fic: the least of our sins
Title: the least of our sins
Genre: Jared/Jensen/Misha/JDM
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 4000
Warnings & Notes: vampire AU, bloodplay, dubcon, an unspecified historical setting. Many, many thanks to cherie_morte for helping to fix what needed fixing, and for her willingness to discuss, casually, vampire foursome fic first thing in the morning.
Summary: "Leave it to you to pick the cabin boy."
"Maybe we can glamour him," Jared says. He leans over the small round table, fingers restless on the slender stem of his wine glass. It's for show, as is the untouched plate of fruit and cheese in the center.
"Something tells me you might not have to," Misha muses. His lips barely move as he speaks, but Jared can still see the slightest hint of his extended canine teeth. A white glint in the uneven lamplight.
Jeff stares across the galley at the object of Jared's attention, his expression falling just short of a leer. "Leave it to you to pick the cabin boy."
"I'm feeling nostalgic," Jared says. He'd crossed the Atlantic four times before his twentieth birthday and he'd done it all: deck hand, scullion, servant to the captain. "Besides, I wouldn't call him a boy," Jared protests and turns to Misha. "What would you guess, eighteen? Nineteen?"
"Impossible to tell these days," Misha says, his tone airy.
The water is choppy tonight, the ship lurching. All of the passengers share a distinctly green tinge to the their complexions. The three of them do as well, but for different reasons. They've subsisted on bilge rats for a week and they're hungry. Three more days until they make land. Jared's been counting the minutes.
The ship cuts through a particularly large wave, its ribs creaking under the onslaught. The lanterns bolted to the walls swing wildly, throwing eerie, strange shadows across the room. Misha's wine glass topples off of the table and shatters on the floor, thick red wine running in rivulets through the floorboards.
"That's unfortunate," Misha says mildly, and Jared muffles a laugh behind his hand. Any one of them could have caught it right out of thin air in less time than it takes to blink.
The servant dashes toward them, his strides an easy match against the tilt and sway of the ship. In a crouch, he begins to pluck shards of glass from the floor, collecting them in a grimy rag. Jared can't take his eyes off of him, the dusting of freckles across his nose and high cheekbones, the generous shape of his mouth, the arch of his neck and the strong, broad line of his shoulders, barely concealed beneath his light-colored linen shirt. Jared wants him, and not just for his blood.
"Terribly sorry, Mr..." Misha smiles, eyebrows raised.
"Jensen," the servant mumbles with a furtive glance around the table. "Just Jensen, and it's no trouble."
Another wave hits and the ship rolls with it, startled gasps filling the galley. It tips Jensen's balance, and he slams his palm down to steady himself.
The smell of fresh blood hits Jared with a palpable force and he starts to shoot forward, a quick flash of hunger blotting out all else, only to be pulled back into his seat as Jeff grasps his wrist with vice-like fingers.
"Easy," Jeff warms, voice pitched low enough to be inaudible by anyone but the three of them. "Misha's got this."
Jared's the youngest of them. He's also the most impetuous by far. Jeff's been around since the plague was making the front page of the papers, and his knack for survival is renowned among their kind. Even still, Jared glares at him, fighting back the urge to snarl.
With a fast intake of air, Jensen sits back on his haunches, turning his hand toward the light. Blood, dark red and slick, runs in a steady stream down his wrist, and pools in the cup of his palm. A shard of glass glints in the lamplight, embedded deep into the heel of Jensen’s hand.
"Here," Misha says, and pulls the glass out, letting it fall with a clink on the tabletop. Jared wants to suck on it like candy, and might have, if Jeff's grip on his wrist had slackened in the least.
Misha pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and wraps it around the wound. Blood blooms through it immediately, painting Misha's hand and soaking into the white cuff of his sleeve. Jared clenches his jaw. He's shaking, can't for the life of him figure out how Misha manages to hold back.
Jensen's cheeks have gone white, whether from the pain or the sight of his own blood, Jared's not sure.
"This requires medical attention," Misha tells Jensen.
"You're in luck, my boy," Jeff says, rising. "Misha's the best sawbones on either side of the Atlantic. He'll fix you up in no time flat. You won't feel a thing." There's something about Jeff's tone that puts Jensen immediately at ease, any protest out of mind as Jeff gathers him up and the four of them begin winding through narrow passages toward their cabin. Jeff leads them, Jensen tucked in along his side, Jeff's hand on the small of Jensen's back.
From a few steps behind them, Jared stares at that possessive point of contact, unreasonably jealous. Misha doesn't miss it, doesn't miss much actually, and threads his arm through Jared's, matching their paces.
"Soon, soon," Misha says, almost a purr. He skips ahead and faces Jared, taking him by the waist and leading them in a quick, spinning two-step. His hand is still sticky with Jensen's blood; it's filled in the cracks of his knuckles and wormed its way deep beneath his fingernails. He slips one finger between Jared's lips, his own mouth dropping open, the tip of his tongue finding his upper lip.
Jared will never get used to the feeling, the shocking zing and the rush of saliva that comes when he finally gets a taste. Hungrily, he sucks on Misha's finger as he pushes Misha backward and around a corner, keeping Jeff and Jensen in sight.
