[Fic] Whisky Lullaby (NC-17) 1/2 for serialkarma
Gift type: Fanfic
Title: Whisky Lullaby (1/2)
Recipient: serialkarma
Author: ze_pink_lady
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Everything you'd expect to find in an NC-17 fic - copious quantities of porn, language, a side-order of bondage and a healthy dose of manhandling. RPS.
Spoilers: None
Summary: Jensen is a college junior with one goal in mind; hook up with the hottest bartender at the coolest bar in town. Unlucky for him, Misha Collins doesn't go down easy.
Author notes: The giftee revealed a penchant for college AUs involving bartenders, so I was happy to oblige! Also features pretty boys in jeans and bare feet and plenty of porn! If time hadn't gotten away from me, this probably would've been longer, so look out for a continuation after the reveal! Hope you enjoy, SK!
Jensen has passed by this bar about a thousand times in his three years since coming to Texas Tech. There’s nothing noteworthy about it on the outside, it’s kind of plain and understated like most places in Lubbock, but for some reason it has always fascinated him. He and his buddies usually go to Bash Riprock’s or Tom’s if they’re looking for a good time off-campus, but he’s watched the kind of clientele that frequents Frisky Whisky and he wants to be part of it - the kind of people who don’t give a fuck who’s judging them or who they’re seen leaving with, the kind of people that are born confident instead of ‘reserved;’ the word he uses to make it sound like he’s not a total pussy when it comes to making the first move.
It’s a Tuesday night, quiet by campus standards, but still enough folks there that Jensen doesn’t feel like a mouthbreather sat alone at an empty bar. He likes the buzz of the place, the frenetic energy that always seems to surround a busy bar team who’ve worked together long enough to be a well-oiled machine, tossing bottles and setting shots on fire with gleeful smiles on their faces.
It’s one particular smile that catches his eye, though. A smile belonging to dark-haired, blue-eyed whirlwind who seems to have more energy than the rest of the staff combined, whipping from one end of the bar to the other and dispensing shots and cherries and flirtatious winks like they’re going out of style. He hasn’t gotten to Jensen yet, though; it’s a pink-haired chick with enough earrings to start her own jewelry store who’s trying to serve him, false eyelashes so long he’s surprised her eyes can even stay open under the weight.
“What’ll it be, darlin’?” she purrs, but Jensen just licks his lips and shakes his head.
“I'm, uh... still deciding, thanks,” he insists, watching her eyebrow climb towards her shocking pink hairline as he tries to furtively glance at the hot barman out of the corner of his eye; he’s bending over to retrieve a bottle from the chiller cabinets and damn, those jeans are so tight they should be illegal.
“Uh huh. Well, you need any help, you just holler,” she offers charitably, but it’s clear she’s already moving on, her attention and fluttering lashes all for the next guy along.
Jensen shuffles surreptitiously a little further up the bar, stealing a just-vacated seat a little closer to the guy’s territory, not giving a damn if he’s being obvious. He’s used to playing it safe, being the designated driver and the guy who’s more likely to choose truth than dare to avoid making a spectacle of himself - after all, the fun-loving jock types are all on the varsity teams - everyone wants to be a Red Raider, not look after their injuries as a physical therapist. But tonight, Jensen’s gonna be the risk-taker, he’s gonna pretend like he’s back in high school and he’s got the whole world at his feet, no blown knee to derail his dreams.
He licks his lips again, anticipation a low-level hum under his skin as the guy edges closer, pouring one more sloppy shot of whisky and then he’s there, right in front of Jensen, blue eyes even more striking up close.
“What’s your poison, good sir?” the guy asks, elbows on the bar and a knowing smile on inviting lips, like he’s been reading Jensen’s mind since he walked into the joint. He’s got rings on every other finger (and thumb), long, tapered hands and a light scruff of stubble, and he’s pretty much the most gorgeous thing Jensen’s ever seen. So obviously, Jensen forgets how to speak.
...Fuck, say something.
The bartender leans over like he’s expecting Jensen to impart some great wisdom, like Jensen knows the meaning of life or the secret to eternal youth, and he’s going to be severely fucking disappointed.
Say anything, Ackles, c’mon.
Jensen opens his mouth, but man, the guy’s eyes are so blue... Jesus, this has to be the longest time that anyone hasn’t said anything in the history of the world.
“You want my advice?” the guy asks casually, fixing Jensen with that intense blue gaze and (wisely) not even waiting for Jensen to attempt coherence enough to answer. “My personal favorite is known as the ‘Adios, Motherfucker.’ I have a feeling that’ll loosen your tongue right up.”
He says the words with such an air of solemnity that Jensen can’t help but nod in awed deference to his fantasy boyfriend’s obviously considerable bartending knowledge, but then the guy goes and ruins it all by tossing him a conspiratorial wink that goes straight to Jensen’s dick, and it’s back to being a functional moron again.
“I’m Misha, by the way,” the bartender adds, shooting a grin back at Jensen over his shoulder as he slopes off to mix the drink. “In case you were wondering.”
Jensen has to glance down to check that he didn’t just come in his pants.
*
After two ‘Motherfuckers,’ a shot of Jaeger and a colorfully named ‘Slippery Nipple,’ it’s true; Jensen is feeling a lot more chatty.
“You? You are awesome. How’d you get to be so awesome?” He grins, watching the chick with the pink hair (Rachel) raise her eyebrow like it’s attached to a hook, or something.
“I don’t even know you, slick,” she points out, and Jensen blinks slowly, hiccupping as he tries to keep his liquor down - the Baileys in that Slippery Nipple isn’t sitting all that well with anything else in his stomach right now.
“I’m- I’m sorry, I was talkin’ to Misha,” he drawls, watching both her eyebrows try to crawl off her forehead. They’re pretty fascinating. Rachel gives him a look that could drop a man dead at a hundred paces and very slowly, very pointedly turns her head to look at Misha, who’s all the way at the other end of the bar and pretty spectacularly out of earshot. Oh.
Jensen shrugs blithely, not too concerned considering the uncanny knack Misha apparently has for mind-reading. He totally knows how awesome he is without Jensen needing to tell him - that black t-shirt hugging him in all the right places… Jensen glances hastily down at his crotch again, but he seems to be fine.
Clearly Rachel doesn’t think Misha knows how intrinsically awesome he is though, because as soon as he’s finished serving the couple at the other end of the bar, she hollers at eardrum perforating volume, “Collins! Come take this lush off my hands before I put his face through the bar.” She sweetly adds, “You’re welcome,” to Jensen before sashaying away to switch positions with Misha (last name Collins; Jensen files that away for future stalking purposes) as the barman approaches.
“Causing trouble, I see?” he asks Jensen wryly, his expression almost fond - or maybe that’s just the haze of alcohol making Jensen delusional.
Momentarily hypnotized by Misha’s general… Misha-ness, Jensen dumbly repeats, “You’re awesome.”
Misha blinks at that before letting out a startled huff of laughter. “That’s the general consensus, yeah,” he concedes, tugging away Jensen’s empty glass and putting it behind the bar. “Though I’d be fascinated to hear what you’re basing this opinion on, considering that this is the first time we’ve met and I don’t even know your name.”
Thankfully, Jensen just manages to repress the urge to spout some cheesy porno line like, ‘you can call me whatever you want,’ breathlessly blurting out “It’s Jensen,” instead, like he’s expecting Misha to give him a prize for answering at least part of his question.
“Jensen.” Misha tests the name on his tongue, smiling before he sticks out one ring-adorned hand to shake Jensen’s, which seems to be a little stickier than Jensen would prefer, in the interests of good first impressions. But at least they’re touching - this is a positive step.
“Well, now that we’re best friends,” Misha grins, holding his hand back out. “I’ll need your car keys.”
