Thank God for Granting Me This Moment of Clarity [Misha/Jake]
Title: Thank God for Granting Me This Moment of Clarity
Author:preferthemoss
Pairing: Misha Collins/Jake Abel
Rating: NC17
Warnings: Sexpollen, MadScientist!Misha, Bottom!Misha, oh, and Jake is straight. (I don't even know).
Spoilers: None.
Words: 1,400
Summary: The one where Jake Abel ends up in the magical mystery room in Misha Collins' basement.
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue. (Read full disclaimer here.)
Notes: The second gift for tringic via the spn_j2_xmas exchange, because when I got her list of prompts, literally all my mind saw was Jake Abel, Misha Collins, and Sexpollen. I couldn't unsee it. So... have some crack porn, bb. Title by Jay-Z.
Jake stepped tentatively over the long, thick wire running over the floor of Misha Collins' living room. He'd been there once before, a year ago, perhaps, on the arm of Amy Gumenick as she'd flirted shamelessly with everyone in sight. Their relationship hadn't lasted long, and, in any case, Misha had been there to pick up the pieces. He was a good guy in general, and Jake was maybe more than a little smitten with him. They'd been spending a lot of time together lately, and had learned by now to take the boyfriend jokes in stride.
Jake wasn't entirely sure about Misha's sexuality, other than the fact that it was there, and it was fierce. He was walking on a line between being straight and gay, but bi-sexual was a term that was just too plain for a man like Misha Collins. Jake himself was undoubtedly straight, and he was fairly certain (or at least hopeful) that all the guys who made jokes about him and Misha getting matching rings (they hadn't) knew that (they didn't).
"Mish?" Jake called out tentatively, hearing what sounded like a buzz saw in the basement. Last time Misha had operated a piece of equipment like that, he'd ended up with nine shirts less than he'd started the day with.
The light of day disappeared behind Jake as he descended down the staircase, noticing with some confusion that the purple carpet on the stairs beneath him patched off into yellow, before disappearing completely, leaving the last few steps exposed in all of their chipboard glory.
"Misha?" He tried again, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the dark cellar basement, blackness broken erratically by flickering pools of colored light.
His feet were silent over the floor, and he looked down to find himself walking over an endless spill of chicken feathers and rose petals, as some 80's sounding techno-synth rock sounded through the air.
He swallowed thickly as the constant, mechanic buzz finally stopped, and he looked up to find Misha pushing a pair of safety glasses up on his forehead.
"Hey, Jake!" Misha cried out with enthusiasm, pulling off the green rubber gloves that had molded to his hands. "What's up? How are you? What are you doing here?" He started happily, stepping around the table he'd been working on.
"Oh, I was--" Jake's words were cut short as Misha's hightops scuffed over a powercord, pulling it taught, while setting off a chain reaction of a catastrophe.
Jake lunged sideways to catch the ship in a bottle (scratch that -- blimp in a bottle) that had been nudged off the sawhorse beside him. He crashed to the floor almost silently, landing in a pile of pink feathers as Misha tumbled down on top of him, knocking the air out of Jake's chest as he flattened himself over him.
"Oh, oh fuck," Misha cried out shakily, as a flowerpot teetered on the edge of the table above them, and Misha moved only slightly before it fell completely, smashing over Misha's back.
"Shit," Jake laughed awkwardly, eyes wide as he wrapped an arm around Misha's body to brush the once-potted dirt off his friend's back.
His fingers warmed as he touched the soil, and he found himself smoothing away the wrinkles at the back of Misha's shirt. His hand stuttered over the mostly-clean expanse of material, and... and suddenly, there wasn't any.
The seams popped and snapped loudly as Jake quite literally ripped the shirt off Misha's body, exposing skin he'd never realized he'd wanted so goddamn badly, as he rose his head up off the floor, shoving his mouth against Misha's desperately.
"Mmm, Jake," Misha moaned out loudly, writhing against Jake's body too slow, not enough, Jake had needed this forfuckingever.
"Clothes," Jake started simply, shoving his hands against Misha's chest to push the man off him in an attempt to gain some space. "Off, off, off," he chanted desperately, knocking Misha onto his back, sending a flourish of blue glitter into the air around them, as he pried at Misha's belt.