Misha makes a show of licking along his own wrist, rubbing his lips along the streaks of blood, then rises onto the balls of his feet and gives Jared a quick, chaste kiss that leaves his mouth tasting like Jensen, metallic and at the same time cloying and sweet.
"He's good, isn't he?" Misha asks.
"Tease," Jared accuses when Misha pulls away.
Jensen pauses when they reach their cabin door, the smallest stutter to his step before they cross the threshold to their cabin. "I've. I've heard rumors. About the three of you."
Jared's ears perk up and he glances up and down the hallway, cautious. "What exactly have you heard?" He pulls himself up to his full height, locks his knees and crosses his arms. Beside him, Jeff and Misha have gone tense, as if they're ready to pounce.
"I've never seen you above deck, and you don't talk with the other passengers."
"We like to keep to ourselves," Jared says. "What else have they said?"
Jensen hesitates, his mouth forming a subconscious pout, one that Jared thinks looks positively delicious on him. "They say that you're...involved."
Misha tries to cover his snicker with a cough, and Jared's not quite as successful reigning in his laughter.
Jeff catches Jensen's bottom lip, swiping his thumb along swell of it, leans toward Jensen and says, "Sweetheart, that's the least of our sins."
"Is that why you brought me here?" Jensen asks as they guide him through the door. He sounds apprehensive, innocently curious, but Jared can see through that. His eyes have grown dark, pupils eating up the green and a flush has crept from his throat to his cheeks. He hears it when Jensen's pulse speeds up to a steady thrum and Jared's whole body taps into Jensen's heartbeat, heat spreading through his chest, his cock thickening against his thigh. Jared's hands are still trembling, they haven't stopped.
"We brought you here to fix you up," Jared says, "but if you're curious..." Jared comes up behind Misha, slips his fingers into his hair, grabs a handful of it and tilts Misha's head to the side. Misha responds, arching against Jared's body as Jared kisses the soft spot right behind his ear. No use hiding it now.
"The hard way or the easy way?" Misha asks the room at large, taking a slow step toward Jensen.
"Maybe we should ask Jensen," Jared says crowding near enough that Jensen is eclipsed by his shadow. "Would you like to see a trick?"
"It's a very good trick," Jeff adds.
They've surrounded Jensen and begin to circle him with even steps, as deliberate as a dance.
"It's a secret, though," Misha says in a stage whisper. Delighted is the only way to describe his smile.
"We could always encourage him to forget," Jeff mutters.
"Can you keep a secret, Jensen?" Jared asks with a light touch to Jensen's hip. "I think that you can." He lets his hand trail along the Jensen's waist, feeling the jump in Jensen's stomach muscles.
Still cradling his injured hand to his chest, Jensen licks his lips and gives the tiniest nod.
Misha veers in to stand directly behind Jensen, bunches Jensen's loose-fitting shirt in his hands and whispers into his ear, "What was that?"
"I can," Jensen says, then stronger, "I will."
"Good," Misha replies and pushes Jensen's shirt up and over his shoulders, then drops it onto the floor.
They walk him backward, settling him onto one of the narrow beds. Jared sits down beside him, so close, their hips and thighs touching. Jensen starts to shrink away when Jared places an arm around his shoulders. "Cold," he hisses.
"Not for long," Jared says, bearing down and holding Jensen steady. The first time can be a shock to the system. "You'll be fine," Jared assures him.
Jeff brackets Jensen on the other side while Misha kneels in front of him, pressing forward to make a space for himself between Jensen's knees. Carefully, he unwraps the bandage and lets it fall to the floor. The wound still seeps blood and Jared locks his jaw against a pathetic groan.
They need a distraction, something to avert Jensen's attention, so Jared kisses him, chilled lips brushing Jensen's jaw, his chin, eyes open to gauge Jensen's reaction. Jensen squeezes Jared's thigh with his good hand, right above the knee, and tilts his head down to angle his mouth against Jared's. It's barely a touch, hardly more than the suggestion of a kiss, tentative and sweet.
Jared shifts to cup the back of Jensen's head, short hair bristling against his palm and finds Jeff's hand there already, his fingers scritching into Jensen's scalp, petting him. Jeff's smiling, restless tongue curling around one extended fang and his dark eyes flashing bright and expectant.
Misha bites his wrist, drips blood onto Jensen's gash, and less than a second later Jensen goes steely, every muscle pulling tight, his mouth opening on a gasp and his body bucking up and off of the thin mattress. Jared knows what he's feeling, had felt the same sensation ages ago. Before. That searing zip of heat, then numbing pins and needles as the skin knits back together, followed by a sort of surreal, heady euphoria. Jensen hums a soft noise against Jared's mouth, a high-pitched whimper that makes Jared's head spin and scours him with a bone deep want.
"How did you?" Jensen says, pulling free and staring down at the unbroken skin of his hand.
"I told you he was good," Jeff reminds him, tangling a fist in Jensen's short-cropped hair and urging his head backward to bare the column of Jensen's throat. Jared can't help it, he leans in, flattens his tongue against the feathering beat of Jensen's pulse.
"You're magic," Jensen says, still turning his hand this way and that, flexing his fingers.
"Something like that," Jared murmurs in calm tones, speaking against Jensen's neck, his tongue feeling thick.
"We're not the only ones who want something," Misha says pointedly, sliding his hands up the insides of Jensen's thighs to lightly trace the ridge of Jensen's cock through his pants. The skittering touch makes Jensen moan, its vibration buzzing along Jared's mouth.
