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annundrielPalm to Palm
Jensen/Misha
R
1037
Jensen doesn't know how he ends up here.
For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
oddlyfamiliar, who prompted, "They’ve both been drinking and they end up watching porn on tv somehow and they end up jerking off while getting off hearing each other (sneaking glances) whilst trying not to give away how much they want each other."
Many thanks tocautionzombies. ♥
Jensen doesn’t know how he ends up here, sprawled on his couch next to Misha, porn on the TV, and one hand on his cock. He knows there was alcohol and teasing and, let’s be honest, flirting, but he doesn’t remember how it went from that—familiar and (mostly) innocent—to this.
He’s facing the TV, but it’s all a blur to Jensen. His entire body is focused on Misha only a cushion away. Under the breathy moans coming from the TV, Jensen can hear Misha breathing, the slick-soft sounds of Misha’s hand on his own cock. The click of Misha’s throat when he swallows.
Body flushing, Jensen swallows, too, realizes that he’s picked up Misha’s rhythm, that his hand is moving in tandem. Stroke up, twist of palm, stroke down, skin dragging on skin. Misha’s using his left hand, the one farthest from Jensen, and Jensen can’t help but wonder if Misha always does it like this, or if this is special, something else. He doesn’t know if Misha’s left his right hand—fingers loosely curled on his thigh—open for a reason.
That’d be too much to hope for, Jensen thinks, thumb rubbing over the head of his cock. He’s lucky he’ll get to hear Misha come at all after so many late nights and early mornings, quick mid-afternoon jerk-off sessions imagining it. He’ll finally get to hear Misha’s voice dip low—he’s sure it does—and his breath catch. Might even be able to get a look, as long as Misha’s distracted, watch his mouth fall open and his cheeks flush and—
Jensen squeezes his eyes shut and groans, hand stuttering out of rhythm, tripping into a new one. Biting his lip, Jensen tightens his fingers, breathes deeply through his nose once, twice before opening his eyes.
Misha’s shifted beside him, hand no longer on his thigh but on the cushions between them. Turning his head slightly, Jensen blinks down at it, notices that Misha’s hand on his cock is still. Jensen licks his lips and wonders if it all means what he thinks it does. What he hopes it does.
He glances up, expecting to find Misha’s eyes on the TV or, maybe, on Jensen himself, blue and wide and all too knowing.
His eyes aren’t open, though; instead, screwed shut. There’s something about it, something about Misha’s stillness, the way he’s holding himself, holding his breath that makes Jensen throw caution to the wind. Makes him think what the hell.
Carefully, slowly, Jensen slides his left hand from his own thigh down to the cushion, fingers slipping across the upholstery until he can feel the heat coming off of Misha’s hand. He pauses then, momentarily stuck in the no man’s land between should and shouldn’t, before he closes the rest of the distance, fingers touching Misha’s skin.
Misha inhales sharply at the contact, his eyes blinking open, and Jensen feels something electric zing through him. Heart thudding, he brushes the tips of his fingers against the line of Misha’s pinky, the slight rise of his knuckle, the smooth chip of his nail. Misha’s skin is warm and alive against his and all Jensen wants to do is touch more.
He can hear Misha breathing again, the sound mingling with Jensen’s own increased breathes. Pressing onward, Jensen’s fingers move over Misha’s, dip in between. It’s a dry, hot glide of skin on skin and it’s good, it’s—
Misha’s fingers twitch beneath his, push back, twist and hook around Jensen’s until they’re tangled together like some innocent, miniature version of what Jensen really wants.
Apparently he’s not the only one.
Jensen shifts on the couch, spreading his legs a little wider, and strokes himself, one smooth glide upward. Pausing, he waits to see what Misha will do. If he’ll follow Jensen’s lead, if they’re in this together.
Misha licks his lips—Jensen can see the pink flick of it out of the corner of his eye—and a moment, a breath later the hand on his cock moves, stroking upward as Jensen had, pausing with his fingers wrapped around the head. The fingers tangled with Jensen’s flex, reassuring, and Jensen lets out a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding.
Jensen’s pulse races and he feels a crazy urge to laugh, to grin, to turn to Misha and say—
He’s not sure what he wants to say, hasn’t thought that far ahead. He hadn’t even thought this far ahead. That will come later. More will come later. Jensen’s sure of it.
For now, he moves his hand down the shaft of his cock, grip tight. He starts slow, can see Misha do the same to his left, their fingers intertwined between them. It’s good, great. Fantastic, even, just touching Misha like this. Touching Misha and touching himself and there’s too much touching and not enough and Jensen wants, he wants—
“Misha,” he groans, the hand on his cock speeding up. He can see Misha keeping pace in his periphery, hand graceful and quick and, fuck, it’s not fair that it’s over there when it should be over here. “Misha. I want—I want—”
“Yes,” Misha breathes, his fingers tightening on Jensen’s, his voice low and rough and dark. Jensen could listen to that voice saying that word over and over just like that for the rest of his life. “Jen, yes.”