It’s just reflex to hand them over, Jensen’s on autopilot before he even he’s dropped them into Misha’s hand. “Wait. Why?”
“’Cause you’re totally wasted, fratboy,” Misha laughs, pushing the keys into his pocket and coming out from behind the bar, tossing the rag on his shoulder at a lanky blond guy who’s wiping down tables now that the evening’s winding down. Jensen only now notices that there’s only him and the couple Misha just finished serving left in the place, along with a creepy looking old guy tucked away at a table in the corner who’s having a staring contest with his beer, plus the three other staff members besides Misha. “Can you guys keep the place from burning down until I get back? Gonna give my buddy Jensen here a ride home.”
“As long as that’s all you’re givin’ him - we’ve got homes to go to.” Rachel smirks suggestively, and Jensen doesn’t know whether to be insulted or exhilarated by the thought of Misha giving him any kind of ride.
“’m not a fratboy,” he belatedly insists after Misha’s words finally sink in. “’m not that guy.”
“Whatever you say, stud,” Misha snorts, moving to help lever Jensen off the stool. “C’mon - lemme get you up. You in the dorms?”
Jensen shakes his head, pressing a closed fist to his mouth to stifle the burp that wants to erupt; gas isn’t sexy. “O-over at Copperwood Apartments on- hic- on Main.” Misha’s a little bit shorter than him up close, slim but solid and god, he smells good… Jensen has to fight not to just bury his nose in the guy’s neck and breathe him in as Misha wedges his shoulder under Jensen’s arm to keep him upright.
“Not a horrendous walk to sober you up in the morning then; we’ll take my car,” Misha beams beatifically, guiding Jensen with steady hands out into the parking lot.
The cool night air hits him like a slap, not quite penetrating his alcohol haze, but definitely helping Jensen see a little clearer. He leans heavily on Misha - mostly from the booze, but a little bit just to feel how warm he is and how he doesn’t buckle under Jensen’s weight even a little.
“You give all your customers a ride home?” Jensen asks, licking his lips and just going where Misha steers him.
“Only the pretty ones,” says Misha, his smile nothing short of sinful as he pulls them to a stop beside a shiny black car. It’s a hybrid, and somehow it fits, even if Jensen doesn’t really know the guy from Adam; something about Misha’s sloe eyes and languid stride and the rings that glint on those artistic fingers… Wow, Jensen can’t grasp even a fleeting hint of his train of thought, his mind swallowed up by the lewd imaginings of just what those pretty hands can do.
“’m a lot prettier when I’m not wasted,” Jensen insists, certain he must be all flushed and sweaty and not all that appealing while he’s staggering around like a headless chicken, narrowly avoiding banging his head as he ducks into the passenger seat.
Misha smirks at that assurance. “That’d be difficult,” he says, and oh god, he’s definitely flirting, Jensen is so getting laid tonight. It’s been longer than he’d like; he likes to think of himself as casually bisexual because tits are really awesome, but somehow Jensen usually finds himself in bed with guys, and it’s probable that he’s just afraid of what his daddy might say if he knew Jensen liked grabbing ankle for the same team. While TT is pretty liberal in some ways, they’re still in Texas and Jensen’s not the kind of guy who ever wants to go and hit on a jock and get punched in the mouth for it, especially since the likelihood is that he’ll then end up having to help diagnose and patch up their injury on the field as part of his internship training.
“Um,” Jensen says eloquently, because really, what is the correct response to that kind of compliment without coming off as an arrogant douchebag?
“So, what’s your major?” Misha smoothly sails on as he pulls out of the lot, clearly unwilling to let an awkward silence descend.
“Uh- Exercise and Heath Promotion, I wanna be a physical therapist for sports injuries down the line,” Jensen explains, more out of habit than any grasp on coherence now that they’re actually truly alone together in a confined space, some soothing, massage-room-style music piping through the speakers.
Misha glances over at him, brows raised suggestively as he observes, “You must be good with your hands.”
Oh, god - Jensen’s never gonna survive the ride home, the tension in the air so thick he can hardly breathe. “Dude, you’re killin’ me here,” he laughs breathlessly, licking his lips as Misha shoots him a shameless grin.
“You think I didn’t notice the way you were staring at me all night?” he asks, drumming his fingers lightly on the wheel and glancing askance at Jensen. “The declarations of my awesomeness helped, too.”
Jensen doesn’t really have an answer to that. “I... Uh. Did you like it?”
“I wouldn’t be driving you home if I didn’t,” Misha purrs, one hand slipping down to briefly squeeze Jensen’s thigh.
Oh, it is on.
“Drive faster or I’m gonna suck your dick right fucking here,” Jensen rasps heatedly, unable to believe his luck as he watches with smug satisfaction as Misha’s eyes widen before the barman slams his foot down. It only takes them another minute with the way Misha’s driving, then Jensen’s fumbling desperately with his seatbelt, trying not to get tangled up as Misha all but bolts from the car.
He’s around to open Jensen’s door and haul him out in an instant, shoving Jensen up against the side of the car and crushing his mouth against Jensen’s with no hesitation, his tongue thrusting greedily against Jensen’s own, making him groan and arch against the warm metal as he claws at Misha’s back.
“Fuck, fuck,” he pants, biting at Misha’s tempting lips and dropping one hand down to squeeze the other man’s ass, dragging their hips lewdly together as he stares into those lust-hazed blue eyes. “Gimme my keys.”
Misha obliges, gaze still hotly holding Jensen’s as he digs them out of his pocket (he’s obviously pleased to see Jensen because it’s definitely not a keychain that’s digging into Jensen’s hip) and drops them into his palm. Jensen tries not to whimper as Misha gives a suggestive roll of his hips, grinding their erections together before Jensen pushes against him, disengaging long enough to drag Misha through the main doors and over to the elevator. Jensen chews his lip fretfully as he waits for it to appear - at least until Misha presses up behind him and rubs his dick slyly against Jensen’s ass, arms wrapped around Jensen’s waist.
“Fuck,” Jensen hisses again, tilting his head back to bite against Misha’s jaw and giving a startled twitch as the elevator door pings open with an accusing ding, like it doesn’t approve of them making out in the hall in the middle of the night. He stumbles inside with Misha still plastered against his back and the bartender just gives him time to push the button for the fourth floor before he’s shoving Jensen back against the wall, hands roaming greedily over Jensen’s chest and ribs as their mouths clash together for another ravenous kiss.
God, it’s the hottest thing Jensen’s ever felt and that’s not the booze talking; Misha is hot and lithe and he kisses just as wickedly as he talks, sucking on Jensen’s tongue and raking his nails over Jensen’s spine as their hips rut together. He doesn’t even let Jensen break the kiss when the doors slide open again, just backs him out into the hallway with one hand shoved down the back of Jensen’s jeans to palm at his ass.
Jensen groans low, loving the feel of those rings against his hot skin as he pulls them to a stop outside his door, fumbling blindly with the key until he can slot it into the lock, third time lucky.
“You’re so fucking gorgeous, Jensen,” Misha praises, his low voice even more graveled with lust as he mouths at Jensen’s throat, panting softly against that damp skin as Jensen rushes to get the door open before they end up humping right there in the hallway.
“Th-that’s the general consensus.” Jensen grins breathlessly back at him, glad to be able to use Misha’s words against him as he drags them over the threshold into his dark apartment - it’s a modest one-bedroom and Jensen’s never been more grateful that he doesn’t have a roommate than he is right now.
“Cute,” Misha drawls in response, taking Jensen’s keys from his hand and dumping them on the coffee table so his hands are free when Misha grabs the hem of his t-shirt and drags it up over Jensen’s head, baring his chest for Misha’s roaming fingers. “You sure you wanna be a physical therapist and not a Raider? You’re pretty fucking ripped, man,” he observes, hands almost reverent as they smooth over Jensen’s abs.