Hooking his arms low around Jensen's stomach, Jeff stands them up, his mouth restless along Jensen's bare shoulder. With nimble fingers, Misha unties the drawstring of Jensen's pants and lets them slip past his hips to puddle at his feet while Jeff worries a patch of skin on Jensen's shoulder, close to the crook of his neck.
Jensen melts against Jeff, his back to Jeff's chest. He's breathing fast and deep, hips jerking forward when Misha licks up along the underside of his cock and wraps his lips around the crown, letting Jensen feel the hard, slippery surface of his teeth but going no further.
It's Jeff that starts it. It's not a rule, more like an unspoken agreement that they defer to Jeff, watch for his cues, hesitate to step across certain implied and indistinct boundaries. Jeff's mouth shapes into a snarl, just for an instant, then he punctures Jensen's skin at the base of his neck, teeth sliding in as painless and easy as a needle, dodging the artery by a fraction. The tension in Jeff's face disappears at the first taste, the sunken bruised flesh around his eyes returning to normal.
Jeff's gaze flickers to Jared as he eases off and moves to the back of Jensen's neck. That's all the permission Jared needs to step forward, cup his palms over the jut of Jensen's hipbones and fit his mouth over the wound that Jeff left, a thin trickle of warm blood soaking into his tongue. The relief is immediate, heat shimmering down Jared's spine and filling the hollow, empty place in his core. Jared's cock throbs, weighty between his legs, and he thrusts forward, mindlessly rubbing off on the taut muscle of Jensen's thigh.
"Oh, god. You're real," Jensen mutters. Curiously, he doesn't sound frightened, more like amazed. It has to be desire, the wicked things that Misha is doing with his mouth on the length of Jensen's cock, and the aftereffects of Misha's blood coursing through Jensen's system.
"We're very real," Jared says and kisses him again, with small bites at Jensen's mouth, hardly more than pinpricks that make his blood bead on his lips, turns his smile bright red. Jensen kisses him back, curls his tongue along Jared's and licks the taste of his own blood out of Jared's mouth.
It's intense, Jensen so willing and giving and pressed between the three of them. Misha shifts, urging Jensen's leg over his shoulder to get to the flesh of his inner thigh and latches on, lips spread wide open. Misha keeps his sight fixed on Jensen's face as he feeds, and he appears almost reverential like this, on his knees, looking up at Jensen like he could hold the keys to their salvation.
"Boys," Jeff says, and Jared's surprised to find him sitting on the bed, back propped against the wall, and one leg dangling toward the floor. His pants are slid partially past his hips and his cock's in his hand, fist working it with unhurried pulls. His shirt is still on, unbuttoned to expose his chest and stomach.
On stiff legs, Jensen staggers toward him to settle on his hands and knees on the bed. Clothes fall to the floor in forgotten heaps as Jared and Misha follow, anxious to get their hands back on Jensen, to sink their teeth in and lap and lick. Legs spread wide, his spine angled down in a sinuous line, Jensen tips his ass up in open invitation, cock bobbing under its own weight and dripping precome onto the thin blanket.
"Good choice," Misha breathes into Jared's ear, dropping a kiss to his temple.
"I'm happy to have your approval," Jared says. He slides into the bed, positioning himself behind Jensen and kicking his knees even wider.
"I approve." Misha licks down the line of Jensen's spine, from his shoulders to the small of his back. "I definitely approve. Even his sweat tastes good."
Jared hums his agreement. He palms the cheeks of Jensen's ass and Jensen arches higher with a dark, impatient glance over his shoulder at them.
"Looks like he knows what he wants, too," Misha observes.
Playfully, Jared bites at Misha's mouth with the intent to quiet him. "I'm only too happy to oblige," he says. He pries two fingers past Misha's full lips, twisting his wrist until they're shiny with saliva.
Jensen's almost panting with anticipation as Jared traces his rim, the furled muscle contracting under his touch. "Please," Jensen says.
A fresh pulse of precome beads at the tip of Jared's cock and his balls pull up tight to his body at the pleading timbre of Jensen's voice and the clench of his ass as he sinks a finger all the way in.
Misha chuckles. "Oh, I very much approve."
Not giving Jensen time to acclimate to the intrusion, Jared pulls out, adds another finger to the first on the way back in. At the head of the bed, Jeff throws his head back at the first touch of Jensen's mouth to his cock.
"Deeper."
Jared's not sure who said it. It could have been any of them, the tone of the voice deep and sex drunk. He goes further inside of Jensen, as far as he can reach, and presses at the back of Jensen's head with his free hand, pushing his mouth further down the length of Jeff's cock. Jeff's toes curl and he tangles the sheets in his hands, yanking at them.
"Are you ready for more?" Misha asks.
Jensen makes a noise that sounds like an affirmative, humming around the breadth of Jeff's cock. Misha slips a finger between Jared's, working it in and out faster than Jared had dared, pitching forward to spit on Jensen's hole to ease the way. A shock of air punches out of Jensen at the new intrusion, but he recovers quickly. He rocks down hard and fast, his ass tightening and loosening as he works himself on their hands and swallowing Jeff's cock into his throat like he was born to do exactly this.
