Fic: Washington is the King of Hearts (Mishalecki)
Title: Washington is the King of Hearts
Author: sparseparsley
Rating: NC-17
Genre/Pairing: PWP, Misha/Jared
Wordcount: 4k
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Nothing beyond the sex (non-penetrative)
Summary: The one where they get tipsy in Jared’s trailer and Misha starts playing with Jared’s hair until he turns into a big puddle of goo and they have slow, rolly, grindy sex on Jared’s bed.
Author's Note: Blame Jared and Misha for playing with each other's hair. Completely irresistible. Originally posted here.
*****
"Do you have any Teddy Roosevelts?"
"Go fish."
Jared blinks down at the cards he's holding, angling them from side to side like they might be hiding something. Abraham Lincoln stares up at him coolly from the Ace of Diamonds. "Misha, where the fuck did you get these cards?"
Misha takes a swig from his glass, some weird coffee-vodka-chocolate concoction that he should be ashamed of but isn't. "White House. Stole them. Do you have any Lincolns?"
Fuck. Jared flips the card out of his hand and onto the pile in front of Misha. It's so big that Mr. Lincoln slips off one side into a ring of condensation. "You're cheating. You marked the cards or something." He takes a sip of his beer and watches Jensen attempt to make a card house with two Chester A. Arthurs and a Hoover. Jensen had opted for straight vodka tonight and it shows.
Jensen looks up and fixes Misha with a bleary eyed glare. "Did you pee on the cards?" The little house of presidents collapses with a soft whump that draws Jensen's eyes down again, eyebrows gathering in a confused frown.
Misha smirks over the rim of his glass. "Not today. Have any Hoovers, Jen?"
It's a sign of how drunk Jensen is that he lets the nickname pass. "Um." He leans down, nose to the faded surface of the table they're sitting at, and examines the collapsed cards closely. "Maybe. Is. Is that the one that... mustaches?"
Jared snorts in amusement, leaning back from his side of the table. "You are so cut off, my friend." Matching 'awww's answer him from the other side of the table. Both Misha and Jensen are notoriously fond of drunken Jensen. He waves his hands, remembering too late to clutch his cards back, hiding them against his chest. "Stop whining, oh my God! Come on, I'll walk you home."
He slides out of the seat and pulls Jensen up onto unsteady feet. Jensen and Misha reach out to one and other like torn apart lovers, assuring each other that they'll miss them every hour they're not together. Jared has to lean on the door frame to keep from falling out of the trailer with laughter. "Come on!"
'Home' is approximately 15 feet to the left, though it's technically more like 30 with how much they zig-zag on the concrete between their trailers. It had been a super late shoot with more to do the next morning, so they all decided to stick around for the night, aided in that decision by Misha sneaking away on a liquor run between his scenes. Good man, good man. Jared gets Jensen into his trailer and mostly onto his bed before leaving, making sure to slide his shoes and socks off, first. Jensen looks mostly passed out already and Jared knows how he hates sleeping with anything on his feet. Heck, he'd go barefoot 24/7 if he could.
Back in his own trailer, he finds Misha sitting on the couch, legs spread lazily wide. It looks inviting and he's just drunk enough to take the invitation, dropping cross-legged to the floor and leaning back against the couch between Misha's knees. Misha pats him on the head like a dog. "Sleeping Beauty get home alright?"
He shakes off Misha's hand with an imitation of a growl. "Yeah. But when he bitches about a bad sleep in the morning, I'm blaming you." Misha's hand comes back, petting this time. He's too warm and tired to shake it away again and any way, it feels alright. Soothing, you know?
They sit like that for a while, shooting the shit and talking about the show and whatever else comes up. Misha claims curling is the most Zen sport to watch and Jared has no counter argument, though he thinks that backwards running thing is at least a runner-up. They both have a giggle at 'runner up' and through it all, Misha's palm never stops it's slow drift over Jared's hair. They've moved on to old board games when Misha's hand pulls away. Rather, Misha has moved on, Jared doesn't think he's said a single thing in about ten minutes, lost in the tranquilizing pressure on his head.
"I don't know." Misha's voice is low and sort of dreamy. "'Perfection' has always disturbed me. It's like stress training for children. That and Hungry Hungry Hippos. Have you ever seen a hippo? They don't act like that."
Jared makes a noise of agreement while twisting his head back and forth, trying to get Misha's interest again. The buzz of alcohol is starting to fade but the heavy blanket of a very late night works just as well on his inhibitions. He hears a low snort behind him before fingers return, combing his hair back from his forehead now. Jared murmurs something vaguely like 'uhmmuhgod' and lets his head flop back between Misha's thighs. Misha gets both hands going then, and the tugging sensations seem to pull all the energy right up from Jared's limbs and out through his tingling scalp. It leaves him a boneless sprawl held up mostly by the crook of his neck over the couch seat. Everything else goes away as his eyes flutter shut.
