comment_fics
Supernatural: Dean Winchester x Castiel & SPN Gen
RPS: Jensen Ackles x Misha Collins & Jensen Ackles x Misha Collins x Matt Cohen
Six Word Stories: Supernatural & Stargate Atlantis
Supernatural
Dean Winchester x Castiel
Title: Distractions
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Dean Winchester x Castiel, Sam Winchester
Theme: Kink
Prompt: sycophantastic, Supernatural, Dean/Castiel, semi-public hand job (bonus points if it's Cas giving & Dean receiving)
Word Count: 822
Originally Posted: 01 November 2010, here
There’s a part of Dean that knows he should probably object. It’s one thing for Castiel to rest his hand on Dean’s thigh while Dean is eating, letting his fingers tease up and down his inseam slowly. It’s another thing entirely for Castiel to palm at Dean’s cock gently before plucking at his button and zipper with expert fingers.
Dean knows he should say something. They’re at a bar and Sam is not even two feet away trying to do research. Sure, they’re at a booth in the back, but that doesn’t mean anything. They still run the chance of getting caught. There’s something oddly thrilling about the thought though, and before Dean can stop himself he’s shoving Castiel’s hand down the front of his boxers and spreading his thighs as far as he can.
Castiel ducks his head and nibbles at the chili cheese fries to hide his smirk. He inches closer to Dean, closing the distance between them by an inch or two, barely noticeable. He lets their knees bump together before he wraps his fingers around Dean’s cock, his thumb swirling around the head slowly once, twice, three times. His fist slides down Dean’s shaft gradually before dragging back up, lightly, teasingly, over and over again until all of Dean’s blood is flushing through his system and his cock is growing hard in the angel’s hand.
Dean doesn’t know what to do. Being quiet is easy enough, all he has to do is bite down on his fist or a pillow or Castiel’s shoulder. The problem is he doesn’t know how to not look like an angel is giving him a hand job under a table. It’s a lot more difficult than he ever thought it would be to not rock up into Castiel’s fist with every motion of his hand. The fact he can’t shudder and moan when Castiel’s thumb swipes over the head, collecting and smearing the beads of precum before tracing the ridge is even worse.
Castiel has touched Dean’s length enough times to know exactly what Dean likes, the quickest ways to get him off. For whatever reason though, he’s ignoring all of it. The motion of his hand is languid, his fist loose, and he only thumbs the slit when there is precum for him to smear down Dean’s shaft. He’s completely at ease, as if nothing is wrong, and doesn’t even startle when Sam speaks.
“Possible haunting in Ralston, Nebraska,” Sam muses. He doesn’t glance up from his screen when he speaks, and Dean is grateful. “This house has been on the market five times in three years. All the previous owners claim there was someone moving around downstairs, rearranging their furniture. Cops have no idea what they’re talking about.”
“Was anyone hurt?” Castiel asks. He glances over at Dean, his blue eyes dark and intense. He squeezes his fist a little tighter, twisting his wrist on the upward stroke of Dean’s shaft.
Dean has to bite his lip and dig his nails into his thighs to keep from making a sound. His knuckles are almost white from the strength of his grip and there are sharp stabbing sensations as he claws himself, but it’s nothing compared to the feeling of Castiel scraping his nails lightly on the veiny underside of Dean’s cock.
“It doesn’t look like it,” Sam says. He’s only two feet away, Dean could kick or hit him easily, but the blood is rushing through Dean’s ears and he can barely hear his brother over the drum-like pounding of his heart. “It only seems - moving things - only a matter of time - hurts someone.”
Clenching his eyes shut tightly, Dean lets his head loll onto the back of the bench seat. It’s almost impossible to concentrate. His hips are arching up in aborted thrusts into Castiel’s fist, which is thankfully curled tighter, stroking faster. It takes everything in Dean not to moan aloud and he digs his nails into his thighs impossibly tighter.
“That is a valid concern,” Castiel says. “What do you think, Dean?”
Dean comes with a choked sound, covering Castiel’s hand in thick white ropes. He lets his hand bang back against the bench seat, fighting the urge to shudder and moan while Castiel’s fingers wring the last of his orgasm out of him. “Fuck,” Dean groans. “I don’t know.”
“You okay, man?” Sam asks. He flashes Dean a startled look, confused, before glancing over at Castiel and narrowing his eyes. “Tell me you didn’t just do what I think you did.”
“Don’t be stupid, Sammy,” Dean huffs, cracking an eye open. He means to add “Cas has more sense than that,” or something along those lines, but it’s a moot point when Castiel brings his hand to his lips to lick his fingers clean, a smug look on his face.
A stricken look of absolute horror appears on Sam’s face and Dean can’t help it - he laughs.
Title: Staining Sheets and Skin
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Dean Winchester x Castiel (x Pie)
Theme: Free-For-All Friday
Prompt: sycophantastic, Supernatural, Dean/Castiel/pie, messiest "threesome" Dean has ever had
Word Count: 1,113
Originally Posted: 13 November 2010, here
Castiel doesn’t hesitate in pushing Dean back onto the bed, snapping his fingers to rid the hunter of his clothes (Gabriel’s influence, Castiel never used to snap before). He doesn’t leave Dean time to complain, either, before Castiel straddles the taller male’s hips and squirms to get more comfortable. By the time he’s settled, Dean is staring at him blankly.
“Good morning to you, too, Cas,” Dean says. He props himself up on his elbows - at least he means to, but Castiel places a hand on his shoulder and forces him back down onto the bed. “Uh, Cas?”
Another snap - and Dean is starting to suspect Castiel likes to do it, because it’s disconcerting for Dean to flounder and try and figure out what’s just happened - and there’s a takeout box with a slice of blueberry pie sitting on Dean’s stomach. “I brought you food.”
“I don’t usually eat pie naked,” Dean says. He waits for Castiel to let go of Dean’s shoulder before he slips back up onto his elbows, careful not to disturb the pie. He watches Castiel watch him, before he reaches one hand out to tug the angel down for a kiss. “Morning,” he murmurs against Castiel’s lips.
