The Man Who Has Everything
The Man Who Has Everything
A pornographic comedy!
Starring Michael Rosenbaum and Tom Welling
Written and directed by mskatej
Art direction and costumes by slodwick
Also starring Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Kristin Kreuk and Allison Mack
beta'd by theclexfactor and estrella30
The Man Who Has Everything
***
It doesn’t matter one iota to Mike that his plan is childish and stupid and probably annoying. It’s funny to Mike and that’s what’s important.
***
Jared and Jensen are lounging about, sitting on director’s chairs with their legs spread, a few paces apart from each other, looking out at the set, and making intermittent conversation. Jared seems to be in relatively high spirits, but Jen looks moody as hell, shooting dirty looks at Jared every time Jared opens his mouth.
Mike is watching them but is also talking to some random crew member about the temperamental nature of actors.
“I better go cheer him up,” he says in response to the guy’s comment about Jensen’s foul mood. “I have just the thing.”
He walks towards Jared and Jensen with a lewd smile on his face and they both spot him at the same time, but their reactions are quite different. Jared grins and shouts hello and Jen glowers and flips him the bird for no good reason.
“Ladies,” he greets them. “Happy Easter.”
“What are you doing here?” Jen asks him without smiling.
“I’m here to make your day,” Mike replies happily. “I have presents for you both.”
Jensen narrows his eyes and regards Mike with nothing but suspicion. Smart boy.
“What’s wrong, Jen? Not enough lines this episode?” Mike mocks.
“Just give me my present,” Jensen retorts, not thawing in the slightest. Mike hands it over. “Who the fuck gift wrapped this? Your retarded kid brother?”
Mike frowns a little. He thought he’d done a pretty good job with the wrapping. “Just open it, Mr. CrankyPants.” He chucks Jared’s gift to him as Jensen reluctantly thanks Mike and tears at the paper unenthusiastically.
Laughter spills out of Jared’s mouth the moment he lays eyes on the item in Jensen’s hand.
“You really shouldn’t have,” Jensen says, inspecting the (bright purple) cock-ring with cool detachment, but Mike can see the slight gleam in his eyes, as if he’d be laughing his ass off if it were any day other than today.
Mike leans over towards Jensen slightly and whispers loudly, “It’s to help you with your little… problem.” He motions to Jared with a sympathetic nod of his head. “Jared told me.”
“Fuck you, Mike,” Jared barks out good naturedly, ripping open his own present and giggling at the Penis Massage Crème.
Jared reads the packaging; “’Everyone Loves a Happy Penis,’” He looks up at Mike, then over at Jen with wide, sincere eyes. “Can’t argue with that.”
“Wanna swap?” Jen says to Jared, and it’s as if he’s on the verge of deciding to give up on his bad mood because the scowl is nearly gone and there’s almost a smile on his face.
“No, Jensen. I think you need a cock-ring more than I do.” Which makes Jen’s lips twitch and he’s clenching his jaw like he’s trying his hardest not to laugh, because he stubbornly has no intention of cheering up. Mike smiles shamelessly at him, unwilling to look away until he gets his laugh. He’s earned that laugh dammit.
“Just think, Jenny,” he needles. “Now your girlfriend might finally be able to achieve that elusive orgasm. It’s her turn after all.”
Jensen leaps out of his chair and punches Mike hard in the shoulder, causing Mike to stumble back with a pained laugh, but his mission has been accomplished because Jensen’s laughing too, finally. Jensen slumps back in his chair but he’s smiling now.
”I can’t believe you’re not keeping this shit, Mike. You’re an ungrateful sonofabitch, you know that?” Jensen says.
“I’m spreading the joy, boys. It’s only fair.” He looks at his watch. “Gotta go. We on for this Saturday?”
They both say yes and wave him off dismissively, and Mike leaves them to their day.
***
Glover laughed long and hard over the Tit Tarts and Annette rolled her eyes and sniggered at the Aphrodisiac Chocolates, although Mike was pretty certain they were going in the bin the moment she was out of sight. Al had roared over the Wet Lube, to the point where Mike had nearly said, “Dude, it’s not that funny,” and Miles had raised his eyebrows and looked patiently at Mike like he was a mildly amusing infant, in response to the Kama Sutra Cards.
Everything was going well.
***
“Oh my god,” Kristin whispers in awed delight, gazing at the whip as if it were made of diamonds. She looks back up into Mike’s eyes and smiles sweetly. “I’ve always wanted one of these. Thank you.”
“Sure,” he replies with an understanding nod. “You can try it out on me if you like. I’m free tonight.”
