[FIC]: Rhapsody (Jensen/Misha, RPS, Adult)

[nyoka]

[Rhapsody]
CWRPS. Jensen/Misha. NC-17. ~2,100 words; pwp; pure and unadulterated schmoop. Reposted comment!fic; quick and unbeta'ed.


~*~

Jensen wakes to the soulful croons of Marvin Gaye winding from the alarm clock radio. A beat later he finds himself singing along, oh, mercy mercy me, while burrowing down deep beneath the messy layers of blankets and sheets. He tells himself just another five minutes, maybe ten or fifteen if he's lucky. If he's...Jensen's thoughts pause at the sudden press of warm, wet heat against his belly: the velvet rough slide of a long tongue, the gentle scrape of teeth, and the prickly graze of stubble.

"Motherfucker," Jensen breathes out because right now there's a mouth sliding over his abdomen and there are rough hands working down his thighs. Simply put: there's a warm body invading his cozy blanket cocoon.

"Fuck off Mish. M'sleeping," Jensen hisses, breath catching in his throat as he turns his head and presses his cheek into his pillow, arching his body forward and up at the slide of long fingers against his hips. Jensen's dick is waking up, responding to the body settling alongside his own, a welcome and all-too familiar weight.

"So not sleeping," Misha protests, mouth pressing against the side of Jensen's neck, sucking another dark mark into the thin skin there. It's all sensation then: Misha's cold feet sliding against Jensen's calves, Misha's rough hands digging into Jensen's hips, and Misha's wet mouth pressing against Jensen's throat as he wrestles back the dirty sheets and curls around Jensen.

Jensen laughs; he has the urge to kick Misha out of bed. But right now he's too warm, and he's feeling too damn good. They've been filming for five days straight, a week of rain-soaked location shoots and long and chaotic hours. Today they both have some time off; there's no need to be on set for another twelve hours. Jensen can admit that maybe it feels nice to be buried in the middle of Misha's bed, wrapped up in cotton and down quilts, blankets pushed over them like a mini-fortress.

Right now Misha's hands are curling up Jensen's thighs and he's saying, "Come on, Jen," as his fingers brush over Jensen's nipple, a motion that has Jensen shivering.

"Hate you so much," Jensen murmurs, although his actions tell the opposite story. Jensen widens his legs, accommodating Misha as he slips between Jensen's thighs and rolls their hips together, smooth and steady as they go.

"Fuck," Jensen breathes out, loving the silken-hot press of Misha's cock against his belly.

"We will," Misha whispers, his hands curling under Jensen's ass, tugging him up closer so that their cocks slide together in a hot, rough friction that sends them both shuddering.

"Misha, you little fucker," Jensen moans, fingers gripping into Misha's arms to hold on.

"Big fucker," Misha corrects on a breathy whisper, his mouth capturing Jensen's, the tip of his tongue sneaking past Jensen's parting lips.

Jensen moans into the kiss, and Misha's hold on Jensen's ass tightens as he urges them closer, cocks gliding easily against each, slicked by pre-come and heat. Misha pulls away from Jensen's mouth with a sharp gasp, bucking forward as Jensen slides a hand between their bellies to grasp both of their cocks. Jensen squeezes tight, jacking them together fast and firm. It's only a moment before they're both coming, sharp and sweetly hot, soaking the sheets and their bellies and Jensen's hand.

Misha collapses on top of Jensen, and Jensen's too tired to bother kicking him off. He wipes his hands on the already-dirty sheets and asks in a voice gone husky-thick, "Will you let me sleep now?"

"Probably not," Misha mumbles, lips pressed against Jensen's breastbone.

"Fucker," Jensen chuckles and against better judgement fits himself into the grooves of Misha's tight body, trailing his hands from Misha's hips to his back before burying his face in the crook of his neck.

The room is warm and morning bright, filled with the sounds of their mingled breathing and the quiet rustle of the sheets as they move closer together. It's not long before they're both breathing slow and even, falling asleep to the sounds of classic soul on the radio.