“Blew out my knee in high school playing football - it never healed quite right,” Jensen murmurs ruefully, shivering as Misha’s fingers tease over the peaks of his nipples, pinching until they harden.
“Clearly doesn’t stop you doing crunches, huh?” Misha smiles, coaxing a grin from Jensen in return as he reaches to tug Misha’s shirt off too, then he’s hooking one finger in the barman’s beltloop and dragging him into the bedroom with single-minded focus.
They fall into bed in a wild tangle of limbs and Jensen narrowly avoids elbowing Misha in the face as they fumble with belts and zippers, his hands at a severe disadvantage given how much liquor he’s imbibed tonight. They get it together though, kicking out of their jeans so that they can rock their hips together in a sultry grind, Jensen’s hands smoothing over Misha’s ribs and down to knead at his toned ass.
“Wanna fuck you, Jensen,” Misha confides in a velvety rumble, biting at Jensen’s lower lip and tugging it teasingly between his teeth. The words are like a physical touch, making Jensen’s dick twitch hotly where it’s trapped against Misha’s, his heart pounding loudly in his chest and thrumming in his ears as he nods shakily, reflecting that he can’t think of anything he wants more.
“Yeah, fuck yes.” He nods, licking at Misha’s lips and nipping them gently, his skin already growing damp with sweat as they writhe together, one of his legs hooked around his partner’s slim waist. “But you gotta- you gotta let me suck your dick first.” He’s been thinking about it most of the night and Jensen will not be denied, not now he’s felt how hot and thick it is, pressing up against his thigh.
“I’m not gonna argue with that,” Misha laughs wryly, letting Jensen push him over onto his back and straddle his thighs. Jensen just wants to savor the moment, staring worshipfully down at Misha as his hands trace over slim sides and up over his chest, dipping his head down to suck one sensitive nipple into his mouth and flick his tongue over the sensitive nub, teasing with his teeth until it hardens. Misha lets out a sharp gasp and fists his fingers tightly in Jensen’s hair, hips hitching reflexively up to bump his cockhead against Jensen’s ass, smearing precome in his wake.
“Jesus, Jensen - your mouth…” Misha groans, fingers massaging at the nape of Jensen’s neck as he rocks his hips up, rubbing his dick against Jensen’s ass just for the friction, his body trembling with need as Jensen switches to the other nipple.
“Mmm,” Jensen purrs smugly, staring up at Misha through his lashes as he squirms his way down, kissing a damp trail over Misha’s belly until he’s nosing through the dark curls of Misha’s pubic hair and mouthing at the base of his pretty cock. He raises his head enough to lick a wet, hot stripe along the underside of that sensitive flesh, listening to Misha hiss sharply as Jensen wraps his lips around the head of that thick dick, other hand wrapping tightly around the base as he hollows his cheeks and sucks gently.
Misha’s gaze is nothing short of awed as he stares up at Jensen, lips parted and lashes heavy over lust-blown eyes as he spreads his legs wider, planting his feet so that he can thrust lightly into Jensen’s mouth. Jensen’s not about to let Misha set the pace though, not yet, growling softly in warning as his hands find the spurs of Misha’s hips, holding him down as Jensen starts bobbing his head.
“Fu-uck,” Misha gasps rapturously, tipping his head back and arching against the sheets as Jensen works to drive him higher, slurping obscenely around that twitching flesh and tonguing greedily at the tip to coax more precome from the sensitive slit. Misha’s practically in orbit already by the sounds of it, clawing needily at Jensen’s hair and digging blunt fingernails into his shoulder as he writhes, soft little moans of pleasure spilling from those tempting lips.
Jensen hums low just to add a little vibration to it, pushing further to take more of Misha’s cock into his mouth, not stopping until the tip is pressing into his throat. His gag reflex hits but Jensen fights it, holding Misha’s gaze with fierce intensity until Misha registers what he’s about to do, then Jensen’s pressing further, letting Misha’s cock slip deep into his throat as he swallows around it, enjoying the startled cry of pleasure that tears from his partner’s lips at the sensation.
Misha’s wild with it, growling low and tugging urgently on Jensen’s hair, rough breaths escaping his lips as he hooks one leg over Jensen’s shoulder to keep him where he is, Jensen’s throat still working around that thick flesh as he lets Misha fuck his mouth. “Jensen, Jensen,” Misha rasps, fingers cupping Jensen’s cheek as Jensen slurps and suckles, one hand sliding down to find the sensitive skin of Misha’s sac and massage it gently, showing Misha just exactly how good he is with his hands as he drags in unsteady breaths through his nose.
“Shit, Jen, gonna- gonna lose it right the fuck now if you keep this up,” Misha warns low, biting his lip as his fingers clench and release fitfully on Jensen’s shoulder, and Jensen sure as shit doesn’t want to waste an orgasm on his mouth when it could be inside him, abruptly pulling off with an obscene pop.
He’s panting harshly, cheeks flushed and jaw aching a little as he stares down at Misha, grinning proudly as Misha collapses back against the pillows, his own breaths just as unsteady as Jensen’s. “Man… that mouth should be illegal,” Misha groans, flinging one arm over his eyes and shuddering as he tries to get some control back, obviously way too close to coming for comfort.
“So I’ve been told,” Jensen purrs, licking his lips as he crawls back on top of Misha, trying to ignore the insistent throb of his own erection as he rocks down against Misha and steals a languid, sticky kiss.
Their tongues tangle slickly together and Jensen feels Misha’s hand slide down his spine, fingers caressing his ass before dipping deeper to rub slowly over the pucker of his hole. Groaning roughly, Jensen’s hips buck reflexively and he pulls back to stare down at Misha, a little intoxicated by his partner’s shameless smirk.
“Make the most of being on top, cowboy, in five minutes, your ass isn’t gonna know what hit it,” Misha warns, giving Jensen a playful smack.
“Well, that was your hand,” Jensen points out, the smartass comment earning him another swat, which he has to admit he kinda enjoys.
Misha arches a brow up at him as he trembles, commenting, “You want to make jokes or you want me to fuck you, slick?”
“If I can’t do both, I guess I’ll settle for the fucking,” Jensen teases, fumbling a hand out for the nightstand and dragging out the lube and a condom, dumping them beside Misha before stealing another filthy kiss, tongue thrusting greedily against his partner’s and his hips grinding sinuously down to let their erections slide together. He doesn’t quite have a handle on what kind of lover Misha’s going to be - judging by the spanks, he’s optimistic - but either way, Jensen’s fairly sure it’s going to feel fucking fantastic.
“Mmm, hands and knees,” Misha purrs, giving Jensen’s shoulder a light shove. He’s only too happy to oblige, sliding from atop Misha to settle beside him instead, bracing on his knees and forearms and canting his ass invitingly up as Misha rolls smoothly upright and grabs the lube. Jensen hears a light clatter on the nightstand as Misha slips off the ring on his middle finger and squirts out the lube, then it’s just a couple of seconds before two slick digits are rubbing against his hole.
Jensen’s pretty relaxed from the booze - if you don’t count the aching erection - so he takes two fingers without too much discomfort, hissing slightly at the stretch and squirming as he presses his face to the pillow, Misha’s fingers feeling even better than they look - long and dexterous and hitting that spot just right as they curl up against his prostate. Jensen groans roughly, biting his lip and trying not to fall apart as Misha scissors his fingers, slowly stretching him with practiced ease, and Jensen tries not to think about how many other guys have probably been on this end of those talented digits.
“God, you’re so fucking tight,” Misha praises huskily, bending to press a kiss to Jensen’s shoulder as he works him open, other hand holding Jensen’s hip, digging in with pressure that feels vaguely possessive. Jensen can feel Misha’s cock against the back of his thigh, hot and insistent, and he’s never wanted anything more than he wants Misha inside him right now.
