FIC: No Token
Dec. 10th, 2008 10:23 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nilchanceTitle: No Token
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nilchance
Rating: Adult
Pairing: Misha Collins/JDM
A/N: Sequel to If Bird or Devil. Jeff is a dom, Misha is his boy, Jensen is complicated. Many thanks topoisontaster for her invaluable clarity edits and patience.
When Jensen is finally free to roam, after the crime scene, it's night again. So much for sleeping.
He didn't get close enough to the body to touch, and he wouldn't even if he had, but he feels like there's blood underneath his nails. Bell got him a copy of the crime scene photos, with a warning that she'd chop his balls off if they leaked to the press. She's sticking her neck out for him; it's an uncomfortable feeling, being in someone's debt.
As he'd waited in the cramped, hot narrows of the police station, he'd heard someone wailing on and on. Misery and grief so strong it raised the hair on the back of his neck. He hadn't known for sure that it was the girl's relative, but he had thought, I promise.
And so here he is, with his lukewarm coffee and a Snickers bar, parked across the street from a nondescript building. Because he promised. He can live without comforts if it means... well, anything. She expects sacrifices.
He tears off another chunk of the bar, watching as the door to the building opens to accept a man in black with a woman trailing behind him. Unusual, maybe, but they're the third couple to go past. Morgan's info is good; it's a club. Maybe the last one Renee visited before she died.
For Legion has your wife, the dark whispers in his ear. Jensen shakes it off, though he can't help glancing in the back seat to be sure nothing's crouching behind him. He wants to tear into another library for references on Legion, but he hasn't had a chance to slow down. It's not that he's afraid of what he'll find.
No. It's not that.
It'd be stupid for the killer to move now, when his last scene was just found and the police are still on high alert. Jensen's seen cop cars go past, but none of them are circling the block here. They're probably around Fringe. The killer is smart, lazy predatory intelligence, and he'll be hanging back now. Watching, like Jensen is watching.
Maybe Bell told the cops not to check his car out, but it'd be better for the people in that club if Jensen were busted for loitering. He'll tell her about this when he's gotten his information, not before. If that makes him a bastard, it's nothing he didn't know.
He finishes his dinner, drains the coffee, gets out of the car. His body throbs once with vivid pain before subsiding, a signal flare. Careful of the bruises, Jensen shoves his hands in his pockets and hopes the guard is stupid; they'll concentrate on the pockets, not on the boots. At least his boots are bondage wear. The rest is cribbed, tight jeans and a black shirt. Not for the first time, Jensen's glad he's not trying this as a woman. Their clothes all seem so much more... elaborate.
He hangs back for a few minutes, out of sight of the door, to watch the next couple enter. There's no fancy knocks or IDs, but they all seem to come in couples and they recognize the guard. Jensen can't see him without getting closer, where there's less cover.
No helping it. He could ask Her for a little luck, but her favor only stretches so far before she expects payment. He's in no shape to kill for her tonight.
Jensen walks to the door, forcing each easy step when he wants to run, and raises a steady hand to knock.
On the other side of the door, a woman cries out. He doesn't think, he shoves the door open in front of him, elbowing it so he can start to go for the knife.
The door catches halfway, thumping to a stop in the palm of the guard from Fringe. Jensen barely has time for recognition before he realizes the scream has died off into murmurs of praise. Past the guard-- Jason, Jeff had called him-- Jensen can see a woman kneeling on the floor, a half-circle of bystanders watching her. The room is small, walled in mirrors that make it seem claustrophobic. Hard to breathe, easy to see.
Jason leans sideways, trying to block Jensen's view. He's one of those men who makes Jensen feel short, and he'd gotten Jensen in a hammerlock easy. Jensen doesn't straighten, leaving his hand by the knife.
"Well," Jason says. "Don't you get around."
It's a coincidence, too convenient for Jason to be the murderer, but Jensen's instinct is to back away. He snaps, "What, the other fuck club doesn't pay you enough?"
Jason snorts, not riled, and looks behind Jensen. Disregards him as a threat. "Where's your escort?"
"I don't need a chaperone."
Attention dropping back to Jensen, Jason looks him up and down. Slow. "Yeah," he says after a minute, "I think you really do."
