FIC: Reward of Sin
May. 15th, 2009 09:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nilchanceTitle: Reward of Sin
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. Jensen and Misha converse.
It takes some time for Jensen to convince himself to go back to the loft. To let himself go there. For all that thinking, he's back in their building before he realizes that he doesn't have a key. He can pick locks, he picked this one already, but--
It figures. Maybe a day (has it been that long since Christmas?) since he laid down a ward on their door. This is not his place, he doesn't belong here, and Morrigan is just enough of a bitch to fry him if he tries to break through his own Lady's protection. He isn't feeding Her, after all.
Damn Jason for taking away any chance at claiming ignorance. If he could ignore the senseless yearning of his body, the hunger of his knife...
Resting his forehead against the cool door, Jensen takes a deep breath. The hallway tastes like dust and linen. Beneath the door, he can see a warm flickering light, and hears the muffled chorus of afternoon television. The Oracle is probably inside, awake and working at whatever he does aside from being a target. Which is unfair, but Jensen feels too sharp inside to be kind. He can't seem to unclench his fists.
He won't knock. It's better that they don't answer. He's losing focus here. He--
He'll return to his car in a minute, after the comforting dimness of the hallway sinks into his feverish skin.
The scrape of nails on wooden floors is his only warning before the door opens. Jensen staggers, grabbing the doorframe for support, and nearly tips onto Morgan's slippered feet. Slippers, black and furry, coated with dog hair. Morgan moves to catch him, and Jensen jerks away from his hands.
Behind Morgan, Jensen can see the Oracle nested in the couch, eyes half-lidded. Sated. This close, or maybe this hungry, Jensen can smell the sex on Morgan's skin.
"Well," Morgan says. His expression reminds Jensen of sneaking in after curfew to find his father still waiting up. It's ridiculous, coming from the man who probably screwed Jensen's dead wife, who...
Jensen can't even hate the bastard anymore. Remembering the naked red of the third victim's face, all his hate is reserved for something else. Mostly he's tired, even though it's not full dark outside, and he wants to scrub the crime scene stench out of his skin. He stares at Morgan for a minute, bristling, then says, "You have to invite me in."
Morgan actually sighs at him. "Seriously. You're worried about vampires?"
"No, because I put a fucking ward on your fucking door for your fucking boyfriend." Frustrated, Jensen raises his hands and lets them drop. "I don't know why I'm here."
Morgan studies him for a moment, then relaxes and steps back from his protective position at the door. "Come in. You could use a shower."
"Yeah." Jensen steps over the threshold and winces at the feeling of the ward, the slide of stiff feathers over his skin. He scrubs his hands over his arms, rough, and grimaces as the bandages start to peel.
"What, no argument?" Closing the door, Morgan throws the locks and moves close like he wants to put his hand on Jensen. To herd him like a neurotic sheepdog. Jensen steps away, his skin still aching where Jason touched him, and Morgan lets his hand drop. "I'll find a pair of sweats while your clothes are in the washer."
"They're fine," Jensen says automatically, just to have some way to keep from being overwhelmed.
"Yeah. Don't take this the wrong way, but you stink like..." a slaughterhouse. Instead of saying it, Morgan shakes his head. "Take the free laundry service, Jensen."
"Fuck off," Jensen says over his shoulder, heading for the shower. "I can wash them in your sink."
"Don't you dare," the Oracle interjects, without bothering to raise his head. "You'll poison the alligators in the gutter."
"Oracle, don't start." Scrubbing a hand over his face, Jensen sighs. "Fine. Whatever. Kill your washer, I don't even care."
He doesn't look back again, but he can already picture Morgan's smug expression.
To reach the shower, he has to go through their space. He tries not to glance at the bed, but Morrigan leans on him; in her shadow, he thinks of rumpled sheets and the scent of their skin. Lubricant, grinding bodies. The sheen of sweat on Misha's back as he rides Morgan's--
Jensen escapes into the master bathroom and slams the door, not bothering to flip the lights. Leaning hard against the door, he whispers, "You bitch."