“Gonna be even tighter around that gorgeous dick,” Jensen promises roughly, giving a demonstrative squeeze around Misha’s fingers to try and urge him on.
He feels his partner shudder bodily, smirking to himself as Misha grunts, “Don’t tempt me - I want to get you open properly.”
“I’m- ah- I’mma get started without you,” Jensen threatens breathlessly, lashes fluttering as Misha rubs against his prostate in retaliation. “C’mon, Mish - put your money where your mouth is.”
“Is that where you want my mouth?” Misha drawls, and the next thing Jensen knows, the slick heat of Misha’s tongue is flicking hotly against his hole, thrusting between his fingers. He yelps sharply, bucking as Misha mouths at his entrance, tracing the pucker of his rim with the tip of that sinful tongue.
“Misha- Misha, oh my god,” Jensen gasps, glancing back over his shoulder but unable to catch a glimpse of Misha as he twists two fingers inside Jensen and presses his tongue obscenely deep, slick muscle fucking into Jensen until he’s mindless with it, fucking himself wantonly back on his partner’s mouth and unable to form words, let alone urge Misha to hurry up.
This is fucking serious, Jensen’s about five seconds away from coming all over himself. “Fuck, please, Misha, please,” he hisses, biting at the pillow beneath him and squeezing his eyes closed desperately, trying to hold on. Then, as quickly as that startling pleasure appeared, it’s gone again, fingers and tongue slipping free and leaving Jensen feeling achingly empty. All Jensen can hear is the pounding of his own pulse in his ears and the rasp of his breaths, straining to try and hear what Misha is doing as he tries to claw back some semblance of control.
He glances back over his shoulder and Misha is there, smirking down at him as he smoothes one hand over Jensen’s side, the other guiding his cock into place, rubbing the head back and forth against Jensen’s hole to tease him. Jensen quakes and fumbles one hand back, trying to grip Misha’s ass to pull him in.
“Please, Misha,” he repeats, almost whining to try and make his partner take pity on him, and it obviously works because Misha nods, blue eyes dark with need as he purrs, “I’ll take care of you, Jensen.”
The first thrust drives Jensen forward with a startled grunt, Misha’s hips smacking sharply against his ass, sheathing that thick flesh inside him with a pretty little groan of pleasure from that wicked mouth that goes straight to Jensen’s cock. Jensen bites his lip and has to squeeze his eyes closed for a moment just to savor the stretch and burn, feeling like he might topple over into release at any moment, should Misha blink or breathe or shift his touch even a little.
“Good?” Misha asks tightly from somewhere above him and Jensen can only nod, his voice lost somewhere in his throat, stretched raw and quivering like a plucked guitar string as he finally grinds out, “More.”
Misha’s happy to oblige, one big hand sliding around from Jensen’s hip, smoothing over his abs and up to tease over one tight nipple, pinching it lightly as he grinds his cock in against Jensen’s prostate. Jensen’s already reeling from the booze, not entirely sure which way is up and which his down as he clenches his ass tight around Misha’s dick, wanting to unravel some of his partner’s restraint as Misha slowly, tantalizingly draws back out and rocks in again, setting up a rhythm that’s way too slow and measured for how out of control Jensen’s feeling.
“Misha,” he hisses, tightening his fingers in the bedsheets beneath him, balling the fabric in his fists and letting out a soft “Unh-“ of bliss with every impact of slim hips against ass, the sound of sweat-damp skin slapping together in staccato beats filling his ears and the scent of their arousal already cloying his senses.
Jensen can’t remember the last time it felt this good; all his encounters seem to be aided by copious quantities of alcohol these days and sometimes it’s a blessing, every hook-up resulting in some sticky, shameful morning after where there’s only soreness and a lingering sense of guilt as he sneaks out of a stranger’s bed or crawls into his shower alone, the memory nothing more than some awkward fumbling in the dark and no memory of the guy’s face. This time will be different, Jensen’s decided, Misha is confident and sexy and fuck his dick feels so goddamn good; there’s no way Jensen’s going to let this end at one.
He fumbles back with one hand to dig his fingers into Misha’s hip, coaxing his partner to dip down lower, chest against Jensen’s back so that he can hear Misha’s huffing hot and ragged against the back of his ear.
“You’re so fucking hot, Jensen - prettiest ass I’ve ever seen,” Misha rasps, his voice like whiskey over gravel, a sultry purr that makes Jensen shake and clench down, his dick jerking with the impact of every thrust. He feels so full, muscles stretched wide around twitching flesh, his chest heaving as Jensen tries to remember how to breathe, not sure whether it’s the booze or just Misha that’s making him so dizzy.
“That- that all you got?” he pants challengingly, figuring if anything’s gonna make Misha lose control it’ll be back-talk and competition. “Thought you were a pro, Mish - thought my- ah- ass wouldn’t know what hit it?”
“Well yeehaw, cowboy,” Misha chuckles, setting his teeth chidingly against Jensen’s shoulder for a sharp nip before he’s picking up the pace, hips rolling in fast, filthy movements, the sound of their bodies impacting nothing short of obscene as Misha gives Jensen’s thigh a sharp smack, teeth digging harder into the curve of Jensen’s shoulder to leave an unrepentant mark.
“F-fuck- Jesus Christ,” Jensen hisses, eyes squeezing tightly shut and back arching to try and get Misha that extra half-inch deeper, a ragged cry of ecstasy clawing from his throat as he grips at the sheets, white-knuckled and wild. Misha’s like a fucking machine, pistoning into him until Jensen can feel the weight of Misha’s balls slapping against his own, his dick dripping precome as it bobs with the movement of his body.
He can’t help but fuck himself back into Misha’s thrusts, the pressure against his prostate almost unbearable as Misha gives his nipple another punishing tug, blunt nails raking down over Jensen’s chest until the pleasure and pain blurs together into one overwhelming sensation. He hears someone letting out these wanton little yelps with every thrust and it takes Jensen a few moments to register that it’s him; desperate, urgent sounds spilling past his lips as Misha drives him closer and closer to climax.
“P-please--” Jensen moans, gasping as he feels Misha’s hand slip possessively up to frame his throat, not squeezing so much as just holding on, letting Jensen feel claimed and taken.
“Yeah,” Misha growls, his voice hitting a low, velvety timbre that goes straight to Jensen’s aching dick, demanding in a tone that could move mountains, “come for me, Jensen.”
What choice does he have? Jensen throws his head back against Misha’s shoulder and lets out a shaking, near anguished cry of pure ecstasy, ass squeezing tightly down as every muscle in his body locks up and then releases, a full-body shiver rocking through Jensen’s frame like an earthquake, his untouched dick spurting in thick pulses all over the sheets as he trembles beneath Misha.
He feels the exact moment when his partner’s orgasm hits, two more thrusts and Misha’s there, smothering a blissful moan against Jensen’s nape and stilling as the release washes over him, his fingers flexing unconsciously on Jensen’s throat as Misha clings onto him. They rock through it together, their breaths almost deafeningly loud in the silence that follows that climax, and Jensen can feel Misha’s heart pounding against his back as he slowly sinks down into the mattress. He’s right on the wet spot but Jensen’s too fucked out to give a damn, fingers relaxing around the sheets and face pressed into the pillow, Misha a warm and comforting weight on his back as his partner releases the grip on his throat.
“Fucking amazing,” Misha rumbles succinctly against Jensen’s neck, nosing in beneath his ear and dropping a chaste kiss there. Jensen wishes he had something eloquent to say in response, but the combination of booze and mindblowing sex are conspiring against him, dragging him towards the precipice of sleep with no option for argument. He’s unconscious in thirty seconds.