Ah. Jensen eases upright, trying for sinuous instead of just awkward, and puts his hand on Jason's chest. Jason looks down at it, expressionless, so Jensen sidles in against him. It's warm there, and Jensen's reflexive shiver isn't deliberate. He presses harder to distract Jason. "So escort me."
Amused, Jason covers Jensen's hand with his own. It's broad, callused, like Jason could pin him without trying. "I'm working."
It's different with men, their smell, their gravity. Jensen feels his heart pounding, too loud and too fast, and swallows. "Take a break."
The woman makes another sound, wordless and hungry. Glancing at the mirror, Jensen sees the man standing over her this time, his hand fisted in her hair, the supplicant curve of the woman's throat.
Jason follows his look, then smiles and turns to give him a full view. "You want in?" Jason asks, his voice sliding into a darker register. His fingers curl around Jensen's, holding his hand still. "You've got to be ready to do that."
Jensen looks again, and this time he sees. He hears the subliminal hum of vibration, the way the woman is rocking on her knees and chewing her lip, the way she's blushing so furiously that the stain slips down her throat and across her breasts. There's a machine under her, in her.
"Can we try this?" Renee asked, offering the bright pink thing to him. It's nothing in his hands, but when he turns the switch she starts to fidget and blush, watching it buzz. "Will you... I want it."
"Anything," he said, and eased her down on the bed.
The man draws her by the hair, forces her cheek against his groin. She moans and mouths at him through his clothes, and he tilts his head back, breathing fast.
"Say it," Jason whispers, "and I'll have you on that thing in a minute. No clothes, though. No. I want to see you ride it."
The woman starts to tremble. She only sees the man, she's gone in her head, she's going to come apart in front of all these people...
Jensen rips his way free of Jason's hands, stumbling back into the doorframe. He can't find the way out, too much reflection, panic thudding in his throat and head. He thought he couldn't be afraid of anything anymore, but this, the room that smells like sex, he's terrified of it. What it could be.
Behind Jason, there's a long moan and another spatter of applause. A sharp motion draws Jensen's eye; the man has the woman by the throat, he's pushing her to the floor. Jensen catches sight of himself and turns his face away, stupidly ashamed.
Jason lets his hands drop, making no move to keep Jensen still. "Yeah. That's what I figured. Go on home, and bring Jeff with you if you come back here."
"Fuck you," Jensen says, making the words as ugly as he can, and staggers out so Jason can close the door.
It's a long miserable walk back to the car. He slides into the backseat and lays there for a minute, trying to slow the thunder of his heart. Raising a hand to his throat, he presses his fingers down on the carotid to feel his pulse, or maybe to try the stricture of a collar.
He can't get in without Morgan.
He needs Morgan.
Jensen kicks the door hard enough to shake the windows and closes his eyes.
Author:
nilchanceRating: Adult
Pairing: Misha Collins/JDM
A/N: Sequel to If Bird or Devil. Jeff is a dom, Misha is his boy, Jensen is complicated. Many thanks to
poisontaster for her invaluable clarity edits and patience.When Jensen is finally free to roam, after the crime scene, it's night again. So much for sleeping.
He didn't get close enough to the body to touch, and he wouldn't even if he had, but he feels like there's blood underneath his nails. Bell got him a copy of the crime scene photos, with a warning that she'd chop his balls off if they leaked to the press. She's sticking her neck out for him; it's an uncomfortable feeling, being in someone's debt.
As he'd waited in the cramped, hot narrows of the police station, he'd heard someone wailing on and on. Misery and grief so strong it raised the hair on the back of his neck. He hadn't known for sure that it was the girl's relative, but he had thought, I promise.
And so here he is, with his lukewarm coffee and a Snickers bar, parked across the street from a nondescript building. Because he promised. He can live without comforts if it means... well, anything. She expects sacrifices.
He tears off another chunk of the bar, watching as the door to the building opens to accept a man in black with a woman trailing behind him. Unusual, maybe, but they're the third couple to go past. Morgan's info is good; it's a club. Maybe the last one Renee visited before she died.
For Legion has your wife, the dark whispers in his ear. Jensen shakes it off, though he can't help glancing in the back seat to be sure nothing's crouching behind him. He wants to tear into another library for references on Legion, but he hasn't had a chance to slow down. It's not that he's afraid of what he'll find.
No. It's not that.
