's ear.

Jensen swallowed roughly, nodding his head quickly.  "Yes, that sounds great," he breathed, his hands fumbling with the hem of Misha's tee-shirt.  Misha didn't make a move to help him, simply continued teasing Jensen's neck and wringing out broken noises as Jensen tried to arch into the feeling and away from it at the same time.  "Misha, not helping," Jensen hissed, his hips rocking of their own accord as his body blindly sought out the pleasure.

"Oh, how the tables have turned," Misha remarked, mouthing at Jensen's jaw before finally pulling back and allowing Jensen to pull the shirt over his head.

Jensen lifted his head to glare at the older male.  "Mouthing off is not going to work in your favor," he retorted, which only made Misha laugh and lean forward to kiss him thoroughly until they were both breathless.

"I think I'm starting to see why you like kissing so much," Misha commented as he pushed Jensen's lab coat off his shoulders before working on the buttons to his dress shirt.  Jensen's fingers deftly pulled off his own tie before moving to the button on Misha's shorts.  "Has anyone ever gotten you off just from kissing?"  When Jensen didn't answer, Misha gently butted heads with him.  "Answer me."

Jensen groaned frustratedly.  "Does that really matter right now, Misha?" he retorted, and the older male quirked a brow, refusing to finish unbuttoning his shirt.  "For the love of—no, no one has ever done that.  You're the first partner to ever ask about things like that, and while most of them enjoyed it, they didn't seem to enjoy it as much as I did, so it wasn't explored that much.  Now can we please get back to the task at hand?  I've been imagining this for weeks."

Misha's fingers deftly resumed unbuttoning Jensen's shirt, and soon it was pushed on the floor, along with Misha's shorts after he'd managed to kick off his tennis shoes.  "If this works out, I want to try it," Misha confessed, leaning in to kiss Jensen once more.  Jensen was slightly stunned by the admission, and he ended up returning the kiss far more ardently than he'd anticipated.  He toed off his shoes and did an awkward shuffle with his feet to drag the socks off, and he managed to do it without breaking the kiss with Misha while Misha's hands shoved at his khaki slacks.  Once they pooled to the ground, Misha took a step back, allowing Jensen to step out of the pants.  Misha had apparently gotten his socks off as well, at some point, which left both men in their boxer briefs.

Even though Jensen had seen Misha naked countless times, he couldn't help himself as his eyes roamed over sweaty, tanned skin.  Misha's shoulders were fairly broad, and his biceps were prominent; his waist dipped in and revealed somewhat jutting hipbones, as well as decent muscles over the other man's abdomen.  It was fairly obvious the other man worked out, and it made Jensen suddenly feel a little self-conscious.

He wasn't aware he'd crossed his arms over his stomach until Misha stepped forward with a growled, "Don't," and gently but firmly pulled his arms back to his sides.  Misha started tugging Jensen along as he backed towards the bed just a couple feet away.  "Stay standing," the dark-haired man ordered before sitting down on the bed that was only partially raised off the ground.  Jensen felt a blush blooming beneath his cheeks as Misha leaned forward and kissed his slightly rounded tummy.  Misha released his arms so that he could caress Jensen's sides while he kissed and licked his way down Jensen's stomach, stopping at the waistband of his underwear.  "You're gorgeous, Jensen," he suddenly whispered, his warm breath ghosting across Jensen's damp skin and causing the therapist to shiver.  "Don't ever think otherwise." 

Jensen swallowed, unable to even nod or speak an assent because he couldn't promise that.  He wasn't overweight, per se, but he knew losing a few pounds wouldn't hurt.  He jumped slightly when Misha nipped at the sensitive skin of his stomach as if in reprimand of his thoughts.

"I know what you're thinking, Jensen, so stop."  Misha's voice was deep and firm, but it really shouldn't have sent pleasure tripping down Jensen's spine.  "I like it.  It's soft and cute."  Jensen gasped when Misha's tongue suddenly dipped into his belly button.  "And it's not as round as you probably think it is."  He teased the skin just above the waistband of Jensen's boxer briefs, and his blue eyes glinted as he looked up at Jensen.  "Promise me you won't concern yourself with it, Jensen."

Jensen frowned slightly, his brows furrowing.  "Are you threatening to stop if I don't?" he asked softly, simply curious.

Misha sighed and shook his head, a slightly sad smile quirking one corner of his lips.  "No.  I wouldn't do that.  It doesn't work that way.  I'm hoping my obvious interest will aid in your decision, though."

Jensen shrugged one shoulder, rolling his lower lip between his teeth before nodding once.  "I'll try," he answered, and the answering grin he received from Misha was more than worth it, and it made his heart beat faster. 

The older man tugged Jensen down into his lap, his lips unerringly finding Jensen's.  "Good boy," he whispered, and Jensen moaned at the praise, kissing Misha even harder.  Said man laughed breathlessly when they parted, mouthing his way up Jensen's jaw to his ear.  "I think someone might have a slight praise kink."

Jensen hummed as Misha's teeth teased his earlobe.  "Maybe," he agreed, rocking his hips down into Misha's.

"Fuck," Misha hissed, biting down on Jensen's ear before soothing the sting with his tongue.  "My shorts.  I brought lube and condoms."