*
Part Two
Title: Whisky Lullaby (1/2)
Recipient: serialkarma
Author: ze_pink_lady
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Everything you'd expect to find in an NC-17 fic - copious quantities of porn, language, a side-order of bondage and a healthy dose of manhandling. RPS.
Spoilers: None
Summary: Jensen is a college junior with one goal in mind; hook up with the hottest bartender at the coolest bar in town. Unlucky for him, Misha Collins doesn't go down easy.
Author notes: The giftee revealed a penchant for college AUs involving bartenders, so I was happy to oblige! Also features pretty boys in jeans and bare feet and plenty of porn! If time hadn't gotten away from me, this probably would've been longer, so look out for a continuation after the reveal! Hope you enjoy, SK!
Jensen has passed by this bar about a thousand times in his three years since coming to Texas Tech. There’s nothing noteworthy about it on the outside, it’s kind of plain and understated like most places in Lubbock, but for some reason it has always fascinated him. He and his buddies usually go to Bash Riprock’s or Tom’s if they’re looking for a good time off-campus, but he’s watched the kind of clientele that frequents Frisky Whisky and he wants to be part of it - the kind of people who don’t give a fuck who’s judging them or who they’re seen leaving with, the kind of people that are born confident instead of ‘reserved;’ the word he uses to make it sound like he’s not a total pussy when it comes to making the first move.
It’s a Tuesday night, quiet by campus standards, but still enough folks there that Jensen doesn’t feel like a mouthbreather sat alone at an empty bar. He likes the buzz of the place, the frenetic energy that always seems to surround a busy bar team who’ve worked together long enough to be a well-oiled machine, tossing bottles and setting shots on fire with gleeful smiles on their faces.
It’s one particular smile that catches his eye, though. A smile belonging to dark-haired, blue-eyed whirlwind who seems to have more energy than the rest of the staff combined, whipping from one end of the bar to the other and dispensing shots and cherries and flirtatious winks like they’re going out of style. He hasn’t gotten to Jensen yet, though; it’s a pink-haired chick with enough earrings to start her own jewelry store who’s trying to serve him, false eyelashes so long he’s surprised her eyes can even stay open under the weight.
“What’ll it be, darlin’?” she purrs, but Jensen just licks his lips and shakes his head.
“I'm, uh... still deciding, thanks,” he insists, watching her eyebrow climb towards her shocking pink hairline as he tries to furtively glance at the hot barman out of the corner of his eye; he’s bending over to retrieve a bottle from the chiller cabinets and damn, those jeans are so tight they should be illegal.
“Uh huh. Well, you need any help, you just holler,” she offers charitably, but it’s clear she’s already moving on, her attention and fluttering lashes all for the next guy along.
Jensen shuffles surreptitiously a little further up the bar, stealing a just-vacated seat a little closer to the guy’s territory, not giving a damn if he’s being obvious. He’s used to playing it safe, being the designated driver and the guy who’s more likely to choose truth than dare to avoid making a spectacle of himself - after all, the fun-loving jock types are all on the varsity teams - everyone wants to be a Red Raider, not look after their injuries as a physical therapist. But tonight, Jensen’s gonna be the risk-taker, he’s gonna pretend like he’s back in high school and he’s got the whole world at his feet, no blown knee to derail his dreams.
He licks his lips again, anticipation a low-level hum under his skin as the guy edges closer, pouring one more sloppy shot of whisky and then he’s there, right in front of Jensen, blue eyes even more striking up close.
“What’s your poison, good sir?” the guy asks, elbows on the bar and a knowing smile on inviting lips, like he’s been reading Jensen’s mind since he walked into the joint. He’s got rings on every other finger (and thumb), long, tapered hands and a light scruff of stubble, and he’s pretty much the most gorgeous thing Jensen’s ever seen. So obviously, Jensen forgets how to speak.
...Fuck, say something.
The bartender leans over like he’s expecting Jensen to impart some great wisdom, like Jensen knows the meaning of life or the secret to eternal youth, and he’s going to be severely fucking disappointed.
Say anything, Ackles, c’mon.
Jensen opens his mouth, but man, the guy’s eyes are so blue... Jesus, this has to be the longest time that anyone hasn’t said anything in the history of the world.
“You want my advice?” the guy asks casually, fixing Jensen with that intense blue gaze and (wisely) not even waiting for Jensen to attempt coherence enough to answer. “My personal favorite is known as the ‘Adios, Motherfucker.’ I have a feeling that’ll loosen your tongue right up.”
He says the words with such an air of solemnity that Jensen can’t help but nod in awed deference to his fantasy boyfriend’s obviously considerable bartending knowledge, but then the guy goes and ruins it all by tossing him a conspiratorial wink that goes straight to Jensen’s dick, and it’s back to being a functional moron again.
“I’m Misha, by the way,” the bartender adds, shooting a grin back at Jensen over his shoulder as he slopes off to mix the drink. “In case you were wondering.”
Jensen has to glance down to check that he didn’t just come in his pants.
*
After two ‘Motherfuckers,’ a shot of Jaeger and a colorfully named ‘Slippery Nipple,’ it’s true; Jensen is feeling a lot more chatty.
“You? You are awesome. How’d you get to be so awesome?” He grins, watching the chick with the pink hair (Rachel) raise her eyebrow like it’s attached to a hook, or something.
“I don’t even know you, slick,” she points out, and Jensen blinks slowly, hiccupping as he tries to keep his liquor down - the Baileys in that Slippery Nipple isn’t sitting all that well with anything else in his stomach right now.
“I’m- I’m sorry, I was talkin’ to Misha,” he drawls, watching both her eyebrows try to crawl off her forehead. They’re pretty fascinating. Rachel gives him a look that could drop a man dead at a hundred paces and very slowly, very pointedly turns her head to look at Misha, who’s all the way at the other end of the bar and pretty spectacularly out of earshot. Oh.
Jensen shrugs blithely, not too concerned considering the uncanny knack Misha apparently has for mind-reading. He totally knows how awesome he is without Jensen needing to tell him - that black t-shirt hugging him in all the right places… Jensen glances hastily down at his crotch again, but he seems to be fine.
Clearly Rachel doesn’t think Misha knows how intrinsically awesome he is though, because as soon as he’s finished serving the couple at the other end of the bar, she hollers at eardrum perforating volume, “Collins! Come take this lush off my hands before I put his face through the bar.” She sweetly adds, “You’re welcome,” to Jensen before sashaying away to switch positions with Misha (last name Collins; Jensen files that away for future stalking purposes) as the barman approaches.
“Causing trouble, I see?” he asks Jensen wryly, his expression almost fond - or maybe that’s just the haze of alcohol making Jensen delusional.
Momentarily hypnotized by Misha’s general… Misha-ness, Jensen dumbly repeats, “You’re awesome.”
Misha blinks at that before letting out a startled huff of laughter. “That’s the general consensus, yeah,” he concedes, tugging away Jensen’s empty glass and putting it behind the bar. “Though I’d be fascinated to hear what you’re basing this opinion on, considering that this is the first time we’ve met and I don’t even know your name.”
Thankfully, Jensen just manages to repress the urge to spout some cheesy porno line like, ‘you can call me whatever you want,’ breathlessly blurting out “It’s Jensen,” instead, like he’s expecting Misha to give him a prize for answering at least part of his question.
“Jensen.” Misha tests the name on his tongue, smiling before he sticks out one ring-adorned hand to shake Jensen’s, which seems to be a little stickier than Jensen would prefer, in the interests of good first impressions. But at least they’re touching - this is a positive step.
“Well, now that we’re best friends,” Misha grins, holding his hand back out. “I’ll need your car keys.”