It's been like this almost since the beginning, with them. This weird closeness that is nothing but jokes and teasing and over the top pranks except it isn't. It's... something. At least, Jared thinks it is, sometimes. Sometimes he wonders if it's just him. If he just brings this out in people or if he makes a habit of confusing friendly playfulness with, you know, something. Or sometimes he thinks it must be Misha, who is often hard-pressed to understand himself, let alone be understood by others. But whatever it is, he's just going to sit here and have it for a while.
Misha isn't talking, now, as he drags his fingers over and over through Jared's hair. He can hear them both breathing, Misha's even with the occasional deep sigh and his own slow and heavy enough to almost pass as moans. It's silent except for that and the muffled rustle of his hair falling back over his ears. Quiet enough for him to concentrate on the heat of Misha's legs around him and the random twitch of muscle as Misha's fingers skim particularly pleasant spots. Then suddenly it's not fingers, but nails, two hands worth scratching over his scalp and sending colliding shivers down his body. He's groaning before he can stop himself, a long, desperate sound that would say 'Hello, I am enjoying this sexually' in big, blinking letters if it were a sign. Which it isn't, but then the way his back curves away from the couch and the way his hand instinctively grabs for Misha's ankle, holding on, probably say it just as clearly.
Everything stops, just like that. Misha's fingers are frozen where they started in at his temples again, while Jared's fingers flex once around Misha's ankle. He drops his grip carefully and tries to relax, hoping Misha will play along, but then he feels them again, the perfect-sharp scratch of nails and the tickling fall of hair moving back into place behind them. He manages to stifle himself this time, but not before a strangled, throaty noise betrays him.
"Um." Face flushed, he lifts his head and winces as Misha pulls away. Yeah. "I should." He sits forward and runs his own hands over his head, partly in frustration and partly to rub away the raw tingle Misha left behind. "I should get going." Jared feels tense and strange as he stands, too open for their usual... usualness. When he turns around, Misha has already crossed his legs and is looking up at him with an unreadable expression. And see, he hates that as much as he likes it, how it's so hard to tell what Misha's thinking. It makes things interesting, even when interesting is the last thing you want.
God, it's too late and too dark and he's too tired to want to think right now. He gives Misha a small, uncomfortable smile that Misha returns with his usual smirk and goes for the door. He has it open before Misha's voice stops him.
"Hey, Jared?" When he turns, Misha is smiling at him still. But it looks different now even though he can't say precisely how. Softer or rueful, maybe. Jared waits, trying not to expect anything. "How far do you think you'll get before you remember this is your trailer?"
He has time to notice his own belongings scattered around the trailer before his whole face scrunches up in embarrassed horror. "Fuck. Um. I wanted to see if you'd notice?" Good save. Just, just excellent.
Misha nods as if he's utterly convinced and, with an odd pause that looks like a decision being come to, stands up. Jared's eyes flick down unconsciously and, oh, hey. It's kind of dim in here and his mind has been known to play tricks on him, but Misha's pants aren't exactly fantastic camouflage and he's pretty sure that Misha's, well, sporting. Not that that's a definite sign but, maybe?
Misha walks over to lean against the wall just beside the open door. His hands slip into his pockets and the stretch of them lets Jared know that his mind was in no way playing tricks on him. "Okay. So. Clearly subtlety isn't our path, seeing how you made a noise like a dying goat orgy and yet you're still fleeingyour own trailer."
Jared snorts a surprised laugh as doubt fades from him. That was no 'maybe'. One hand clutched to the edge of the still-open door, he leans down into Misha's space and lays a smirking kiss on the corner of his mouth. When he pulls back, Misha's eyebrow is raised in an incredulous look.
"I remember last week when you kissed your mother like that." Stepping forward, Misha curls his fingers around the door just below Jared's. "Let me be perfectly clear, here. Jared, I like your ass, may I wear it as a hat?"
Jared tries to hold in more laughter as Misha pushes the door closed, but it's a losing battle. It bubbles up from him even as he presses his mouth to Misha's again, hands rising to cup his jaw and hold him in place. The end-of-day stubble on Misha's neck tickles at his palms while they kiss, Misha's mouth opening under his easily. The laughter in him dies down as fast as it came and everything goes slow and quiet again when he changes the angle, Misha's tongue sliding into his mouth. It's still late and dark and the buoyant feel of questions answered has settled into a warmth low in his belly so he's happy to take it slow, to let Misha press up against him and slide clever fingers back into his hair.
They lose track for a while, happily lost in the slide of tongues and the heavy press of bodies against each other. Jared does, any way. He figures Misha must be a little more with it when his back hits the sliding wood plank that passes for his bedroom door. He lifts away from Misha's mouth with a clingy sort of noise, dazed. "Oh, hey, we moved."
Misha's fingers trail down from his hair to work their way under his shirt. "Mmm. Door got in the way, though."
"Ah!" Jared squirms away and turns towards the door when Misha's hands find an extra ticklish spot. "Here, let me talk to it." He barely has it sliding open before Misha is pushing him through. His shoulder catches on the edge, setting him off balance and tumbling them both forward. Luckily, it's not a gigantic room and they end up piled on the bed, Jared face down and Misha a laughing tangle above him. Jared pats the quilt lovingly. "Good bed. Nice catch."