Castiel snaps for a third time, and Dean sinks back into a stack of overstuffed pillows. Once more, he doesn’t give Dean time to complain. There’s a fork in his hand and he cuts a piece of pie with it before offering it out for Dean to eat.
Quirking an eyebrow, Dean opens his mouth wordlessly and lets Castiel feed him. The pie is amazing. The crust is flaky and soft, the blueberries moist and sweet and perfect. Dean wraps his lips around the fork, sucking it clean and moaning obscenely, just to watch Castiel’s eyes darken in lust.
“It is enjoyable?” Castiel asks. He cuts another small piece of pie for Dean, before offering the fork out again.
“It’s good,” Dean agrees. “I do know how to feed myself, you know. When I’m not naked and cold.”
“Be patient,” Castiel says. He pokes the fork against Dean’s lips gently, and smiles triumphantly when Dean eats the next piece. “I do have some idea as to what I’m doing.”
Dean would complain, but Castiel feeds him more pie. The pieces are small, bit sized, because Castiel - like Sam - is convinced that Dean will choke to death because he doesn’t chew. Dean tries to talk, to figure out what’s going on, but it’s hard to do when Castiel is feeding him, content to watch Dean in silence.
Though he never thought he’d say it, Dean is glad when the pie is gone. “Are you happy now, Cas?”
“No.”
Dean rolls his eyes, watching Castiel roll the take out box in his hands. There are remnants of the blueberries juice trickling around in the bottom of the see through container, and Castiel just smirks at Dean before the pillows vanish from underneath him (without a snap, so Dean is starting to reevaluate which is the lesser of two evils). “Cas, what - “
The blueberry juice is cold where Castiel dribbles it down his chest and stomach. Castiel pauses to shift back on Dean’s thighs, so that he can trail it down to Dean’s cock. A finger taps at the take out box, urging the last few drops out of the container, before he discards it.
“Cas…”
“Dean, shut up.” The look Castiel sends Dean is one of fond annoyance, and he catches Dean’s hand to kiss his wrist lightly. “Trust me.”
Dean does, implicitly. It’s why he doesn’t say anything when Castiel leans forward to kiss him lazily, licking and sucking at Dean’s tongue until Dean can’t taste the blueberry on himself anymore. He moans softly, bringing his hands up to card his fingers through Castiel’s hair, and he’s really not surprised when Castiel presses down against him and he’s naked as well.
Their bodies press together, smearing the blueberry juice between them, but Castiel doesn’t seem to mind. He kisses Dean until they’re both breathless, before he starts to trail kisses down Dean’s jaw and throat, sucking red marks into the skin as he goes along.
Dean knows Castiel is making his way towards the blueberry juice, but he still sucks in a sharp breath when Castiel’s tongue flicks out over his stomach. Castiel laves over the skin, lapping and sucking until there’s nothing but a purple stain, and his lips follow the trail downward. It’s wobbly, far from straight, but Castiel doesn’t seem to care, so Dean doesn’t, either. He just tightens his fingers in the angel’s hair and moans softly.
Castiel takes his time getting to Dean’s cock, kissing the soft skin of his stomach before nibbling at Dean’s hipbones. His fingers curl around Dean’s shaft, slipping up and down its length in lazy strokes, his fingers sticky from blueberry juice and precum.
“Cas, please,” Dean moans. He arches his hips up, fingers tightening and tugging at Castiel’s hair, guiding him to where Dean really wants him.
Castiel chuckles, low and dark, his blue eyes lighting up in amusement as he looks at Dean through half lidded eyes. He licks a line up Dean’s cock, twirling his tongue around the head once before he leaves suckling kisses back down its length. Not once does he take his eyes off of Dean, and it makes Dean squirm, impossibly hot and desperate.
It’s only when Dean starts to plead that Castiel mouths the head of his cock before sucking him down, his tongue laving across the sensitive skin while he sucks lazily. The taste of blueberries is quickly fading, covered up by the heady taste and smell of Dean himself, but Castiel doesn’t mind. He takes his time in bringing Dean to completion, humming contentedly as he does so.
When Dean does come, broken and pleading and desperate, Castiel starts to stroke and suck in earnest, wringing every last drop out of Dean and swallowing greedily. He pulls off of Dean with an audible pop, nuzzling against Dean’s thigh happily.
Dean tugs Castiel up towards him until they can kiss lazily, tongues chasing away the taste of Dean’s come and the last of the blueberries. “You’ve got a little blueberry on you,” Dean comments idly, running his hands up Castiel’s sides and he smiles despite himself.
“Maybe you should take care of it,” Castiel murmurs, nipping at Dean’s jaw lightly.
Chuckling long and low, Dean rolls Castiel over until he’s on his back and Dean is pinning him down. He grins wickedly, kissing Castiel’s lips again hungrily before he starts down Castiel’s body to lick away the last of the blueberry juice.
Title: Routines
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Dean Winchester x Castiel
Theme: Goodbyes
Prompt: sycophantastic, Supernatural, Dean/Castiel, human AU, saying "goodbye" before work is a near impossible feat with Dean pulling Cas back into bed every time
Word Count: 452
Originally Posted: 16 November 2010, here
Castiel has learned to be quick.
Pulling Dean’s arms from around his waist is difficult and he has to squirm and roll away before grabby hands can drag him back (not that Dean will ever admit to snuggling Castiel while he slept). Showering and getting dressed, Castiel can do easily, once he’s free.
Dean is content to sleep until as late in the afternoon as possible, which is probably why he opted to be a writer. He only ever wakes up when Castiel leans forward to brush his lips against Dean’s forehead, watching through narrow eyes before he sneaks a hand around Castiel’s wrist and tugs Castiel back towards their bed.
“Dean, I need to go to work,” Castiel says, but he lets himself be pulled back towards Dean’s sleep-warm body. He sighs heavily, more for show than anything, but melts into a kiss with Dean, bracing himself on his palms on either side of Dean’s head. “You will make me be late.”
“So I guess that means we’ll just have to do this quickly,” Dean murmurs against Castiel’s lips. He untucks Castiel’s shirt, fingers just skimming over the soft skin of Castiel’s stomach, making Castiel suck in a sharp breath, before he moves to start undoing the buttons.
