Fic: All Three Wheels (J2/Misha)
Fandom: CWRPS
Pairing: J2/Misha
Rating: NC-17 -- Wordcount: 2,400
Warnings: PWP, AU, established threesome, barebacking, sex toys, sleepy sex, sloppy seconds
Notes: For my dearest gedry, on her birthday. Ok, fine, so I'm late posting, I couldn't get away from my family, but hey - the three wisemen were totally later with their gifts and all they brought was cash and prefume, I brought boy porn! ;) For her prompt, she told me that the holidays made her think of leftovers which made her think of sloppy seconds which only serves to illustrate one of the numerous reasons I love her.
Summary - Jensen can't really pretend that their arrangement makes sense.
Jensen can't really pretend that their arrangement makes sense. Even to him - and there's a 33.3% chance that he somehow came up with the whole thing - it's completely upside down and back-assward. He honestly isn't sure if he's dating Jared or Misha or if their dating each other or if none of them are dating or if all of them are
.
They've been friends for what seems like forever but actually only works out to a couple of years. Misha and Jared are both just like that, falling into any new situation as if they've always belonged there, like human skeleton keys. Jensen’s almost jealous of that, except that even as mellow as the two of them are, without him around to keep them grounded they’re kind of like a tricycle with only two wheels.
If he'd known what he was getting into when he'd answered Misha's ad for a housemate - or when Aldis moved out a year later and Jared moved in - he probably never would have gone through with it. They’ve gotten him into all kinds of unnecessary crap. Without them Jensen’s previously spotless arrest record would never have been tarnished with the words ‘public nudity’ nor would he have had to endure the horror that is a tequila-vodka-absinthe hangover. He also wouldn’t know what it’s like to have sex outside in the middle of a rainstorm or how Buenos Ares shines under the first pink kiss of dawn.
Which are just some of the many reasons it's probably for the best that Misha and Jared have never let him get a word in edgewise from day one.
They do, occasionally, end up in bed together; generally on weekends and such when Jared's residency at the hospital doesn't conflict with Misha's TA schedule. Well, not in bed together since they do that all the time - the afternoon he came home to find that Misha had traded all three of their beds for a California king sans bedframe, a second hand TV and no less than a pound of weed is just one in a long line of things Jensen has stopped trying to make sense of - but really all over each other with heat and want.
Mostly it's like tonight - or today, he supposes, shooting a glance over at the red glare of 5:47am seared across the bedside clock - with Misha curled up hot against his side, sticky with sleep-sweat, out like a light while Jensen wavers in that space between sleeping and awake. Someday he's bound to get around to feeling bad about the fact that his circadian rhythms anticipate Jared coming home, but so far it hasn't happened.
As if on cue - Jared's always had good timing - the front door rattles opening. From the other room he can hear the clatter of Jared's keys on the coffee table, the thump of his book bag hitting the floor, the various rumblings and shufflings as he grabs himself a snack, turns on the shower, probably talking to himself like he vehemently insists he doesn't do.
Jensen's not sure how long Jared putters around out there, but it's long enough that by the time his shadow blots out the misty red-green of the twinkle lights around the living room windows from the doorway more than Jensen's REM cycle has sat up and taken notice.
It doesn't hurt that Jared's wearing nothing but a towel when he pushes the door closed quietly. His nipples are tight in the cold where his skin is probably still damp, one stray lit-silver drop of water quivering down the center cut of his abs. How he can work the hours he works, subsist on vending machine food and still manage to look like that, Jensen will never know. Can't say he isn't thankful though. Especially when that towel hits the floor and there's nothing but rippling muscle and smooth skin for scenery.
A wave of cool air from Jared sliding into bed shocks Jensen more awake, a riot of goosebumps breaking out over his skin. The soft waves of his hair are still wet where they brush against Jensen's cheek but his hands are warm as always - it's like magic - as they slot in against his hip, underneath the curve of his shoulder blade.