Misha rolls off his back with an 'oof'. "So on a scale of 'pleasantly tingly' to 'going to fall asleep with your dick in my mouth and not remember it in the morning', how drunk are you?"
Jared lifts himself up on his hands and knees and crawls over top of Misha, sitting on his thighs. It's a very nice seat and the view is spectacular. "I had a few beer, come on. What about you, Mr. I Can't Taste My Alcohol Through the Sugar?"
Misha's fingers push under his shirt again and Jared shivers as wide thumbs brush beneath the waistband of his pants. "Somewhere in the middle. But last time I checked I didn't have any inhibitions to, you know, inhib so ravage away."
"Nah." He shifts forward until he can feel the line of Misha's cock under his ass and rocks over it a few times. Misha's eyes snap shut and his hips press up against Jared, nails biting where his hands have opened around Jared's hips. "This works. Any way, I gotta save the ravaging for later, give us something to look forward to."
He has the singular joy of watching Misha struggle for words as he matches Jared's rhythm, cock fitting against the groove of Jared's ass as well as it can with multiple layers of clothing between them."Yeah-ah, well, some of us have already been looking forward for a while, you over-sized tease. Here, here." His hips go still and press down, giving him room to undo his pants. "Pants off. Some of us are also over 30 and we don't associate pants with excitingly spontaneous sex anymore, just uncomfortable pinching."
Jared snickers something about 'old men' and falls to the side, stretching out beside Misha as they both kick their pants off. Jared shimmies his shirt over his head, too, tossing it to the side because hey, why the hell not? He has a few seconds to admire the trim strength in Misha's legs (and the tight cling of his briefs, surprisingly plain and white to Jared's Bermuda themed boxers) before Misha is crawling on top of him. Jared cups his hands around Misha's hips with a smile. "Hi there."
Misha just smiles back, apparently done with talking as he opens his legs around Jared, knees settling into the bed beside Jared's thighs. Then he's moving and Jared throws his head back with a groan as Misha's cock slides into the space beside his, both thick and hot against each other through the cloth. Misha lifts himself up, arms making dips in the mattress above Jared's shoulders, and starts dragging his groin against Jared in slow, hard motions. Jared sighs heavily in pleasure, pulling Misha's hips down against himself to make the grind tighter, sharper. Misha falters when he does, breath catching and rhythm breaking for a second. "Fuck, Jared."
"Like it?" Jared's voice has gone soft and dark with pleasure, any hint of laughter blown away by the distinct feel of Misha's cock catching against his own. Misha just nods and lets his head hang between his shoulders, mouth loose and panting as their bodies move against each other. Jared lets go of his hips, missing the hard pressure immediately but too interested in getting Misha as naked as he is to change his mind. He grabs the hem of Misha's t-shirt and drags it up over his back, waiting while Misha shifts to one arm and then the other to let Jared pull it off entirely. Misha collapses to his elbows afterward and Jared moans in appreciation as the angle presses their cocks full length against each other.
They're almost all skin to skin now, Jared can feel Misha's wiry chest hair and the hardened nubs of his nipples dragging over his chest as he's sure Misha can feel his own. It only adds to it, the sweat prickling over Jared's body making the slide of everything easier. Misha's hands find their way into his hair again, not really doing anything except catching in a knot every now and then but even that sends sharp spikes of body-jerking pleasure through Jared.
They stay like that in the faded light from the rest of the trailer, locked together and rolling with each other. Jared can't stop the long, gritty sighs and moans that escape him, or the way his hands wander over Misha's skin, addicted to the sharp bumps of his shoulder blades and the clench of his thighs. Misha is quieter, just panting breath and little gasped 'ah's of pleasure when they find a really good angle. It's when Jared dips his hands under the band of Misha's briefs that he discovers that's not all the noises Misha makes.
"Mmm!" It's a high, whining sound as Jared slides his palms over Misha's ass, strong hands gripping twin curves of muscle. It trails down into a growl as Jared digs his fingers in and drives his cock up against Misha, grunting as Misha goes limp and pliant above him to ride out the lifting thrusts. Apparently Misha is an ass fan with a taste for being manhandled. Well, he can work with that.
He flips them over in a move that's a lot smoother than he expected it to be, pressing Misha down into the mattress with his larger frame. Misha is totally with the new plan and wraps his hands around Jared's shoulders, pulling him down to crush their mouths together with a delighted moan. His legs open around Jared's hips, wide and easy enough that Jared is suddenly looking forward to some very bendy sex in his future. For now he lets himself settle in between Misha's thighs and concentrates on the kiss, thumbing at Misha's jaw to feel the way it moves him. He is aware of Misha's hands making busy motions between them, but doesn't pay much attention beyond jerking his cock against them until Misha slips a hand into his boxers and pulls his cock out. He gasps into Misha's mouth as Misha strokes him once, tip to base, and lines him up against Misha's own bare cock. "Uh! God, yeah, best idea." He shifts a little to the side, burying his forehead in the bed beside Misha's face, mouth close enough to nip at his earlobe. "Best fucking idea."
