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Dean heaved himself into the cushy trailer. He could see beyond the dining nook and desk and chair to the back, where there happened to be a small twin sized bed. Dodging and weaving through, he collapsed upon the mattress with a sigh. The ceiling was a flat white, boring but something to focus on.
Balthazar had been a grade A douche and literally thrown he and Sam into this bizarro world. He had no tools, he had no Baby, and, worst of all, he had no plan. Heaven had barged its way into his life yet again and it was really starting to annoy. Sam was scouring the internet on finding a way back. Meanwhile, he had spent the whole day being forced to pretend that he was this Jensen guy, doing some crappy song and dance in front of a troop of cameras like a damn dancing monkey. He hated it.
He was somehow more exhausted than he'd been in forever. He shut his eyes and tried to block out the world. Maybe if he slept, he'd wake up in some crappy hotel room and this all would have been a bad dream. But no. Not more than a minute after he had shut his eyes, Dean heard the distinct sound of the door to the trailer open and shut. Instinct took over and he sprang up, ready for a fight. What he wasn't ready for was who had come in.
It wasn't Sam, liked he'd hoped. It wasn't Virgil, though he had hoped it was as well. He could have killed him and went home. Nope, instead it was Cas. But it wasn't Cas. This wasn't his world and that was not Cas. It was, oh what was his name? That's right, Misha. And he wasn't casually making his way back to the bedroom area, he was almost charging. Dean thought that maybe he was initiating an attack until he saw the look in his eyes. It was one of full blown lust and predation. Misha got to the end of the bed and began crawling his way towards the rather stunned and slightly aroused hunter.
Dean had never been with another man. Frankly, he wasn't into guys. Well, pretty much at all. But Cas, on the other hand, was not a guy and was subject to a different set of rules. The Winchester would never tell another living soul; but, if given the chance, he'd ride that ass like it was the last lifeboat on the Titanic. And now here was someone who looked exactly like his angel crawling demanding and seductively towards him.
But this wasn't his angel, he had to remind himself. Despite his libido being clearly on board, Dean knew that he could never know what the consequences of his actions maybe if he continued. So he became, along with awkward and aroused, torn between needing to keep up the charade of being Jensen and acting normal and knowing that he needed to stop before things got worse.
“Wha – whatch doing?” he hesitantly asked as Misha came closer. He was resisting the urge to push the other man onto the floor as he settled on top of Dean's lap. He began placing tiny kisses along the long line of his neck. His movements caught Dean in a net of carnal delight and he couldn't help but close his eyes and lull his head back, reveling in the feeling. Misha took the opportunity to lick and suck little marks along the rough skin as his hands found their way under Dean's shirt.
“Just a little stress release.” His hands traced every line and form of Dean's stomach and chest as he continued his campaign of attacking Dean's throat. Something in the hunter's mind slipped away, lying to him and telling him it was Cas. It was okay. But when Misha ground his hips down onto his, his logic snapped right back. He immediately pushed Misha's shoulders back until he stopped his ministrations. “What?”
“I'm just not in the mood. Tired.” Dean lied. He hoped that that would be enough for the guy to understand and quit. He didn't want to be a complete dick about it. But, as he looked into that face that was a mirror to his angel, he knew two things. One, that his cock would probably find a way to kill him for not taking this opportunity; and two, that lie wasn't going to do anything to stop the persuasive actor. His pupils were blown wide and his lips were drawn back in a smile that was somehow both cocky and arousing.
“That's not what your cock is telling me,” he countered as he ground down once again. That drove a subtle moan from Dean that he hated himself for. His body was going against his head and all he was getting was a massive case of blue balls for it.
Before Dean had a chance to react, Misha captures his lips in a demanding kiss. The hunter had been kissed before but that was by women. Their lips were soft, supple, and usually tasted like some kind of fruit flavor. This was so incredibly new. His lips weren't soft, they weren't supple. They were rough and dry. But he was sweet tasting, odd as that was. Dean wondered briefly if Cas tasted the same. The smoothness of the skin on the cheek was replaced by the scratching feeling of stubble. The newness was confusing and exhilarating.