The sounds from Jeff grow louder, the shift of his hips sharper as he fucks Jensen's mouth more urgently. He grabs the back of Jensen's head and holds him in frozen in place as Jeff jerks his hips up so fast and hard that it nearly throws them all from the bed. It leaves Jensen sputtering, strings of come dripping from his parted lips as he struggles to catch his breath. He wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand and smears the mess on his stomach.
Their fingers slip from Jensen's ass as Jeff spills from the bed and allows Jensen to collapse on his back, dazed but smiling.
"I want..." Jared trails off, hardly aware that he'd spoken aloud. He’s completely wrapped up in the view, the wanton angle of Jensen's legs and the puffy, swollen skin of his rim, reddened and loose and so inviting.
"You wanna fuck him, and I wanna see you fuck him," Misha finishes for him, then takes Jared's cock into his mouth for a few quick sucks, his tongue spreading Jared’s precome around the head of his cock and down his shaft, slicking him up.
Jared sits back on his haunches, drags Jensen toward him until Jensen's thighs blanket his own, then pauses. Jared's not sure what he's waiting for until he gets it; Jensen licks his lips, fixes him with a stare and nods. Gripping his cock, Jared lines himself up and slides in, pushes past the resistance. Jensen rides it out, breathing through the stretch with his mouth forming a perfect little ring. Very, very slowly, Jared shifts backward, relishing the heat of Jensen's rim sliding along his cock, a tightness that almost hurts, only to shove back in again, the force of it making Jensen skid along the bed, his balls a wet slap against Jensen's ass.
Misha still hovers at Jensen's side, eyes filled up with the sight of Jared's cock disappearing into Jensen's body. Jensen takes him in hand, his cock flushed red with blood and shiny with precome. Misha bucks into the circle of Jensen's hand, rutting against it, the head of his cock slipping through Jensen's fist. Misha's lost in the sensation, mouth slack and eyes half-lidded, sweat darkening the hair at his temples. Jeff rises from his place at Jensen's neck, and kisses Misha, open-mouthed and deep. Jared can see the slide of their tongues, stained bright red as they twist together, blood leaking from the place where their mouths meet. Grappling at Jeff's neck and shoulders in a way that would make any normal man howl, Misha ruts into Jensen's hand twice more and comes, white splatters painting Jensen's ribs, his stomach, streaming down to pool in his navel.
Jared grabs Jensen's wrist and sucks at the bite that Jeff left there, drawing a fresh bout of blood to the surface. A new wave of warmth crashes into his chest that has nothing at all to do with the blood when Jensen strains forward to look at him. His expression is soft, his gaze unwavering, the smallest smile nudging the corners of his mouth. He cups his hand along Jared's face, curls his fingers around the shell of Jared's ear.
Jared barely has time to swallow before Jensen pulls him close to whisper, "Harder. C'mon. I want it harder."
Jensen's body shakes beneath Jared's, the skin slick with sweat and come where their stomachs meet, Jensen's cock hard and hot between them. To prove his point, Jensen digs his heels into the backs of Jared's thighs and hitches his hips upward, straining and squirming and fighting Jared's body weight as he fucks himself on Jared's cock.
In his peripheral vision, Jared can see Jeff licking along Jensen's wrist. Misha opens up the skin on the inside of Jensen's elbow, and Jared can feel Jensen's response to it. A pained hiss whistles through his teeth and his body becomes momentarily rigid, a crease forming between his brows and his ass clenching around the width of Jared's cock. It sets Jared's nerves on fire, and he thrusts forward, slamming into Jensen more brutally than before, straight to the base of his cock, hips a perfect, snug fit against the curve of Jensen's ass.
Envy, nonsensical but nonetheless there, spikes up in Jared. He wants Jensen to himself. He's never wanted anything or anyone more, not since Jeff created him.
Jared bends at the waist, still pumping into Jensen hard and relentless, taps Jensen's cheek and says, "Look at me."
Jensen does, locks onto Jared with single-minded determination as his orgasm hits, tremors wracking his body and his legs bearing down around Jared's waist. Jared's stomach slides through the sloppy mess. Jared follows him seconds later, head thrown back and hips working in small circling stutters.
Jensen is exquisite, fucked out, his arms and legs splayed wide on the bed. He’s paler than before, eyelids the dark color of a bruise. His mouth is bitten red, swollen. The soft skin of his stomach is splattered with come, a mix of his own and Misha's. Its smell fills Jared's nose, tangy and bitter, as does the sharp undercurrent of Jensen's blood. Jared pushes Jensen's legs open again and he stirs a little, mumbles nonsense for a moment until Jeff leans in close.
"Shhh," Jeff hushes him, skimming his knuckles against Jensen's cheek until he settles.
Jared presses his lips to that sweetly tender spot high up on Jensen's thigh, licks at the slow trickle of blood still leaking from twin punctures, Jensen's pulse faint but steady against his tongue.
Misha pushes a hand into Jared's hair and gives it a gentle tug. "Don't be greedy," he warns. "Give him time."
Jared whines, sucks one more small taste from Jensen then sets his teeth into his own thumb, allowing a few tiny drops to fall onto Jensen's wound. They close up in second, leaving the skin unmarred beneath a pink smudge of blood.
He regards Jeff and Misha in turn. "Can we keep him?”