"Almost." One of Misha's hands pull out and Jared can hear the wet sounds of licking before Misha is weaseling his hand back down to spread slick spit between them. Oh, yeah. "Now it's the best." Work done, Misha wraps both arms around Jared's shoulders and hooks his legs over Jared's back, heels digging in to his ass. One heel kicks against him. "Giddy-up."
Jared doesn't even take the second to bite him in retaliation, he just shoves his knees forward for a solid base and goes to town, rutting against Misha with energy he didn't think he had. The slick slide of their cocks is fast, perfect, and Jared groans as Misha starts making those high, guttural whines again. Jared keeps it up, grinding their cocks together and fuck it feels so good. Precome spreads between them and the easier, wetter glide of it sends hard pleasure twisting through him.
Misha's legs go tight around him, voice breaking and gasping. "Yeah, yeah, just like that, fuck." There are hands in Jared's hair again, twisting it in a tight grip that pushes Jared so close to coming that he has to gnaw at his bottom lip to distract himself. It's almost useless as Misha's hips jack up against him but it gives him a handful of seconds.
"God, Misha!" He's gasping his words into Misha's ear, damp breath feeling like a sauna as it's trapped between them. Misha's heels dig at his ass harder, urging him on as Misha starts to quake in orgasm and gasp for breath underneath him. "Yeah, yeah, come on, let me taste it." Misha yells, body arcing into Jared's as his cock spasms between them and the hot, messy burst of his come coats Jared's cock and soaks into his boxers.
Misha's fingers flex and tighten in time with the bucking of his hips, pulling at Jared's scalp in a hot burn and suddenly he's right there, too, with nothing to stop himself. He yanks his hands down to Misha's legs and the full weight of his chest presses down as he drags them even closer together, fucking himself against Misha's cock. He comes with a shout bitten into the bedding under his head and another spurt of wetness pooling between them. His hips keep moving, can't stop until he's ridden it out and pushed for every second of shaking pleasure.
Misha is still gasping as his legs slither out of Jared's grip and fall careless to the bed, hands loosening to stroke weakly at Jared's head. Jared's own body finally stills and he has enough spare neurons left to remember to roll off of Misha before he collapses into a pile of lax, happy flesh. He drifts in the afterglow until he feels a sharp slap on his upper leg. Misha is spread out beside him, eyes closed, with a smugly satisfied smile. The hand on his thigh smacks down again. "Good show."
Figuring he can blame it on the afterglow, Jared gives in to the urge to rest his hand on top of Misha's for a long moment. "Ditto." He raises his head with a grunt and looks down at himself, skin still flushed and spent cock still hanging out of the damp, sticky mess of his boxers. "I think I need a wet-nap." He's still looking when Misha's shirt drops onto his chest.
"Go nuts. I'll just wear one of yours in the morning. If it's plaid and I tuck it in right, no one will notice."
Jared tries very hard not to grin dopily at 'in the morning' as he cleans himself off and tosses the shirt back to Misha. "Jensen might."
Misha cleans up and kicks off his underwear, apparently very comfortable with making himself at home. He stretches, arms hitting the wall above his head and torso curving enticingly. "Mm! Yeah, well, the window's open and last time I checked, he's a light sleeper. That cat might be de-bagged already."
Jared twists up and, sure enough, the screened window above their heads is wide open. Whoops. "Uh. Well he was pretty drunk, he pretty much passed out as soon as I got him on the b-" The chorus of 'Jenny From the Block' starts to play from his pants, cutting him off. Jensen's changed it five times now and went so far as to drop Jared's phone in a fountain, but that only made Jared more determined to keep it as his ringtone. "Or not."
He retrieves his phone from his pants and answers with some trepidation. "Hi?"
"I swear to fucking God, if you guys start up again I will come over there and castrate you both." Jensen's voice is an exhausted growl that would put Dean himself to shame.
"Uh. Yeah, sorry. I didn't realize... the window. We're, um, done." He ignores Misha's exaggerated pout from the other side of the bed.
"Super." There's a long pause ending with the sound of a jaw cracking yawn. "So do I get you guys a card or... ? Not sure of the etiquette here."
Jared snickers. "Dick. Actually, yeah, see if they have one that says 'Sorry about the pain in your ass' for Mish- hey!" Misha snatches the phone out of his hand, disconnecting the call with a beep. He hops out of the way as Misha kneels up on the bed and presses his face against the screen, yelling out. "G'night, Jensen! Sweet dreams!"
He's answered with the grating noise of a window sliding back and a pissed off yell. "I'll use a butter knife, I fucking swear it!"
Both windows close with a clatter as Misha collapses back on the bed, laughing. "I like him so much."
Jared laughs with him as they settle together, fighting their way under the covers and ending up in a sort of leaning spoon position that is dangerously comfortable. "I'll let him know. Night, Misha."
