Fic: Truth or Dare
Title: Truth or Dare
Author: discreetmath and lizzstomania
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: Supernatural RPS
Pairing: Jensen/Misha
Spoilers: None.
Warnings/Kinks: Explicit sex/Crossdressing, spanking, bottom!Misha.
Word Count: 2650.
Summary: Jensen should have known better than to get into any kind of competition with Misha, but he finds he can't complain about how this one turns out.
A/N: Written for this prompt on the spn_kinkmeme with the always-amazing Lizz.
Disclaimer: These people do not belong to me, and this is all fiction.
It’s not as if Jensen hadn’t known this was a bad idea right from the start. But there’s something about Misha, all flushed and grinning, that makes it impossible to say no.
They’re camped out on Jensen’s living room floor, playing Truth or Dare like teenage girls, but worse, so much worse. And it’s not like Jensen has any great respect for the sacred rules of Truth or Dare, but he’s too drunk to lie when Misha asks if he’s ever been with a guy before. Now that information’s out there, but he doesn’t have time to be embarrassed because Misha’s flopping back onto the carpet and grinning at him lazily. His shirt has ridden up just enough to expose a strip of pale skin at his waist, and it’s all Jensen can do to drag his eyes away from his hipbones where they peek out of the top of his jeans.
It’s a good thing Misha didn’t ask him anything specific, because Jensen has a lot of very detailed fantasies involving Misha and his hips.
“So my turn, my turn.” Jensen knocks back another from the row of shots lined up on the coffee table. “Misha-Four-Middle-Names-Collins, Truth or Dare?”
The only word Jensen can think of to describe Misha’s face is predatory. “Dare,” Misha says, low and rough.
Jensen panics, wildly casting his mind around for a suitable dare; he’d been so sure Misha would say truth. Misha’s smirking now, and it’s kind of pissing Jensen off. For some reason, Misha always seems to have the upper hand, to be in control no matter what situation he’s in. It’s obvious that he’s expecting Jensen to come up with something weak, but no way in hell is that happening now.
He doesn’t know what corner of his brain finally produces the idea, but now Jensen is smirking as he imagines Misha’s reaction. He just hopes his roommate doesn’t find out, because she’d probably kick his ass. Or kill him. She’s probably capable of murder.
“All right, Katie’s out of town until Sunday, so I dare you to go into her room and steal the laciest, girliest pair of panties you can find in her underwear drawer.” Misha raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed, so Jensen continues. “And then you have to wear them the rest of the night.”
Misha’s other eyebrow joins the first in the race towards his hairline and Jensen feels triumph blaze through him. Misha’s going to back out and then he’s going to have to be Jensen’s bitch at work for a week. This is definitely the best win-win situation Jensen’s ever gotten himself into. Misha stares at him until his brows furrow, creating a devastatingly adorable crinkle around his nose and Jensen gets lost for a second. He snaps back when Misha stands on slightly wobbly legs and makes his way to Katie’s room. The door shuts with a snap and he hears Misha swear before the light clicks on.
Two minutes later, Misha reemerges, shirtless with his belt undone. His jeans hang low on his hips, exposing a vivid green waistband, and Jensen’s mouth waters. He knows exactly what pair of underwear Misha picked out; he helped Katie pick them out three weeks ago when he decided to figure out where he fell on the Kinsey scale. Turns out he still doesn’t much like shopping, but he definitely likes envisioning Misha in all the lacy, frilly things at Frederick’s. And corsets. And those thigh-high stockings with the lace edges because Misha has really nice legs. He still doesn’t know his rating on the scale though, but why is he thinking about that when Misha is six feet away from him, wearing bright green panties under his jeans and struggling to figure out how to put his belt back on? Jensen has plans that definitely don’t involve belts.