Jensen nodded, turning his head to kiss Misha once more.  "You gonna let me get them?" he chuckled against Misha's lips as the dark-haired man's fingers tightened around him.  Misha hummed quietly, kissing him thoroughly a couple more times before releasing him.  Jensen barely managed to push himself up, and he spared a short moment to rid himself of his boxers before bending over to scoop up Misha's shorts.  He heard Misha's sharp inhale, and he glanced over his shoulder to see the man watching him intently.  Jensen bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling bashfully, and he stood up straight before walking back over to the bed.  He easily found the packets of condoms—which was smart, really, in case they had been frenzied and ended up breaking one or something—and the tube of lube, tossing the former to Misha.  He then moved to sit on the bed, grabbing a pillow to settle against so he could easily cant his hips.  He raised his eyes to meet Misha's, making sure he had the man's attention before stating, "Given the condition of your knee, and how long it's been since I've done this, I'm going to ride you.  So get settled where you like while I do this."  He waited until Misha gave a short nod, nostrils flaring, before he turned his attention back to the bottle of lube.

After squeezing a generous amount on his fingers and rubbing it to warm it up slightly, Jensen slowly reached between his legs, using one hand to slightly balance himself, while his other slid between his ass cheeks to find his puckered hole.  He hissed softly because it was still cool, but it wasn't on his mind for too long.  He lightly dipped the tip of his finger inside, testing the give of the tight ring of muscle, and he released a breathy moan when it gave after a little bit of rocking.  He slowly sank his finger inside, thrusting it a few times in an effort to make himself slick with the lube.  Feeling his muscles starting to relax at the somewhat familiar intrusion, he gently worked a second finger inside, enjoying the slight burn it created.  He chanced a glance at Misha as he worked himself open, and he was unable to repress a whimper when he saw Misha with a hand around his cock, slowly stroking himself.  The distraction caused Jensen to change the angle of his thrusting fingers, and he bit off his cry halfway through the burst of pleasure that went straight to his cock when his fingers hit his prostate.

"Jen, fuck, you're killing me.  Come on, baby, just one more finger," Misha pleaded, his voice barely above a growl. 

Jensen obeyed, gasping loudly and dropping his head back at the pleasure-pain burning through him.  He adjusted slightly more quickly to the third finger, and it took most of his effort to stop and pull his fingers out.  "Condom," he ordered as he picked up the tube of lube and squeezed more out onto his fingers.  Misha was quick to follow the command, and by the time Jensen moved up the bed to the other man, he was able to quickly slather the lube over it.  Once he was satisfied, he straddled Misha, his knees bracketing the older man's hips.  He leaned forward slightly, balancing himself with one hand on the bed beside Misha's chest while his other hand guided Misha's cock to his hole.  Misha's hands came up to grip his hips as he slowly seated himself, hissing at the barely-there burn and the feeling of being speared open.

Misha was hissing curses between clenched teeth, his fingers digging into Jensen's hips, and when Jensen was finally seated, both men released broken moans.  Jensen rolled his hips, aiding himself in adjusting to feeling full for the first time in months, as well as dragging another moan from the man beneath him.  Settling both palms on Misha's chest, Jensen slowly pushed himself up before rocking back down.  It took him a few minutes to build up a steady pace, and then Misha was thrusting up into him, sufficiently knocking the breath out of him.  "Damn, Jen, you feel amazing," Misha hissed, his head thrown back.

Jensen was panting as he leaned down to trade slow, sloppy kisses with Misha.  "Shit...  Forgot how—mmm—how good this felt," he managed to bite out between breaths.  "But I don't think—ah, Misha!" he gasped, not expecting the older male to change the angle of his upward thrusts.  "Fuck, there!"  Misha grunted softly but did as asked, his fingers digging into Jensen's hips even more.  Jensen was trembling, and it was getting more and more difficult to continue impaling himself on the older male; he could feel his orgasm building, but he didn't want to jerk himself to completion, especially not just yet.

"Jen," Misha breathed, his eyes half-mast.  "I'm not, ah, sure how much longer—fuck—I'm gonna last."

"Just—" Jensen broke off with a cry as a particular thrust caused him to see spots for a few seconds.  "A little longer, Mish."  He was close; he could feel it building up, ready to topple over with just one slight push.

One of Misha's hands was suddenly twisting his hair, and the dark-haired male growled, "Let go, Jen, come for me," in an accent that he had never heard before, and he saw white, his mouth dropping open in a hoarse scream.

Jensen was dimly aware of Misha's hand returning to his waist as the dark-haired man rolled them, thrusting into Jensen a few more times before his hips stuttered to a stop and he bit down on Jensen's shoulder to muffle his cry.  Jensen made a noise of protest as Misha pulled out and got up, returning with a wet cloth that he used to clean up the smeared come on Jensen.  When Misha dropped back down next to him, Jensen rolled over to snuggle up into his side, nuzzling the older man's shoulder.

"You remembered what I said about accents," Jensen murmured.

Misha chuckled, and Jensen felt him brush a kiss against his head.  "I wasn't sure it would work, but I thought I'd try."  He rubbed his thumb against Jensen's hip.  "And I think I can see how you would have a hard time finding someone who would want to bottom.  Making you come untouched is quite an ego boost."

Jensen felt his blush all the way to his ears, and he hid his face in Misha's shoulder as he answered, "I haven't done that since I was a teenager."  He felt Misha still underneath him, and then his head was being turned and Misha's lips were hard and hot against his.

"Fuck," Misha groaned, "you can't just say that, Jensen."  Jensen felt his lips form a grin, and he willingly allowed himself to be kissed breathless.  "Come home with me."  The words were whispered against his lips, hopeful and irresistible.  Jensen couldn't do anything but nod and press his lips to Misha's once more.