Misha wriggles back against him, warm and happy. "Night."
Author: sparseparsley
Rating: NC-17
Genre/Pairing: PWP, Misha/Jared
Wordcount: 4k
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Nothing beyond the sex (non-penetrative)
Summary: The one where they get tipsy in Jared’s trailer and Misha starts playing with Jared’s hair until he turns into a big puddle of goo and they have slow, rolly, grindy sex on Jared’s bed.
Author's Note: Blame Jared and Misha for playing with each other's hair. Completely irresistible. Originally posted here.
*****
"Do you have any Teddy Roosevelts?"
"Go fish."
Jared blinks down at the cards he's holding, angling them from side to side like they might be hiding something. Abraham Lincoln stares up at him coolly from the Ace of Diamonds. "Misha, where the fuck did you get these cards?"
Misha takes a swig from his glass, some weird coffee-vodka-chocolate concoction that he should be ashamed of but isn't. "White House. Stole them. Do you have any Lincolns?"
Fuck. Jared flips the card out of his hand and onto the pile in front of Misha. It's so big that Mr. Lincoln slips off one side into a ring of condensation. "You're cheating. You marked the cards or something." He takes a sip of his beer and watches Jensen attempt to make a card house with two Chester A. Arthurs and a Hoover. Jensen had opted for straight vodka tonight and it shows.
Jensen looks up and fixes Misha with a bleary eyed glare. "Did you pee on the cards?" The little house of presidents collapses with a soft whump that draws Jensen's eyes down again, eyebrows gathering in a confused frown.
Misha smirks over the rim of his glass. "Not today. Have any Hoovers, Jen?"
It's a sign of how drunk Jensen is that he lets the nickname pass. "Um." He leans down, nose to the faded surface of the table they're sitting at, and examines the collapsed cards closely. "Maybe. Is. Is that the one that... mustaches?"
Jared snorts in amusement, leaning back from his side of the table. "You are so cut off, my friend." Matching 'awww's answer him from the other side of the table. Both Misha and Jensen are notoriously fond of drunken Jensen. He waves his hands, remembering too late to clutch his cards back, hiding them against his chest. "Stop whining, oh my God! Come on, I'll walk you home."
He slides out of the seat and pulls Jensen up onto unsteady feet. Jensen and Misha reach out to one and other like torn apart lovers, assuring each other that they'll miss them every hour they're not together. Jared has to lean on the door frame to keep from falling out of the trailer with laughter. "Come on!"
'Home' is approximately 15 feet to the left, though it's technically more like 30 with how much they zig-zag on the concrete between their trailers. It had been a super late shoot with more to do the next morning, so they all decided to stick around for the night, aided in that decision by Misha sneaking away on a liquor run between his scenes. Good man, good man. Jared gets Jensen into his trailer and mostly onto his bed before leaving, making sure to slide his shoes and socks off, first. Jensen looks mostly passed out already and Jared knows how he hates sleeping with anything on his feet. Heck, he'd go barefoot 24/7 if he could.
Back in his own trailer, he finds Misha sitting on the couch, legs spread lazily wide. It looks inviting and he's just drunk enough to take the invitation, dropping cross-legged to the floor and leaning back against the couch between Misha's knees. Misha pats him on the head like a dog. "Sleeping Beauty get home alright?"
He shakes off Misha's hand with an imitation of a growl. "Yeah. But when he bitches about a bad sleep in the morning, I'm blaming you." Misha's hand comes back, petting this time. He's too warm and tired to shake it away again and any way, it feels alright. Soothing, you know?
They sit like that for a while, shooting the shit and talking about the show and whatever else comes up. Misha claims curling is the most Zen sport to watch and Jared has no counter argument, though he thinks that backwards running thing is at least a runner-up. They both have a giggle at 'runner up' and through it all, Misha's palm never stops it's slow drift over Jared's hair. They've moved on to old board games when Misha's hand pulls away. Rather, Misha has moved on, Jared doesn't think he's said a single thing in about ten minutes, lost in the tranquilizing pressure on his head.
"I don't know." Misha's voice is low and sort of dreamy. "'Perfection' has always disturbed me. It's like stress training for children. That and Hungry Hungry Hippos. Have you ever seen a hippo? They don't act like that."
Jared makes a noise of agreement while twisting his head back and forth, trying to get Misha's interest again. The buzz of alcohol is starting to fade but the heavy blanket of a very late night works just as well on his inhibitions. He hears a low snort behind him before fingers return, combing his hair back from his forehead now. Jared murmurs something vaguely like 'uhmmuhgod' and lets his head flop back between Misha's thighs. Misha gets both hands going then, and the tugging sensations seem to pull all the energy right up from Jared's limbs and out through his tingling scalp. It leaves him a boneless sprawl held up mostly by the crook of his neck over the couch seat. Everything else goes away as his eyes flutter shut.