~*~

When Jensen wakes again, some two hours later, Misha's apartment is filled with the enticing scents of a late-morning breakfast. Jensen stumbles out of bed and crawls around Misha's cluttered bedroom until he locates his pair of worn jeans. He slides those on but forgoes a shirt. He then wanders barefooted down the hall, stopping to wash up in the bathroom before heading toward the kitchen, his nose leading the way.

Jensen finds Misha at the stove, flipping over star-shaped pancakes and whistling some commercial jingle. "Coffee?" Jensen grunts by way of greeting.

"A full pot waiting just for you," Misha smiles Jensen's way, waving his spatula in the direction of that little slice of caffeine heaven.

"So thoughtful," Jensen smirks before heading to the coffee pot. Jensen drinks his coffee black, no sugar, no milk. He pours himself a steaming cup using Misha's Love me, I'm an angel! mug before turning around and leaning back against the counter. He inhales the steam for a moment, then he sips at his coffee, glancing up to watch Misha work his breakfast magic.

The smell of a late-September rainfall is drifting in through the open kitchen window, and Jensen sucks in a deep breath and takes a moment to trail his eyes over Misha's wild bed-hair and the smooth line of his bare back, before taking in the pair of raggedy sweatpants barely hanging on by the cut of his slim hipbones.

"Sleep well?" Misha asks, turning his head to meet Jensen's gaze, smiling as if he knows what Jensen's been thinking.

"I never get any sleep at your place," Jensen mutters, placing his coffee mug down on the counter. He steps forward then, bare feet sliding over the cool stone tile as he crowds himself behind Misha. Jensen places his hands around Misha's waist and leans forward to press a kiss to the nape of Misha's neck.

Misha stops beating his pancake batter and presses back into Jensen's chest. "Who's fault is that?" Misha laughs softly.

"Definitely yours," Jensen breathes against the back of Misha's neck, digging his fingers into Misha's hipbones gently as he grinds his cock against the groove of his ass.

Misha hums, reaching out to turn off the stove before twisting around to face Jensen. "Always with the excuses, Ackles," Misha says, soft and lazy, words skating the comfortable distance between their mouths.

Jensen's grip tightens around Misha's waist, and Misha's skin feels warm and alive underneath his hands. Jensen squints as he looks down at Misha and says, "What do you have to say for yourself now?"

"Good morning?" Misha offers, tilting his face up.

Jensen shakes his head and says, "Good morning."

"It's gonna be," Misha grins, placing his hands to Jensen's neck and pulling him down. His fingers tangle in Jensen's hair as he brings their mouths together. Jensen can still taste the mint of Misha's toothpaste, the soft, bitter hint of his coffee. Misha's stubble scrapes across Jensen's chin, rough like sandpaper.

Every time they do this is still as good as the first time: a hot slide of lips and tongues that feels amazing. Misha's mouth is always warm and welcoming, and he kisses with the sort of uninhibited confidence that makes Jensen want to pull him closer, climb inside his head and make himself comfortable there. Misha has a way of continually surprising Jensen, drawing Jensen into his orbit, and letting Jensen know that it's okay to take this one day at a time. Misha is addicting: all warm smiles and teasing laughs, careless hands and a generous heart.

Misha licks into Jensen's mouth, and Jensen sighs into the kiss, pressing Misha back against the counter and draping his arms around his shoulders. When they finally break apart, Jensen smiles, his body feeling heavy and languid. His hand moves to cup the side of Misha's face, and his thumb swipes over Misha's swollen lower lip, slick with saliva.

"I guess breakfast can wait," Misha says, tongue coming out to sweep over Jensen's thumb.

"Only cuz you're a horny bastard," Jensen says with a smile. Misha rolls his eyes and starts to walk them back toward his bedroom.

They fall on the bed together, sending the mattress bouncing and the bedsprings creaking. Misha's warm weight lowers over Jensen, and his hands push beneath the waistband of Jensen's jeans.