A powerful tongue swiped along the crease of his lips and Dean responsively allowed it entrance. With each swipe, Misha was lightly prodding his hips down against the increasingly tight zipper of the hunter. He was good, probably the best kisser Dean had ever had, and it him ponder if this wasn't really as bad as what he thinks if might be.
Hands began to rake through his sandy blond hair and Misha is closer now. The heat from his body feels like it might make the whole vehicle unbearable. The kiss had turned from exploratory to a battle of dominance. Each wanted the upper hand and neither was willing to submit. But it was finally Dean that won when his own newly involved hands traveled down to Misha's well rounded ass and landed a had slap that made the man yelp and submit. Works for chicks and guys, apparently.
“Just sit back,” Misha whispered in his ear when the kiss finally broke. “I promise, you'll enjoy this.” The shiver that crept up his spine was refreshing. It was so hot the way he spoke as he rubbed against him. The tiny bit of logic that still remained in him was quickly overtaken by his lust. Cas was an angel, after all, and the likelihood that he even wanted to have sex at all was remote. And here was another that looked exactly like him and was practically throwing himself at him. So why shouldn't he indulge this once in a lifetime opportunity?
A breath he didn't know he was holding escaped and Dean could feel every muscle in his body relaxing. Misha must have felt this because he smiled and dove back in for another kiss. This time it was different. Dean was on board, but he was confused. Should he treat this guy like he would a woman, all gentle and sweet? Or should he be throwing him around and taking what he wanted? He didn't have a lot of time to really think before he felt those same hands under his shirt, goading it up and over his head.
As soon as the shirt was gone, Misha's mouth was back on his neck. He bit and sucked down the long column and onto his chest. Here is where the first bruise was made. Dean was never really with a girl that wanted to mark him, usually because he never got with a girl that was possessive like that. But Misha seemed hell bent on claiming ownership over him all across his chest. It made him ponder exactly the extant of Jensen's relationship with him was.
The bites and bruises let to one of his sensitive nipples. As the actor rolled and sucked the tiny nub between his teeth and lips, Dean felt the fabric of his underwear becoming damp and uncomfortable. He had always had a things about his nipples and this guy had him lit up so hot he was sure the damn bed was gonna catch fire. Each moan and hitch of the hunter's hips made Misha that much more intent in his workings.
But just when he thought that he was near the verge of carnal madness, Misha stopped. He traveled down, leaving bruises again on the skin as he went, until he had slide completely off of his lap and now knelt on the floor between his legs. As he felt the sensations of hands on the fixtures of his jeans, Dean propped himself up on his elbows. What? He liked to watch, so shoot him. However, when his eyes met with those cerulean blues below him, his mouth moved before his brain had a chance to stop it.
“My angel.”
Oh shit. The world came to a screeching halt. Misha sat back and stared at him. Good job Dean. The one chance that you were probably ever going to have for this to happen and you just had to go and blow it. And yet, as the two stayed locked in a perpetual gaze, a blush appeared on the other man's face. He finally moved up an placed a hungry kiss on Dean's lips.
“My hunter.”
Oh. My. God. He was playing along. Yep, Dean checking out mow. He had defiantly died and gone to Heaven.
Misha returned to the floor and returned to the work of removing the bothersome article of clothing standing between him and his prize. His nimble fingers undid the button and slide the zipper agonizingly slow down the metal teeth. As the zipper slid down, the pressure on Dean's straining cock was replaced b the new desire for contact. Hooking his fingers in the elastic of his boxers, they were pulled down and tucked underneath the hunter's balls.
Dean watched the warm wetness of Misha's tongue ran along the thick vein on the underside of his cock. The whole time his eyes never left the man's above him. Upon reaching the tip, his tongue swirled as thought it was dancing on the wanting flesh. A kiss punctuated atop. The hunter's mouth watered a bit as Misha licked all around and down deep into the slit. When a hiss came from Dean, Misha couldn't help but chuckle and he set to work fondling his balls between his fingers.