It's been like this almost since the beginning, with them. This weird closeness that is nothing but jokes and teasing and over the top pranks except it isn't. It's... something. At least, Jared thinks it is, sometimes. Sometimes he wonders if it's just him. If he just brings this out in people or if he makes a habit of confusing friendly playfulness with, you know, something. Or sometimes he thinks it must be Misha, who is often hard-pressed to understand himself, let alone be understood by others. But whatever it is, he's just going to sit here and have it for a while.
Misha isn't talking, now, as he drags his fingers over and over through Jared's hair. He can hear them both breathing, Misha's even with the occasional deep sigh and his own slow and heavy enough to almost pass as moans. It's silent except for that and the muffled rustle of his hair falling back over his ears. Quiet enough for him to concentrate on the heat of Misha's legs around him and the random twitch of muscle as Misha's fingers skim particularly pleasant spots. Then suddenly it's not fingers, but nails, two hands worth scratching over his scalp and sending colliding shivers down his body. He's groaning before he can stop himself, a long, desperate sound that would say 'Hello, I am enjoying this sexually' in big, blinking letters if it were a sign. Which it isn't, but then the way his back curves away from the couch and the way his hand instinctively grabs for Misha's ankle, holding on, probably say it just as clearly.
Everything stops, just like that. Misha's fingers are frozen where they started in at his temples again, while Jared's fingers flex once around Misha's ankle. He drops his grip carefully and tries to relax, hoping Misha will play along, but then he feels them again, the perfect-sharp scratch of nails and the tickling fall of hair moving back into place behind them. He manages to stifle himself this time, but not before a strangled, throaty noise betrays him.
"Um." Face flushed, he lifts his head and winces as Misha pulls away. Yeah. "I should." He sits forward and runs his own hands over his head, partly in frustration and partly to rub away the raw tingle Misha left behind. "I should get going." Jared feels tense and strange as he stands, too open for their usual... usualness. When he turns around, Misha has already crossed his legs and is looking up at him with an unreadable expression. And see, he hates that as much as he likes it, how it's so hard to tell what Misha's thinking. It makes things interesting, even when interesting is the last thing you want.
God, it's too late and too dark and he's too tired to want to think right now. He gives Misha a small, uncomfortable smile that Misha returns with his usual smirk and goes for the door. He has it open before Misha's voice stops him.
"Hey, Jared?" When he turns, Misha is smiling at him still. But it looks different now even though he can't say precisely how. Softer or rueful, maybe. Jared waits, trying not to expect anything. "How far do you think you'll get before you remember this is your trailer?"
He has time to notice his own belongings scattered around the trailer before his whole face scrunches up in embarrassed horror. "Fuck. Um. I wanted to see if you'd notice?" Good save. Just, just excellent.
Misha nods as if he's utterly convinced and, with an odd pause that looks like a decision being come to, stands up. Jared's eyes flick down unconsciously and, oh, hey. It's kind of dim in here and his mind has been known to play tricks on him, but Misha's pants aren't exactly fantastic camouflage and he's pretty sure that Misha's, well, sporting. Not that that's a definite sign but, maybe?
Misha walks over to lean against the wall just beside the open door. His hands slip into his pockets and the stretch of them lets Jared know that his mind was in no way playing tricks on him. "Okay. So. Clearly subtlety isn't our path, seeing how you made a noise like a dying goat orgy and yet you're still fleeingyour own trailer."
Jared snorts a surprised laugh as doubt fades from him. That was no 'maybe'. One hand clutched to the edge of the still-open door, he leans down into Misha's space and lays a smirking kiss on the corner of his mouth. When he pulls back, Misha's eyebrow is raised in an incredulous look.
"I remember last week when you kissed your mother like that." Stepping forward, Misha curls his fingers around the door just below Jared's. "Let me be perfectly clear, here. Jared, I like your ass, may I wear it as a hat?"
Jared tries to hold in more laughter as Misha pushes the door closed, but it's a losing battle. It bubbles up from him even as he presses his mouth to Misha's again, hands rising to cup his jaw and hold him in place. The end-of-day stubble on Misha's neck tickles at his palms while they kiss, Misha's mouth opening under his easily. The laughter in him dies down as fast as it came and everything goes slow and quiet again when he changes the angle, Misha's tongue sliding into his mouth. It's still late and dark and the buoyant feel of questions answered has settled into a warmth low in his belly so he's happy to take it slow, to let Misha press up against him and slide clever fingers back into his hair.
They lose track for a while, happily lost in the slide of tongues and the heavy press of bodies against each other. Jared does, any way. He figures Misha must be a little more with it when his back hits the sliding wood plank that passes for his bedroom door. He lifts away from Misha's mouth with a clingy sort of noise, dazed. "Oh, hey, we moved."
Misha's fingers trail down from his hair to work their way under his shirt. "Mmm. Door got in the way, though."
"Ah!" Jared squirms away and turns towards the door when Misha's hands find an extra ticklish spot. "Here, let me talk to it." He barely has it sliding open before Misha is pushing him through. His shoulder catches on the edge, setting him off balance and tumbling them both forward. Luckily, it's not a gigantic room and they end up piled on the bed, Jared face down and Misha a laughing tangle above him. Jared pats the quilt lovingly. "Good bed. Nice catch."