Kristin reaches over, takes his hand in hers and pats him gently on the back of it. “Thanks,” she says seriously. “But I’m good.”
“Wait,” he says, as if the thought just dawned on him. “You don’t want to be the whipper, do you. You want to be the whippee.” He smiles a smug self congratulatory smile at her and squeezes her hand. “I can help you out there too.”
“You’re an idiot,” she says dryly, pulling her hand away.
Ally wanders up to them. “What did you get?” she asks Kristin.
“A whip.”
Ally’s face falls. “That is so much better than my gift! Fuck you, Rosenbaum. I want a refund.”
“Awww,” Mike coos. “Is someone feeling inferior?”
“What was your gift?” Kristin asks, mildly curious.
“Some lame, stinky massage oil.”
“Um, that’s ‘Panty Dropper’ massage oil, to be precise,” Mike corrects. “You’re lucky you got anything at all, you ungrateful whore.”
“I want a whip,” she sulks.
“Well you can’t have mine,” Kristin chants and then just walks off as if she’s completely lost interest in both of them.
“What did Tom get? The cock-ring?” Ally asks.
“Nope. Jensen got the cock-ring. I haven’t given Tom his gift yet.”
“Why not?”
“The moment hasn’t presented itself,” Mike says thoughtfully.
“You’re a freak,” Ally says and walks off too.
Mike lifts his arm and sniffs at his armpit and says to no one, “Do I smell?”
***
“I got you a present,” Mike slurs. “I forgot to give it to you yesterday. Do you want it now?”
Tom looks over at him with hooded eyes but doesn’t move a muscle other than to barely shrug. “Sure.”
Mike groans in protest and wonders why he suggested doing something that requires him to move. Moving is a very bad idea.
He and Tom have been sitting in the same spot for the past hour, Mike in his favorite armchair, Tom sprawled on the couch, his arm hanging off the edge, loosely holding a bottle of half drunk beer. The coffee table and the floor around it is littered with weed, empty cans and bottles, cold pizza slices. They’ve been too wasted to even talk much, each of them piping up occasionally with a lame attempt at conversation and then going quiet again when they realized neither of them cared. Mike can’t even remember the last thing they tried to talk about. The CD they were listening to stopped years ago, and it’s silent in the lounge except for their breathing.
“It’s an Easter present,” Mike explains, not budging.
“What is it?” Tom asks, which is a stupid question given that he’ll find out when he opens the present.
“It’s a surprise,” Mike says.
“Well hurry up and give it to me then.”
“All in good time, my little pretty.” He still can’t seem to move.
“Whatever.”
Which annoys Mike out of his immobility and he begins to struggle with himself until he eventually ends up on his feet, glaring at Tom.
“You’ll love it. It’s just what you need right now.”
Tom couldn’t look less interested, so Mike forces himself to walk over to the television. The present is sitting on top of it in plain view, although if Tom noticed it he hadn’t let on.
Mike picks it up sluggishly and throws it over to Tom, who doesn’t even attempt to catch it, so it hits him in the side of his head then falls to the ground.
“Ow,” Tom says, sounding bored.
It takes about forty seconds before Tom starts searching for the package on the ground without looking or moving. Arm swinging back and forth, fingers dragging over the floor boards until they run into it and he grasps it in his hand, brings it up to eye level, just above his chest, and rips open the package.
He stares for a long while, as if trying to figure out what it is, despite the clear labeling.
“Pocket Pussy,” Tom says slowly before looking up at Mike with a glint in his eye that wasn’t there before.
Mike smiles wide and considers sitting down again. “For those lonely nights.”
Tom opens the box and pulls the pussy out, inspecting it curiously, and he seems more alert suddenly. Like he’s just had a shot of espresso.
He chucks the box over his shoulder carelessly, and then he fingers the ugly object obscenely, and smells it, and Mike wasn’t quite prepared for this reaction. He’d expected laughter and maybe mock offense, not this. He thinks he should maybe start the laughing but his throat feels tight and his limbs feel like jelly.
“Have you ever used one of these?” Tom asks, staring straight into Mike’s eyes.
Mike clears his throat. “Can’t say that I have.”
Tom rests the toy on his chest and reaches down between his legs, undoing the top button of his jeans and pulling down his fly. What the fuck?
Mike would say something but he’s hypnotized by the sight of Tom lifting his hips and pushing down his jeans and boxers. Tom takes his cock in his hand, and Mike watches Tom squeeze himself again and again, cock getting harder and harder under Mike’s avid gaze.