"I wanna suck you off," Misha mumbles into Jensen's ear, lowering himself onto the bed next to him and running his hand over Jensen's zipper.

Jensen snorts, rests one hand on the smooth skin along Misha's hipbone. "You invited me over to run lines, remember?"

Misha nods his head and then drags his teeth over the side of Jensen's neck, before sucking softly on the spot above Jensen's collarbone. "Ain't that what we've been doing?" he asks after a moment, warm breath puffing against Jensen's damp skin.

Jensen chuckles, hands sliding up and down Misha's back. "Dean and Castiel do not have sex in the script."

"Oh," Misha says, laughing softly as he presses a gentle kiss against Jensen's neck. "Maybe they should. Work out some of that tension," he adds. And with that, Misha wraps himself around Jensen's thighs and works his way down his legs.

"God," Jensen grunts. He closes his eyes and exhales a deep breath as he feels Misha's hands working at his jeans, tugging the zipper down and jerking the denims off of his legs. Jensen sits up to help and tosses the jeans to the floor. Then he scoots back farther on the bed, hips arched up as his cock unfurls against his belly.

Misha climbs between Jensen's legs and drags his mouth over Jensen's hip, his teeth nipping at Jensen's flushed and heated skin. Jensen's shaking, groaning, fisting his hands into the sheets as Misha's tongue slowly trails into the shadowed groove where his groin meets his pale thigh.

"C'mon," Jensen urges, the sound of his own blood rushing loudly in his ears. His skin has gone fever-hot, and his cock is achingly hard. He bucks up toward Misha, spreading his legs in anticipation.

Misha doesn't say anything, only smirks before dragging his teeth from Jensen's ribs to his belly to his hip, suckling at the tender flesh and biting down, leaving behind a pattern of scarlet bruises.

When Misha's nose bumps up against Jensen's cock, Jensen thrusts forward, keening low and ragged. "Fuck," he gasps, trembling softly. "Misha, man, please."

Misha smiles against Jensen's thigh as he whispers, "Shhh, I got you." He then leans in close, opens his mouth, and takes Jensen's cock. Misha swallows Jensen down in a slow, rough slide that has him sucking almost all of Jensen's length into his mouth. Jensen's breathing breaks free, curses toppling over and out of his mouth, as he bucks up, back arching and head slamming back against the pillow.

"Jesus, fuck," Jensen groans, reaching down to dig his hands into Misha's hair as the head of his cock scrapes across the back of Misha's throat. Misha sinks down on Jensen further, long tongue curling up and over Jensen's shaft, moving in fast flicks that set fire to Jensen's blood.

Jensen rocks his hips faster, and Misha sucks even harder, humming greedily. It's not long before Jensen's yelling out Misha's name, the force of his orgasm rocking through the both of them. He comes, hot and hard and fast, spilling out and shaking hard, completely blown apart.

Afterwards, everything slows down: slow kisses and slow touches, the slow lull of a passing morning. Jensen winds his hand around Misha's waist, brushing his thumb back and forth across his hipbone. He says, "I'm hungry."

"Sucks to be you," Misha says, snaking a hand around to the back of Jensen's neck and pulling him close for a soft kiss.

Jensen chuckles against his lips, then rests his head in the crook of Misha's arm. "Are we going to spend the next five hours in your bed?" he asks, not at all averse to the idea.

Misha's laugh is breathy, fingers brushing across the nape of Jensen's neck. "I don't plan on moving until they start kicking the door in."

"Good," Jensen says, rolling Misha from his side and onto his back, before pressing their bodies together. Jensen skims his mouth along Misha's neck and whispers gently against the warm skin there, "You can fuck me then."

Misha splays his hands across Jensen's back, gripping into the muscles and pulling Jensen closer. Says, "Hmmm, don't think that's in the script."

Jensen lifts an eyebrow, smirking. "Yeah, well we're making it up as we go."

-fin-