He imagines Her laugh, the harsh cawing before She tears into some poor bastard. Grinding his palm into one eye, Jensen exhales and turns the shower on hot enough to scald the hunger from his skin.
Steam billows out as he peels off his bandages, wincing as they stick and pull. Next Her knife (sheathed in his boot), his boots. He drops his clothes into the sink, smearing dark from where the hem of his pants dragged in that girl's blood. He's tired of trying to get the blood out of everything he owns.
When he steps into the shower, the water pounds into his shoulders. It stings in his cuts, flogging him with heat, trying to drive him down to his knees. Jensen leans against the wall, flinchingly cool, and rests his cheek there. It soothes his pounding headache. He means to straighten up, open his eyes, scrub himself clean, but...
He drifts.
The sink turns on. Jensen jerks upright, scrambling for the knife, but he's unarmed and naked. Best for the Oracle, whose back is turned, because if Jensen had been armed he'd have skewered the skinny little bastard.
Jensen sputters, then grabs the shower curtain and yanks it closed. His face is burning. "What the hell are you doing in here?"
"What?" Through the mostly clear plastic (damn, it's clear), Jensen can see the Oracle turn and lean against the counter. Feels the Oracle looking him over, completely shameless. "You're just naked, Jensen, not mid-coitus."
"Just naked? Just?" Jensen angles his body away from Misha's sight, glancing around for something to cover his hips. He'd tent the washcloth if he tried. "Did you grow up in a barn?"
"No. A commune. My mother and aunts are big on loving the earth, the divinity of the human body, blah blah. Lots of other people's kids running around bare-assed. You get over any shyness after about a week."
"Or you get poison ivy in interesting new places?"
"Or that. Go ahead and wash."
"You'll wait?" Jensen asks wryly. It's strange that he seems to feel the Oracle's answering smile.
"I brought in your sweats," the Oracle replies, "and I thought maybe you'd passed out. You look rough."
"M'fine," Jensen says automatically. He grabs the soap and begins scrubbing the top layer of his skin off. Morgan's scent rises around him, drowning the crime scene's ghost.
Morgan would argue with that. The Oracle hums, but the sound communicates worlds of knowing. He lets Jensen keep his silence for a few minutes before saying, "I'm glad you came back."
"I needed to finish the contract."
"And run around in our shower?"
Jensen glares through the curtain. "I had blood on me."
The Oracle leans closer, trying to see. "Not yours, I hope."
Huffing out a laugh, Jensen says, "Where's your infinite mercy?"
"I never claimed to be 'merciful'. I never even claimed to be a good person." The Oracle sighs. "I care about my people. I try to care about social justice. But everybody else will have to take care of themselves."
Words of a man who had given too much. Jensen ducks his head under the spray, winces as the shampoo burns in the small cuts on his arm. He doesn't ask when he became one of the Oracle's people.
"A related topic." The Oracle's tone is smooth as glass, impossible to find a hold. "What happened while I was unconscious that night, Jensen?"
Fuck.
After a moment of awkward silence, Jensen coughs and steps out of the water. "Which night? I don't--"
The curtain jerks open. Jensen yelps, jumping back, and tries too late to cover himself with one hand. He's still (horribly) erect.
"Hey," the Oracle says, glaring. "I was choked out by--" he shudders, swallows visibly before continuing, "-- something terrible, and you did something to me while I was out."
Bristling, Jensen says, "I did it to protect you. Just a protection symbol, that's all. Would you close the curtain?"
"A protection symbol." The Oracle studies him, not blinking as the water spatters his legs and chest. "What does it do?"
"It." Jensen glances at the curtain. If he takes his hand away, he'll be uncovered, but he could pull the curtain shut. "Can this wait?"
The Oracle shakes his head. "I think I goddamn deserve to know why I'm waking up from a nap to maul my boyfriend like I'm on ecstacy!"
"You even know how to feed Her?"
Morrigan has gotten tired of waiting. She's feeding Herself. She's feeding on the Oracle.
Jensen can use this. Because it's better than killing, isn't it? Better than betraying Renee?