Before he’s aware of moving, he’s kneeling in front of Misha, trying to tilt his face up without taking his eyes off the lace digging into Misha’s hipbones. It’s not working very well and Jensen thinks Misha is talking to him, but Misha talks too much anyway. Besides, one of Misha’s deliciously wide hands is resting on the side of Jensen’s head and that sounds like an invitation if ever there was one. He lets his tongue slip out, lets his breath ghost over all the soft, pale skin before him, and breathes in the smell of Misha’s arousal. Misha’s hips hitch forward minutely and Jensen dives in, gleefully yanking Misha’s pants down and rubbing his nose along the line of Misha’s cock through stretchy green lace.
Misha lets out a quiet "oh," sounding almost surprised. Jensen can’t imagine why; surely he knew the moment he pulled these underwear on that Jensen wouldn’t be able to resist him. Determined to pull more noises from Misha, he tilts his head up to watch him as he mouths over Misha’s cock, the rough material dragging against his lips as it grows damper.
He can’t contain a moan, almost pained, at the way the panties are clinging to Misha’s skin now, the hard line of him clearly visible and obscene as it juts out against green lace. He’s too big, too hard to fit inside this tiny pair of underwear, and the head of his cock is poking out above the waistband, flushed and shining with pre-come.
“So wet for me,” he murmurs, ghosting his breath across it before darting out his tongue to taste him. Misha’s legs start to buckle, and it’s clear that the haze of alcohol is fading as he grips Jensen’s hair tightly and yanks his head back before stepping out of his jeans.
“You want to fuck me, Jensen?” And fuck, if that isn’t the dumbest question Jensen’s ever heard. He nods, trying to get his mouth back on Misha, but the other man’s grip isn’t easing. He looks back up, pleading, but Misha just gives him that same infuriating smirk before abruptly letting go and turning his back. Jensen watches, awestruck, as Misha saunters across the floor toward his bedroom, those fucking panties stretched across his lean hips and his ass swaying in a way that Jensen knows is deliberate. With a growl, he gets to his feet to follow.
When he reaches the bedroom door, his mouth goes dry.
Misha is already on the bed, his forearms resting on the pillow and his ass thrust invitingly into the air. He’s looking back over his shoulder, eyes darkly amused, and he rolls his hips once, slow and seductive.
Jensen’s not going to survive this, he just knows it.
He does his best to look graceful, or even one-tenth as sexy as Misha, as he strips out of his clothes, but he’s pretty sure it doesn’t work. He’s briefly held up as he struggles to wrestle his shirt over his head, but then he’s finally naked and he doesn’t hesitate to crawl up the bed, plastering himself against Misha’s back.
The feeling of his dick sliding along Misha’s ass, the rough drag of lace over sensitive skin, makes his eyes fall shut and he stutters out a moan. He tries to steady himself, breathing heavily against the nape of Misha’s neck as he drops kisses and light nips to the skin there. It occurs to him that they haven’t actually kissed yet, and yeah, he’s totally not about to let that slide.
Now it’s his turn to thread his fingers into Misha’s hair, tugging roughly to twist Misha’s head toward him. He spares a long moment to stare at Misha’s lips, red and swollen like he’s been biting at them, before Misha moves in with a frustrated groan to press their mouths together.
It’s not the best angle, but Jensen can’t help but think that the filthy way Misha’s tongue is slipping into his mouth is one of the best things he’s ever felt. They kiss like that, open and wet, for what feels like forever but might only be a minute. Jensen pulls away reluctantly, nipping at Misha’s bottom lip as he goes. Misha’s mouth looks wrecked, and the knowledge that he did that goes straight to his cock.
He bucks forward involuntarily, pressing Misha into the mattress, and leans forward to grab lube and a condom out of his nightstand. He drops them on the bed and reaches up to hook his fingers into the waistband of the panties to tug them down.
“No,” Misha groans, and Jensen pauses. “You said I have to wear them the whole night, and you’re not going to win on a fucking technicality.”
