SPN Porn Battle Fic: Hiatus, Jensen/Misha
Jul. 18th, 2010 11:08 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
annundrielHiatus. Jensen/Misha. NC-17. 700 words. Prompt: mouth. Hiatus means they get to relax, let themselves go.
Hiatus
Misha loves hiatus, he really does. Hiatus means time—for other projects, for travel, for himself—and freedom. It means he can spend the day in bed, trading slow kisses and lazy touches with Jensen. Means they can fuck slow or fast, take as long as they want to reach that first peak, no one deciding their timeline but themselves.
Hiatus means Jensen can let himself go a little.
Misha loves it when he does.
Jensen’s hair sneaks over the tops of his ears, falls over his forehead as he kneels over Misha, giving Misha something to grab on to, hold on to as Jensen licks and sucks and nips, slides his mouth over Misha’s cock to his balls. Gives Misha a way to lead Jensen back when Jensen gets sidetracked, nuzzling up Misha’s thigh to mouth at his hip, the beard Jensen’s growing tickling against his skin. A gentle tug to his hair, and Jensen’s looking up at him through ridiculous lashes, eyes hot and green, daring Misha to stop him doing whatever he wants.
“Problem?” Jensen asks, breath brushing over Misha’s damp skin, raising goose bumps.
“Mmm, I wouldn’t say problem.” Misha strokes his fingers over Jensen’s scalp, hair slipping between them. “Enjoying yourself?”
Jensen’s tongue, pink and slick, glides over the curve of his bottom lip and, fuck, Jensen’s mouth is already meant for porn, but framed the way it is now? How can Mish resist that?
Fingers sliding downward over the hair on Jensen’s cheeks, Misha enjoys the prickle of it against his fingertips as he brushes it against the grain. He wants to follow that tongue with his own, follow it with his dick, his fingers. Wants Jensen’s mouth back on him anywhere, it doesn’t matter. He shifts his hips, hoping Jensen will take the hint, and slides the pad of his thumb over Jensen’s bottom lip, feels it curve as Jensen grins.
“Yeah,” Jensen says, nipping at Misha’s thumb. “I’m definitely enjoying myself.” He noses at Misha’s hand, sucks a hot kiss against Misha’s wrist, before pulling away, ducking down.
Jensen’s tongue is hot on the head of Misha’s cock, clever and teasing and so fucking good. Jensen closes his lips—his goddamn lips—around Misha and sucks him down, sucks him in, and Misha groans, his hips twitching, fingers finding their hold in Jensen’s hair again.
“Fuck, Jensen,” Misha gasps, heart thudding beneath his ribs.
“Maybe later,” Jensen says, pulling off. His smile is more than a little wicked and, god, that does things to Misha. No one has defenses for that look on that face. “But first…”
Changing his grip on Misha’s cock, Jensen licks a stripe up the underside, tongue flicking beneath the head. It feels like fucking heaven, and Misha shudders, fingers flexing.
Using lips and tongue, fingers and palms, Jensen works Misha expertly, pulls pleasure from him easily. He grips Misha tight, hands confident, slides spit-slick fingers between Misha’s legs, presses deep, and Misha squirms, shifting his legs wider, giving Jensen space.
Jensen knows every button to push and patch of skin to lick, knows every angle to work as he slides his fingers into Misha. Knows every place to put his mouth, the sensation new and different than it was before, when Jensen lived with permanent five o’clock shadow. He knows everything that makes Misha crazy, that makes him tangle his fingers in Jensen’s hair and writhe against the bed, caught between the mattress and Jensen’s hands, Jensen’s mouth, coming with Jensen’s name on his lips as Jensen swallows him down.
Catching his breath, Misha’s fingers relax in Jensen’s hair. He blinks at Jensen, finds him watching him with a light in his eyes that’s part want, part amusement, part…something else, something that looks a lot like fondness and feels a lot like...well. This isn’t just something they’re doing in their free time, not just a way to pass the months between one season and the next.
Misha strokes Jensen’s hair. Jensen leans into it, tongue flickering at the corner of his mouth.
