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annundrielSlipping
Jensen/Misha (Dean/Castiel-ish)
NC-17
471
After filming a certain scene in "Lucifer Rising," Jensen has to take care of something.
Ummm. The need to write this hit me like a truck out of nowhere. I thought, well, I'll try a drabble. It refused to cooperate. This show is the slipperiest slope ever. Thanks go to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
olivelavonne for giving it a look. And for being an enabler, I guess. ;)
ETA: Continues with Falling.
Finally alone in his trailer, Jensen lets the door swing shut behind him. He makes sure it’s latched, flicking the lock with his thumb, before he shoves his hand down the front of his pants, wrapping it around his cock.
He’s been semi-hard since the first time Misha shoved him against the wall, broad palm over his mouth, fingers pressing into his cheek.
Each take only made it worse, drove him crazier.
But Jensen’s a professional, and Misha, if he had noticed, hadn’t said a word.
He’s alone now, though.
Leaning against the counter by the door, Jensen closes his eyes and remembers the way Misha’s hand felt against his face, the way his body felt so close to Jensen’s, heat bleeding across the distance.
Jensen stops touching himself long enough to get his jeans—Dean’s jeans—undone and pulls his cock out. He imagines Misha’s hands on him instead of his own, imagines Misha’s breath against his skin and Misha’s voice low in his ear. And those eyes on him, watching every twitch and reaction. Those eyes so blue and intent and focused, on him every time Jensen turns around.
He wonders if this is how Dean feels, desperate for something, for more, every time Castiel looks at him like that and deeply in denial about it. This new brand of want and need jittering under his skin like an electrical current.
Licking his lips, Jensen imagines he can taste Misha there, imagines Misha’s reaction had he done that with Misha’s palm still in place. A brief flash of surprise, a flare of something deeper and darker in the widening of his pupils. He’d press Jensen harder against the wall, refuse to let him go, replace his hand with his mouth.
He’d find his way into Jensen’s jeans, slip inside his underwear and wrap that hand, that hand that’s been driving Jensen crazy, that’s slick with Jensen’s saliva, around Jensen’s cock. Work him hard and fast until Jensen was coming between them, coming all over them with a groan and Misha’s name and…
…and Jensen is coming, teeth digging into his bottom lip, fist tight around the shaft, palm cupped around the head, careful even when he’s losing control.
He stands there a minute, counter digging into his ass as his dick softens. His hands are sticky, and he reaches for some tissue, cleaning up and making sure he didn’t get any on Dean’s clothes.
Wiping the come off his fingers, he shudders at the sudden mental image he gets of Misha’s lips wrapped around them, tongue licking between them, pink and tempting.
Jensen shakes the image off, tossing the tissue in the trash, and tucks himself back into his underwear.
He might get off on it, but he’s glad Misha isn’t actually there. He doesn’t need any more complications.
Jensen/Misha (Dean/Castiel-ish)
NC-17
471
After filming a certain scene in "Lucifer Rising," Jensen has to take care of something.
Ummm. The need to write this hit me like a truck out of nowhere. I thought, well, I'll try a drabble. It refused to cooperate. This show is the slipperiest slope ever. Thanks go to
olivelavonne for giving it a look. And for being an enabler, I guess. ;)ETA: Continues with Falling.
Finally alone in his trailer, Jensen lets the door swing shut behind him. He makes sure it’s latched, flicking the lock with his thumb, before he shoves his hand down the front of his pants, wrapping it around his cock.
He’s been semi-hard since the first time Misha shoved him against the wall, broad palm over his mouth, fingers pressing into his cheek.
Each take only made it worse, drove him crazier.
But Jensen’s a professional, and Misha, if he had noticed, hadn’t said a word.
He’s alone now, though.
Leaning against the counter by the door, Jensen closes his eyes and remembers the way Misha’s hand felt against his face, the way his body felt so close to Jensen’s, heat bleeding across the distance.
Jensen stops touching himself long enough to get his jeans—Dean’s jeans—undone and pulls his cock out. He imagines Misha’s hands on him instead of his own, imagines Misha’s breath against his skin and Misha’s voice low in his ear. And those eyes on him, watching every twitch and reaction. Those eyes so blue and intent and focused, on him every time Jensen turns around.
He wonders if this is how Dean feels, desperate for something, for more, every time Castiel looks at him like that and deeply in denial about it. This new brand of want and need jittering under his skin like an electrical current.
Licking his lips, Jensen imagines he can taste Misha there, imagines Misha’s reaction had he done that with Misha’s palm still in place. A brief flash of surprise, a flare of something deeper and darker in the widening of his pupils. He’d press Jensen harder against the wall, refuse to let him go, replace his hand with his mouth.
He’d find his way into Jensen’s jeans, slip inside his underwear and wrap that hand, that hand that’s been driving Jensen crazy, that’s slick with Jensen’s saliva, around Jensen’s cock. Work him hard and fast until Jensen was coming between them, coming all over them with a groan and Misha’s name and…
…and Jensen is coming, teeth digging into his bottom lip, fist tight around the shaft, palm cupped around the head, careful even when he’s losing control.
He stands there a minute, counter digging into his ass as his dick softens. His hands are sticky, and he reaches for some tissue, cleaning up and making sure he didn’t get any on Dean’s clothes.
Wiping the come off his fingers, he shudders at the sudden mental image he gets of Misha’s lips wrapped around them, tongue licking between them, pink and tempting.
Jensen shakes the image off, tossing the tissue in the trash, and tucks himself back into his underwear.
He might get off on it, but he’s glad Misha isn’t actually there. He doesn’t need any more complications.