Jared's pretty talkative at the best of times but given that Misha is sleeping peacefully right next to them and Jensen's essentially pre-verbal before he's had coffee, he stays mercifully quiet. He does mumble a, "hey," as he fits himself against Jensen and starts kissing gently at his neck, but that's about it. Jensen just bares his throat a little more and grunts something approximating a reply.
Long fingers tickle their way down the sensitive skin where Jensen's hip and thigh meet as if Jensen really needs a warm-up, like he hasn't already got that bone-deep ache of heat just from anticipating this. Rhen again, that’s not really the point when it comes to Jared. He's the only guy Jensen's ever met who might actually like foreplay more than sex.
A little push has Jared's hand slipping lower, knuckles dragging over the tender swell of Jensen's sac, keeps going and keeps going until Jensen feels the shift of smooth friction inside of him, the catch of Jared's breath against his cheek.
"Jesus," Jared whisper-groans, and that internal shift has a little more power behind it this time as he really presses on the base of the plug buried between Jensen's legs. Misha snuffles and shifts a little, half-hiding his face in the pillow.
This isn't their usual routine. Typically Jared drags in, cuddles up against Jensen and they end up making out and rubbing off on each other like teenagers until they both pass out, blissed and come-messy. But hey, they're all going to be heading home for a few days of family time later and, well, Jared's been working really hard the last couple of months - Jensen and Misha both agreed they should do something special for him.
If they happen to get something out of it too, then all the better.
The body-hot, slick slide of the plug - not a big one, just enough to keep him wet and open after Misha had screwed deep into him earlier - slices the air in his lungs to pieces, blurting free on choppy little almost-noises that Jared muffles with is mouth. Only a little of the smooth silicone is actually pulling free, letting Jensen's body suck it back inside again when his muscles clutch at it. It keeps hitting his sweet spot, just barely rubbing against it like the worst kind of tease when he's got the hard, fat length of Jared's cock digging into his hip as a reminder of what he could be having.
He's probably making too much noise really, these airy little grunts leaking out of him along with warm, trickles of lube and Misha's come each time Jared fucks him with the damn plug. Jensen's about four seconds away from seriously bitching about it - just as soon as Jared stops sucking on his tongue and messing up his speech patterns - when Jared finally pulls it all the way out, dragging a wet trail with it down the inside of Jensen's thigh before losing it somewhere in the bed. That’s really going to be uncomfortable if one of them rolls over on it later but Jensen will worry about that then.
Heaving himself up between Jensen’s legs, Jared pushes in without preamble and Jensen's brain skids out on a blank spot in reality. The plug was big enough to do the job, but Jared's a hell of a lot bigger and there's something just a little bit overwhelming about feeling all of that slip right on in past the token resistance, wet enough that there's nothing Jensen can really do to stop it. Not that he wants to, but there's a weird instinctual moment, the crazy animal thing inside of him that has a tiny little freak out about that loss of control.
Blood blooms with shimmering heat in his veins and his chest goes tight for all of a heartbeat. Then Jared's flush against him catching Jensen's slack lips with his own and swiveling his pelvis down so Jensen's dick is trapped between them. Just like that the whole thing goes sweet and smooth like sugar turning liquid over a flame and Jensen hitches his legs up around Jared's hips to roll into him.
People see Jared and they make a lot of assumptions; Jensen knows, he made them too. For the most part they’re right - Jared's exactly as much of a big, loud, crazy lug as he seems - but there are some parts where they're way off and this is one of them.
When the lines had first started getting blurry between all of them, Jensen had spent a fair bit of time imagining what it would be like to have someone as big and strong and 'in your space' as Jared in his bed. He'd imagined a lot of manhandling and biting kisses, 'bend over and take it how I give it you's, and Jared certainly capable of it, he has his moods. Left to his own devices though, this is almost always how Jared prefers it; slow fucks that hardly even qualify as movement, more action with his mouth and tongue on Jensen's skin than the cock pushed so deep inside of him he swears he can feel it in his molars. Misha calls it tantric. Jensen calls it a religious experience. Just, you know, not out loud - Jared's ego is doing just fine on its own.