Jensen laughs, surprised, until the meaning of those words sinks into his brain. He sees the vivid mental image of him thrusting into Misha’s ass, lacy underwear shoved to the side, and he slides a hand up Misha’s spine possessively.
“Yeah,” he says, and his voice is so rough that it’s almost unrecognizable, “I think I can work with that.”
Jensen slides his free hand up Misha’s thigh to where the panties cling tightly to the curve of Misha’s ass. He looks amazing like this, all tight and firm and pale, and Jensen can’t resist the urge to lift his hand up and bring it down sharply onto Misha’s bare skin with a loud smack.
Misha jerks in surprise before shoving his hips back again and making a pleading sound.
“Goddamn, Jensen, I didn’t think you had it in you,” he teases breathlessly, shifting around. He’s obviously trying to provoke Jensen, and it’s working. Jensen pulls his hand back and smacks him again, one side and then the other, pleased with the grunts coming from Misha and with the red marks he’s leaving.
Once he’s satisfied, Misha’s ass hot and flushed, he picks up the lube and coats the fingers of his left hand before dragging the panties aside to expose his tight hole. Jensen suppresses a moan at the sight of it and slips his fingers down, teasing at the rim.
“Jensen,” Misha groans, trying to push back onto his fingers, “stop playing around and fuck me already.”
“So bossy,” Jensen mutters before pushing two fingers in, grinning when Misha drops his head to curse into the pillow. He pulls them out slowly before thrusting back in, a bit further this time. Misha shifts, trying to spread his legs wider, and Jensen takes that moment to curl his fingers and drag them back out.
Misha cries out, and Jensen can see his legs shaking with the strain of staying upright as Jensen presses the tips of his fingers into his prostate.
“Please,” Misha begs, his voice breaking on the end of the word. Jensen is happy to comply, pulling his fingers out before shoving back in roughly with three. It doesn’t take long before Misha is pushing back to meet him, riding his fingers and groaning every time they brush over that spot just right. Jensen can’t stand it anymore, watching the way they disappear into his body, and he pulls them out abruptly before tearing open the condom packet and rolling it on.
Jensen slicks himself up and pauses, drinking in the way Misha’s got his ass thrust up in the air shamelessly. He sucks in a shuddering breath and takes hold of himself, guiding the head of his dick to rest against Misha’s hole, pink and shiny with lube. Misha makes a pleading noise but he barely hears it, blood rushing in his ears as he eases forward.
He doesn’t know how he could possibly fit in that tight space, but then the head slips in and he gasps, heat and pressure turning him inside out. He takes a minute to compose himself, fighting the urge to force his way in and take. Misha apparently doesn’t want to wait, though, and he pushes up on his hands and shoves backward, impaling himself on Jensen’s cock with a broken moan.
Jensen drops down, lying across Misha’s back and gasping for air as Misha’s ass adjusts to fit him. After a minute it’s a little bit more bearable, but still so impossibly tight that he can feel his vision going.
“Jensen, I’m not trying to run this show, but if you don’t move soon I’m flipping you over and fucking you instead.” Misha’s breathing heavily, but his voice is way too steady. Jensen pushes down another crashing wave of lust and focuses instead on how badly he wants to break Misha apart.
He pulls back, sliding all the way out, and grins; Misha makes a desperate sound in the back of his throat and Jensen finally feels like he has the upper hand. He eases back in, just the tip again, but his hands have a firm grip on Misha’s hips now and he gives a few tiny thrusts, watching Misha’s ass stretch around the fat head of his cock. He bites his lip, dizzy with how good it feels, but he won’t continue until he gets something else.
“You want this, Mish?” Misha gives an undignified grunt, straining back against his hands without success. “No, none of that. You want me to fuck your ass in these little panties, you need to ask. Nicely.” He’s taking a chance here, not sure if he’s taking this too far, but he smiles triumphantly when Misha drops his shoulders back to the bed. He bows his back, the picture of submission, and even though Jensen knows it’s an act it turns him on beyond belief.