That’s all it takes, Misha’s voice and his hand and his breathing. Misha sitting beside him. Misha. Jensen comes with a cry, holding on to the lifeline Misha’s provided as Misha swears and follows him over the edge.
Jensen will keep that sound in his mind, replay it when he’s alone, when he’s got his hand on his cock and his fingers in his ass and he wishes they were Misha’s.
He hopes those times will be fewer and farther between now, especially with the way Misha’s fingers are still tangled with his own. Jensen looks down at them and can’t help the smile he knows must be goofy. Sighing, he tips his head back against the couch cushions. He turns to find Misha already watching him, face flushed and eyes bright.
Misha grins and doesn’t let go of his hand.
Jensen/Misha
R
1037
Jensen doesn't know how he ends up here.
For
oddlyfamiliar, who prompted, "They’ve both been drinking and they end up watching porn on tv somehow and they end up jerking off while getting off hearing each other (sneaking glances) whilst trying not to give away how much they want each other."Many thanks to
cautionzombies. ♥Jensen doesn’t know how he ends up here, sprawled on his couch next to Misha, porn on the TV, and one hand on his cock. He knows there was alcohol and teasing and, let’s be honest, flirting, but he doesn’t remember how it went from that—familiar and (mostly) innocent—to this.
He’s facing the TV, but it’s all a blur to Jensen. His entire body is focused on Misha only a cushion away. Under the breathy moans coming from the TV, Jensen can hear Misha breathing, the slick-soft sounds of Misha’s hand on his own cock. The click of Misha’s throat when he swallows.
Body flushing, Jensen swallows, too, realizes that he’s picked up Misha’s rhythm, that his hand is moving in tandem. Stroke up, twist of palm, stroke down, skin dragging on skin. Misha’s using his left hand, the one farthest from Jensen, and Jensen can’t help but wonder if Misha always does it like this, or if this is special, something else. He doesn’t know if Misha’s left his right hand—fingers loosely curled on his thigh—open for a reason.
That’d be too much to hope for, Jensen thinks, thumb rubbing over the head of his cock. He’s lucky he’ll get to hear Misha come at all after so many late nights and early mornings, quick mid-afternoon jerk-off sessions imagining it. He’ll finally get to hear Misha’s voice dip low—he’s sure it does—and his breath catch. Might even be able to get a look, as long as Misha’s distracted, watch his mouth fall open and his cheeks flush and—
Jensen squeezes his eyes shut and groans, hand stuttering out of rhythm, tripping into a new one. Biting his lip, Jensen tightens his fingers, breathes deeply through his nose once, twice before opening his eyes.
Misha’s shifted beside him, hand no longer on his thigh but on the cushions between them. Turning his head slightly, Jensen blinks down at it, notices that Misha’s hand on his cock is still. Jensen licks his lips and wonders if it all means what he thinks it does. What he hopes it does.
He glances up, expecting to find Misha’s eyes on the TV or, maybe, on Jensen himself, blue and wide and all too knowing.
His eyes aren’t open, though; instead, screwed shut. There’s something about it, something about Misha’s stillness, the way he’s holding himself, holding his breath that makes Jensen throw caution to the wind. Makes him think what the hell.
Carefully, slowly, Jensen slides his left hand from his own thigh down to the cushion, fingers slipping across the upholstery until he can feel the heat coming off of Misha’s hand. He pauses then, momentarily stuck in the no man’s land between should and shouldn’t, before he closes the rest of the distance, fingers touching Misha’s skin.
Misha inhales sharply at the contact, his eyes blinking open, and Jensen feels something electric zing through him. Heart thudding, he brushes the tips of his fingers against the line of Misha’s pinky, the slight rise of his knuckle, the smooth chip of his nail. Misha’s skin is warm and alive against his and all Jensen wants to do is touch more.
He can hear Misha breathing again, the sound mingling with Jensen’s own increased breathes. Pressing onward, Jensen’s fingers move over Misha’s, dip in between. It’s a dry, hot glide of skin on skin and it’s good, it’s—
Misha’s fingers twitch beneath his, push back, twist and hook around Jensen’s until they’re tangled together like some innocent, miniature version of what Jensen really wants.
Apparently he’s not the only one.
Jensen shifts on the couch, spreading his legs a little wider, and strokes himself, one smooth glide upward. Pausing, he waits to see what Misha will do. If he’ll follow Jensen’s lead, if they’re in this together.