He'd wanted this since the moment he met him. No, he'd wanted this since before he even had. Before he'd heard the name, seen the eyes, or touched the hair. Good fucking god, they'd waited too long.
"Move," Misha snapped out roughly, shoving Jake's hands away to grab hold of his own belt, breaking off the L.A.S.D. buckle in one swift motion.
Jake found himself slipping over the debris-covered floor then, falling between Misha's legs as he mouthed his way along the waist of his jeans, popping open the button before dragging down the zipper with a desperate pace that was probably dangerous.
"Need it," He whined shamelessly, eyeing up the obvious bulge that was straining the orange cotton just under Misha's paint-splattered jeans.
"Please, Jake," Misha begged gracelessly, arching up into his touch as he shoved his own boxers down his thighs, and Jake's heart thumped almost painfully as a moment of clarity hit him, letting him remember where he was and what he was doing. It slipped away quickly, though, leaving him with a taste in his mouth that... that could easily be covered by something else, he supposed.
Misha moaned out loudly as Jake slid his mouth down the shaft of his stiffened cock, and Jake didn't have time to wonder if his lack of any foreplay was due to a desperate need to get Misha off right the fuck now, or because he just... didn't know how.
He licked and sucked shamelessly, tasting an almost bitter-sweet smoothness at the back of his throat, before Misha was suddenly pushing him away, pulling at him roughly, shoving at his jeans until they met the fate of Misha's on the floor.
Jake pulled his shirt off quickly, balancing the complete nudity of his bottom half, as Misha shoved at him again, throwing Jake sideways into a pile of oven mitts. Jake gasped for breath as he stared up at the ceiling, finding the view to be quickly replaced by Misha's flushed and darkened face.
"Need you, please, please," Misha begged repeatedly, and Jake's hands flew to Misha's hips as the man straddled him, tossing away a bottle of something that Jake suspected had never been meant to be lube.
"Fuck yes," Jake agreed desperately, leaning up to bite at Misha's chest, leaving marks over his skin, as Misha's hand was suddenly around Jake's cock, warm and slick with... Jake didn't want to think about what that actually had been.
Misha was panting heavily as he lowered himself over Jake's body, taking him in slowly, before sinking down entirely. Jake bucked up into the feeling, closing his eyes as he was suddenly dizzied.
Misha gasped loudly as he pulled himself up before fucking down again, and Jake's hands tightened over Misha's hips, letting the man ride him with a bone-bruising pace.
"H-harder," Jake commanded desperately, hands wandering aimlessly over Misha's body, as he felt his legs tense under him. "Fuck," he sobbed out suddenly, as Misha leaned down to claim his mouth in a passionate kiss.
Jake let himself thrust up erratically, losing all rhythm, along with any hope of ever having one again. His abs were tightening almost painfully, and Misha's cries and moans had formed an endless soundtrack of lustful sobs.
"Ah, fuck, Jake," Misha cried out finally, hips stuttering over Jake's body as he bit down on the younger man's shoulder, leaving a mark that would have been painful, had Jake even felt it. But instead, Jake's focus was trained entirely on the wet, sticky warmth spilling over his stomach, and he closed his eyes tightly as he felt himself tense unmistakably, coming hard fast into Misha's trembling body.
Misha rode him slowly for twenty seconds after that, before slumping bonelessly over his body.
Jake's eyes adjusted finally to the basement, and he took in small details he'd missed entirely before. It didn't take long, however, for him to realize maybe a little belatedly, that he was covered in glitter, had feathers in hair, and his dick up the ass of the man they called Misha.
He closed his eyes suddenly as an overwhelming sickness took him over, a panic that was unescapable as he realized... that he was okay with that.
"Jake?" Misha asked quietly, turning to face him for the first time since the glitter on Jake's stomach had been permanently glued there.
Jake didn't reply as his mind exploded repeatedly, and he realized finally that he'd never even had any real reason to go there.
"Just came to say hi," he stated blankly, voice emotionless around his hitched breath, as he closed his eyes again, letting Misha stay on top of him as he silently mused about putting oven mitts at the top of a list of most comfortable places to sleep.