“Please, Jen. Give me your cock. I need it,” he whines, his voice rough and strained.
That’s even better than what Jensen was expecting, and he drops one of his hands down to rest between Misha’s shoulder blades before thrusting forward, not stopping until his balls are flush against Misha’s ass.
That’s about all he can take of teasing, and he loses it then, pulling nearly all the way out before slamming back in, rutting into Misha’s ass with all of the force he can manage. The noises pouring out of Misha, the groans and cries and please, Jen, please, only spur him on, and he slides his hand under Misha’s belly to grip his cock. When Jensen starts stripping Misha’s cock in time with his own thrusts, that’s it, it’s over. Misha tenses up, long fingers digging into the pillow as he comes all over the sheets. Jensen manages a few more deep thrusts before he’s there too, folding himself over Misha’s back and fucking him through his own orgasm.
They stay like that, plastered together, for several minutes as they catch their breath. Finally, reluctantly, Jensen pulls away, wincing as his softening cock slips out of Misha’s ass. He eases the condom off and drops it into the trash can next to the bed. Misha’s not moving, and he’s briefly torn between concern and pride at the thought that he had fucked him unconscious. But then Misha’s rolling onto his side, fixing Jensen with a salacious smirk.
Jensen can’t stop himself from crawling up the bed and kissing Misha, messy and intense but still tender when compared to what they’d just done. He rolls them over, pulling them clear of the wet spot, before tugging Misha up against his chest and pulling the sheet up over them.
As he falls asleep, Misha murmurs in his ear, “Your turn. Truth or dare?”
“Truth,” he laughs, without thinking, hoping it means he won’t have to move from this spot.
“Do you want to do that again?”
Jensen cracks one eye open to see Misha looking up at him expectantly.
“Ask me in the morning, Mish,” he grumbles, squeezing Misha in closer to his body. It must be the right answer, because before he slips his eyes shut again he sees Misha break into a wide grin.
Author: discreetmath and lizzstomania
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: Supernatural RPS
Pairing: Jensen/Misha
Spoilers: None.
Warnings/Kinks: Explicit sex/Crossdressing, spanking, bottom!Misha.
Word Count: 2650.
Summary: Jensen should have known better than to get into any kind of competition with Misha, but he finds he can't complain about how this one turns out.
A/N: Written for this prompt on the spn_kinkmeme with the always-amazing Lizz.
Disclaimer: These people do not belong to me, and this is all fiction.
It’s not as if Jensen hadn’t known this was a bad idea right from the start. But there’s something about Misha, all flushed and grinning, that makes it impossible to say no.
They’re camped out on Jensen’s living room floor, playing Truth or Dare like teenage girls, but worse, so much worse. And it’s not like Jensen has any great respect for the sacred rules of Truth or Dare, but he’s too drunk to lie when Misha asks if he’s ever been with a guy before. Now that information’s out there, but he doesn’t have time to be embarrassed because Misha’s flopping back onto the carpet and grinning at him lazily. His shirt has ridden up just enough to expose a strip of pale skin at his waist, and it’s all Jensen can do to drag his eyes away from his hipbones where they peek out of the top of his jeans.
It’s a good thing Misha didn’t ask him anything specific, because Jensen has a lot of very detailed fantasies involving Misha and his hips.
“So my turn, my turn.” Jensen knocks back another from the row of shots lined up on the coffee table. “Misha-Four-Middle-Names-Collins, Truth or Dare?”
The only word Jensen can think of to describe Misha’s face is predatory. “Dare,” Misha says, low and rough.
Jensen panics, wildly casting his mind around for a suitable dare; he’d been so sure Misha would say truth. Misha’s smirking now, and it’s kind of pissing Jensen off. For some reason, Misha always seems to have the upper hand, to be in control no matter what situation he’s in. It’s obvious that he’s expecting Jensen to come up with something weak, but no way in hell is that happening now.