Under the right set of circumstances, Jared can go for hours, but right now isn't that time. They're both exhausted, Jared from his shift, Jensen from the fact that it's almost six in the damn morning. Misha's laying right next to them, eyes fluttering open to lazy slits because even he couldn't sleep through this. His come is leaking out of Jensen with every thrust, making it all seem even more deliciously filthy than it already is. Jared’s hips roll down, grind hard, wetting the nest of hair around his cock and painting Jensen’s balls with the sticky rasp of it.
Rushed breathes pant against his ear from Jared’s open mouth, the snippets of unconscious noise trapped inside of them ratcheting up Jensen’s internal thermostat to ‘volcanic’. The sharp jut of his hips bones dig into Jensen’s thighs as he just stays deep like he’s planning on moving in, inching back and forth just enough to rub all of Jensen’s nerves the right way. He’s not so much hitting Jensen’s prostate as assaulting it, steady, relentless pressure that turns his brain cells into Pop Rocks, makes him twitch like a man possessed.
No one could last under a sensory assault like that. Especially not once Misha works a hand down between them and starts tracing his fingertips around the puffy stretch of Jensen's stuffed hole.
Naturally, Jensen comes first, slow-burn tightness that’s been winding up in his stomach reaching down to grab him by the balls and tug until his fingertips tingle and the rush of his pulse is an ocean roar in his ears, nobody bothering to touch his dick because despite himself, his body has gotten trained to work that way. He's still not going to take any of this ‘power bottom’ bullshit, though - damn Jared and Misha both.
It's barely another minute before Jared follows him over, Misha helpfully pulling Jensen's legs open wider so Jared can get in just that little bit further when he pumps Jensen full again. Jensen's dick gives a weak, hopeful twitch just thinking about it.
After a few long, slow minutes of making out, Jared finally eases out of him and lays down against Jensen's side. He's still kissing along Jensen's jaw, one arm cast over Jensen’s chest, probably so his hand can find a place to rest on Misha. Whatever it is that the three of them are doing together, Jared's intensely possessive of them both in a casual kind of way that makes Jensen feel fluttery and ridiculous.
Of course, that's when Misha reaches down between Jensen's legs and starts idly fingering him, making a sloppy mess of the sheets underneath him as his knuckles rasp against flesh that's almost but not quite too sensitive to feel good so at least Jensen has a good excuse for the flutters.
He nibbles at Jensen’s collarbone - Jensen is not entirely convinced that whole ‘rasied by wolves’ story of his was actually a joke the way he carries on sometimes - up to the lightly throbbing bruise on Jensen’s neck that could very easily have been the doing of either one of them. They meet in the middle, Jared and Misha, sharing Jensen's mouth for just a second before they both ease off to share a kiss too soft and chaste considering what they just got up to.
"Morning," Misha slurs, so sleepy and deep that it's barely a word. Jared echoes it back, voice shivery-hot against the crook of Jensen's neck that he tends to use as his own personal pillow. The response Jensen has planned comes out a sigh that just barely escapes from turning into a moan when Misha slides his fingers free again.
In less than an hour Misha's alarm is going to go off and Jensen and Jared are going to whine and burrow into the pillows until Misha makes the mean noise stop. A couple after that it will be Jensen's turn, abandoning the warm solace of the bed to go take care of some last minute paperwork before the office shuts down for the holiday break. And then tonight they're all three going to trickle out toward the airport or train station on their respective trips home, to their family and away from it at the same time.
For now, though, it's just the three of them doing whatever it is they do, and lying here this warm and sated and - he won't say it out loud but, loved - Jensen doesn't really care that they don't make sense. He wouldn’t have it any other way.