God, what is he becoming?
Horror makes Jensen look away, more than the guilt. But the guilt is there, coiling sickly in his gut. He digs his fingernails into his palms and says, staring at the tiles, "Are you... you're all right?"
"Yes." There's a shadow, and then the Oracle is stepping into the shower with him, clothes and all. Jensen twitches away, automatically, but the Oracle catches and uncurls Jensen's hand. The Oracle makes a quiet noise. "Don't do that. It wasn't any sacrifice on my part. I mean... it's Jeff. But. I wanted to know."
"It went wrong. I didn't mean to--" Jensen reaches behind him and turns off the shower. The sudden silence is jarring. "I'm sorry."
"Hm." The Oracle rubs his thumb over Jensen's palm, wiping the blood away. As they watch, the new half-moon cuts begin to close, curling in like flowers. Instead of freaking out, the Oracle raises his eyes to meet Jensen's. Very blue eyes, Jensen thinks, and is too aware of his own nudity against the Oracle's clothes. "What are you?" the Oracle asks, more curious than accusing.
Not human. Not alive. Jensen struggles with the words, then sighs. "I loved her."
The Oracle says simply, "I know."
"I loved her too much."
"Yeah." There's no pity in the Oracle's voice, only understanding, as he repeats, "I know."
It's too intimate, too much like comfort. Jensen shuffles a little away from the Oracle, trying to get some space. Some fucking clarity. "I tied you to me, to my blood. It should keep you safer, and you'll..." Jensen tugs at his hand, and Misha lets him go. "If this is really working the way I think, you'll heal faster, too. You can eat less, if you want, but you'll be hungry a lot. That'll pass."
The Oracle glances at Jensen's ribs, bruised and skinny as they are. "I think you're overestimating how little you can eat."
"Get off my back," Jensen says, without enough heat. "It's useful."
"Yeah, in times of famine. Now?" The Oracle reaches out of the shower, snags a towel and pushes it at Jensen. "You can eat a sandwich. I'll make one."
Clutching the towel over his hips, Jensen says, "You shouldn't be worrying about me. Worry about yourself."
"I do," the Oracle says frankly. "I really do. But I can't help what I am. I can help you."
"I don't need your goddamn help." Jensen fumbles out past the shower's rim and the tangled curtain, frustration making him clumsy. "Help those girls who are dying! I need to start training with your-- with Morgan. I need to get out to the clubs. I'm not doing any good here."
Something shifts in the Oracle, a hard resolution. A different purpose. Stepping out of the shower with more grace than Jensen, even though he's dripping on the floor, the Oracle says, "Then you're going to need to stop this starving vigilante trip and eat. Sleep. You think for one second that Jeff would treat me like you're treating yourself?"
Jensen bristles. "I'm not Jeff's."
"You are until this is over. In public, you're going to be on your knees at his feet." Watching Jensen's face with keen eyes, the Oracle nods. "You don't like that. I know. But you'll be there anyway, for Renee and for every girl this thing killed, with Jeff's collar on. You're going to eat, sleep on our couch. And you," the Oracle steps into Jensen's space, tension humming between them, "are going to let us touch you."
Morrigan's touch shivers up Jensen's back, the promise of release from this gnawing hunger. For a moment, Jensen wants it. He wants the Oracle to take that last step and--
"Oracle," he says roughly, a warning, but Misha is already past him and gone.
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. Jensen and Misha converse.
It takes some time for Jensen to convince himself to go back to the loft. To let himself go there. For all that thinking, he's back in their building before he realizes that he doesn't have a key. He can pick locks, he picked this one already, but--
It figures. Maybe a day (has it been that long since Christmas?) since he laid down a ward on their door. This is not his place, he doesn't belong here, and Morrigan is just enough of a bitch to fry him if he tries to break through his own Lady's protection. He isn't feeding Her, after all.
Damn Jason for taking away any chance at claiming ignorance. If he could ignore the senseless yearning of his body, the hunger of his knife...