-fin
Thanks for reading.
Genre: Jared/Jensen/Misha/JDM
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 4000
Warnings & Notes: vampire AU, bloodplay, dubcon, an unspecified historical setting. Many, many thanks to cherie_morte for helping to fix what needed fixing, and for her willingness to discuss, casually, vampire foursome fic first thing in the morning.
Summary: "Leave it to you to pick the cabin boy."
"Maybe we can glamour him," Jared says. He leans over the small round table, fingers restless on the slender stem of his wine glass. It's for show, as is the untouched plate of fruit and cheese in the center.
"Something tells me you might not have to," Misha muses. His lips barely move as he speaks, but Jared can still see the slightest hint of his extended canine teeth. A white glint in the uneven lamplight.
Jeff stares across the galley at the object of Jared's attention, his expression falling just short of a leer. "Leave it to you to pick the cabin boy."
"I'm feeling nostalgic," Jared says. He'd crossed the Atlantic four times before his twentieth birthday and he'd done it all: deck hand, scullion, servant to the captain. "Besides, I wouldn't call him a boy," Jared protests and turns to Misha. "What would you guess, eighteen? Nineteen?"
"Impossible to tell these days," Misha says, his tone airy.
The water is choppy tonight, the ship lurching. All of the passengers share a distinctly green tinge to the their complexions. The three of them do as well, but for different reasons. They've subsisted on bilge rats for a week and they're hungry. Three more days until they make land. Jared's been counting the minutes.
The ship cuts through a particularly large wave, its ribs creaking under the onslaught. The lanterns bolted to the walls swing wildly, throwing eerie, strange shadows across the room. Misha's wine glass topples off of the table and shatters on the floor, thick red wine running in rivulets through the floorboards.
"That's unfortunate," Misha says mildly, and Jared muffles a laugh behind his hand. Any one of them could have caught it right out of thin air in less time than it takes to blink.
The servant dashes toward them, his strides an easy match against the tilt and sway of the ship. In a crouch, he begins to pluck shards of glass from the floor, collecting them in a grimy rag. Jared can't take his eyes off of him, the dusting of freckles across his nose and high cheekbones, the generous shape of his mouth, the arch of his neck and the strong, broad line of his shoulders, barely concealed beneath his light-colored linen shirt. Jared wants him, and not just for his blood.
"Terribly sorry, Mr..." Misha smiles, eyebrows raised.
"Jensen," the servant mumbles with a furtive glance around the table. "Just Jensen, and it's no trouble."
Another wave hits and the ship rolls with it, startled gasps filling the galley. It tips Jensen's balance, and he slams his palm down to steady himself.
The smell of fresh blood hits Jared with a palpable force and he starts to shoot forward, a quick flash of hunger blotting out all else, only to be pulled back into his seat as Jeff grasps his wrist with vice-like fingers.
"Easy," Jeff warms, voice pitched low enough to be inaudible by anyone but the three of them. "Misha's got this."
Jared's the youngest of them. He's also the most impetuous by far. Jeff's been around since the plague was making the front page of the papers, and his knack for survival is renowned among their kind. Even still, Jared glares at him, fighting back the urge to snarl.
With a fast intake of air, Jensen sits back on his haunches, turning his hand toward the light. Blood, dark red and slick, runs in a steady stream down his wrist, and pools in the cup of his palm. A shard of glass glints in the lamplight, embedded deep into the heel of Jensen’s hand.
"Here," Misha says, and pulls the glass out, letting it fall with a clink on the tabletop. Jared wants to suck on it like candy, and might have, if Jeff's grip on his wrist had slackened in the least.
Misha pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and wraps it around the wound. Blood blooms through it immediately, painting Misha's hand and soaking into the white cuff of his sleeve. Jared clenches his jaw. He's shaking, can't for the life of him figure out how Misha manages to hold back.
Jensen's cheeks have gone white, whether from the pain or the sight of his own blood, Jared's not sure.
"This requires medical attention," Misha tells Jensen.
"You're in luck, my boy," Jeff says, rising. "Misha's the best sawbones on either side of the Atlantic. He'll fix you up in no time flat. You won't feel a thing." There's something about Jeff's tone that puts Jensen immediately at ease, any protest out of mind as Jeff gathers him up and the four of them begin winding through narrow passages toward their cabin. Jeff leads them, Jensen tucked in along his side, Jeff's hand on the small of Jensen's back.
From a few steps behind them, Jared stares at that possessive point of contact, unreasonably jealous. Misha doesn't miss it, doesn't miss much actually, and threads his arm through Jared's, matching their paces.
"Soon, soon," Misha says, almost a purr. He skips ahead and faces Jared, taking him by the waist and leading them in a quick, spinning two-step. His hand is still sticky with Jensen's blood; it's filled in the cracks of his knuckles and wormed its way deep beneath his fingernails. He slips one finger between Jared's lips, his own mouth dropping open, the tip of his tongue finding his upper lip.
Jared will never get used to the feeling, the shocking zing and the rush of saliva that comes when he finally gets a taste. Hungrily, he sucks on Misha's finger as he pushes Misha backward and around a corner, keeping Jeff and Jensen in sight.
Misha makes a show of licking along his own wrist, rubbing his lips along the streaks of blood, then rises onto the balls of his feet and gives Jared a quick, chaste kiss that leaves his mouth tasting like Jensen, metallic and at the same time cloying and sweet.
