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moonlettuceTitle: Concerted Effort
Author: Claire
Fandom: Supernatural RPS
Pairing: Jared/Misha
Rating: R
Word Count: 797
Summary: The problem, Jared thinks, is Misha's fingers.
Notes: Written for Day 03 of![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
mmom.
Concerted Effort
The problem, Jared thinks, screwing up his line for the fourth time, is Misha's fingers. The way they're long and elegant and wrapped around the scroll Castiel is holding. The scroll that Sam's supposed to take off him, supposed to unroll onto Bobby's desk so they can work out what they need to stop Raphael.
Only, Sam can't. Sam can't, because Jared can't.
Jared can't do anything because all he can think about is Misha as he was last night, lying in bed with his hand around his hard cock, fingers playing lightly over the head. Lying in bed as Jared watched, matching him stroke for stroke, until he couldn't just watch any more.
All he can think about are his own fingers, slick and careful as they slid into Misha's body, spurred on by the yes and the please and the oh god, Jared-- that fell from Misha' lips.
All he can think is--
"Jared!"
And from the look Sera's giving him, it's pretty obvious he's just completely missed them going for another try and screwed it up. Again.
Scrubbing a hand over her face, Sera shoos them off the set with a single hand wave. "Guys, take a break," she says, beckoning one of the runners over. "Sally, go and get Mark and Jim and tell them we'll shoot their scene now."
Sally nods, heading in the direction of the trailers as Sera turns back to the three of them.
"Come back in thirty and we'll try it again."
Jared tries not to take the fact that she's looking directly at him when she speaks personally, but he knows it's his fault the take has been completed fucked up. Well, his cock's fault, anyway, and the way it can't seem to do anything except sit up and beg whenever it senses that Misha's in the room. He's tempted to take it out and give it a stern talking to, but he's pretty sure that would get him even stranger looks than he's getting now.
He's so busy trying to talk himself out of giving his dick a lecture that he completely misses Jensen heading over until a hand lands on his arm.
"Don't sweat it, Jay," Jensen says. "We all have off days."
Jared doesn't answer, his eyes tracking Misha's hand as he places the scroll on Bobby's desk, one finger trailing over the wood in a way that shouldn't look pornographic but does. (Although Jared thinks that may just be the instant association his mind is making between Misha's fingers and wood.)
"We'll kill some shit in Halo, and then we'll come back and kick this scene's ass. Yeah?" Jensen looks over to Misha, looks over to where Misha is stalking across to them. "Mish, you up for it?"
"Not today," Misha replies, and the Castiel hasn't fully gone from his voice yet, low and wrapped in gravel in a way that Misha isn't. Low and gravelled in a way that makes Jared want to groan because, hello cock, meet Pavlov.
Misha reaches out when he gets to them, his fingers wrapping around Jared's wrist, thumb brushing over Jared's pulse.
And whatever Jensen sees has him smirking. "Unless you've got better things to be doing," he says, backing away, hands up in mock defeat and murmuring that at least he still had the single player option.
Misha doesn't let go of Jared's wrist as he leads him back to the trailer. (Back to Misha's, instead of Jared's, because the last time they fucked in Jared's trailer, Jensen had called them a couple of bastards for giving him a soundtrack to blue balls while his wife was back in the States, filming, and all he had was his own right hand.)
The sounds of the set are muted as the door closes behind them, muted into muffled sounds and voices as Misha pushes Jared until his back hits the wall. Pushes Jared, even though Jared knows he could stop Misha easily, could wrap his own hands around Misha and just stop him. He knows it same way he knows Misha's breath would hitch and his eyes would widen if he did. Knows it the way Jared knows he's strong enough to support Misha's weight against a wall, has had the finger marks down his back and the bite mark on his shoulder to prove it.
But he doesn't. He lets Misha push him until the coolness of the wall is seeping through his shirt.
"Thirty minutes?" Misha says, voice now all his, even if the clothes are still Castiel's.
"Thirty minutes," Jared nods. Because Sera will send someone after them if they're late, she's done it before.
"More than enough time." And Misha sinks gracefully to his knees, looks up at Jared, and grins.