Resting his forehead against the cool door, Jensen takes a deep breath. The hallway tastes like dust and linen. Beneath the door, he can see a warm flickering light, and hears the muffled chorus of afternoon television. The Oracle is probably inside, awake and working at whatever he does aside from being a target. Which is unfair, but Jensen feels too sharp inside to be kind. He can't seem to unclench his fists.
He won't knock. It's better that they don't answer. He's losing focus here. He--
He'll return to his car in a minute, after the comforting dimness of the hallway sinks into his feverish skin.
The scrape of nails on wooden floors is his only warning before the door opens. Jensen staggers, grabbing the doorframe for support, and nearly tips onto Morgan's slippered feet. Slippers, black and furry, coated with dog hair. Morgan moves to catch him, and Jensen jerks away from his hands.
Behind Morgan, Jensen can see the Oracle nested in the couch, eyes half-lidded. Sated. This close, or maybe this hungry, Jensen can smell the sex on Morgan's skin.
"Well," Morgan says. His expression reminds Jensen of sneaking in after curfew to find his father still waiting up. It's ridiculous, coming from the man who probably screwed Jensen's dead wife, who...
Jensen can't even hate the bastard anymore. Remembering the naked red of the third victim's face, all his hate is reserved for something else. Mostly he's tired, even though it's not full dark outside, and he wants to scrub the crime scene stench out of his skin. He stares at Morgan for a minute, bristling, then says, "You have to invite me in."
Morgan actually sighs at him. "Seriously. You're worried about vampires?"
"No, because I put a fucking ward on your fucking door for your fucking boyfriend." Frustrated, Jensen raises his hands and lets them drop. "I don't know why I'm here."
Morgan studies him for a moment, then relaxes and steps back from his protective position at the door. "Come in. You could use a shower."
"Yeah." Jensen steps over the threshold and winces at the feeling of the ward, the slide of stiff feathers over his skin. He scrubs his hands over his arms, rough, and grimaces as the bandages start to peel.
"What, no argument?" Closing the door, Morgan throws the locks and moves close like he wants to put his hand on Jensen. To herd him like a neurotic sheepdog. Jensen steps away, his skin still aching where Jason touched him, and Morgan lets his hand drop. "I'll find a pair of sweats while your clothes are in the washer."
"They're fine," Jensen says automatically, just to have some way to keep from being overwhelmed.
"Yeah. Don't take this the wrong way, but you stink like..." a slaughterhouse. Instead of saying it, Morgan shakes his head. "Take the free laundry service, Jensen."
"Fuck off," Jensen says over his shoulder, heading for the shower. "I can wash them in your sink."
"Don't you dare," the Oracle interjects, without bothering to raise his head. "You'll poison the alligators in the gutter."
"Oracle, don't start." Scrubbing a hand over his face, Jensen sighs. "Fine. Whatever. Kill your washer, I don't even care."
He doesn't look back again, but he can already picture Morgan's smug expression.
To reach the shower, he has to go through their space. He tries not to glance at the bed, but Morrigan leans on him; in her shadow, he thinks of rumpled sheets and the scent of their skin. Lubricant, grinding bodies. The sheen of sweat on Misha's back as he rides Morgan's--
Jensen escapes into the master bathroom and slams the door, not bothering to flip the lights. Leaning hard against the door, he whispers, "You bitch."
He imagines Her laugh, the harsh cawing before She tears into some poor bastard. Grinding his palm into one eye, Jensen exhales and turns the shower on hot enough to scald the hunger from his skin.
Steam billows out as he peels off his bandages, wincing as they stick and pull. Next Her knife (sheathed in his boot), his boots. He drops his clothes into the sink, smearing dark from where the hem of his pants dragged in that girl's blood. He's tired of trying to get the blood out of everything he owns.
When he steps into the shower, the water pounds into his shoulders. It stings in his cuts, flogging him with heat, trying to drive him down to his knees. Jensen leans against the wall, flinchingly cool, and rests his cheek there. It soothes his pounding headache. He means to straighten up, open his eyes, scrub himself clean, but...
He drifts.