Pairing: J2/Misha
Rating: NC-17 -- Wordcount: 2,400
Warnings: PWP, AU, established threesome, barebacking, sex toys, sleepy sex, sloppy seconds
Notes: For my dearest gedry, on her birthday. Ok, fine, so I'm late posting, I couldn't get away from my family, but hey - the three wisemen were totally later with their gifts and all they brought was cash and prefume, I brought boy porn! ;) For her prompt, she told me that the holidays made her think of leftovers which made her think of sloppy seconds which only serves to illustrate one of the numerous reasons I love her.
Summary - Jensen can't really pretend that their arrangement makes sense.
Jensen can't really pretend that their arrangement makes sense. Even to him - and there's a 33.3% chance that he somehow came up with the whole thing - it's completely upside down and back-assward. He honestly isn't sure if he's dating Jared or Misha or if their dating each other or if none of them are dating or if all of them are
.
They've been friends for what seems like forever but actually only works out to a couple of years. Misha and Jared are both just like that, falling into any new situation as if they've always belonged there, like human skeleton keys. Jensen’s almost jealous of that, except that even as mellow as the two of them are, without him around to keep them grounded they’re kind of like a tricycle with only two wheels.
If he'd known what he was getting into when he'd answered Misha's ad for a housemate - or when Aldis moved out a year later and Jared moved in - he probably never would have gone through with it. They’ve gotten him into all kinds of unnecessary crap. Without them Jensen’s previously spotless arrest record would never have been tarnished with the words ‘public nudity’ nor would he have had to endure the horror that is a tequila-vodka-absinthe hangover. He also wouldn’t know what it’s like to have sex outside in the middle of a rainstorm or how Buenos Ares shines under the first pink kiss of dawn.
Which are just some of the many reasons it's probably for the best that Misha and Jared have never let him get a word in edgewise from day one.
They do, occasionally, end up in bed together; generally on weekends and such when Jared's residency at the hospital doesn't conflict with Misha's TA schedule. Well, not in bed together since they do that all the time - the afternoon he came home to find that Misha had traded all three of their beds for a California king sans bedframe, a second hand TV and no less than a pound of weed is just one in a long line of things Jensen has stopped trying to make sense of - but really all over each other with heat and want.
Mostly it's like tonight - or today, he supposes, shooting a glance over at the red glare of 5:47am seared across the bedside clock - with Misha curled up hot against his side, sticky with sleep-sweat, out like a light while Jensen wavers in that space between sleeping and awake. Someday he's bound to get around to feeling bad about the fact that his circadian rhythms anticipate Jared coming home, but so far it hasn't happened.
As if on cue - Jared's always had good timing - the front door rattles opening. From the other room he can hear the clatter of Jared's keys on the coffee table, the thump of his book bag hitting the floor, the various rumblings and shufflings as he grabs himself a snack, turns on the shower, probably talking to himself like he vehemently insists he doesn't do.
Jensen's not sure how long Jared putters around out there, but it's long enough that by the time his shadow blots out the misty red-green of the twinkle lights around the living room windows from the doorway more than Jensen's REM cycle has sat up and taken notice.
It doesn't hurt that Jared's wearing nothing but a towel when he pushes the door closed quietly. His nipples are tight in the cold where his skin is probably still damp, one stray lit-silver drop of water quivering down the center cut of his abs. How he can work the hours he works, subsist on vending machine food and still manage to look like that, Jensen will never know. Can't say he isn't thankful though. Especially when that towel hits the floor and there's nothing but rippling muscle and smooth skin for scenery.
A wave of cool air from Jared sliding into bed shocks Jensen more awake, a riot of goosebumps breaking out over his skin. The soft waves of his hair are still wet where they brush against Jensen's cheek but his hands are warm as always - it's like magic - as they slot in against his hip, underneath the curve of his shoulder blade.