“Come here,” Misha says, and Jensen smiles, his beard tickling as he crawls upward, dropping kisses as he goes. “Let me give you a hand.”
Hiatus
Misha loves hiatus, he really does. Hiatus means time—for other projects, for travel, for himself—and freedom. It means he can spend the day in bed, trading slow kisses and lazy touches with Jensen. Means they can fuck slow or fast, take as long as they want to reach that first peak, no one deciding their timeline but themselves.
Hiatus means Jensen can let himself go a little.
Misha loves it when he does.
Jensen’s hair sneaks over the tops of his ears, falls over his forehead as he kneels over Misha, giving Misha something to grab on to, hold on to as Jensen licks and sucks and nips, slides his mouth over Misha’s cock to his balls. Gives Misha a way to lead Jensen back when Jensen gets sidetracked, nuzzling up Misha’s thigh to mouth at his hip, the beard Jensen’s growing tickling against his skin. A gentle tug to his hair, and Jensen’s looking up at him through ridiculous lashes, eyes hot and green, daring Misha to stop him doing whatever he wants.
“Problem?” Jensen asks, breath brushing over Misha’s damp skin, raising goose bumps.
“Mmm, I wouldn’t say problem.” Misha strokes his fingers over Jensen’s scalp, hair slipping between them. “Enjoying yourself?”
Jensen’s tongue, pink and slick, glides over the curve of his bottom lip and, fuck, Jensen’s mouth is already meant for porn, but framed the way it is now? How can Mish resist that?
Fingers sliding downward over the hair on Jensen’s cheeks, Misha enjoys the prickle of it against his fingertips as he brushes it against the grain. He wants to follow that tongue with his own, follow it with his dick, his fingers. Wants Jensen’s mouth back on him anywhere, it doesn’t matter. He shifts his hips, hoping Jensen will take the hint, and slides the pad of his thumb over Jensen’s bottom lip, feels it curve as Jensen grins.
“Yeah,” Jensen says, nipping at Misha’s thumb. “I’m definitely enjoying myself.” He noses at Misha’s hand, sucks a hot kiss against Misha’s wrist, before pulling away, ducking down.
Jensen’s tongue is hot on the head of Misha’s cock, clever and teasing and so fucking good. Jensen closes his lips—his goddamn lips—around Misha and sucks him down, sucks him in, and Misha groans, his hips twitching, fingers finding their hold in Jensen’s hair again.
“Fuck, Jensen,” Misha gasps, heart thudding beneath his ribs.
“Maybe later,” Jensen says, pulling off. His smile is more than a little wicked and, god, that does things to Misha. No one has defenses for that look on that face. “But first…”
Changing his grip on Misha’s cock, Jensen licks a stripe up the underside, tongue flicking beneath the head. It feels like fucking heaven, and Misha shudders, fingers flexing.
Using lips and tongue, fingers and palms, Jensen works Misha expertly, pulls pleasure from him easily. He grips Misha tight, hands confident, slides spit-slick fingers between Misha’s legs, presses deep, and Misha squirms, shifting his legs wider, giving Jensen space.
Jensen knows every button to push and patch of skin to lick, knows every angle to work as he slides his fingers into Misha. Knows every place to put his mouth, the sensation new and different than it was before, when Jensen lived with permanent five o’clock shadow. He knows everything that makes Misha crazy, that makes him tangle his fingers in Jensen’s hair and writhe against the bed, caught between the mattress and Jensen’s hands, Jensen’s mouth, coming with Jensen’s name on his lips as Jensen swallows him down.
Catching his breath, Misha’s fingers relax in Jensen’s hair. He blinks at Jensen, finds him watching him with a light in his eyes that’s part want, part amusement, part…something else, something that looks a lot like fondness and feels a lot like...well. This isn’t just something they’re doing in their free time, not just a way to pass the months between one season and the next.
Misha strokes Jensen’s hair. Jensen leans into it, tongue flickering at the corner of his mouth.
“Come here,” Misha says, and Jensen smiles, his beard tickling as he crawls upward, dropping kisses as he goes. “Let me give you a hand.”
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Date: 2010-07-20 06:33 pm (UTC)I'm so glad you enjoyed it!