“If you must always insist on doing this, perhaps you should wake up earlier,” Castiel sighs, nuzzling into the crook of Dean’s neck and shoulder. He presses a soft kiss to the skin, smiling despite himself. Castiel has started waking up earlier because he cannot bring himself to leave without saying goodbye to Dean each morning, and Dean has always tried to tug him back down.
“Where’s the fun in that?” Dean trails his fingers up Castiel’s chest, brushing his thumbs over nipples before pinching them. “You want me to stop?”
“Never.”
Dean smiles crookedly, pressing a kiss to the top of Castiel’s head. He slips his hand around Castiel’s sides to his shoulders, trailing across his sides and tracing the lines of his spine and towards his ass. “Good,” he whispers in Castiel’s ear, grabbing Castiel’s ass and dragging him closer.
Moaning long and low, Castiel presses himself against Dean, rubbing their cocks together. “You will be the death of me,” he murmurs against Dean’s skin, scraping his teeth lightly before biting down.
Dean arches up against Castiel, bowing his back as he moans. “Fuck,” he says. Dean’s fingers fumble to undo Castiel’s belt, popping the button on his slacks and tugging the zipper down roughly. He curls his fingers around Castiel’s cock, giving it a few strokes before thumbing the head. “You know you love it.”
Castiel hides his face in Dean’s shoulder to hide his grin, because he really does.
Title: The Art of Compromise
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Dean Winchester x Castiel
Theme: Goodbyes
Prompt: sycophantastic, Supernatural, Dean/Castiel, human AU, "The scruff has to go. Make peace with that."
Word Count: 1,069
Originally Posted: 16 November 2010, here
“The scruff has to go. Make peace with that.”
Castiel looks scandalized the minute the words are out of Dean’s mouth. “But…”
“No buts,” Dean says. He catches Castiel’s chin with one hand, thumb stroking over his jaw. “It’s itchy. Almost enough to make me not want to make out with you.”
“But it is not enough to stop you yet,” Castiel points out. He wraps his fingers around Dean’s wrist, freeing his chin so he can press his lips against the soft skin of Dean’s palm in a kiss. “So it can stay.”
“It can go,” Dean replies. “I’m going to get burns if it gets any longer.”
“You have never complained before.” Castiel is nearly pouting, he knows he is, but he likes his stubble.
“Before I wasn’t afraid of being set on fire.”
Castiel rolls his eyes. His fingers are still around Dean’s wrist, and he uses it as a means to drag Dean into their bedroom and shove him back onto the bed.
“Sex isn’t going to make me change my mind, you know,” Dean grins. He pulls off his shirt anyways, before scooting back towards the pillows and laying back.
“That had not been my intention.”
“It won’t distract me, either.”
Castiel ducks his head to hide his grin. He crawls towards Dean on the bed, slipping between his parted thighs and tugging Dean’s belt and jeans undone, pulling the offending articles of clothing out of the way and disposing of them over the edge of the bed.
“C’mere,” Dean says, reaching for Castiel. He curls his fingers into dark hair, tugging Castiel towards him for a kiss.
Castiel goes easily and lets Dean kiss him until they’re both breathless. He rubs his cheek against Dean’s then, a gentle nuzzle, before he starts to nibble his way down Dean’s jaw.
“That isn’t going to make me change my mind,” Dean hums. He tugs at Castiel’s hair lightly, just enough to make Castiel huff in annoyance against Dean’s chest. “You’re going to shave.”
“We shall see.” Castiel kisses Dean’s chest, fingers searching for Dean’s nipples blindly, thumbing over them slowly, gently, swirling around them once before he drags his nails back down Dean’s chest.
“Tease.”
Castiel smiles. He laves his tongue over a nipple before catching it in his teeth. He doesn’t bite down, just scrapes his teeth along it and sucking, until it beads up. He thumbs it again, before moving to the other, which he rubs his cheek again.
Dean can’t hide the sharp inhale, not when Castiel’s face is pressed against his chest. “Still not changing my mind,” he breathes out.
Castiel doesn’t say anything. He simply presses a kiss against Dean’s nipple before continuing to trail kisses down Dean’s stomach. He nuzzles into the soft skin, nibbling at Dean’s belly button, and heaves a contended sigh when Dean starts to card his fingers through Castiel’s hair slowly.
Dean doesn’t say anything, but Castiel knows what he wants to. There’s a finger against the base of Castiel’s neck, twisting and slipping through Castiel’s hair, tracing patterns, letters. Dean never has to say it, because Castiel knows.
That doesn’t mean that Castiel doesn’t miss Dean whispering the words into his skin, but that’s an issue for another time. Castiel traces I love you into the soft skin of Dean’s stomach with a finger, before kissing it.
Castiel slinks farther down the bed, suddenly remembering he’s still very much dressed while Dean is very much naked. Naked and willing and waiting. He presses a kiss against the inside of Dean’s thigh and catches Dean’s hips in his hands.
“Cas…” Dean warns. His fingers tighten in Castiel’s hair, but it doesn’t hurt. Dean would never hurt Castiel.
“You are trying to tell me you would not miss this?” Castiel asks, his breath hot and wet against Dean’s cock. He rubs his cheek against the hard shaft slowly, before chasing the burn with his tongue. He does it again, only he trails suckling kisses up the length afterwards.
“Nope,” Dean huffs out. “Not gonna miss it. At all. Ever.”
“I see,” Castiel murmurs in reply. He nuzzles at the head of Dean’s cock, smearing precum over his cheek, before licking at Dean tentatively. Castiel can practically feel Dean’s toes curl, and he knows he’s made his point.
He hasn’t necessarily (probably didn’t, knowing Dean, because Dean doesn’t like to back down) win the argument, but Dean’s breathing is much heavier and his fingers are curling impossibly tight in Castiel’s hair.
“Jesus, Cas, just finish what you started,” Dean groans. He tries to tug Castiel, Castiel’s lips, to where he wants them, but Castiel untangles Dean’s fingers from his hair easily. “Cas...”
“The stubble stays.”
“The scruff goes.”