Jared's pretty talkative at the best of times but given that Misha is sleeping peacefully right next to them and Jensen's essentially pre-verbal before he's had coffee, he stays mercifully quiet. He does mumble a, "hey," as he fits himself against Jensen and starts kissing gently at his neck, but that's about it. Jensen just bares his throat a little more and grunts something approximating a reply.
Long fingers tickle their way down the sensitive skin where Jensen's hip and thigh meet as if Jensen really needs a warm-up, like he hasn't already got that bone-deep ache of heat just from anticipating this. Rhen again, that’s not really the point when it comes to Jared. He's the only guy Jensen's ever met who might actually like foreplay more than sex.
A little push has Jared's hand slipping lower, knuckles dragging over the tender swell of Jensen's sac, keeps going and keeps going until Jensen feels the shift of smooth friction inside of him, the catch of Jared's breath against his cheek.
"Jesus," Jared whisper-groans, and that internal shift has a little more power behind it this time as he really presses on the base of the plug buried between Jensen's legs. Misha snuffles and shifts a little, half-hiding his face in the pillow.
This isn't their usual routine. Typically Jared drags in, cuddles up against Jensen and they end up making out and rubbing off on each other like teenagers until they both pass out, blissed and come-messy. But hey, they're all going to be heading home for a few days of family time later and, well, Jared's been working really hard the last couple of months - Jensen and Misha both agreed they should do something special for him.
If they happen to get something out of it too, then all the better.
The body-hot, slick slide of the plug - not a big one, just enough to keep him wet and open after Misha had screwed deep into him earlier - slices the air in his lungs to pieces, blurting free on choppy little almost-noises that Jared muffles with is mouth. Only a little of the smooth silicone is actually pulling free, letting Jensen's body suck it back inside again when his muscles clutch at it. It keeps hitting his sweet spot, just barely rubbing against it like the worst kind of tease when he's got the hard, fat length of Jared's cock digging into his hip as a reminder of what he could be having.
He's probably making too much noise really, these airy little grunts leaking out of him along with warm, trickles of lube and Misha's come each time Jared fucks him with the damn plug. Jensen's about four seconds away from seriously bitching about it - just as soon as Jared stops sucking on his tongue and messing up his speech patterns - when Jared finally pulls it all the way out, dragging a wet trail with it down the inside of Jensen's thigh before losing it somewhere in the bed. That’s really going to be uncomfortable if one of them rolls over on it later but Jensen will worry about that then.
Heaving himself up between Jensen’s legs, Jared pushes in without preamble and Jensen's brain skids out on a blank spot in reality. The plug was big enough to do the job, but Jared's a hell of a lot bigger and there's something just a little bit overwhelming about feeling all of that slip right on in past the token resistance, wet enough that there's nothing Jensen can really do to stop it. Not that he wants to, but there's a weird instinctual moment, the crazy animal thing inside of him that has a tiny little freak out about that loss of control.
Blood blooms with shimmering heat in his veins and his chest goes tight for all of a heartbeat. Then Jared's flush against him catching Jensen's slack lips with his own and swiveling his pelvis down so Jensen's dick is trapped between them. Just like that the whole thing goes sweet and smooth like sugar turning liquid over a flame and Jensen hitches his legs up around Jared's hips to roll into him.
People see Jared and they make a lot of assumptions; Jensen knows, he made them too. For the most part they’re right - Jared's exactly as much of a big, loud, crazy lug as he seems - but there are some parts where they're way off and this is one of them.
When the lines had first started getting blurry between all of them, Jensen had spent a fair bit of time imagining what it would be like to have someone as big and strong and 'in your space' as Jared in his bed. He'd imagined a lot of manhandling and biting kisses, 'bend over and take it how I give it you's, and Jared certainly capable of it, he has his moods. Left to his own devices though, this is almost always how Jared prefers it; slow fucks that hardly even qualify as movement, more action with his mouth and tongue on Jensen's skin than the cock pushed so deep inside of him he swears he can feel it in his molars. Misha calls it tantric. Jensen calls it a religious experience. Just, you know, not out loud - Jared's ego is doing just fine on its own.