He doesn’t know what corner of his brain finally produces the idea, but now Jensen is smirking as he imagines Misha’s reaction. He just hopes his roommate doesn’t find out, because she’d probably kick his ass. Or kill him. She’s probably capable of murder.
“All right, Katie’s out of town until Sunday, so I dare you to go into her room and steal the laciest, girliest pair of panties you can find in her underwear drawer.” Misha raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed, so Jensen continues. “And then you have to wear them the rest of the night.”
Misha’s other eyebrow joins the first in the race towards his hairline and Jensen feels triumph blaze through him. Misha’s going to back out and then he’s going to have to be Jensen’s bitch at work for a week. This is definitely the best win-win situation Jensen’s ever gotten himself into. Misha stares at him until his brows furrow, creating a devastatingly adorable crinkle around his nose and Jensen gets lost for a second. He snaps back when Misha stands on slightly wobbly legs and makes his way to Katie’s room. The door shuts with a snap and he hears Misha swear before the light clicks on.
Two minutes later, Misha reemerges, shirtless with his belt undone. His jeans hang low on his hips, exposing a vivid green waistband, and Jensen’s mouth waters. He knows exactly what pair of underwear Misha picked out; he helped Katie pick them out three weeks ago when he decided to figure out where he fell on the Kinsey scale. Turns out he still doesn’t much like shopping, but he definitely likes envisioning Misha in all the lacy, frilly things at Frederick’s. And corsets. And those thigh-high stockings with the lace edges because Misha has really nice legs. He still doesn’t know his rating on the scale though, but why is he thinking about that when Misha is six feet away from him, wearing bright green panties under his jeans and struggling to figure out how to put his belt back on? Jensen has plans that definitely don’t involve belts.
Before he’s aware of moving, he’s kneeling in front of Misha, trying to tilt his face up without taking his eyes off the lace digging into Misha’s hipbones. It’s not working very well and Jensen thinks Misha is talking to him, but Misha talks too much anyway. Besides, one of Misha’s deliciously wide hands is resting on the side of Jensen’s head and that sounds like an invitation if ever there was one. He lets his tongue slip out, lets his breath ghost over all the soft, pale skin before him, and breathes in the smell of Misha’s arousal. Misha’s hips hitch forward minutely and Jensen dives in, gleefully yanking Misha’s pants down and rubbing his nose along the line of Misha’s cock through stretchy green lace.
Misha lets out a quiet "oh," sounding almost surprised. Jensen can’t imagine why; surely he knew the moment he pulled these underwear on that Jensen wouldn’t be able to resist him. Determined to pull more noises from Misha, he tilts his head up to watch him as he mouths over Misha’s cock, the rough material dragging against his lips as it grows damper.
He can’t contain a moan, almost pained, at the way the panties are clinging to Misha’s skin now, the hard line of him clearly visible and obscene as it juts out against green lace. He’s too big, too hard to fit inside this tiny pair of underwear, and the head of his cock is poking out above the waistband, flushed and shining with pre-come.
“So wet for me,” he murmurs, ghosting his breath across it before darting out his tongue to taste him. Misha’s legs start to buckle, and it’s clear that the haze of alcohol is fading as he grips Jensen’s hair tightly and yanks his head back before stepping out of his jeans.
“You want to fuck me, Jensen?” And fuck, if that isn’t the dumbest question Jensen’s ever heard. He nods, trying to get his mouth back on Misha, but the other man’s grip isn’t easing. He looks back up, pleading, but Misha just gives him that same infuriating smirk before abruptly letting go and turning his back. Jensen watches, awestruck, as Misha saunters across the floor toward his bedroom, those fucking panties stretched across his lean hips and his ass swaying in a way that Jensen knows is deliberate. With a growl, he gets to his feet to follow.
When he reaches the bedroom door, his mouth goes dry.