“Then I am finished.” Castiel pulls away from Dean suddenly, pushing himself up to sit on his heels, but he can’t move away from Dean, because Dean wraps his legs around Castiel and tugs him back forward. “Dean.”
“Finish this, Cas,” Dean scowls. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes hazy with lust. He’s beautiful, and Castiel hates to do this to Dean, to work him up and leave him, but Castiel doesn’t want to lose the stubble. “Now.”
“No.”
“I swear to God, Cas…” Dean warns.
Castiel snorts, before dropping down to nuzzle against Dean’s cheek. “You will not part with the overstuffed sofa, why must I part with my facial hair?”
“I’ll let you top for a week,” Dean offers. “Also, my parents gave us that couch.”
“Your parents have probably fornicated on that couch,” Castiel scowls. “The fact you also desire to do the same on it so frequently worries me.”
Dean makes a face. “So did not need that mental image, Cas, you dick.”
“One month.”
Dean narrows his eyes. “A week and a half.”
“Two weeks.”
Dean purses his lips, deliberating. “Two weeks, but I still expect those pretty lips around my cock.”
“That was never in question, Dean,” Castiel murmurs against Dean’s skin. He nuzzles one last time, before kissing Dean’s cheek. “Now that we have come to an agreement, I believe we were in the middle of something.”
Dean opens his mouth to speak, but Castiel snakes his hand between their bodies to stroke Dean’s cock, and the words fade into a long, low moan. “Cas…”
“No more talking,” Castiel orders, and he isn’t surprised in the least when Dean shuts up.
SPN Gen
Title: Puppy Love
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Crowley’s Hellhound and Gabriel’s Jack Russell Terrier
Theme: Animals
Prompt: zekkass, Supernatural, Gabriel/Crowley, do their dogs get along? (Gabriel's pup from Tall Tales and Crowley's Hellhound)
Word Count: 213
Originally Posted: 17 November 2010, here
Edith could eat Dog easily. The Jack Russell bounces around the room, barking at her, but she just huffs at him in annoyance before lying back down with her head on Crowley’s foot.
Dog whines. He noses at the spot behind her ear, paws at her side and flashes her a pathetic look, all the while still whining.
So Edith snaps at him, a low growl in her throat. She startles Dog enough for him to skitter to the other side of the room, but her victory is short lived.
Dog isn’t scared of her. Dog is probably the only dog in the universe that isn’t scared of Edith. Normally, they whimper and tremble when Edith passes them, because unlike the fool humans who flounce around like they know everything, dogs can see Edith and she’s terrifying.
But Dog isn’t scared of her. He trots across and nuzzles into her side, wiggling happy all the while. He stops whining as he nestles closer, before lying his head down as well.
Edith sends him a dark look for a brief moment, before she leans over to lick the top of his head. Dog may be a pain in the ass sometimes, but she kind of likes the company when no one else is around.
RPS
Jensen Ackles x Misha Collins
Title: From Time to Time
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Jensen Ackles x Misha Collins
Theme: Goodbyes
Prompt: sycophantastic, CWRPS, Misha/Jensen, "You don't have to make a big production about it. I'm going to the post office. How much could you possibly miss me?"
Word Count: 523
Originally Posted: 16 November 2010, here
Sometimes, Misha has moods. Usually it just involves pushing and shoving until Jensen is right where he wants him - on the bed, against the wall, in the shower, bent over a counter, on the couch - and has his wicked way with him. Sometimes though, very rarely, he gets clingy.
Which, okay, is rare enough that Jensen doesn’t mind dealing with it. He cards his fingers through Misha’s hair, at first trying to smooth the messy locks before deciding to just ruffle them. He presses a gentle kiss against Misha’s forehead, before sighing heavily. "You don't have to make a big production about it. I'm going to the post office. How much could you possibly miss me?"
“I always miss you when you leave,” Misha murmurs. He nuzzles against Jensen’s throat lightly, before trailing kisses across Jensen’s shoulders. “What if someone steals you away? Like Jared. He could kidnap you. Or aliens. Or Godzilla could squish you.”
“I honestly don’t know if you’re joking or being serious right now,” Jensen replies, the corner of his lip quirking up in a smile. He runs his fingers through Misha’s hair one last time before catching Misha’s face in his palm. “C’mere,” he murmurs.
Misha clambers back up Jensen’s body easily, pressing soft kisses against Jensen’s jaw before capturing his lips in a lazy kiss. He nibbles at Jensen’s lower lip before licking his way inside of Jensen’s mouth, melting easily against the taller male. For a few minutes, it’s just the lazy slide of lips and tongues, and when Misha pulls away, he’s smiling. “I never joke about missing you,” Misha says, brushing his lips against the tip of Jensen’s nose. “You’re mine.”
“You could come with me if you’re going to be this insistent about not letting me out of your sight,” Jensen offers. He trails his fingers across Misha’s shoulders slowly, a barely there slide of skin on skin, before tracing down Misha’s spine to his ass. “You know, to make sure Godzilla doesn’t squish me.”
“Jared could squish you, too,” Misha sighs. He slips back down Jensen’s body to nuzzle back into the hollow of Jensen’s throat, humming happily. “Why would I want to stop doing this?”
“I do need to get to the post office eventually today,” Jensen grins. He grabs Misha’s ass, dragging them closer together. “You know, to send my parents presents for the holiday season.”
“After round two?” Misha asks hopefully. He rests his chin on Jensen’s chest, staring up with big blue eyes before smiling crookedly. “You know. Just in case.”
“Just in case Godzilla or Jared happen to squish me.”
“Exactly.” Misha nips at Jensen’s chest lightly, before pushing himself up onto his elbows and making his way down Jensen’s body, trailing kisses as he moves down. He palms Jensen’s cock, dark blue eyes lighting up mischievously. “Like I said, just in case.”
Jensen can’t stop himself from smirking, eyes slipping shut and melting back into the pillows. He doesn’t care that Misha is probably manipulating him because Misha’s mouth is wicked. Sometimes, Jensen has noticed, Misha gets clingy, but he doesn’t care, because he loves him.