It'd be stupid for the killer to move now, when his last scene was just found and the police are still on high alert. Jensen's seen cop cars go past, but none of them are circling the block here. They're probably around Fringe. The killer is smart, lazy predatory intelligence, and he'll be hanging back now. Watching, like Jensen is watching.
Maybe Bell told the cops not to check his car out, but it'd be better for the people in that club if Jensen were busted for loitering. He'll tell her about this when he's gotten his information, not before. If that makes him a bastard, it's nothing he didn't know.
He finishes his dinner, drains the coffee, gets out of the car. His body throbs once with vivid pain before subsiding, a signal flare. Careful of the bruises, Jensen shoves his hands in his pockets and hopes the guard is stupid; they'll concentrate on the pockets, not on the boots. At least his boots are bondage wear. The rest is cribbed, tight jeans and a black shirt. Not for the first time, Jensen's glad he's not trying this as a woman. Their clothes all seem so much more... elaborate.
He hangs back for a few minutes, out of sight of the door, to watch the next couple enter. There's no fancy knocks or IDs, but they all seem to come in couples and they recognize the guard. Jensen can't see him without getting closer, where there's less cover.
No helping it. He could ask Her for a little luck, but her favor only stretches so far before she expects payment. He's in no shape to kill for her tonight.
Jensen walks to the door, forcing each easy step when he wants to run, and raises a steady hand to knock.
On the other side of the door, a woman cries out. He doesn't think, he shoves the door open in front of him, elbowing it so he can start to go for the knife.
The door catches halfway, thumping to a stop in the palm of the guard from Fringe. Jensen barely has time for recognition before he realizes the scream has died off into murmurs of praise. Past the guard-- Jason, Jeff had called him-- Jensen can see a woman kneeling on the floor, a half-circle of bystanders watching her. The room is small, walled in mirrors that make it seem claustrophobic. Hard to breathe, easy to see.
Jason leans sideways, trying to block Jensen's view. He's one of those men who makes Jensen feel short, and he'd gotten Jensen in a hammerlock easy. Jensen doesn't straighten, leaving his hand by the knife.
"Well," Jason says. "Don't you get around."
It's a coincidence, too convenient for Jason to be the murderer, but Jensen's instinct is to back away. He snaps, "What, the other fuck club doesn't pay you enough?"
Jason snorts, not riled, and looks behind Jensen. Disregards him as a threat. "Where's your escort?"
"I don't need a chaperone."
Attention dropping back to Jensen, Jason looks him up and down. Slow. "Yeah," he says after a minute, "I think you really do."
Ah. Jensen eases upright, trying for sinuous instead of just awkward, and puts his hand on Jason's chest. Jason looks down at it, expressionless, so Jensen sidles in against him. It's warm there, and Jensen's reflexive shiver isn't deliberate. He presses harder to distract Jason. "So escort me."
Amused, Jason covers Jensen's hand with his own. It's broad, callused, like Jason could pin him without trying. "I'm working."
It's different with men, their smell, their gravity. Jensen feels his heart pounding, too loud and too fast, and swallows. "Take a break."
The woman makes another sound, wordless and hungry. Glancing at the mirror, Jensen sees the man standing over her this time, his hand fisted in her hair, the supplicant curve of the woman's throat.
Jason follows his look, then smiles and turns to give him a full view. "You want in?" Jason asks, his voice sliding into a darker register. His fingers curl around Jensen's, holding his hand still. "You've got to be ready to do that."
Jensen looks again, and this time he sees. He hears the subliminal hum of vibration, the way the woman is rocking on her knees and chewing her lip, the way she's blushing so furiously that the stain slips down her throat and across her breasts. There's a machine under her, in her.
"Can we try this?" Renee asked, offering the bright pink thing to him. It's nothing in his hands, but when he turns the switch she starts to fidget and blush, watching it buzz. "Will you... I want it."
"Anything," he said, and eased her down on the bed.
The man draws her by the hair, forces her cheek against his groin. She moans and mouths at him through his clothes, and he tilts his head back, breathing fast.
"Say it," Jason whispers, "and I'll have you on that thing in a minute. No clothes, though. No. I want to see you ride it."
The woman starts to tremble. She only sees the man, she's gone in her head, she's going to come apart in front of all these people...