Misha rolls off his back with an 'oof'. "So on a scale of 'pleasantly tingly' to 'going to fall asleep with your dick in my mouth and not remember it in the morning', how drunk are you?"
Jared lifts himself up on his hands and knees and crawls over top of Misha, sitting on his thighs. It's a very nice seat and the view is spectacular. "I had a few beer, come on. What about you, Mr. I Can't Taste My Alcohol Through the Sugar?"
Misha's fingers push under his shirt again and Jared shivers as wide thumbs brush beneath the waistband of his pants. "Somewhere in the middle. But last time I checked I didn't have any inhibitions to, you know, inhib so ravage away."
"Nah." He shifts forward until he can feel the line of Misha's cock under his ass and rocks over it a few times. Misha's eyes snap shut and his hips press up against Jared, nails biting where his hands have opened around Jared's hips. "This works. Any way, I gotta save the ravaging for later, give us something to look forward to."
He has the singular joy of watching Misha struggle for words as he matches Jared's rhythm, cock fitting against the groove of Jared's ass as well as it can with multiple layers of clothing between them."Yeah-ah, well, some of us have already been looking forward for a while, you over-sized tease. Here, here." His hips go still and press down, giving him room to undo his pants. "Pants off. Some of us are also over 30 and we don't associate pants with excitingly spontaneous sex anymore, just uncomfortable pinching."
Jared snickers something about 'old men' and falls to the side, stretching out beside Misha as they both kick their pants off. Jared shimmies his shirt over his head, too, tossing it to the side because hey, why the hell not? He has a few seconds to admire the trim strength in Misha's legs (and the tight cling of his briefs, surprisingly plain and white to Jared's Bermuda themed boxers) before Misha is crawling on top of him. Jared cups his hands around Misha's hips with a smile. "Hi there."
Misha just smiles back, apparently done with talking as he opens his legs around Jared, knees settling into the bed beside Jared's thighs. Then he's moving and Jared throws his head back with a groan as Misha's cock slides into the space beside his, both thick and hot against each other through the cloth. Misha lifts himself up, arms making dips in the mattress above Jared's shoulders, and starts dragging his groin against Jared in slow, hard motions. Jared sighs heavily in pleasure, pulling Misha's hips down against himself to make the grind tighter, sharper. Misha falters when he does, breath catching and rhythm breaking for a second. "Fuck, Jared."
"Like it?" Jared's voice has gone soft and dark with pleasure, any hint of laughter blown away by the distinct feel of Misha's cock catching against his own. Misha just nods and lets his head hang between his shoulders, mouth loose and panting as their bodies move against each other. Jared lets go of his hips, missing the hard pressure immediately but too interested in getting Misha as naked as he is to change his mind. He grabs the hem of Misha's t-shirt and drags it up over his back, waiting while Misha shifts to one arm and then the other to let Jared pull it off entirely. Misha collapses to his elbows afterward and Jared moans in appreciation as the angle presses their cocks full length against each other.
They're almost all skin to skin now, Jared can feel Misha's wiry chest hair and the hardened nubs of his nipples dragging over his chest as he's sure Misha can feel his own. It only adds to it, the sweat prickling over Jared's body making the slide of everything easier. Misha's hands find their way into his hair again, not really doing anything except catching in a knot every now and then but even that sends sharp spikes of body-jerking pleasure through Jared.
They stay like that in the faded light from the rest of the trailer, locked together and rolling with each other. Jared can't stop the long, gritty sighs and moans that escape him, or the way his hands wander over Misha's skin, addicted to the sharp bumps of his shoulder blades and the clench of his thighs. Misha is quieter, just panting breath and little gasped 'ah's of pleasure when they find a really good angle. It's when Jared dips his hands under the band of Misha's briefs that he discovers that's not all the noises Misha makes.
"Mmm!" It's a high, whining sound as Jared slides his palms over Misha's ass, strong hands gripping twin curves of muscle. It trails down into a growl as Jared digs his fingers in and drives his cock up against Misha, grunting as Misha goes limp and pliant above him to ride out the lifting thrusts. Apparently Misha is an ass fan with a taste for being manhandled. Well, he can work with that.
He flips them over in a move that's a lot smoother than he expected it to be, pressing Misha down into the mattress with his larger frame. Misha is totally with the new plan and wraps his hands around Jared's shoulders, pulling him down to crush their mouths together with a delighted moan. His legs open around Jared's hips, wide and easy enough that Jared is suddenly looking forward to some very bendy sex in his future. For now he lets himself settle in between Misha's thighs and concentrates on the kiss, thumbing at Misha's jaw to feel the way it moves him. He is aware of Misha's hands making busy motions between them, but doesn't pay much attention beyond jerking his cock against them until Misha slips a hand into his boxers and pulls his cock out. He gasps into Misha's mouth as Misha strokes him once, tip to base, and lines him up against Misha's own bare cock. "Uh! God, yeah, best idea." He shifts a little to the side, burying his forehead in the bed beside Misha's face, mouth close enough to nip at his earlobe. "Best fucking idea."