Title: Tofurky
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Jensen Ackles x Misha Collins
Theme: Cold Turkey Sandwich
Prompt: sycophantastic, CWRPS, Misha/Jensen, it's not turkey, it's tofurky
Word Count: 382
Originally Posted: 22 November 2010, here
“I’m not eating that,” Jensen says stubbornly, arms folded over his chest while he watches Misha sort out the stuff for Thanksgiving dinner. “I don’t care what you say.”
“You aren’t even going to try it first?” Misha asks, quirking an eyebrow. He’s amused more than anything, hands on his hips and smirking. “You might even like it.”
“No,” Jensen scowls. “I don’t understand why we can’t have a turkey. Besides, the last time you wanted me to try something new, I got food poisoning.”
“Hey, that wasn’t my fault,” Misha frowns. “I got food poisoning from the sushi as well, and I still eat it.”
“That’s because you’re a freak.”
Misha lets out a heavy sigh, sliding across the kitchen tile easily to wrap his arms around Jensen’s waist and tugging him close. “So you don’t like trying new things?”
“No.” Jensen wraps his arms around Misha in turn, brushing his lips against Misha’s forehead. “It’s not too late to buy a turkey. There’s gotta be somewhere in town still open.”
“We’re not buying a turkey, Jensen, and stop changing the subject,” Misha grins.
“I wasn’t - “
“You don’t like new things.” A statement this time, followed by Misha nibbling at Jensen’s jaw then down his neck, sucking at his throat. “So, when I do that thing with my tongue...” His hands slip down Jensen’s front to hook into his belt loops, tugging lightly. “…you don’t enjoy it?”
“Just because I made one exception…”
“If you don’t eat any of the tofurkey, I won’t do it again.” Misha wiggles away from Jensen’s grasp, slipping back to the other side of the kitchen to organize dinner ingredients again.
“That’s cheating,” Jensen scowls.
Misha rolls his eyes, before grinning at Jensen. “What are you going to do about it?”
There are a lot of things Jensen can do about it, and he doesn’t bother to drag Misha to the bedroom before he starts. Misha shoves cans and boxes off of the countertop to make room for Jensen’s wicked plans, grinning mischievously.
“You know,” he groans into Misha’s ear, fingers scrambling over sweat slickened skin. “This means no turkey sandwiches.”
“I’ll make it up to you,” Misha promises, nuzzling into Jensen’s cheek.
Jensen scoffs, grinning, but this is something Jensen can trust Misha on.
Jensen Ackles x Misha Collins x Matt Cohen
Title: Waiting
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Jensen Ackles x Misha Collins x Matt Cohen
Theme: Free-For-All Friday
Prompt: sycophantastic, CWRPS, Jensen/Misha/Matt, making good use of their time before the pizza delivery guy arrives
Word Count: 623
Originally Posted: 12 November 2010, here
Matt is usually content just watching.
It’s something Jensen’s never really been able to understand - why would anyone want to just sit back and watch when they could be part of the action? - but this thing between them is complicated.
Matt’s no pushover, but Misha and Jensen can both be demanding and possessive when they want to be, so Matt may have the right idea. He’s less likely to end up with accidentally bruised ribs.
Matt’s contentment to just sit back and enjoy the show occasionally works in Jensen’s favor though. Like now, when they’ve got maybe twenty minutes before the pizza delivery guy shows up with their disgustingly delicious dinner.
It’s easy for Jensen to loop an arm around Misha’s waist and drag him towards the couch, pushing and shoving until Matt has a lapful of Misha, both of them staring in confusion. “Hold him,” Jensen says.
Matt doesn’t hesitate to obey, looping his own arms around Misha’s waist and chest, pulling Misha back towards himself and shifting so that they’re both more comfortable. “Why am I doing this exactly?” Matt asks, resting his chin on Misha’s shoulder.
“Because I said so?” Jensen tries. He smiles lasciviously before nudging the coffee table out of the way with his foot and sinking to his knees. “We’ve got some time to kill, you know,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss against Misha’s knee.
“There are other things we could do to pass time,” Misha says. He struggles and wiggles in Matt’s grasp, trying to free his arms so that he can card his fingers through Jensen’s hair, but it’s useless. “Hey, if I can’t touch you, you better start touching me.”
“Weren’t you just saying there were other ways to pass time?” Jensen smiles innocently, but he spreads Misha’s legs (and Matt shifts his own, and it’s a terribly awkward angle with too many limbs but Jensen’s worked in worse conditions before) and kisses a trail up one denim clad thigh. “Relax.”
Misha snorts, but he melts back against Matt bonelessly. His head lolls on Matt’s shoulder, before he decides to nuzzle into Matt’s cheek and nip at his jaw.
Matt just smiles, cocking his head to the side to give Misha more room to nibble.
For a moment, Jensen is content to just watch them. It’s sweet, Jensen thinks. Shaking his head and smiling despite himself, Jensen nuzzles his against the front of Misha’s jeans, expert fingers plucking at the belt, button and zipper.
Misha isn’t hard, not yet, but it doesn’t take much effort on Jensen’s part to get him there. Jensen trails suckling kisses up the length of Misha’s cock before swirling his tongue around the head and sucking him down. Misha moans, arching upwards to force more of himself into Jensen’s mouth, but Jensen captures and pins his hips easily.
“I hate you so much sometimes,” Misha groans. His eyes flutter shut, lashes dark against his cheeks and his lips are barely parted.
Matt and Jensen share a look, but neither of them say anything. The he’s beautiful is left unsaid, but it’s obvious that it’s what they were both thinking.
Jensen winks at Matt once before closing his own eyes to focus. Misha’s cock is a hot, heavy weight on his tongue, but it’s familiar. Jensen sucks lazily, bobbing his head slowly as he inches down the shaft.
He knows he can bring a hand down, jerk Misha off while he sucks, and that the entire process will be over in a few minutes. Jensen doesn’t though, because despite the fact someone will be ringing on their doorbell soon, Jensen has missed these moments.
Not that he’d ever admit it, but knowing Matt and Misha, he probably doesn’t have to.