-End-
Author:preferthemoss
Pairing: Misha Collins/Jake Abel
Rating: NC17
Warnings: Sexpollen, MadScientist!Misha, Bottom!Misha, oh, and Jake is straight. (I don't even know).
Spoilers: None.
Words: 1,400
Summary: The one where Jake Abel ends up in the magical mystery room in Misha Collins' basement.
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue. (Read full disclaimer here.)
Notes: The second gift for tringic via the spn_j2_xmas exchange, because when I got her list of prompts, literally all my mind saw was Jake Abel, Misha Collins, and Sexpollen. I couldn't unsee it. So... have some crack porn, bb. Title by Jay-Z.
Jake stepped tentatively over the long, thick wire running over the floor of Misha Collins' living room. He'd been there once before, a year ago, perhaps, on the arm of Amy Gumenick as she'd flirted shamelessly with everyone in sight. Their relationship hadn't lasted long, and, in any case, Misha had been there to pick up the pieces. He was a good guy in general, and Jake was maybe more than a little smitten with him. They'd been spending a lot of time together lately, and had learned by now to take the boyfriend jokes in stride.
Jake wasn't entirely sure about Misha's sexuality, other than the fact that it was there, and it was fierce. He was walking on a line between being straight and gay, but bi-sexual was a term that was just too plain for a man like Misha Collins. Jake himself was undoubtedly straight, and he was fairly certain (or at least hopeful) that all the guys who made jokes about him and Misha getting matching rings (they hadn't) knew that (they didn't).
"Mish?" Jake called out tentatively, hearing what sounded like a buzz saw in the basement. Last time Misha had operated a piece of equipment like that, he'd ended up with nine shirts less than he'd started the day with.
The light of day disappeared behind Jake as he descended down the staircase, noticing with some confusion that the purple carpet on the stairs beneath him patched off into yellow, before disappearing completely, leaving the last few steps exposed in all of their chipboard glory.
"Misha?" He tried again, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the dark cellar basement, blackness broken erratically by flickering pools of colored light.
His feet were silent over the floor, and he looked down to find himself walking over an endless spill of chicken feathers and rose petals, as some 80's sounding techno-synth rock sounded through the air.
He swallowed thickly as the constant, mechanic buzz finally stopped, and he looked up to find Misha pushing a pair of safety glasses up on his forehead.
"Hey, Jake!" Misha cried out with enthusiasm, pulling off the green rubber gloves that had molded to his hands. "What's up? How are you? What are you doing here?" He started happily, stepping around the table he'd been working on.
"Oh, I was--" Jake's words were cut short as Misha's hightops scuffed over a powercord, pulling it taught, while setting off a chain reaction of a catastrophe.
Jake lunged sideways to catch the ship in a bottle (scratch that -- blimp in a bottle) that had been nudged off the sawhorse beside him. He crashed to the floor almost silently, landing in a pile of pink feathers as Misha tumbled down on top of him, knocking the air out of Jake's chest as he flattened himself over him.
"Oh, oh fuck," Misha cried out shakily, as a flowerpot teetered on the edge of the table above them, and Misha moved only slightly before it fell completely, smashing over Misha's back.
"Shit," Jake laughed awkwardly, eyes wide as he wrapped an arm around Misha's body to brush the once-potted dirt off his friend's back.
His fingers warmed as he touched the soil, and he found himself smoothing away the wrinkles at the back of Misha's shirt. His hand stuttered over the mostly-clean expanse of material, and... and suddenly, there wasn't any.
The seams popped and snapped loudly as Jake quite literally ripped the shirt off Misha's body, exposing skin he'd never realized he'd wanted so goddamn badly, as he rose his head up off the floor, shoving his mouth against Misha's desperately.
"Mmm, Jake," Misha moaned out loudly, writhing against Jake's body too slow, not enough, Jake had needed this forfuckingever.
"Clothes," Jake started simply, shoving his hands against Misha's chest to push the man off him in an attempt to gain some space. "Off, off, off," he chanted desperately, knocking Misha onto his back, sending a flourish of blue glitter into the air around them, as he pried at Misha's belt.
