moonlettuce | Fic: Bleed, SPN RPS, Jensen/Misha

So, I didn't get the line done, but at least I got a square written...

Title: Bleed
Author: Claire
Fandom: Supernatural RPS
Pairing: Jensen/Misha (and Dean/Castiel)
Rating: R
Word Count: 581
Summary: The lines start to blur...
Notes: Written for

kink_bingo for the Costumes square.

Jensen's on him as soon as Misha's through the door, teeth and lips and tongue over Misha's mouth as Jensen presses him against the wall of the wardrobe trailer. There's part of Misha that knows he should stop Jensen; knows he should point out that they're still on set, that anyone could walk in, but he squashes it as Jensen's fingers tug at his trousers, sliding inside and wrapping around Misha's cock.

Neither of them has changed their clothes yet, the end of the day's shooting still too close for them to have fully cast off Dean and Castiel. It means that Jensen's cock is straining behind Dean's jeans as he pushes against Misha, his free hand bunching in Castiel's trenchcoat as he jerks Misha off.

Jensen's touch is steady and sure, and Misha's hips jerk as a thumb brushes over the head of his cock.

"Jen--"

Because his touch may be steady and sure, but Misha still wants more. But Jensen ignores the plea, leaning forward as he nips lightly at Misha's ear.

"No--"

Misha doesn't whine at Jensen's refusal, he doesn't. Because he wants to trust in Jensen, trust that Jensen won't leave him hanging. But he also knows that Jensen has a habit of being a teasing fucker at times.

"Jensen--"

Misha doesn't care that he's begging; he's done worse before, especially with Jensen's fingers wrapped around his cock. He just needs Jensen to do something, anything; needs him to quit the maddeningly slow touch that's holding Misha so near to the edge.

"No--"

And Misha feels like screaming, feels like pushing Jensen to his knees and sliding between the lips that keep telling him no. He's half a second away from doing it when Jensen smiles, his hand speeding up, grip tighter and harder and faster, and Misha has to grab at Jensen's arms just to stay upright, just to stop his knees from buckling and taking both of them to the floor.

"God, Jensen, please--"

Because Misha can feel the heat in him; can feel it pooling in his belly, hot and pulsing and waiting for something, for someone. Waiting until Jensen drags his nails over Misha's cock, catching on skin, and then Misha's bucking, thrusting into Jensen's hand and spilling over his fingers, sharp and bright and perfect.

"Jen--"

The name escapes from Misha on the breath of a moan, swallowed by Jensen's mouth over his. Jensen's tongue teases at his lips with kitten licks and Misha runs his fingers through Jensen's hair, wanting to hold him there, but he pulls back before Misha can reciprocate.

"No--"

Jensen's looking at him, eyes heavy and dark with the weight of decades that Jensen shouldn't have. And that's when Misha gets it. Gets the urgency, the need, the undertone of desperation that’s been seeping through the air since Dean looked at Castiel and murmured the words Sera had written.

Tightening his grip on the strands of hair his fingers are tangled in, Misha pulls, tugging them further apart as blue meets green in the harsh glare of artificial light. Leaning forward, he swipes his tongue across the first patch of skin he reaches, tasting sweat and make-up and something that's Jensen, but isn't.

Closing his eyes, he feels Castiel settle back into him, spreading through him until all that's left is the angel, all that's left is him and--

"Dean--"

And the man he's holding shudders as he comes.