Wrapping his other hand around the thick member, the mushroomed head slipped in between his plump lips. Inch by inch, he sank down. It slowly disappeared and, when it hit the back of his throat, he embellished the feeling with a hum that had Dean moaning perversely. He carded his fingers through Misha's thick black hair, encouraging him with his actions and entangled eyes. Those eyes that seemed to worship him with unadulterated lust and desire.
And god, did he worship him. He lavished affection over every inch of his cock. Be it tongue or lips, not one bit was left wanting. The pace may have been tantalizingly slow but it was deliciously wonderful. Dean got more of a rush watching his cock disappear in and out of Misha's mouth than the feeling. Any time he withdrew from his work, a smile was plastered on his swollen lips. Dean didn't doubt for a second that this man loved sucking cock, especially since each and every different move he was performing was hitting nerves that Dean didn't even know he had. And certainly not from any of the girls he had ever been with.
It was sending little shocks of pleasure running up his spine and, it must have been the warning sign he was waiting for, because Misha pulled himself off with a delicious pop but continued lazily stroking him. When he invitingly raised himself up, Dean instinctively met him in the middle with a deep and needy kiss. They rested against each others forehead, breathing each others air.
“Do you want to fuck your angel?” Misha asked, teasingly. “Cuz I want to fuck my hunter.”
“Son of a bitch.” Dean nodded wildly. “God yes.”A hard squeeze forced out a teethed grunt. “Fuck.”
Dean whined when he felt the removal of the warmth and pressure of Misha's grip from his cock. With the swiftness of desperation, the actor stood and removed his clothes. They were tossed carelessly to the side of the bed. It was at that point as Misha stood before him naked that it really hit home just how different this was from any other sexual experience he'd ever had. Suddenly, a coil tightened in his belly and he became uneasy.
“I, uh,” Dean stammered. He knew that he had to stay in character but he honestly didn't know what to do.
“It's okay,” Misha answered as he positioned himself straddling over his lap; “I've already opened myself. I'm ready for you.” He took Dean's hand and brought it around to his hole. He found it wide and wet, almost saturated with lube. Two fingers easily in and he began twisting and pumping them in and out. Misha bit his lip and shut his eyes as he enjoyed the feeling. But when those fingers brushed across his prostate, he moaned loudly and ground down onto them. Well, that wasn't too much different than a chick, maybe this wasn't going to be as awkward as Dean thought. “Please Dean, I need you.”
“It's okay, angel,” Dean whispered; “I'll take care of you.” He removed his hand and placed both on Misha's hips. He guided him over top and helped position him where he needed to be. Down he sank, taking every bit of Dean like a pro. When he had completely bottomed out, he paused. The Winchester wasn't sure if he was enjoying it or somewhat in pain. With the one or two women that had allowed him to do anal, it had always been a slow go, giving them time to get adjusted. He figured it was the same with guys. So, he just sat there waiting patiently and trying to sooth the other man by rubbing little circles in his hips with his thumbs.
Testing his limitations, Misha began moving his hips in tiny juts. Even this little bit of movement had Dean twitching with anticipation. Misha took hold of Dean's shoulders, in an attempt to steady himself, and began slowly lifting himself up and down. Fuck, this was somehow better than the few times he had done it with a woman. The hunter had to force himself from not just grabbing his hips and going to town on him. This was Misha's rodeo after all and he was more content to let him ride him all the way to the finish line.
The pace, much like his blow job, was drawn-out. Dean watched the movements of his body, the way it undulated and wavered. The muscles of his stomach seemed to pulse and writhe in a hypnotic motion, while his face echoed the pleasure and enjoyment he was feeling. The whole of his body was being put into the act and Dean was completely and utterly enchanted by it. He reached up and pulled him into him for a devouring kiss.
“You seem to be enjoying yourself,” the actor commented coyly. He nipped playfully along Dean's jaw and neck as he continued to ride, until Dean's grip tightened and he thrust hard straight into his prostate and forced a purely sinful moan erupting from his throat.