He'd wanted this since the moment he met him. No, he'd wanted this since before he even had. Before he'd heard the name, seen the eyes, or touched the hair. Good fucking god, they'd waited too long.
"Move," Misha snapped out roughly, shoving Jake's hands away to grab hold of his own belt, breaking off the L.A.S.D. buckle in one swift motion.
Jake found himself slipping over the debris-covered floor then, falling between Misha's legs as he mouthed his way along the waist of his jeans, popping open the button before dragging down the zipper with a desperate pace that was probably dangerous.
"Need it," He whined shamelessly, eyeing up the obvious bulge that was straining the orange cotton just under Misha's paint-splattered jeans.
"Please, Jake," Misha begged gracelessly, arching up into his touch as he shoved his own boxers down his thighs, and Jake's heart thumped almost painfully as a moment of clarity hit him, letting him remember where he was and what he was doing. It slipped away quickly, though, leaving him with a taste in his mouth that... that could easily be covered by something else, he supposed.
Misha moaned out loudly as Jake slid his mouth down the shaft of his stiffened cock, and Jake didn't have time to wonder if his lack of any foreplay was due to a desperate need to get Misha off right the fuck now, or because he just... didn't know how.
He licked and sucked shamelessly, tasting an almost bitter-sweet smoothness at the back of his throat, before Misha was suddenly pushing him away, pulling at him roughly, shoving at his jeans until they met the fate of Misha's on the floor.
Jake pulled his shirt off quickly, balancing the complete nudity of his bottom half, as Misha shoved at him again, throwing Jake sideways into a pile of oven mitts. Jake gasped for breath as he stared up at the ceiling, finding the view to be quickly replaced by Misha's flushed and darkened face.
"Need you, please, please," Misha begged repeatedly, and Jake's hands flew to Misha's hips as the man straddled him, tossing away a bottle of something that Jake suspected had never been meant to be lube.
"Fuck yes," Jake agreed desperately, leaning up to bite at Misha's chest, leaving marks over his skin, as Misha's hand was suddenly around Jake's cock, warm and slick with... Jake didn't want to think about what that actually had been.
Misha was panting heavily as he lowered himself over Jake's body, taking him in slowly, before sinking down entirely. Jake bucked up into the feeling, closing his eyes as he was suddenly dizzied.
Misha gasped loudly as he pulled himself up before fucking down again, and Jake's hands tightened over Misha's hips, letting the man ride him with a bone-bruising pace.
"H-harder," Jake commanded desperately, hands wandering aimlessly over Misha's body, as he felt his legs tense under him. "Fuck," he sobbed out suddenly, as Misha leaned down to claim his mouth in a passionate kiss.
Jake let himself thrust up erratically, losing all rhythm, along with any hope of ever having one again. His abs were tightening almost painfully, and Misha's cries and moans had formed an endless soundtrack of lustful sobs.
"Ah, fuck, Jake," Misha cried out finally, hips stuttering over Jake's body as he bit down on the younger man's shoulder, leaving a mark that would have been painful, had Jake even felt it. But instead, Jake's focus was trained entirely on the wet, sticky warmth spilling over his stomach, and he closed his eyes tightly as he felt himself tense unmistakably, coming hard fast into Misha's trembling body.
Misha rode him slowly for twenty seconds after that, before slumping bonelessly over his body.
Jake's eyes adjusted finally to the basement, and he took in small details he'd missed entirely before. It didn't take long, however, for him to realize maybe a little belatedly, that he was covered in glitter, had feathers in hair, and his dick up the ass of the man they called Misha.
He closed his eyes suddenly as an overwhelming sickness took him over, a panic that was unescapable as he realized... that he was okay with that.
"Jake?" Misha asked quietly, turning to face him for the first time since the glitter on Jake's stomach had been permanently glued there.
Jake didn't reply as his mind exploded repeatedly, and he realized finally that he'd never even had any real reason to go there.
"Just came to say hi," he stated blankly, voice emotionless around his hitched breath, as he closed his eyes again, letting Misha stay on top of him as he silently mused about putting oven mitts at the top of a list of most comfortable places to sleep.
-End-