Title: Spoils
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Jensen Ackles x Misha Collins x Matt Cohen
Theme: Alcohol
Prompt: sycophantasic, CWRPS, Misha/Jensen/Matt, he can't quite recall why his bed is littered with the most random assortment of weirdness he's ever seen (including a pink ping-pong paddle & a ceramic duck), though he's actually a lot more curious about how he wound up naked with Misha & Jensen (equally naked) tangled around him
Word Count: 603
Originally Posted: 18 November 2010, here
When Misha wakes up, he’s sore and achy and he’s not entirely sure where he is. There’s a dull thudding in the back of his head, but it doesn’t stop Misha from cracking his eyes open and he closes them almost immediately.
Barely three inches from Misha’s face is Matt, eyes closed and lips parted slightly. His breath his hot and wet against Misha’s skin and it smells like stale beer. Misha is more concerned with the fact they’re both pillowed on a third person’s arm, and both of them are wrapped around Misha impossibly tight, a tangle of arms and legs.
“Matt,” Misha says softly. It’s a struggle to free his arm from under Matt’s, and sighs heavily when Matt just nestles closer. It’s not until Matt’s thigh slips up higher around Misha’s hip (and hello because how did Misha miss that?), the slow drag of skin on skin, does Misha realize he’s naked and that Matt is very much naked as well.
“Let him sleep,” the person behind Misha murmurs, his lips barely moving against the skin of Misha’s neck. His fingers stretch and curl against Misha’s chest, before he starts tracing slow lines up and down.
“Jensen,” Misha mutters. He wants to bang his head against the wall, but he can’t move and the dull pounding in his head is already bad enough.
“What?” Jensen asks. He starts to nuzzle, his breath hot and wet, before he nibbles across Misha’s shoulder. He shifts his thigh up higher between Misha’s, and it makes Matt’s start to slip - Matt curls closer, hitches his leg higher, and Misha could laugh.
There are a million questions he wants to ask - what happened? How much had they had last night? Did they have sex? - but he realizes for the first time in a long time, he feels warm and safe and loved. He feels like he’s going to be smothered to death and he knows he’s going to have to fight to be free of Matt and Jensen.
“Misha?” Jensen prompts and he stops tracing lines on Misha’s stomach. He shifts, his arm twitching under Misha’s head, but he gives up trying to free it. “Something wrong?”
Misha smiles despite himself, and he reaches to wrap an arm around Matt’s waist before he can stop himself. “Why are we on the floor?”
“That would be my fault,” Matt murmurs sleepily. He cracks his eyes open at the same time Misha does, and he moves slowly before pressing their lips together in a chaste kiss. “Getting back in bed didn’t seem like a big deal after we’d fallen.”
“Besides, it’s kind of covered in our spoils,” Jensen adds.
“Spoils?” Misha asks. He cranes his neck, trying to meet Jensen’s eyes, but they’re too tangled and close. He huffs, before looking at Matt again. “Why do we have spoils?”
“Let’s just say if anyone asks, we’re not the ones who stole the ceramic ducks from the prop department,” Matt grins. He kisses Misha’s nose, then nuzzles back against Jensen’s arm. “It was pretty epic,” he murmurs.
Misha knows he should probably say something, because he doesn’t remember about last night besides Jared practically shoving shots down their throats. He’s warm and comfortable though, and it sounds like Matt and Jensen remember enough of the night to share.
“We’re awesome,” Misha decides, murmuring happily. He drags Matt closer, eliciting a surprised oomph, but they nestle together and both make content sounds. He can feel Jensen’s laughter against the back of his neck and it’s weird, being tangled together so intimately, but when has anything Misha done not been?
Title: Sometimes I Wonder
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Jensen Ackles x Misha Collins x Matt Cohen
Theme: Cranberry Sauce
Prompt: sycophantastic, any, any, "It's not blood, that's good... but you still haven't explained why it's on the ceiling"
Word Count: 600
Originally Posted: 23 November 2010, here
Jensen is not amused. There is flour all over the kitchen, milk is spilled across the linoleum floor, the turkey is still smoldering from the fire and there is cranberry sauce dripping on him from the ceiling, among the nameless oddities Jensen doesn’t want to think about. “Do I even want to know, or should I just start yelling?”
“It was Misha’s fault,” Matt says, shoving Misha forwards and ducking behind him. “We were trying to cook.”
Misha stumbles slightly, glowering over his shoulder at Matt. “It was his idea. I was content to just have takeout.”
“What? Don’t lie,” Matt scowls. “You were the one who insisted we make a pie by hand. Something about making it special and Jensen being happy and awesome sex afterwards.”
“The goal is always to have awesome sex afterwards,” Misha snorts, putting his hands on his hips. It’s the impossibly adorable look he uses when he thinks Jensen will side with him.
“You destroyed our kitchen for sex?” Jensen asks, scowling. There is another drip, thick and sticky, splatting on Jensen’s shoulder. “For the love of God, how did you get the cranberry sauce on the ceiling?”
“Very carefully,” Misha grins.
“Dude,” Matt says, snickering. “We, um, there might have been some minor food fight action going on.”
Which, given their current state, Jensen believes completely. “What am I going to do with you guys?” he asks, sighing heavily.
Misha slides up, slipping his arms around Jensen’s neck to kiss his cheek. “You know we’re worth it.”
Matt is more hesitant, wiping flour and cranberry sauce from his face before he moves to wrap his arms around Misha’s waist, kissing his shoulder and smiling at Jensen. “I’m sorry, but you know how Misha instigates things.”
“I do not - “
“It’s fine, Matt,” Jensen sighs. He ignores the fact Misha is still scowling at him, kissing his cheek before bringing a hand up to catch the nape of Matt’s neck. “You guys are going to clean this up, though. Now.”
“Can’t we have sex first?” Misha asks. “You know…” his voice tails off as he nuzzles against Jensen’s cheek. “Since we’re going to be getting naked anyways?”
“Misha brings up a very good point,” Matt grins.
“Or I could watch you two bend over and scrub everything, and we can all fall into bed when you two are all worked up and sweaty,” Jensen counters.
Misha narrows his eyes, before glancing at Matt. “Since when is Jensen allowed to plot?”
“Since we destroyed the kitchen, I guess,” Matt replies, shrugging. He kisses Misha’s shoulder again. “You have to admit, it’s not the worst plan ever.”