Under the right set of circumstances, Jared can go for hours, but right now isn't that time. They're both exhausted, Jared from his shift, Jensen from the fact that it's almost six in the damn morning. Misha's laying right next to them, eyes fluttering open to lazy slits because even he couldn't sleep through this. His come is leaking out of Jensen with every thrust, making it all seem even more deliciously filthy than it already is. Jared’s hips roll down, grind hard, wetting the nest of hair around his cock and painting Jensen’s balls with the sticky rasp of it.
Rushed breathes pant against his ear from Jared’s open mouth, the snippets of unconscious noise trapped inside of them ratcheting up Jensen’s internal thermostat to ‘volcanic’. The sharp jut of his hips bones dig into Jensen’s thighs as he just stays deep like he’s planning on moving in, inching back and forth just enough to rub all of Jensen’s nerves the right way. He’s not so much hitting Jensen’s prostate as assaulting it, steady, relentless pressure that turns his brain cells into Pop Rocks, makes him twitch like a man possessed.
No one could last under a sensory assault like that. Especially not once Misha works a hand down between them and starts tracing his fingertips around the puffy stretch of Jensen's stuffed hole.
Naturally, Jensen comes first, slow-burn tightness that’s been winding up in his stomach reaching down to grab him by the balls and tug until his fingertips tingle and the rush of his pulse is an ocean roar in his ears, nobody bothering to touch his dick because despite himself, his body has gotten trained to work that way. He's still not going to take any of this ‘power bottom’ bullshit, though - damn Jared and Misha both.
It's barely another minute before Jared follows him over, Misha helpfully pulling Jensen's legs open wider so Jared can get in just that little bit further when he pumps Jensen full again. Jensen's dick gives a weak, hopeful twitch just thinking about it.
After a few long, slow minutes of making out, Jared finally eases out of him and lays down against Jensen's side. He's still kissing along Jensen's jaw, one arm cast over Jensen’s chest, probably so his hand can find a place to rest on Misha. Whatever it is that the three of them are doing together, Jared's intensely possessive of them both in a casual kind of way that makes Jensen feel fluttery and ridiculous.
Of course, that's when Misha reaches down between Jensen's legs and starts idly fingering him, making a sloppy mess of the sheets underneath him as his knuckles rasp against flesh that's almost but not quite too sensitive to feel good so at least Jensen has a good excuse for the flutters.
He nibbles at Jensen’s collarbone - Jensen is not entirely convinced that whole ‘rasied by wolves’ story of his was actually a joke the way he carries on sometimes - up to the lightly throbbing bruise on Jensen’s neck that could very easily have been the doing of either one of them. They meet in the middle, Jared and Misha, sharing Jensen's mouth for just a second before they both ease off to share a kiss too soft and chaste considering what they just got up to.
"Morning," Misha slurs, so sleepy and deep that it's barely a word. Jared echoes it back, voice shivery-hot against the crook of Jensen's neck that he tends to use as his own personal pillow. The response Jensen has planned comes out a sigh that just barely escapes from turning into a moan when Misha slides his fingers free again.
In less than an hour Misha's alarm is going to go off and Jensen and Jared are going to whine and burrow into the pillows until Misha makes the mean noise stop. A couple after that it will be Jensen's turn, abandoning the warm solace of the bed to go take care of some last minute paperwork before the office shuts down for the holiday break. And then tonight they're all three going to trickle out toward the airport or train station on their respective trips home, to their family and away from it at the same time.
For now, though, it's just the three of them doing whatever it is they do, and lying here this warm and sated and - he won't say it out loud but, loved - Jensen doesn't really care that they don't make sense. He wouldn’t have it any other way.