Misha is already on the bed, his forearms resting on the pillow and his ass thrust invitingly into the air. He’s looking back over his shoulder, eyes darkly amused, and he rolls his hips once, slow and seductive.
Jensen’s not going to survive this, he just knows it.
He does his best to look graceful, or even one-tenth as sexy as Misha, as he strips out of his clothes, but he’s pretty sure it doesn’t work. He’s briefly held up as he struggles to wrestle his shirt over his head, but then he’s finally naked and he doesn’t hesitate to crawl up the bed, plastering himself against Misha’s back.
The feeling of his dick sliding along Misha’s ass, the rough drag of lace over sensitive skin, makes his eyes fall shut and he stutters out a moan. He tries to steady himself, breathing heavily against the nape of Misha’s neck as he drops kisses and light nips to the skin there. It occurs to him that they haven’t actually kissed yet, and yeah, he’s totally not about to let that slide.
Now it’s his turn to thread his fingers into Misha’s hair, tugging roughly to twist Misha’s head toward him. He spares a long moment to stare at Misha’s lips, red and swollen like he’s been biting at them, before Misha moves in with a frustrated groan to press their mouths together.
It’s not the best angle, but Jensen can’t help but think that the filthy way Misha’s tongue is slipping into his mouth is one of the best things he’s ever felt. They kiss like that, open and wet, for what feels like forever but might only be a minute. Jensen pulls away reluctantly, nipping at Misha’s bottom lip as he goes. Misha’s mouth looks wrecked, and the knowledge that he did that goes straight to his cock.
He bucks forward involuntarily, pressing Misha into the mattress, and leans forward to grab lube and a condom out of his nightstand. He drops them on the bed and reaches up to hook his fingers into the waistband of the panties to tug them down.
“No,” Misha groans, and Jensen pauses. “You said I have to wear them the whole night, and you’re not going to win on a fucking technicality.”
Jensen laughs, surprised, until the meaning of those words sinks into his brain. He sees the vivid mental image of him thrusting into Misha’s ass, lacy underwear shoved to the side, and he slides a hand up Misha’s spine possessively.
“Yeah,” he says, and his voice is so rough that it’s almost unrecognizable, “I think I can work with that.”
Jensen slides his free hand up Misha’s thigh to where the panties cling tightly to the curve of Misha’s ass. He looks amazing like this, all tight and firm and pale, and Jensen can’t resist the urge to lift his hand up and bring it down sharply onto Misha’s bare skin with a loud smack.
Misha jerks in surprise before shoving his hips back again and making a pleading sound.
“Goddamn, Jensen, I didn’t think you had it in you,” he teases breathlessly, shifting around. He’s obviously trying to provoke Jensen, and it’s working. Jensen pulls his hand back and smacks him again, one side and then the other, pleased with the grunts coming from Misha and with the red marks he’s leaving.
Once he’s satisfied, Misha’s ass hot and flushed, he picks up the lube and coats the fingers of his left hand before dragging the panties aside to expose his tight hole. Jensen suppresses a moan at the sight of it and slips his fingers down, teasing at the rim.
“Jensen,” Misha groans, trying to push back onto his fingers, “stop playing around and fuck me already.”
“So bossy,” Jensen mutters before pushing two fingers in, grinning when Misha drops his head to curse into the pillow. He pulls them out slowly before thrusting back in, a bit further this time. Misha shifts, trying to spread his legs wider, and Jensen takes that moment to curl his fingers and drag them back out.
Misha cries out, and Jensen can see his legs shaking with the strain of staying upright as Jensen presses the tips of his fingers into his prostate.
“Please,” Misha begs, his voice breaking on the end of the word. Jensen is happy to comply, pulling his fingers out before shoving back in roughly with three. It doesn’t take long before Misha is pushing back to meet him, riding his fingers and groaning every time they brush over that spot just right. Jensen can’t stand it anymore, watching the way they disappear into his body, and he pulls them out abruptly before tearing open the condom packet and rolling it on.