It’s just reflex to hand them over, Jensen’s on autopilot before he even he’s dropped them into Misha’s hand. “Wait. Why?”
“’Cause you’re totally wasted, fratboy,” Misha laughs, pushing the keys into his pocket and coming out from behind the bar, tossing the rag on his shoulder at a lanky blond guy who’s wiping down tables now that the evening’s winding down. Jensen only now notices that there’s only him and the couple Misha just finished serving left in the place, along with a creepy looking old guy tucked away at a table in the corner who’s having a staring contest with his beer, plus the three other staff members besides Misha. “Can you guys keep the place from burning down until I get back? Gonna give my buddy Jensen here a ride home.”
“As long as that’s all you’re givin’ him - we’ve got homes to go to.” Rachel smirks suggestively, and Jensen doesn’t know whether to be insulted or exhilarated by the thought of Misha giving him any kind of ride.
“’m not a fratboy,” he belatedly insists after Misha’s words finally sink in. “’m not that guy.”
“Whatever you say, stud,” Misha snorts, moving to help lever Jensen off the stool. “C’mon - lemme get you up. You in the dorms?”
Jensen shakes his head, pressing a closed fist to his mouth to stifle the burp that wants to erupt; gas isn’t sexy. “O-over at Copperwood Apartments on- hic- on Main.” Misha’s a little bit shorter than him up close, slim but solid and god, he smells good… Jensen has to fight not to just bury his nose in the guy’s neck and breathe him in as Misha wedges his shoulder under Jensen’s arm to keep him upright.
“Not a horrendous walk to sober you up in the morning then; we’ll take my car,” Misha beams beatifically, guiding Jensen with steady hands out into the parking lot.
The cool night air hits him like a slap, not quite penetrating his alcohol haze, but definitely helping Jensen see a little clearer. He leans heavily on Misha - mostly from the booze, but a little bit just to feel how warm he is and how he doesn’t buckle under Jensen’s weight even a little.
“You give all your customers a ride home?” Jensen asks, licking his lips and just going where Misha steers him.
“Only the pretty ones,” says Misha, his smile nothing short of sinful as he pulls them to a stop beside a shiny black car. It’s a hybrid, and somehow it fits, even if Jensen doesn’t really know the guy from Adam; something about Misha’s sloe eyes and languid stride and the rings that glint on those artistic fingers… Wow, Jensen can’t grasp even a fleeting hint of his train of thought, his mind swallowed up by the lewd imaginings of just what those pretty hands can do.
“’m a lot prettier when I’m not wasted,” Jensen insists, certain he must be all flushed and sweaty and not all that appealing while he’s staggering around like a headless chicken, narrowly avoiding banging his head as he ducks into the passenger seat.
Misha smirks at that assurance. “That’d be difficult,” he says, and oh god, he’s definitely flirting, Jensen is so getting laid tonight. It’s been longer than he’d like; he likes to think of himself as casually bisexual because tits are really awesome, but somehow Jensen usually finds himself in bed with guys, and it’s probable that he’s just afraid of what his daddy might say if he knew Jensen liked grabbing ankle for the same team. While TT is pretty liberal in some ways, they’re still in Texas and Jensen’s not the kind of guy who ever wants to go and hit on a jock and get punched in the mouth for it, especially since the likelihood is that he’ll then end up having to help diagnose and patch up their injury on the field as part of his internship training.
“Um,” Jensen says eloquently, because really, what is the correct response to that kind of compliment without coming off as an arrogant douchebag?
“So, what’s your major?” Misha smoothly sails on as he pulls out of the lot, clearly unwilling to let an awkward silence descend.
“Uh- Exercise and Heath Promotion, I wanna be a physical therapist for sports injuries down the line,” Jensen explains, more out of habit than any grasp on coherence now that they’re actually truly alone together in a confined space, some soothing, massage-room-style music piping through the speakers.
Misha glances over at him, brows raised suggestively as he observes, “You must be good with your hands.”
Oh, god - Jensen’s never gonna survive the ride home, the tension in the air so thick he can hardly breathe. “Dude, you’re killin’ me here,” he laughs breathlessly, licking his lips as Misha shoots him a shameless grin.
“You think I didn’t notice the way you were staring at me all night?” he asks, drumming his fingers lightly on the wheel and glancing askance at Jensen. “The declarations of my awesomeness helped, too.”
Jensen doesn’t really have an answer to that. “I... Uh. Did you like it?”
“I wouldn’t be driving you home if I didn’t,” Misha purrs, one hand slipping down to briefly squeeze Jensen’s thigh.
Oh, it is on.
“Drive faster or I’m gonna suck your dick right fucking here,” Jensen rasps heatedly, unable to believe his luck as he watches with smug satisfaction as Misha’s eyes widen before the barman slams his foot down. It only takes them another minute with the way Misha’s driving, then Jensen’s fumbling desperately with his seatbelt, trying not to get tangled up as Misha all but bolts from the car.
He’s around to open Jensen’s door and haul him out in an instant, shoving Jensen up against the side of the car and crushing his mouth against Jensen’s with no hesitation, his tongue thrusting greedily against Jensen’s own, making him groan and arch against the warm metal as he claws at Misha’s back.
“Fuck, fuck,” he pants, biting at Misha’s tempting lips and dropping one hand down to squeeze the other man’s ass, dragging their hips lewdly together as he stares into those lust-hazed blue eyes. “Gimme my keys.”
Misha obliges, gaze still hotly holding Jensen’s as he digs them out of his pocket (he’s obviously pleased to see Jensen because it’s definitely not a keychain that’s digging into Jensen’s hip) and drops them into his palm. Jensen tries not to whimper as Misha gives a suggestive roll of his hips, grinding their erections together before Jensen pushes against him, disengaging long enough to drag Misha through the main doors and over to the elevator. Jensen chews his lip fretfully as he waits for it to appear - at least until Misha presses up behind him and rubs his dick slyly against Jensen’s ass, arms wrapped around Jensen’s waist.
“Fuck,” Jensen hisses again, tilting his head back to bite against Misha’s jaw and giving a startled twitch as the elevator door pings open with an accusing ding, like it doesn’t approve of them making out in the hall in the middle of the night. He stumbles inside with Misha still plastered against his back and the bartender just gives him time to push the button for the fourth floor before he’s shoving Jensen back against the wall, hands roaming greedily over Jensen’s chest and ribs as their mouths clash together for another ravenous kiss.
God, it’s the hottest thing Jensen’s ever felt and that’s not the booze talking; Misha is hot and lithe and he kisses just as wickedly as he talks, sucking on Jensen’s tongue and raking his nails over Jensen’s spine as their hips rut together. He doesn’t even let Jensen break the kiss when the doors slide open again, just backs him out into the hallway with one hand shoved down the back of Jensen’s jeans to palm at his ass.
Jensen groans low, loving the feel of those rings against his hot skin as he pulls them to a stop outside his door, fumbling blindly with the key until he can slot it into the lock, third time lucky.
“You’re so fucking gorgeous, Jensen,” Misha praises, his low voice even more graveled with lust as he mouths at Jensen’s throat, panting softly against that damp skin as Jensen rushes to get the door open before they end up humping right there in the hallway.
“Th-that’s the general consensus.” Jensen grins breathlessly back at him, glad to be able to use Misha’s words against him as he drags them over the threshold into his dark apartment - it’s a modest one-bedroom and Jensen’s never been more grateful that he doesn’t have a roommate than he is right now.
“Cute,” Misha drawls in response, taking Jensen’s keys from his hand and dumping them on the coffee table so his hands are free when Misha grabs the hem of his t-shirt and drags it up over Jensen’s head, baring his chest for Misha’s roaming fingers. “You sure you wanna be a physical therapist and not a Raider? You’re pretty fucking ripped, man,” he observes, hands almost reverent as they smooth over Jensen’s abs.