Harder and bigger and Tom’s really concentrating, staring down at himself, moaning at the feel of his own hand, pulling his cock into an erection. His mouth goes slack and he picks up the pocket pussy with his other hand and fits it over himself, sliding his cock into it until he’s fully encased.
That’s when he looks up at Mike, as if abruptly remembering that he’s not alone, and his face breaks into a smile, a dirty smile that imprints itself onto Mike’s brain for eternity.
“What does it feel like?” Mike mutters, blinking hard and forcing himself not to reach down and adjust his own hardening cock.
Tom moans for effect and pushes up into the pouch, saying in a shaky voice, “It doesn’t feel anything like a pussy.” Then he laughs. “It’s not wet enough.”
Mike doesn’t groan but it takes every ounce of willpower.
“You got any lube, Mikey?”
A desperate swallow and this time he does reach down and push the heel of his palm firmly onto his crotch.
“Yeah,” he says quietly.
“Go get it for me,” and Tom’s breathing hard, still moving his hips, hotter than any girl Mike’s ever been with. Every girl.
Walking like he’s in a daze, not fast or slow but with drowsy determination. He must find some lube, although he has no idea where to look. Why the fuck did he give away that fucking Wet Lube? As if Al will get any use out of it. It actually makes Mike laugh out loud at the ridiculousness of suddenly needing an item from the fucking smutbox, but he’s not especially amused. He really should hurry.
Searching with increasing urgency throughout his bedroom and bathroom, he finally locates a bottle of baby oil and heads back down to the lounge, drunk, high, confused, horny and very, very curious. Remarkably awake too.
Once back in the lounge, he strides over to Tom, who’s still fucking the pocket pussy leisurely, although his jeans are further down his thighs than they were when Mike left the room, and his t-shirt is pushed up his torso now, revealing his rolling belly, tanned and pretty, a trail of dark hair pointing from his belly button to his groin. He’s completely unselfconscious and it’s not just because he’s drunk off his face.
Tom knows he’s a beautiful specimen, or maybe he simply doesn’t care what anyone thinks. There’s no vanity there, no need to be complimented, no desire to be admired for his looks. He just wants to get off. And it makes him eminently more fuckable.
Mike stands next to the couch, looking down at Tom and he passes him the bottle of baby oil. Tom momentarily stops what he’s doing, pulls the pussy off himself and dribbles oil over the already slippery head of his cock. Mike watches.
A huge hand slides up and down, slicking himself thoroughly and the look on Tom’s face…
Jesus. Like he’s never felt anything so good in his life. Like he doesn’t want to be doing anything else. Mike wants that big hand on his dick, which is now conspicuously hard, straining almost painfully against his pants.
Tom refits the pussy back over his cock and groans deep and low. He’s gazing down at himself, clearly enjoying the sight. Mike can’t blame him.
He’s burning up he’s so hot now. He hasn’t even done anything and he’s sweating and he can’t seem to breathe properly. Christ, he’s practically panting.
It comes almost out of the blue and Mike blinks in surprise, when Tom looks up into his eyes and says hoarsely, “You wanna try it, Mikey? You wanna fuck this pussy?”
Put his cock where Tom’s has been? He answers by pulling his t-shirt off and dropping it on the floor. Mike’s been working out a lot lately so he knows his body looks pretty good at the moment, and the way Tom lazily checks out Mike’s chest and licks his lips indicates that he agrees. But when Tom’s gaze shifts down to Mike’s bulging crotch and his breath quickens along with his still moving hand, Mike decides that there’s no going back. He wants a blowjob and he wants one soon.
He takes a step closer to the couch and unzips his pants. He pushes them down, along with his boxers and wraps his hand around the base of his cock, holding it away from his belly, pointing it towards Tom.
Tom shifts up the couch and pulls the pussy off his dick, then he moves onto his knees, in front of Mike, and he’s about to fit the thing over Mike’s cock, but he doesn’t get that far because Mike takes it off him and flings it away. Not giving Tom a chance to complain, Mike grabs the side of his face with his free hand, digging his fingers into Tom’s cheek and gazing down at him, willing him to understand.
Green eyes look back, sparkling with amusement and arousal, and then Tom laughs a little. “I knew it,” he says, triumphant and disdainful all at once. But then he bends his head and swipes his tongue slowly over the head of Mike’s cock.
“Knew what, Tommy?” Mike asks through his gasp of pleasure.
Tom’s sucking his cock now and it’s not his first time at this. Fuck, it’s the best blowjob Mike’s ever had and he’s had a lot of blowjobs.