"He's good, isn't he?" Misha asks.
"Tease," Jared accuses when Misha pulls away.
Jensen pauses when they reach their cabin door, the smallest stutter to his step before they cross the threshold to their cabin. "I've. I've heard rumors. About the three of you."
Jared's ears perk up and he glances up and down the hallway, cautious. "What exactly have you heard?" He pulls himself up to his full height, locks his knees and crosses his arms. Beside him, Jeff and Misha have gone tense, as if they're ready to pounce.
"I've never seen you above deck, and you don't talk with the other passengers."
"We like to keep to ourselves," Jared says. "What else have they said?"
Jensen hesitates, his mouth forming a subconscious pout, one that Jared thinks looks positively delicious on him. "They say that you're...involved."
Misha tries to cover his snicker with a cough, and Jared's not quite as successful reigning in his laughter.
Jeff catches Jensen's bottom lip, swiping his thumb along swell of it, leans toward Jensen and says, "Sweetheart, that's the least of our sins."
"Is that why you brought me here?" Jensen asks as they guide him through the door. He sounds apprehensive, innocently curious, but Jared can see through that. His eyes have grown dark, pupils eating up the green and a flush has crept from his throat to his cheeks. He hears it when Jensen's pulse speeds up to a steady thrum and Jared's whole body taps into Jensen's heartbeat, heat spreading through his chest, his cock thickening against his thigh. Jared's hands are still trembling, they haven't stopped.
"We brought you here to fix you up," Jared says, "but if you're curious..." Jared comes up behind Misha, slips his fingers into his hair, grabs a handful of it and tilts Misha's head to the side. Misha responds, arching against Jared's body as Jared kisses the soft spot right behind his ear. No use hiding it now.
"The hard way or the easy way?" Misha asks the room at large, taking a slow step toward Jensen.
"Maybe we should ask Jensen," Jared says crowding near enough that Jensen is eclipsed by his shadow. "Would you like to see a trick?"
"It's a very good trick," Jeff adds.
They've surrounded Jensen and begin to circle him with even steps, as deliberate as a dance.
"It's a secret, though," Misha says in a stage whisper. Delighted is the only way to describe his smile.
"We could always encourage him to forget," Jeff mutters.
"Can you keep a secret, Jensen?" Jared asks with a light touch to Jensen's hip. "I think that you can." He lets his hand trail along the Jensen's waist, feeling the jump in Jensen's stomach muscles.
Still cradling his injured hand to his chest, Jensen licks his lips and gives the tiniest nod.
Misha veers in to stand directly behind Jensen, bunches Jensen's loose-fitting shirt in his hands and whispers into his ear, "What was that?"
"I can," Jensen says, then stronger, "I will."
"Good," Misha replies and pushes Jensen's shirt up and over his shoulders, then drops it onto the floor.
They walk him backward, settling him onto one of the narrow beds. Jared sits down beside him, so close, their hips and thighs touching. Jensen starts to shrink away when Jared places an arm around his shoulders. "Cold," he hisses.
"Not for long," Jared says, bearing down and holding Jensen steady. The first time can be a shock to the system. "You'll be fine," Jared assures him.
Jeff brackets Jensen on the other side while Misha kneels in front of him, pressing forward to make a space for himself between Jensen's knees. Carefully, he unwraps the bandage and lets it fall to the floor. The wound still seeps blood and Jared locks his jaw against a pathetic groan.
They need a distraction, something to avert Jensen's attention, so Jared kisses him, chilled lips brushing Jensen's jaw, his chin, eyes open to gauge Jensen's reaction. Jensen squeezes Jared's thigh with his good hand, right above the knee, and tilts his head down to angle his mouth against Jared's. It's barely a touch, hardly more than the suggestion of a kiss, tentative and sweet.
Jared shifts to cup the back of Jensen's head, short hair bristling against his palm and finds Jeff's hand there already, his fingers scritching into Jensen's scalp, petting him. Jeff's smiling, restless tongue curling around one extended fang and his dark eyes flashing bright and expectant.
Misha bites his wrist, drips blood onto Jensen's gash, and less than a second later Jensen goes steely, every muscle pulling tight, his mouth opening on a gasp and his body bucking up and off of the thin mattress. Jared knows what he's feeling, had felt the same sensation ages ago. Before. That searing zip of heat, then numbing pins and needles as the skin knits back together, followed by a sort of surreal, heady euphoria. Jensen hums a soft noise against Jared's mouth, a high-pitched whimper that makes Jared's head spin and scours him with a bone deep want.
"How did you?" Jensen says, pulling free and staring down at the unbroken skin of his hand.
"I told you he was good," Jeff reminds him, tangling a fist in Jensen's short-cropped hair and urging his head backward to bare the column of Jensen's throat. Jared can't help it, he leans in, flattens his tongue against the feathering beat of Jensen's pulse.
"You're magic," Jensen says, still turning his hand this way and that, flexing his fingers.
"Something like that," Jared murmurs in calm tones, speaking against Jensen's neck, his tongue feeling thick.
"We're not the only ones who want something," Misha says pointedly, sliding his hands up the insides of Jensen's thighs to lightly trace the ridge of Jensen's cock through his pants. The skittering touch makes Jensen moan, its vibration buzzing along Jared's mouth.