“Blew out my knee in high school playing football - it never healed quite right,” Jensen murmurs ruefully, shivering as Misha’s fingers tease over the peaks of his nipples, pinching until they harden.
“Clearly doesn’t stop you doing crunches, huh?” Misha smiles, coaxing a grin from Jensen in return as he reaches to tug Misha’s shirt off too, then he’s hooking one finger in the barman’s beltloop and dragging him into the bedroom with single-minded focus.
They fall into bed in a wild tangle of limbs and Jensen narrowly avoids elbowing Misha in the face as they fumble with belts and zippers, his hands at a severe disadvantage given how much liquor he’s imbibed tonight. They get it together though, kicking out of their jeans so that they can rock their hips together in a sultry grind, Jensen’s hands smoothing over Misha’s ribs and down to knead at his toned ass.
“Wanna fuck you, Jensen,” Misha confides in a velvety rumble, biting at Jensen’s lower lip and tugging it teasingly between his teeth. The words are like a physical touch, making Jensen’s dick twitch hotly where it’s trapped against Misha’s, his heart pounding loudly in his chest and thrumming in his ears as he nods shakily, reflecting that he can’t think of anything he wants more.
“Yeah, fuck yes.” He nods, licking at Misha’s lips and nipping them gently, his skin already growing damp with sweat as they writhe together, one of his legs hooked around his partner’s slim waist. “But you gotta- you gotta let me suck your dick first.” He’s been thinking about it most of the night and Jensen will not be denied, not now he’s felt how hot and thick it is, pressing up against his thigh.
“I’m not gonna argue with that,” Misha laughs wryly, letting Jensen push him over onto his back and straddle his thighs. Jensen just wants to savor the moment, staring worshipfully down at Misha as his hands trace over slim sides and up over his chest, dipping his head down to suck one sensitive nipple into his mouth and flick his tongue over the sensitive nub, teasing with his teeth until it hardens. Misha lets out a sharp gasp and fists his fingers tightly in Jensen’s hair, hips hitching reflexively up to bump his cockhead against Jensen’s ass, smearing precome in his wake.
“Jesus, Jensen - your mouth…” Misha groans, fingers massaging at the nape of Jensen’s neck as he rocks his hips up, rubbing his dick against Jensen’s ass just for the friction, his body trembling with need as Jensen switches to the other nipple.
“Mmm,” Jensen purrs smugly, staring up at Misha through his lashes as he squirms his way down, kissing a damp trail over Misha’s belly until he’s nosing through the dark curls of Misha’s pubic hair and mouthing at the base of his pretty cock. He raises his head enough to lick a wet, hot stripe along the underside of that sensitive flesh, listening to Misha hiss sharply as Jensen wraps his lips around the head of that thick dick, other hand wrapping tightly around the base as he hollows his cheeks and sucks gently.
Misha’s gaze is nothing short of awed as he stares up at Jensen, lips parted and lashes heavy over lust-blown eyes as he spreads his legs wider, planting his feet so that he can thrust lightly into Jensen’s mouth. Jensen’s not about to let Misha set the pace though, not yet, growling softly in warning as his hands find the spurs of Misha’s hips, holding him down as Jensen starts bobbing his head.
“Fu-uck,” Misha gasps rapturously, tipping his head back and arching against the sheets as Jensen works to drive him higher, slurping obscenely around that twitching flesh and tonguing greedily at the tip to coax more precome from the sensitive slit. Misha’s practically in orbit already by the sounds of it, clawing needily at Jensen’s hair and digging blunt fingernails into his shoulder as he writhes, soft little moans of pleasure spilling from those tempting lips.
Jensen hums low just to add a little vibration to it, pushing further to take more of Misha’s cock into his mouth, not stopping until the tip is pressing into his throat. His gag reflex hits but Jensen fights it, holding Misha’s gaze with fierce intensity until Misha registers what he’s about to do, then Jensen’s pressing further, letting Misha’s cock slip deep into his throat as he swallows around it, enjoying the startled cry of pleasure that tears from his partner’s lips at the sensation.
Misha’s wild with it, growling low and tugging urgently on Jensen’s hair, rough breaths escaping his lips as he hooks one leg over Jensen’s shoulder to keep him where he is, Jensen’s throat still working around that thick flesh as he lets Misha fuck his mouth. “Jensen, Jensen,” Misha rasps, fingers cupping Jensen’s cheek as Jensen slurps and suckles, one hand sliding down to find the sensitive skin of Misha’s sac and massage it gently, showing Misha just exactly how good he is with his hands as he drags in unsteady breaths through his nose.
“Shit, Jen, gonna- gonna lose it right the fuck now if you keep this up,” Misha warns low, biting his lip as his fingers clench and release fitfully on Jensen’s shoulder, and Jensen sure as shit doesn’t want to waste an orgasm on his mouth when it could be inside him, abruptly pulling off with an obscene pop.
He’s panting harshly, cheeks flushed and jaw aching a little as he stares down at Misha, grinning proudly as Misha collapses back against the pillows, his own breaths just as unsteady as Jensen’s. “Man… that mouth should be illegal,” Misha groans, flinging one arm over his eyes and shuddering as he tries to get some control back, obviously way too close to coming for comfort.
“So I’ve been told,” Jensen purrs, licking his lips as he crawls back on top of Misha, trying to ignore the insistent throb of his own erection as he rocks down against Misha and steals a languid, sticky kiss.
Their tongues tangle slickly together and Jensen feels Misha’s hand slide down his spine, fingers caressing his ass before dipping deeper to rub slowly over the pucker of his hole. Groaning roughly, Jensen’s hips buck reflexively and he pulls back to stare down at Misha, a little intoxicated by his partner’s shameless smirk.
“Make the most of being on top, cowboy, in five minutes, your ass isn’t gonna know what hit it,” Misha warns, giving Jensen a playful smack.
“Well, that was your hand,” Jensen points out, the smartass comment earning him another swat, which he has to admit he kinda enjoys.
Misha arches a brow up at him as he trembles, commenting, “You want to make jokes or you want me to fuck you, slick?”
“If I can’t do both, I guess I’ll settle for the fucking,” Jensen teases, fumbling a hand out for the nightstand and dragging out the lube and a condom, dumping them beside Misha before stealing another filthy kiss, tongue thrusting greedily against his partner’s and his hips grinding sinuously down to let their erections slide together. He doesn’t quite have a handle on what kind of lover Misha’s going to be - judging by the spanks, he’s optimistic - but either way, Jensen’s fairly sure it’s going to feel fucking fantastic.
“Mmm, hands and knees,” Misha purrs, giving Jensen’s shoulder a light shove. He’s only too happy to oblige, sliding from atop Misha to settle beside him instead, bracing on his knees and forearms and canting his ass invitingly up as Misha rolls smoothly upright and grabs the lube. Jensen hears a light clatter on the nightstand as Misha slips off the ring on his middle finger and squirts out the lube, then it’s just a couple of seconds before two slick digits are rubbing against his hole.
Jensen’s pretty relaxed from the booze - if you don’t count the aching erection - so he takes two fingers without too much discomfort, hissing slightly at the stretch and squirming as he presses his face to the pillow, Misha’s fingers feeling even better than they look - long and dexterous and hitting that spot just right as they curl up against his prostate. Jensen groans roughly, biting his lip and trying not to fall apart as Misha scissors his fingers, slowly stretching him with practiced ease, and Jensen tries not to think about how many other guys have probably been on this end of those talented digits.
“God, you’re so fucking tight,” Misha praises huskily, bending to press a kiss to Jensen’s shoulder as he works him open, other hand holding Jensen’s hip, digging in with pressure that feels vaguely possessive. Jensen can feel Misha’s cock against the back of his thigh, hot and insistent, and he’s never wanted anything more than he wants Misha inside him right now.