Jensen slicks himself up and pauses, drinking in the way Misha’s got his ass thrust up in the air shamelessly. He sucks in a shuddering breath and takes hold of himself, guiding the head of his dick to rest against Misha’s hole, pink and shiny with lube. Misha makes a pleading noise but he barely hears it, blood rushing in his ears as he eases forward.
He doesn’t know how he could possibly fit in that tight space, but then the head slips in and he gasps, heat and pressure turning him inside out. He takes a minute to compose himself, fighting the urge to force his way in and take. Misha apparently doesn’t want to wait, though, and he pushes up on his hands and shoves backward, impaling himself on Jensen’s cock with a broken moan.
Jensen drops down, lying across Misha’s back and gasping for air as Misha’s ass adjusts to fit him. After a minute it’s a little bit more bearable, but still so impossibly tight that he can feel his vision going.
“Jensen, I’m not trying to run this show, but if you don’t move soon I’m flipping you over and fucking you instead.” Misha’s breathing heavily, but his voice is way too steady. Jensen pushes down another crashing wave of lust and focuses instead on how badly he wants to break Misha apart.
He pulls back, sliding all the way out, and grins; Misha makes a desperate sound in the back of his throat and Jensen finally feels like he has the upper hand. He eases back in, just the tip again, but his hands have a firm grip on Misha’s hips now and he gives a few tiny thrusts, watching Misha’s ass stretch around the fat head of his cock. He bites his lip, dizzy with how good it feels, but he won’t continue until he gets something else.
“You want this, Mish?” Misha gives an undignified grunt, straining back against his hands without success. “No, none of that. You want me to fuck your ass in these little panties, you need to ask. Nicely.” He’s taking a chance here, not sure if he’s taking this too far, but he smiles triumphantly when Misha drops his shoulders back to the bed. He bows his back, the picture of submission, and even though Jensen knows it’s an act it turns him on beyond belief.
“Please, Jen. Give me your cock. I need it,” he whines, his voice rough and strained.
That’s even better than what Jensen was expecting, and he drops one of his hands down to rest between Misha’s shoulder blades before thrusting forward, not stopping until his balls are flush against Misha’s ass.
That’s about all he can take of teasing, and he loses it then, pulling nearly all the way out before slamming back in, rutting into Misha’s ass with all of the force he can manage. The noises pouring out of Misha, the groans and cries and please, Jen, please, only spur him on, and he slides his hand under Misha’s belly to grip his cock. When Jensen starts stripping Misha’s cock in time with his own thrusts, that’s it, it’s over. Misha tenses up, long fingers digging into the pillow as he comes all over the sheets. Jensen manages a few more deep thrusts before he’s there too, folding himself over Misha’s back and fucking him through his own orgasm.
They stay like that, plastered together, for several minutes as they catch their breath. Finally, reluctantly, Jensen pulls away, wincing as his softening cock slips out of Misha’s ass. He eases the condom off and drops it into the trash can next to the bed. Misha’s not moving, and he’s briefly torn between concern and pride at the thought that he had fucked him unconscious. But then Misha’s rolling onto his side, fixing Jensen with a salacious smirk.
Jensen can’t stop himself from crawling up the bed and kissing Misha, messy and intense but still tender when compared to what they’d just done. He rolls them over, pulling them clear of the wet spot, before tugging Misha up against his chest and pulling the sheet up over them.
As he falls asleep, Misha murmurs in his ear, “Your turn. Truth or dare?”
“Truth,” he laughs, without thinking, hoping it means he won’t have to move from this spot.
“Do you want to do that again?”
Jensen cracks one eye open to see Misha looking up at him expectantly.
“Ask me in the morning, Mish,” he grumbles, squeezing Misha in closer to his body. It must be the right answer, because before he slips his eyes shut again he sees Misha break into a wide grin.