“Except for the part where we’re doing all of the cleaning.”
“Point taken.”
Matt and Misha look at each other, before they both give Jensen identical puppy dog looks.
“You won’t help us?” Misha asks.
“It’s your mess,” Jensen points out. “You can clean it up.”
“But don’t you love us anymore?” Matt asks, pouting.
“Oh, I love you two,” Jensen replies, smirking. “I’m just trying to remember why.”
“If you help, we’ll be more than willing to remind you,” Misha replies, grinning. He kisses Jensen one last time before twisting around and dragging Matt into a kiss.
Matt, for his part, doesn’t seem to mind at all.
Jensen scoffs, shaking his head and smiling. Sometimes he wonders why he thought getting involved with these two in the first place was a good idea. Other times though, when there is cranberry sauce dripping off the ceiling and into his hair, he remembers how boring his life was without him.
Title: Omnomnom
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Jensen Ackles x Misha Collins x Matt Cohen
Theme: Full Belly
Prompt: sycophantastic, any, any, "I so rarely get to use the term 'distended.' Thanks, honey."
Word Count: 456
Originally Posted: 25 November 2010, here
Misha watches in amusement as Matt splays himself across the couch, whining and grumbling under his breath. Near as Misha could tell, Matt’s initial plan was to cuddle and mope against Jensen, but Jensen keeps nudging him away and threatening to vomit all over him.
It’s not often Misha gets the chance to be the mature, responsible one. He’d much rather be stretched across the living room sofa and whining pathetically until someone took care of him.
“Stop it,” Jensen grumbles. He attempts to glower, but it’s halfhearted. He’s too stuffed and sated from the food, and Misha wouldn’t be all that surprised if he passed out at any moment. “I can feel you judging me.”
“I’m not judging you,” Misha replies easily. He chases the last of his mashed potatoes around his plate with his fork, before deciding against actually eating it. “Too harshly, anyways. I’m a damn awesome cook.”
“Hey,” Matt says, scowling. “I’m a damn awesome cook. You kept trying to mess me up by putting sugar in everything or groping me.”
Misha shrugs easily, smiling. “Don’t even pretend we didn’t have fun. The food came out pretty well, too.”
“Please no more talking about food,” Jensen whines. He slumps down on the couch and doesn’t have the strength to do more than bat at Matt uselessly when Matt attempts to pillow his head on Jensen’s leg again. “I think I ate enough food to last the rest of my life.”
“Mhm,” Matt hums tiredly. “Well, maybe till Christmas. Lots of cooking to do then, too.”
Jensen makes a pathetic sound, slumping even farther into the couch cushions. “Never again, guys. I’m serious.”
“Here I was, thinking I’d made a smart choice shacking up with you two,” Misha comments idly. “Nice, sane boys who are sure to keep me from getting arrested too often.” He pauses to point his fork at Matt and Jensen, waggling it condescendingly. “Here you two are though, ready to explode. I so rarely get to use the term 'distended.' Thanks, boys. Highlight of my day.”
“I’m not even sure what you just said, but I swear to god, I will throw up on you if you don’t shut up,” Jensen scowls.
“You’d throw up on Matt just because I’m being spiteful?” Misha asks, smiling innocently.
Jensen glances down at Matt.
Matt glares back up at him tiredly. “Don’t even think about it, Jensen. I’ll kill you.”
“Fine,” Jensen huffs. “Whatever.”
Misha snorts, shaking his head. “You guys…” Misha says, smiling innocently. “I guess the only question left to ask is, who wants pie?”
Both Matt and Jensen start to turn a little green from the thought, and Misha doesn’t bother to stop the loud laughter from escaping him.
Title: Meh
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Jensen Ackles x Misha Collins x Matt Cohen
Theme: Silence
Prompt: sycophantastic, CWRPS, Misha/any, the less Misha speaks, the more trouble they know they're gonna be in
Word Count: 682
Originally Posted: 30 November 2010, here
“Hey, you,” Jensen says. He waits for Misha to glance up from his shiny blue DS before he takes his scarf off and wraps it around Misha easily. “Miss me?”
Misha pauses in playing his game long enough to press his lips against Jensen’s in a swift kiss. He shrugs off the scarf, letting it slip to the floor, before he turns back to his game. “Meh.”
“Ouch.” Jensen purses his lips and quirks an eyebrow. “Just meh?”
“Pretty much.”
Jensen tries not to let his disappointment show. He flops back onto the couch easily before curling his fingers around Misha’s elbow and tugs lightly. “C’mere.”
Sighing heavily, Misha slides over to Jensen’s side and curls up under his arm. He tucks his legs under himself, leaning heavily against Jensen still, but he doesn’t turn his attention away from his DS once. The disconcerting part is the silence. He’s not even cussing at the tiny screen.
It’s when Jensen is trying to decide when Misha turned into an anti-social teenage girl that he realizes someone is missing. “Misha, where is Matt?”
Matt is usually stretched across the couch, watching TV or playing some variation of Halo on the 360 and yelling at it. He and Misha both got way more into their games than anyone Jensen has ever met, but Jensen still isn’t entirely convinced it’s not just some sneaky way to get Jensen’s attention.
Misha and Matt do a lot of weird things, and more often than not it’s just a way to get Jensen’s attention. Jensen doesn’t pick favorites, he loves them both fiercely, but sometimes Matt and Misha get in moods and Jensen has to second guess himself.
The silence trails on for too long. “Misha…” Jensen says, narrowing his eyes. He waits a beat to see if Misha will respond and when he doesn’t, Jensen snags the DS out of the smaller man’s hands and slips the lid shut. “Hey, answer me.”
“Hey!” Misha pouts and flails uselessly in the direction of his DS. He can’t reach it, and he huffs out an annoyed sound when Jensen tosses it to the other couch. “I was playing that!”
“I asked you a question,” Jensen counters. He loops his arms around Misha’s waist and grounds him, forces him to stay by Jensen’s side and to not go after the DS. “Where is Matt?”
“Matt is a little tied up at the minute.” Misha is grinning now, switching easily between moping and flirty, and he squirms until Jensen releases him enough that he can straddle Jensen’s hips. “You don’t need to worry about him.”