“So do you, angel,” Dean responded with a devilish grin on his face. This was the push that he needed to reveal his desperation and the pace was increased. Now the hunter was completely driven mad. They were both chasing after that illusive white rabbit, yet neither wanted to capture it. They were content on merely sinking into each other, marking and kissing.
However enjoyable it was, it was too enjoyable. Because once Dean began to feel that hot coil in his groin that signaled the end, he knew he had to work fast. He had never finished before any of his other partners and he wasn't going to with this one either. He took hold of Misha's cock, only to have it yanked away.
“Nahua.” He shook his head. “No, I want to come from you.” His lust blown eyes seemed to almost plead with Dean. So be it. Dean adjusted his hips a bit until a moan of pained pleasure melted out of Misha and he knew he'd hit his mark. Misha was able to quicken the pace now, though Dean knew his thighs must be on fire, and was practically bouncing himself atop the hunter's cock.
It was when Dean could feel Misha tighten around him he knew. So, he held him still tightly and began pounding hard. Misha thrashed in pleasure as his orgasm riddled his whole being. Little splatters of come marked Dean's bear stomach. That was both different and slightly disgusting, Dean thought, but it was fleeting as his own climax took him absolutely. He felt the warm release spill into his partner as he continued to thrust heavily, working both himself and Misha through.
When all was over, the two collapsed into each other. Panting and sweaty, they laid there, still connected. Dean wondered briefly if there would be cuddling, like a chick. He wasn't totally against it, but he just wasn't going to initiate it. So, when Misha went to dismount, he wasn't surprised. Hisses inner mixed with whimpers and moans, friction on overstimulated nerves on both ends. He managed to withdraw and lay down next to Dean and they stared at the ceiling.
“Well, I am destressed.” Misha turned to look at Dean. “Whatt about you?” Dean couldn't do much more than nod. “I hate to leave you hangin' like this, but I have to get over to my trailer and clean up. Vicky and I are heading out for some lunch later.” He stood and set to get dressed. Dean felt this strange sense of lost by this, but didn't show it. He just tucked himself back into this jeans, propped his arm under his head and watched the other man get dressed. “Besides,” he said, buttoning his shirt; “I'm sure you have to go find Sam somewhere.”
Wait, wait, wait. What did he say? Now that Dean's mind was back to thinking logically, he was perplexed by this statement. Why had he said Sam? He wouldn't still be playing into the fantasy, would he? No, so why would call him Sam and not Jared? That's what his name was here. And, come to think about it, didn't he call him Dean? Not Jensen but Dean. Only one explanation he could come to.
“You know?” he asked, turning a new shade of white. Misha playfully walked back over to him and gave him a soft pat on the cheek.
“You're a crappy actor, “ he replied; “and I pay attention. Jensen can act the pants off of anyone and you, well, you definitely don't. You don't act like Jensen and you damn sure don't fuck like Jensen.”
“Then why did you, why did we-?” Dean motioned between them. Misha laughed and stood up.
“Partly because I was horney but mostly because I could. You think that I'm gonna pass up the chance to bed the famous hunter. Hell no. And you can't tell me that you wanted neither to a)take the chance to fuck your angel or b)enjoyed it.” Dean couldn't stop the blush that came to his cheeks by that. Hit the nail straight on the head, didn't he. “So thank you very much for this oppeertunity. I greatly enjoyed it.” Misha grabbed his coat from the floor and began to leave, when he turned around once more. “Oh, before I leave. Just an fyi, and you can take this from someone who has been living in Castiel's head for going on three years; if you would just make the first move on our beloved angel, he would be on you like white on rice. I know I was.” He gave him a wink before turning around and heading out the door.
Dean sat there not only dumbfounded but also somewhat hopeful. Cas was into him, in a good way. Maybe the whole trip wasn't the shit storm he thought it was. Now he still wanted out of here, but only to get back and have a rather detailed and intimate conversation with a certain heavenly being. And maybe buy Balthazar a drink.