Hooking his arms low around Jensen's stomach, Jeff stands them up, his mouth restless along Jensen's bare shoulder. With nimble fingers, Misha unties the drawstring of Jensen's pants and lets them slip past his hips to puddle at his feet while Jeff worries a patch of skin on Jensen's shoulder, close to the crook of his neck.
Jensen melts against Jeff, his back to Jeff's chest. He's breathing fast and deep, hips jerking forward when Misha licks up along the underside of his cock and wraps his lips around the crown, letting Jensen feel the hard, slippery surface of his teeth but going no further.
It's Jeff that starts it. It's not a rule, more like an unspoken agreement that they defer to Jeff, watch for his cues, hesitate to step across certain implied and indistinct boundaries. Jeff's mouth shapes into a snarl, just for an instant, then he punctures Jensen's skin at the base of his neck, teeth sliding in as painless and easy as a needle, dodging the artery by a fraction. The tension in Jeff's face disappears at the first taste, the sunken bruised flesh around his eyes returning to normal.
Jeff's gaze flickers to Jared as he eases off and moves to the back of Jensen's neck. That's all the permission Jared needs to step forward, cup his palms over the jut of Jensen's hipbones and fit his mouth over the wound that Jeff left, a thin trickle of warm blood soaking into his tongue. The relief is immediate, heat shimmering down Jared's spine and filling the hollow, empty place in his core. Jared's cock throbs, weighty between his legs, and he thrusts forward, mindlessly rubbing off on the taut muscle of Jensen's thigh.
"Oh, god. You're real," Jensen mutters. Curiously, he doesn't sound frightened, more like amazed. It has to be desire, the wicked things that Misha is doing with his mouth on the length of Jensen's cock, and the aftereffects of Misha's blood coursing through Jensen's system.
"We're very real," Jared says and kisses him again, with small bites at Jensen's mouth, hardly more than pinpricks that make his blood bead on his lips, turns his smile bright red. Jensen kisses him back, curls his tongue along Jared's and licks the taste of his own blood out of Jared's mouth.
It's intense, Jensen so willing and giving and pressed between the three of them. Misha shifts, urging Jensen's leg over his shoulder to get to the flesh of his inner thigh and latches on, lips spread wide open. Misha keeps his sight fixed on Jensen's face as he feeds, and he appears almost reverential like this, on his knees, looking up at Jensen like he could hold the keys to their salvation.
"Boys," Jeff says, and Jared's surprised to find him sitting on the bed, back propped against the wall, and one leg dangling toward the floor. His pants are slid partially past his hips and his cock's in his hand, fist working it with unhurried pulls. His shirt is still on, unbuttoned to expose his chest and stomach.
On stiff legs, Jensen staggers toward him to settle on his hands and knees on the bed. Clothes fall to the floor in forgotten heaps as Jared and Misha follow, anxious to get their hands back on Jensen, to sink their teeth in and lap and lick. Legs spread wide, his spine angled down in a sinuous line, Jensen tips his ass up in open invitation, cock bobbing under its own weight and dripping precome onto the thin blanket.
"Good choice," Misha breathes into Jared's ear, dropping a kiss to his temple.
"I'm happy to have your approval," Jared says. He slides into the bed, positioning himself behind Jensen and kicking his knees even wider.
"I approve." Misha licks down the line of Jensen's spine, from his shoulders to the small of his back. "I definitely approve. Even his sweat tastes good."
Jared hums his agreement. He palms the cheeks of Jensen's ass and Jensen arches higher with a dark, impatient glance over his shoulder at them.
"Looks like he knows what he wants, too," Misha observes.
Playfully, Jared bites at Misha's mouth with the intent to quiet him. "I'm only too happy to oblige," he says. He pries two fingers past Misha's full lips, twisting his wrist until they're shiny with saliva.
Jensen's almost panting with anticipation as Jared traces his rim, the furled muscle contracting under his touch. "Please," Jensen says.
A fresh pulse of precome beads at the tip of Jared's cock and his balls pull up tight to his body at the pleading timbre of Jensen's voice and the clench of his ass as he sinks a finger all the way in.
Misha chuckles. "Oh, I very much approve."
Not giving Jensen time to acclimate to the intrusion, Jared pulls out, adds another finger to the first on the way back in. At the head of the bed, Jeff throws his head back at the first touch of Jensen's mouth to his cock.
"Deeper."
Jared's not sure who said it. It could have been any of them, the tone of the voice deep and sex drunk. He goes further inside of Jensen, as far as he can reach, and presses at the back of Jensen's head with his free hand, pushing his mouth further down the length of Jeff's cock. Jeff's toes curl and he tangles the sheets in his hands, yanking at them.
"Are you ready for more?" Misha asks.
Jensen makes a noise that sounds like an affirmative, humming around the breadth of Jeff's cock. Misha slips a finger between Jared's, working it in and out faster than Jared had dared, pitching forward to spit on Jensen's hole to ease the way. A shock of air punches out of Jensen at the new intrusion, but he recovers quickly. He rocks down hard and fast, his ass tightening and loosening as he works himself on their hands and swallowing Jeff's cock into his throat like he was born to do exactly this.