"Almost." One of Misha's hands pull out and Jared can hear the wet sounds of licking before Misha is weaseling his hand back down to spread slick spit between them. Oh, yeah. "Now it's the best." Work done, Misha wraps both arms around Jared's shoulders and hooks his legs over Jared's back, heels digging in to his ass. One heel kicks against him. "Giddy-up."
Jared doesn't even take the second to bite him in retaliation, he just shoves his knees forward for a solid base and goes to town, rutting against Misha with energy he didn't think he had. The slick slide of their cocks is fast, perfect, and Jared groans as Misha starts making those high, guttural whines again. Jared keeps it up, grinding their cocks together and fuck it feels so good. Precome spreads between them and the easier, wetter glide of it sends hard pleasure twisting through him.
Misha's legs go tight around him, voice breaking and gasping. "Yeah, yeah, just like that, fuck." There are hands in Jared's hair again, twisting it in a tight grip that pushes Jared so close to coming that he has to gnaw at his bottom lip to distract himself. It's almost useless as Misha's hips jack up against him but it gives him a handful of seconds.
"God, Misha!" He's gasping his words into Misha's ear, damp breath feeling like a sauna as it's trapped between them. Misha's heels dig at his ass harder, urging him on as Misha starts to quake in orgasm and gasp for breath underneath him. "Yeah, yeah, come on, let me taste it." Misha yells, body arcing into Jared's as his cock spasms between them and the hot, messy burst of his come coats Jared's cock and soaks into his boxers.
Misha's fingers flex and tighten in time with the bucking of his hips, pulling at Jared's scalp in a hot burn and suddenly he's right there, too, with nothing to stop himself. He yanks his hands down to Misha's legs and the full weight of his chest presses down as he drags them even closer together, fucking himself against Misha's cock. He comes with a shout bitten into the bedding under his head and another spurt of wetness pooling between them. His hips keep moving, can't stop until he's ridden it out and pushed for every second of shaking pleasure.
Misha is still gasping as his legs slither out of Jared's grip and fall careless to the bed, hands loosening to stroke weakly at Jared's head. Jared's own body finally stills and he has enough spare neurons left to remember to roll off of Misha before he collapses into a pile of lax, happy flesh. He drifts in the afterglow until he feels a sharp slap on his upper leg. Misha is spread out beside him, eyes closed, with a smugly satisfied smile. The hand on his thigh smacks down again. "Good show."
Figuring he can blame it on the afterglow, Jared gives in to the urge to rest his hand on top of Misha's for a long moment. "Ditto." He raises his head with a grunt and looks down at himself, skin still flushed and spent cock still hanging out of the damp, sticky mess of his boxers. "I think I need a wet-nap." He's still looking when Misha's shirt drops onto his chest.
"Go nuts. I'll just wear one of yours in the morning. If it's plaid and I tuck it in right, no one will notice."
Jared tries very hard not to grin dopily at 'in the morning' as he cleans himself off and tosses the shirt back to Misha. "Jensen might."
Misha cleans up and kicks off his underwear, apparently very comfortable with making himself at home. He stretches, arms hitting the wall above his head and torso curving enticingly. "Mm! Yeah, well, the window's open and last time I checked, he's a light sleeper. That cat might be de-bagged already."
Jared twists up and, sure enough, the screened window above their heads is wide open. Whoops. "Uh. Well he was pretty drunk, he pretty much passed out as soon as I got him on the b-" The chorus of 'Jenny From the Block' starts to play from his pants, cutting him off. Jensen's changed it five times now and went so far as to drop Jared's phone in a fountain, but that only made Jared more determined to keep it as his ringtone. "Or not."
He retrieves his phone from his pants and answers with some trepidation. "Hi?"
"I swear to fucking God, if you guys start up again I will come over there and castrate you both." Jensen's voice is an exhausted growl that would put Dean himself to shame.
"Uh. Yeah, sorry. I didn't realize... the window. We're, um, done." He ignores Misha's exaggerated pout from the other side of the bed.
"Super." There's a long pause ending with the sound of a jaw cracking yawn. "So do I get you guys a card or... ? Not sure of the etiquette here."
Jared snickers. "Dick. Actually, yeah, see if they have one that says 'Sorry about the pain in your ass' for Mish- hey!" Misha snatches the phone out of his hand, disconnecting the call with a beep. He hops out of the way as Misha kneels up on the bed and presses his face against the screen, yelling out. "G'night, Jensen! Sweet dreams!"
He's answered with the grating noise of a window sliding back and a pissed off yell. "I'll use a butter knife, I fucking swear it!"
Both windows close with a clatter as Misha collapses back on the bed, laughing. "I like him so much."
Jared laughs with him as they settle together, fighting their way under the covers and ending up in a sort of leaning spoon position that is dangerously comfortable. "I'll let him know. Night, Misha."
Misha wriggles back against him, warm and happy. "Night."