“Gonna be even tighter around that gorgeous dick,” Jensen promises roughly, giving a demonstrative squeeze around Misha’s fingers to try and urge him on.
He feels his partner shudder bodily, smirking to himself as Misha grunts, “Don’t tempt me - I want to get you open properly.”
“I’m- ah- I’mma get started without you,” Jensen threatens breathlessly, lashes fluttering as Misha rubs against his prostate in retaliation. “C’mon, Mish - put your money where your mouth is.”
“Is that where you want my mouth?” Misha drawls, and the next thing Jensen knows, the slick heat of Misha’s tongue is flicking hotly against his hole, thrusting between his fingers. He yelps sharply, bucking as Misha mouths at his entrance, tracing the pucker of his rim with the tip of that sinful tongue.
“Misha- Misha, oh my god,” Jensen gasps, glancing back over his shoulder but unable to catch a glimpse of Misha as he twists two fingers inside Jensen and presses his tongue obscenely deep, slick muscle fucking into Jensen until he’s mindless with it, fucking himself wantonly back on his partner’s mouth and unable to form words, let alone urge Misha to hurry up.
This is fucking serious, Jensen’s about five seconds away from coming all over himself. “Fuck, please, Misha, please,” he hisses, biting at the pillow beneath him and squeezing his eyes closed desperately, trying to hold on. Then, as quickly as that startling pleasure appeared, it’s gone again, fingers and tongue slipping free and leaving Jensen feeling achingly empty. All Jensen can hear is the pounding of his own pulse in his ears and the rasp of his breaths, straining to try and hear what Misha is doing as he tries to claw back some semblance of control.
He glances back over his shoulder and Misha is there, smirking down at him as he smoothes one hand over Jensen’s side, the other guiding his cock into place, rubbing the head back and forth against Jensen’s hole to tease him. Jensen quakes and fumbles one hand back, trying to grip Misha’s ass to pull him in.
“Please, Misha,” he repeats, almost whining to try and make his partner take pity on him, and it obviously works because Misha nods, blue eyes dark with need as he purrs, “I’ll take care of you, Jensen.”
The first thrust drives Jensen forward with a startled grunt, Misha’s hips smacking sharply against his ass, sheathing that thick flesh inside him with a pretty little groan of pleasure from that wicked mouth that goes straight to Jensen’s cock. Jensen bites his lip and has to squeeze his eyes closed for a moment just to savor the stretch and burn, feeling like he might topple over into release at any moment, should Misha blink or breathe or shift his touch even a little.
“Good?” Misha asks tightly from somewhere above him and Jensen can only nod, his voice lost somewhere in his throat, stretched raw and quivering like a plucked guitar string as he finally grinds out, “More.”
Misha’s happy to oblige, one big hand sliding around from Jensen’s hip, smoothing over his abs and up to tease over one tight nipple, pinching it lightly as he grinds his cock in against Jensen’s prostate. Jensen’s already reeling from the booze, not entirely sure which way is up and which his down as he clenches his ass tight around Misha’s dick, wanting to unravel some of his partner’s restraint as Misha slowly, tantalizingly draws back out and rocks in again, setting up a rhythm that’s way too slow and measured for how out of control Jensen’s feeling.
“Misha,” he hisses, tightening his fingers in the bedsheets beneath him, balling the fabric in his fists and letting out a soft “Unh-“ of bliss with every impact of slim hips against ass, the sound of sweat-damp skin slapping together in staccato beats filling his ears and the scent of their arousal already cloying his senses.
Jensen can’t remember the last time it felt this good; all his encounters seem to be aided by copious quantities of alcohol these days and sometimes it’s a blessing, every hook-up resulting in some sticky, shameful morning after where there’s only soreness and a lingering sense of guilt as he sneaks out of a stranger’s bed or crawls into his shower alone, the memory nothing more than some awkward fumbling in the dark and no memory of the guy’s face. This time will be different, Jensen’s decided, Misha is confident and sexy and fuck his dick feels so goddamn good; there’s no way Jensen’s going to let this end at one.
He fumbles back with one hand to dig his fingers into Misha’s hip, coaxing his partner to dip down lower, chest against Jensen’s back so that he can hear Misha’s huffing hot and ragged against the back of his ear.
“You’re so fucking hot, Jensen - prettiest ass I’ve ever seen,” Misha rasps, his voice like whiskey over gravel, a sultry purr that makes Jensen shake and clench down, his dick jerking with the impact of every thrust. He feels so full, muscles stretched wide around twitching flesh, his chest heaving as Jensen tries to remember how to breathe, not sure whether it’s the booze or just Misha that’s making him so dizzy.
“That- that all you got?” he pants challengingly, figuring if anything’s gonna make Misha lose control it’ll be back-talk and competition. “Thought you were a pro, Mish - thought my- ah- ass wouldn’t know what hit it?”
“Well yeehaw, cowboy,” Misha chuckles, setting his teeth chidingly against Jensen’s shoulder for a sharp nip before he’s picking up the pace, hips rolling in fast, filthy movements, the sound of their bodies impacting nothing short of obscene as Misha gives Jensen’s thigh a sharp smack, teeth digging harder into the curve of Jensen’s shoulder to leave an unrepentant mark.
“F-fuck- Jesus Christ,” Jensen hisses, eyes squeezing tightly shut and back arching to try and get Misha that extra half-inch deeper, a ragged cry of ecstasy clawing from his throat as he grips at the sheets, white-knuckled and wild. Misha’s like a fucking machine, pistoning into him until Jensen can feel the weight of Misha’s balls slapping against his own, his dick dripping precome as it bobs with the movement of his body.
He can’t help but fuck himself back into Misha’s thrusts, the pressure against his prostate almost unbearable as Misha gives his nipple another punishing tug, blunt nails raking down over Jensen’s chest until the pleasure and pain blurs together into one overwhelming sensation. He hears someone letting out these wanton little yelps with every thrust and it takes Jensen a few moments to register that it’s him; desperate, urgent sounds spilling past his lips as Misha drives him closer and closer to climax.
“P-please--” Jensen moans, gasping as he feels Misha’s hand slip possessively up to frame his throat, not squeezing so much as just holding on, letting Jensen feel claimed and taken.
“Yeah,” Misha growls, his voice hitting a low, velvety timbre that goes straight to Jensen’s aching dick, demanding in a tone that could move mountains, “come for me, Jensen.”
What choice does he have? Jensen throws his head back against Misha’s shoulder and lets out a shaking, near anguished cry of pure ecstasy, ass squeezing tightly down as every muscle in his body locks up and then releases, a full-body shiver rocking through Jensen’s frame like an earthquake, his untouched dick spurting in thick pulses all over the sheets as he trembles beneath Misha.
He feels the exact moment when his partner’s orgasm hits, two more thrusts and Misha’s there, smothering a blissful moan against Jensen’s nape and stilling as the release washes over him, his fingers flexing unconsciously on Jensen’s throat as Misha clings onto him. They rock through it together, their breaths almost deafeningly loud in the silence that follows that climax, and Jensen can feel Misha’s heart pounding against his back as he slowly sinks down into the mattress. He’s right on the wet spot but Jensen’s too fucked out to give a damn, fingers relaxing around the sheets and face pressed into the pillow, Misha a warm and comforting weight on his back as his partner releases the grip on his throat.
“Fucking amazing,” Misha rumbles succinctly against Jensen’s neck, nosing in beneath his ear and dropping a chaste kiss there. Jensen wishes he had something eloquent to say in response, but the combination of booze and mindblowing sex are conspiring against him, dragging him towards the precipice of sleep with no option for argument. He’s unconscious in thirty seconds.
*
Part Two