The sounds from Jeff grow louder, the shift of his hips sharper as he fucks Jensen's mouth more urgently. He grabs the back of Jensen's head and holds him in frozen in place as Jeff jerks his hips up so fast and hard that it nearly throws them all from the bed. It leaves Jensen sputtering, strings of come dripping from his parted lips as he struggles to catch his breath. He wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand and smears the mess on his stomach.
Their fingers slip from Jensen's ass as Jeff spills from the bed and allows Jensen to collapse on his back, dazed but smiling.
"I want..." Jared trails off, hardly aware that he'd spoken aloud. He’s completely wrapped up in the view, the wanton angle of Jensen's legs and the puffy, swollen skin of his rim, reddened and loose and so inviting.
"You wanna fuck him, and I wanna see you fuck him," Misha finishes for him, then takes Jared's cock into his mouth for a few quick sucks, his tongue spreading Jared’s precome around the head of his cock and down his shaft, slicking him up.
Jared sits back on his haunches, drags Jensen toward him until Jensen's thighs blanket his own, then pauses. Jared's not sure what he's waiting for until he gets it; Jensen licks his lips, fixes him with a stare and nods. Gripping his cock, Jared lines himself up and slides in, pushes past the resistance. Jensen rides it out, breathing through the stretch with his mouth forming a perfect little ring. Very, very slowly, Jared shifts backward, relishing the heat of Jensen's rim sliding along his cock, a tightness that almost hurts, only to shove back in again, the force of it making Jensen skid along the bed, his balls a wet slap against Jensen's ass.
Misha still hovers at Jensen's side, eyes filled up with the sight of Jared's cock disappearing into Jensen's body. Jensen takes him in hand, his cock flushed red with blood and shiny with precome. Misha bucks into the circle of Jensen's hand, rutting against it, the head of his cock slipping through Jensen's fist. Misha's lost in the sensation, mouth slack and eyes half-lidded, sweat darkening the hair at his temples. Jeff rises from his place at Jensen's neck, and kisses Misha, open-mouthed and deep. Jared can see the slide of their tongues, stained bright red as they twist together, blood leaking from the place where their mouths meet. Grappling at Jeff's neck and shoulders in a way that would make any normal man howl, Misha ruts into Jensen's hand twice more and comes, white splatters painting Jensen's ribs, his stomach, streaming down to pool in his navel.
Jared grabs Jensen's wrist and sucks at the bite that Jeff left there, drawing a fresh bout of blood to the surface. A new wave of warmth crashes into his chest that has nothing at all to do with the blood when Jensen strains forward to look at him. His expression is soft, his gaze unwavering, the smallest smile nudging the corners of his mouth. He cups his hand along Jared's face, curls his fingers around the shell of Jared's ear.
Jared barely has time to swallow before Jensen pulls him close to whisper, "Harder. C'mon. I want it harder."
Jensen's body shakes beneath Jared's, the skin slick with sweat and come where their stomachs meet, Jensen's cock hard and hot between them. To prove his point, Jensen digs his heels into the backs of Jared's thighs and hitches his hips upward, straining and squirming and fighting Jared's body weight as he fucks himself on Jared's cock.
In his peripheral vision, Jared can see Jeff licking along Jensen's wrist. Misha opens up the skin on the inside of Jensen's elbow, and Jared can feel Jensen's response to it. A pained hiss whistles through his teeth and his body becomes momentarily rigid, a crease forming between his brows and his ass clenching around the width of Jared's cock. It sets Jared's nerves on fire, and he thrusts forward, slamming into Jensen more brutally than before, straight to the base of his cock, hips a perfect, snug fit against the curve of Jensen's ass.
Envy, nonsensical but nonetheless there, spikes up in Jared. He wants Jensen to himself. He's never wanted anything or anyone more, not since Jeff created him.
Jared bends at the waist, still pumping into Jensen hard and relentless, taps Jensen's cheek and says, "Look at me."
Jensen does, locks onto Jared with single-minded determination as his orgasm hits, tremors wracking his body and his legs bearing down around Jared's waist. Jared's stomach slides through the sloppy mess. Jared follows him seconds later, head thrown back and hips working in small circling stutters.
Jensen is exquisite, fucked out, his arms and legs splayed wide on the bed. He’s paler than before, eyelids the dark color of a bruise. His mouth is bitten red, swollen. The soft skin of his stomach is splattered with come, a mix of his own and Misha's. Its smell fills Jared's nose, tangy and bitter, as does the sharp undercurrent of Jensen's blood. Jared pushes Jensen's legs open again and he stirs a little, mumbles nonsense for a moment until Jeff leans in close.
"Shhh," Jeff hushes him, skimming his knuckles against Jensen's cheek until he settles.
Jared presses his lips to that sweetly tender spot high up on Jensen's thigh, licks at the slow trickle of blood still leaking from twin punctures, Jensen's pulse faint but steady against his tongue.
Misha pushes a hand into Jared's hair and gives it a gentle tug. "Don't be greedy," he warns. "Give him time."
Jared whines, sucks one more small taste from Jensen then sets his teeth into his own thumb, allowing a few tiny drops to fall onto Jensen's wound. They close up in second, leaving the skin unmarred beneath a pink smudge of blood.
He regards Jeff and Misha in turn. "Can we keep him?”
-fin
Thanks for reading.