The sink turns on. Jensen jerks upright, scrambling for the knife, but he's unarmed and naked. Best for the Oracle, whose back is turned, because if Jensen had been armed he'd have skewered the skinny little bastard.
Jensen sputters, then grabs the shower curtain and yanks it closed. His face is burning. "What the hell are you doing in here?"
"What?" Through the mostly clear plastic (damn, it's clear), Jensen can see the Oracle turn and lean against the counter. Feels the Oracle looking him over, completely shameless. "You're just naked, Jensen, not mid-coitus."
"Just naked? Just?" Jensen angles his body away from Misha's sight, glancing around for something to cover his hips. He'd tent the washcloth if he tried. "Did you grow up in a barn?"
"No. A commune. My mother and aunts are big on loving the earth, the divinity of the human body, blah blah. Lots of other people's kids running around bare-assed. You get over any shyness after about a week."
"Or you get poison ivy in interesting new places?"
"Or that. Go ahead and wash."
"You'll wait?" Jensen asks wryly. It's strange that he seems to feel the Oracle's answering smile.
"I brought in your sweats," the Oracle replies, "and I thought maybe you'd passed out. You look rough."
"M'fine," Jensen says automatically. He grabs the soap and begins scrubbing the top layer of his skin off. Morgan's scent rises around him, drowning the crime scene's ghost.
Morgan would argue with that. The Oracle hums, but the sound communicates worlds of knowing. He lets Jensen keep his silence for a few minutes before saying, "I'm glad you came back."
"I needed to finish the contract."
"And run around in our shower?"
Jensen glares through the curtain. "I had blood on me."
The Oracle leans closer, trying to see. "Not yours, I hope."
Huffing out a laugh, Jensen says, "Where's your infinite mercy?"
"I never claimed to be 'merciful'. I never even claimed to be a good person." The Oracle sighs. "I care about my people. I try to care about social justice. But everybody else will have to take care of themselves."
Words of a man who had given too much. Jensen ducks his head under the spray, winces as the shampoo burns in the small cuts on his arm. He doesn't ask when he became one of the Oracle's people.
"A related topic." The Oracle's tone is smooth as glass, impossible to find a hold. "What happened while I was unconscious that night, Jensen?"
Fuck.
After a moment of awkward silence, Jensen coughs and steps out of the water. "Which night? I don't--"
The curtain jerks open. Jensen yelps, jumping back, and tries too late to cover himself with one hand. He's still (horribly) erect.
"Hey," the Oracle says, glaring. "I was choked out by--" he shudders, swallows visibly before continuing, "-- something terrible, and you did something to me while I was out."
Bristling, Jensen says, "I did it to protect you. Just a protection symbol, that's all. Would you close the curtain?"
"A protection symbol." The Oracle studies him, not blinking as the water spatters his legs and chest. "What does it do?"
"It." Jensen glances at the curtain. If he takes his hand away, he'll be uncovered, but he could pull the curtain shut. "Can this wait?"
The Oracle shakes his head. "I think I goddamn deserve to know why I'm waking up from a nap to maul my boyfriend like I'm on ecstacy!"
"You even know how to feed Her?"
Morrigan has gotten tired of waiting. She's feeding Herself. She's feeding on the Oracle.
Jensen can use this. Because it's better than killing, isn't it? Better than betraying Renee?
God, what is he becoming?
Horror makes Jensen look away, more than the guilt. But the guilt is there, coiling sickly in his gut. He digs his fingernails into his palms and says, staring at the tiles, "Are you... you're all right?"
"Yes." There's a shadow, and then the Oracle is stepping into the shower with him, clothes and all. Jensen twitches away, automatically, but the Oracle catches and uncurls Jensen's hand. The Oracle makes a quiet noise. "Don't do that. It wasn't any sacrifice on my part. I mean... it's Jeff. But. I wanted to know."
"It went wrong. I didn't mean to--" Jensen reaches behind him and turns off the shower. The sudden silence is jarring. "I'm sorry."