Author: Claire
Fandom: Supernatural RPS
Pairing: Jared/Misha
Rating: R
Word Count: 797
Summary: The problem, Jared thinks, is Misha's fingers.
Notes: Written for Day 03 of
mmom.Concerted Effort
The problem, Jared thinks, screwing up his line for the fourth time, is Misha's fingers. The way they're long and elegant and wrapped around the scroll Castiel is holding. The scroll that Sam's supposed to take off him, supposed to unroll onto Bobby's desk so they can work out what they need to stop Raphael.
Only, Sam can't. Sam can't, because Jared can't.
Jared can't do anything because all he can think about is Misha as he was last night, lying in bed with his hand around his hard cock, fingers playing lightly over the head. Lying in bed as Jared watched, matching him stroke for stroke, until he couldn't just watch any more.
All he can think about are his own fingers, slick and careful as they slid into Misha's body, spurred on by the yes and the please and the oh god, Jared-- that fell from Misha' lips.
All he can think is--
"Jared!"
And from the look Sera's giving him, it's pretty obvious he's just completely missed them going for another try and screwed it up. Again.
Scrubbing a hand over her face, Sera shoos them off the set with a single hand wave. "Guys, take a break," she says, beckoning one of the runners over. "Sally, go and get Mark and Jim and tell them we'll shoot their scene now."
Sally nods, heading in the direction of the trailers as Sera turns back to the three of them.
"Come back in thirty and we'll try it again."
Jared tries not to take the fact that she's looking directly at him when she speaks personally, but he knows it's his fault the take has been completed fucked up. Well, his cock's fault, anyway, and the way it can't seem to do anything except sit up and beg whenever it senses that Misha's in the room. He's tempted to take it out and give it a stern talking to, but he's pretty sure that would get him even stranger looks than he's getting now.
He's so busy trying to talk himself out of giving his dick a lecture that he completely misses Jensen heading over until a hand lands on his arm.
"Don't sweat it, Jay," Jensen says. "We all have off days."
Jared doesn't answer, his eyes tracking Misha's hand as he places the scroll on Bobby's desk, one finger trailing over the wood in a way that shouldn't look pornographic but does. (Although Jared thinks that may just be the instant association his mind is making between Misha's fingers and wood.)
"We'll kill some shit in Halo, and then we'll come back and kick this scene's ass. Yeah?" Jensen looks over to Misha, looks over to where Misha is stalking across to them. "Mish, you up for it?"
"Not today," Misha replies, and the Castiel hasn't fully gone from his voice yet, low and wrapped in gravel in a way that Misha isn't. Low and gravelled in a way that makes Jared want to groan because, hello cock, meet Pavlov.
Misha reaches out when he gets to them, his fingers wrapping around Jared's wrist, thumb brushing over Jared's pulse.
And whatever Jensen sees has him smirking. "Unless you've got better things to be doing," he says, backing away, hands up in mock defeat and murmuring that at least he still had the single player option.
Misha doesn't let go of Jared's wrist as he leads him back to the trailer. (Back to Misha's, instead of Jared's, because the last time they fucked in Jared's trailer, Jensen had called them a couple of bastards for giving him a soundtrack to blue balls while his wife was back in the States, filming, and all he had was his own right hand.)
The sounds of the set are muted as the door closes behind them, muted into muffled sounds and voices as Misha pushes Jared until his back hits the wall. Pushes Jared, even though Jared knows he could stop Misha easily, could wrap his own hands around Misha and just stop him. He knows it same way he knows Misha's breath would hitch and his eyes would widen if he did. Knows it the way Jared knows he's strong enough to support Misha's weight against a wall, has had the finger marks down his back and the bite mark on his shoulder to prove it.
But he doesn't. He lets Misha push him until the coolness of the wall is seeping through his shirt.
"Thirty minutes?" Misha says, voice now all his, even if the clothes are still Castiel's.
"Thirty minutes," Jared nods. Because Sera will send someone after them if they're late, she's done it before.
"More than enough time." And Misha sinks gracefully to his knees, looks up at Jared, and grins.