Just the right amount of suction, the right amount of wetness, and the way his mouth is stretched around Mike’s dick is… God… cheeks hollowed out as Tommy sucks… not too fast, not too slow…
“Fuck, Tom, fuck you’re good at this.”
Tom pulls off and grins. “How long?”
“All fucking night. Jesus.”
Tom takes him in his mouth again, all the way inside, gags a little but that’s just sexy and then he’s off again.
“How long have you wanted to fuck me, Mike?”
Mike raises an eyebrow at him and feels impatient. Why the fuck are they talking about this? “Since you started jerking off in front of me, Tom. Is there a problem?”
Tom smiles and shakes his head. “Nope.” Then he gets back to the job.
With all the booze and weed in his system, it might have taken hours to come, but as it is, Mike’s pretty close, chanting Tom’s name and holding Tom’s head in his hands, doing most of the work now, as he drives in again and again.
“Oh fuck fuck fuck…”
Coming with a series of jerky thrusts, right down Tom’s throat, it goes on and on and it’s so intense that he has to grab Tom’s shoulders afterwards to keep from collapsing. He’s instantly drowsy and he lets Tom maneuver him into a new position; moments later he finds himself mostly lying down on the couch with Tom straddling his chest, his jeans off now. When did he take them off? It doesn’t matter.
“I’m gonna come on your face,” Tom says, jacking himself frantically, and his tone suggests that he’s not giving Mike a choice about it either way.
Mike doesn’t have time to consent or not anyway - although he would have - because Tom immediately wraps a hand around the back of Mike’s head, lets out a thin, reedy moan and starts to come. Thick, hot liquid shoots out of his cock, again and again, and it hits Mike’s cheek and chin and lips, and Mike opens his mouth and catches some on his tongue, which should be gross but hey, if Tom can handle it so can Mike.
Tom slumps down on top of him afterwards, sweaty chest clinging to Mike’s, mouth falling onto Mike’s parted lips. They kiss through Tom’s recovery. Share their collective come and don’t stop until they can’t taste anything except each other.
***
“You wanna stay the night?” Mike asks sleepily.
They’ve been lying on the couch for what feels like hours but which is probably not, wrapped around each other, unable to move.
“Yeah,” Tom replies but Mike’s not convinced he’s really awake.
“You wanna go to bed?”
“Yeah.”
They stay on the couch and wake up sore and bemused early the next morning.
***
The bar is lively, and maybe it’s just Mike but everyone seems to be drinking like they’re out for revenge or something.
Kristin and Ally are standing next to a pillar and laughing hysterically about who knows what. Tom is leaning against the bar, on his own, gazing out into the hubbub with a small, vaguely contemptuous smile on his face. Jared and Jensen are arm wrestling.
Arm wrestling.
They have a table to themselves and several spectators, although it’s been going on so long the audience is becoming more and more inattentive. Mike’s at a table with Al and several members of the Smallville crew, not listening to a word anyone’s saying and trying not to look at Tom.
Failing utterly, of course.
He attempts to concentrate on the wrestling although it has become incredibly boring.
But then Tom moves. He pushes himself up off the bar and wanders over to Jared and Jensen’s table leisurely. People move aside to let him pass and it might be because he’s a big, beautiful man or it might just be his quiet charisma that does it. He positions himself behind Jared and then looks up at Mike and winks at him, quick and sly.
Mike grins and wonders what Tom’s up to.
Tom leans over then, mouth right on Jared’s ear, and he whispers something.
Whatever that something is makes Jared lose concentration momentarily, his eyes glazing over, the muscles in his body loosening automatically, inadvertently, and then bam, Jensen slams his arm down onto the table and the game is over. Tom has already walked away, clearly delighted with himself, by the time Jared realizes what has happened.
Jared spins around on his chair, looking wildly around the bar, not angry but not wanting people to think he lost because he’s weaker than Jenny, although he soon recognizes that he can’t really explain it and Mike would kill to know what it was Tom said to him.
There is no doubt in his mind that it was something dirty.
Jensen is being impossibly obnoxious about his victory, oblivious to the part Tom played in it. Dancing around, being loudly, sarcastically pitying of Jared’s defeat and all Mike can do is laugh.
It’s especially funny given the words Tom whispered in Mike’s ear not an hour ago: “I’ll let you fuck me tonight if you want.”
Mike makes eye contact with Tom and nods towards the door.
Tom can say anything he likes to Jared.
Mike’s the one taking him home.
The end.