"Hm." The Oracle rubs his thumb over Jensen's palm, wiping the blood away. As they watch, the new half-moon cuts begin to close, curling in like flowers. Instead of freaking out, the Oracle raises his eyes to meet Jensen's. Very blue eyes, Jensen thinks, and is too aware of his own nudity against the Oracle's clothes. "What are you?" the Oracle asks, more curious than accusing.
Not human. Not alive. Jensen struggles with the words, then sighs. "I loved her."
The Oracle says simply, "I know."
"I loved her too much."
"Yeah." There's no pity in the Oracle's voice, only understanding, as he repeats, "I know."
It's too intimate, too much like comfort. Jensen shuffles a little away from the Oracle, trying to get some space. Some fucking clarity. "I tied you to me, to my blood. It should keep you safer, and you'll..." Jensen tugs at his hand, and Misha lets him go. "If this is really working the way I think, you'll heal faster, too. You can eat less, if you want, but you'll be hungry a lot. That'll pass."
The Oracle glances at Jensen's ribs, bruised and skinny as they are. "I think you're overestimating how little you can eat."
"Get off my back," Jensen says, without enough heat. "It's useful."
"Yeah, in times of famine. Now?" The Oracle reaches out of the shower, snags a towel and pushes it at Jensen. "You can eat a sandwich. I'll make one."
Clutching the towel over his hips, Jensen says, "You shouldn't be worrying about me. Worry about yourself."
"I do," the Oracle says frankly. "I really do. But I can't help what I am. I can help you."
"I don't need your goddamn help." Jensen fumbles out past the shower's rim and the tangled curtain, frustration making him clumsy. "Help those girls who are dying! I need to start training with your-- with Morgan. I need to get out to the clubs. I'm not doing any good here."
Something shifts in the Oracle, a hard resolution. A different purpose. Stepping out of the shower with more grace than Jensen, even though he's dripping on the floor, the Oracle says, "Then you're going to need to stop this starving vigilante trip and eat. Sleep. You think for one second that Jeff would treat me like you're treating yourself?"
Jensen bristles. "I'm not Jeff's."
"You are until this is over. In public, you're going to be on your knees at his feet." Watching Jensen's face with keen eyes, the Oracle nods. "You don't like that. I know. But you'll be there anyway, for Renee and for every girl this thing killed, with Jeff's collar on. You're going to eat, sleep on our couch. And you," the Oracle steps into Jensen's space, tension humming between them, "are going to let us touch you."
Morrigan's touch shivers up Jensen's back, the promise of release from this gnawing hunger. For a moment, Jensen wants it. He wants the Oracle to take that last step and--
"Oracle," he says roughly, a warning, but Misha is already past him and gone.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-05-16 01:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-16 01:37 am (UTC)Jensen's so tightly strung, about to burst, any minute now, and when he does, I bet it'll be gloriously painful and violent but so relieving and perfect.
Love Misha's snark and confidence, over-stepping limits because really, whether Jensen likes it or not, Misha is in it too, even more now that Jen's blood is all over him.
So much love. Constant and overarching, my love for this 'verse of yours, lady.
no subject
Date: 2009-05-16 01:57 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-16 03:09 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-16 03:18 am (UTC)I love the ward - perfect. All of it is, actually. Lovely stuff.
no subject
Date: 2009-05-16 05:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-16 05:48 am (UTC)"And you," the Oracle steps into Jensen's space, tension humming between them, "are going to let us touch you."
I wholeheartedly endorse this idea.
no subject
Date: 2009-05-16 07:09 am (UTC)I...
You're leaving me speechless again.
I can't tell you how much I love this verse.
no subject
Date: 2009-05-16 07:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-16 07:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-16 08:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-16 09:42 am (UTC)This made it all better.
<3
no subject
Date: 2009-05-16 04:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-16 07:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-17 08:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-17 12:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-18 06:20 am (UTC)I almost missed this update because you didn't tag it. I was checking your recent updates in case you had retriever'verse or some other nummy tidbit.
no subject
Date: 2009-05-23 02:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-08 09:47 pm (UTC)