Jensen rips his way free of Jason's hands, stumbling back into the doorframe. He can't find the way out, too much reflection, panic thudding in his throat and head. He thought he couldn't be afraid of anything anymore, but this, the room that smells like sex, he's terrified of it. What it could be.
Behind Jason, there's a long moan and another spatter of applause. A sharp motion draws Jensen's eye; the man has the woman by the throat, he's pushing her to the floor. Jensen catches sight of himself and turns his face away, stupidly ashamed.
Jason lets his hands drop, making no move to keep Jensen still. "Yeah. That's what I figured. Go on home, and bring Jeff with you if you come back here."
"Fuck you," Jensen says, making the words as ugly as he can, and staggers out so Jason can close the door.
It's a long miserable walk back to the car. He slides into the backseat and lays there for a minute, trying to slow the thunder of his heart. Raising a hand to his throat, he presses his fingers down on the carotid to feel his pulse, or maybe to try the stricture of a collar.
He can't get in without Morgan.
He needs Morgan.
Jensen kicks the door hard enough to shake the windows and closes his eyes.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2008-12-11 02:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-11 02:40 am (UTC)Oh, i like that a lot, for some reason....
And - no cut?
no subject
Date: 2008-12-11 02:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-11 02:51 am (UTC)I can so hear and see Jason saying that!
(But hey, your cut tag is broken.)
no subject
Date: 2008-12-11 02:57 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-11 03:08 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-11 03:10 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-11 03:15 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-11 03:55 am (UTC)Please??? *begs prettily*
no subject
Date: 2008-12-11 05:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-11 06:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-11 07:22 am (UTC)And that line about killing for Morgaine... that's a line that makes my stomach clench a little. Poor Jensen really did sacrifice everything for his wife.
I can't wait to see him return to Jeff and Misha. Things just bubble to the surface whenever the three of them are in the room together.
no subject
Date: 2008-12-11 08:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-11 08:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-11 05:04 pm (UTC)If only Jeff wouldn't get all "grr, mine!" about sharing.
no subject
Date: 2008-12-11 05:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-11 05:31 pm (UTC)Spoken like a true lesbian. ;)
no subject
Date: 2008-12-11 05:31 pm (UTC)Thank you, sweetie.
no subject
Date: 2008-12-11 05:32 pm (UTC)Thank you!
Boots icon! \o/
no subject
Date: 2008-12-11 05:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-11 05:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-11 05:33 pm (UTC)Thank you!
no subject
Date: 2008-12-11 05:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-11 05:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-11 05:39 pm (UTC)Thank you!
no subject
Date: 2008-12-11 05:41 pm (UTC)Thank you so much!
Also, I love your Alec icon. I literally studied it for all the nuance of that facial expression.
no subject
Date: 2008-12-11 05:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-11 05:42 pm (UTC)Thank you!
no subject
Date: 2008-12-11 06:01 pm (UTC)I can see your Jensen being willing to be publically beaten because he thinks he deserves punishment, but the idea of being forced to feel pleasure until he breaks apart is just too intimate, it's too much. I really want to take him home, give him a shower and rub arnica gel on his bruises. Oh and feed him about a billion sandwiches before tucking him into bed. He's just so raw and bleeding out everywhere and I want someone to take care of him! Poor kid.
no subject
Date: 2008-12-11 06:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-11 07:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-11 09:42 pm (UTC)This story just gets so good with the UST that by the time we get there your entire readership will be panting and chomping at the bit, nevermind Jensen.
And also: :D
no subject
Date: 2008-12-11 11:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-14 04:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-30 12:23 am (UTC)But I was wondering if riding that machine is the usual toll to get into the club for subs, or was it just Jason's idea, to shake Jensen up and make him take cover under Jeff's experienced wing? Because Jason, whatever else he might be, seems really drawn to Jensen. And Jensen is not indifferent, I don't think...Jason seems to shake him worse than Jeff, perhaps because the "sex" vibes aren't accompanied by the "comfort and care" vibes. Not that he might not be able to, just that he doesn't seem to *project* them as much, you know?
I think Jason knows something. Or saw something. Dunno why, but he seems to crop up at interesting moments and he's too...aware of Jensen, I guess. That could be because Jensen's awful pretty, but then again...*eyes you*
no subject
Date: 2009-04-01 06:59 pm (UTC)*whistles innocently*