“Misha, please do not tell me that Matt is honestly tied up somewhere right now,” Jensen groans. He narrows his eyes suspiciously when Misha’s grin widens. “What?”
“You asked me not to tell you,” Misha replies innocently. He pulls something out of his pocket to dangle in Jensen’s face and it takes a minute for Jensen to realize it’s a pair of keys.
“Are those - “
“For handcuffs?” Misha asks. “Yes. And I’ve got a second pair.”
Jensen just stares. He knows what’s being implied, though he isn’t entirely sure who Misha intends to handcuff. Jensen, more than likely, because Misha likes to be in control.
“Well?” Misha asks. He wiggles the keys and Jensen snags them from Misha’s fingers. “Good boy.” He presses his lips against the tip of Jensen’s nose. “I think we can scrounge up another tie or two in the bedroom, somewhere.”
“Please shut up,” Jensen laughs. He captures Misha’s lips in a lazy kiss and he edges his fingers up under the hem of Misha’s shirt. “There are better things you can be doing with your mouth.”
“Mmh,” Misha hums, “yes, but now you won’t know what I’m plotting. You and Matt will be completely at my mercy.”
Like that’s anything new, Jensen wants to say, but he bites his tongue. It is the truth though, and Jensen lets himself be dragged off the couch and down the hall without another word. There are far worse people to be the mercy of.
Title: Incorrigible
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Jensen Ackles x Misha Collins x Matt Cohen
Theme: Pie
Prompt: sycophantastic, CWRPS, Misha/Jensen(/Matt), blueberry filling everywhere; Misha tries not to laugh while Jensen tries not to have an aneurysm
Word Count: 553
Originally Posted: 24 November 2010, here
Jensen has promised himself he wasn’t going to yell. It accomplishes nothing besides making Matt and Misha annoyed at him, which just irks Jensen even more. So he knows he shouldn’t yell but this - this is too much.
“Seriously guys? Blueberries?”
Matt is pinned to the fridge, Misha’s mouth at his throat and hand down Matt’s pants, and neither of them seem overly concerned about the fact they’ve made a mess of the kitchen again. They’ve both got dark purple stains on their skin from the blueberries.
“It’s Misha’s fault,” Matt manages to squeak. His cheeks are flushed, lips parted and eyes glazed and Jensen has to remind himself that he is not happy right now.
“Why do you always blame me?” Misha scowls. He nips at Matt’s neck before looking over his shoulder at Jensen, but he doesn’t look annoyed, only mischievous. He doesn’t pull his hand from Matt’s jeans though, and nips at the younger male’s jaw when he moans. “The mess isn’t that bad.”
Which, fair enough. There aren’t blueberries on the ceiling (though there is a red stain that they haven’t had time to paint over yet). The counters are covered with sticky purple juice though, and there are smooshed berries on the counters and floor.
“You do realize it’s going to stain, right?” Jensen asks, quirking an eyebrow. “What were you two even doing?”
“Obviously we made pie,” Misha says. “Right Matt?” he asks, glancing at Matt again and nuzzling into his throat.
Matt moans softly, nodding his head weakly. “Two,” he breathes out. “For you.” He opens his eyes to look at Jensen, smiling faintly. He waves, wiggling his fingers, before curling them around the nape of Misha’s neck and dragging his lips back to Matt’s neck. “Love you.”
The corner of Jensen’s lip twitches up into a smile, but he quashes it easily. He’s not amused. He’s not happy or endeared or turned on. He is very much not in a good mood and is annoyed at the two men groping at each other on the other side of the kitchen.
“Give me a minute and we can have some,” Misha says. He grins when Matt lets out a low, keening sound, huffing out a laugh. “Matt will clean up the mess when we’re done.”
“What?” Matt asks. He can’t glower, but he’s certainly trying. “You’re an - ah - asshole.”
“You know you love me,” Misha grins. He glances over his shoulder at Jensen again, and winks. “I’m awesome and you know it.”
“You’re a pain in the ass,” Jensen counters.
“Well, I can be, if you want.”
Bring a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, Jensen ducks his head to hide his smile. “You are insufferable, Misha,” he says, trying not to laugh. He pauses to consider Misha’s words, eyes scanning over the mess that has become their kitchen. “Clean the kitchen and we’ll talk.”
“Oh, there won’t be much room for talking when I’m done here,” Misha laughs. He returns his attentions to Matt then, licking his way into a willing mouth and they both make obscene sounds.
Shaking his head, Jensen leans back against a clean-ish counter and waits. He has every intention of holding Misha to his word, to the kitchen cleaning and the pie and the sex.
Six Word Stories
Supernatural
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Claire Novak and Castiel
Prompt: ravenspear, Supernatural; Claire & Castiel; broken.
Originally Posted: 15 November 2010, here
She weeps. He can only watch.
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Dean Winchester x Castiel
Prompt: casdeanshipper, Supernatural, Dean/Castiel, words unsaid
Originally Posted: 15 November 2010, here
Dean’s words falter. Castiel smiles sadly.
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Dean Winchester x Castiel, Dean Winchester x Whoever
Prompt: tigriswolf, author's choice, author's choice, those who are faithless know the pleasures of love; it is the faithful who know love's tragedies
Originally Posted: 15 November 2010, here
He says "yes" because he's lonely.
and
When Dean comes, it's mindless oblivion.
and
Waiting patiently, Castiel thinks of Dean.
and
Curling in Dean's arms, Castiel smiles.
and
Castiel's love is simple, sweet, honest.
and
Dean clutches Castiel, wishing he'd forget.
and
"I forgive you" murmured against skin.
and
Dean wishes Castiel wouldn't. "I'm sorry."
and
"I love you." "Yeah, me too."
and
Castiel murmurs "never again" softly, trembling.
and
Dean promises. Castiel claims him again.
Stargate Atlantis
Character(s)/Pairing(s): John Sheppard x Rodney McKay
Prompt: crimson_antics, SGA, John/Rodney, Oblivious.
Originally Posted: 15 November 2010, here
John grins. Confused, Rodney smiles meekly.