Misha licks his lips—Jensen can see the pink flick of it out of the corner of his eye—and a moment, a breath later the hand on his cock moves, stroking upward as Jensen had, pausing with his fingers wrapped around the head. The fingers tangled with Jensen’s flex, reassuring, and Jensen lets out a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding.
Jensen’s pulse races and he feels a crazy urge to laugh, to grin, to turn to Misha and say—
He’s not sure what he wants to say, hasn’t thought that far ahead. He hadn’t even thought this far ahead. That will come later. More will come later. Jensen’s sure of it.
For now, he moves his hand down the shaft of his cock, grip tight. He starts slow, can see Misha do the same to his left, their fingers intertwined between them. It’s good, great. Fantastic, even, just touching Misha like this. Touching Misha and touching himself and there’s too much touching and not enough and Jensen wants, he wants—
“Misha,” he groans, the hand on his cock speeding up. He can see Misha keeping pace in his periphery, hand graceful and quick and, fuck, it’s not fair that it’s over there when it should be over here. “Misha. I want—I want—”
“Yes,” Misha breathes, his fingers tightening on Jensen’s, his voice low and rough and dark. Jensen could listen to that voice saying that word over and over just like that for the rest of his life. “Jen, yes.”
That’s all it takes, Misha’s voice and his hand and his breathing. Misha sitting beside him. Misha. Jensen comes with a cry, holding on to the lifeline Misha’s provided as Misha swears and follows him over the edge.
Jensen will keep that sound in his mind, replay it when he’s alone, when he’s got his hand on his cock and his fingers in his ass and he wishes they were Misha’s.
He hopes those times will be fewer and farther between now, especially with the way Misha’s fingers are still tangled with his own. Jensen looks down at them and can’t help the smile he knows must be goofy. Sighing, he tips his head back against the couch cushions. He turns to find Misha already watching him, face flushed and eyes bright.
Misha grins and doesn’t let go of his hand.
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(no subject)
Date: 2011-02-20 06:55 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-02-25 07:23 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-02-25 07:25 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-02-20 09:12 am (UTC)Holy Jesus Batman!
(no subject)
Date: 2011-02-25 07:27 pm (UTC)So glad you liked it!
(no subject)
Date: 2011-02-25 07:28 pm (UTC)You don't know how happy I am that you like it! <3
(no subject)
Date: 2011-02-20 10:57 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-02-25 07:29 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-02-20 11:45 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-02-25 07:30 pm (UTC)I'm so happy that you like it! :D
(no subject)
Date: 2011-02-20 02:25 pm (UTC)Wow...I really enjoyed this. Then tension and want between them is just palpable. :)
(no subject)
Date: 2011-02-25 07:31 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-02-20 05:20 pm (UTC)This was a lovely mix of both. <3
(no subject)
Date: 2011-02-25 07:33 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-02-20 05:57 pm (UTC)I knew just from the description that this was gonna be hot, but damn! It was scorching! And somehow sweet. I loved it so much!
(no subject)
Date: 2011-02-25 07:35 pm (UTC)I'm so happy that you liked it! Thank you!
(no subject)
Date: 2011-02-20 07:24 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-02-25 07:36 pm (UTC)I'm so, so happy you enjoyed it. Thank you! <3
(no subject)
Date: 2011-02-21 11:23 pm (UTC)Utterly awesome and totally hot, I love it!
(no subject)
Date: 2011-02-25 07:37 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-02-21 11:45 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-02-25 07:39 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-02-22 12:03 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-02-25 07:41 pm (UTC)I'm glad you liked it. Thank you!
(no subject)
Date: 2011-02-22 12:06 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-02-25 07:42 pm (UTC)I'm so happy you liked it, thank you! :D
(no subject)
Date: 2011-02-22 01:57 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-02-25 07:44 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-02-22 04:10 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-02-26 02:04 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-02-22 07:41 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-02-26 02:24 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-02-22 08:21 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-02-26 02:25 am (UTC)I'm so happy you liked it. Thank you!
(no subject)
Date: 2011-02-22 08:44 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-02-26 02:26 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-02-22 03:09 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-02-26 02:29 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-02-22 10:20 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-02-26 02:32 am (UTC)So glad you liked it!
(no subject)
Date: 2011-02-23 01:39 am (UTC)I'LL BE IN MY BUNK FOREVER!
(no subject)
Date: 2011-02-26 02:38 am (UTC)<333
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Date: 2011-02-24 01:22 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-02-26 02:40 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-03-10 11:56 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-03-16 02:44 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-04-26 08:56 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-04-30 10:50 pm (UTC)