FIC: Heaven Is A Stranger Place
Sep. 5th, 2009 07:54 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nilchanceTitle: Heaven Is A Stranger Place
Fandom: RPS
Pairing(s): JDM/Misha, Jensen/JDM, JDM/Jeremy Sisto, JDM/Misha/Jensen/Jeremy
Rating: Adult, certainement.
Warnings: None.
Word Count: 3981
AN: This is what![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nilchance & poisontaster did to survive Friday. It is IMMENSELY spoilery for the end of A Kept Boy. It comes after this ficlet, which is ALSO intensely spoilery for A Kept Boy. Don't read either one if you want to be surprised. It takes place a few years after the end of the main A Kept boy arc.
This is what he pieced together: Jeff and Jeremy used to have a thing. Or… still have a thing, because it clearly wasn't over, even by the time Misha came into the picture. Except by then, there was Jensen. But even that—and Jeff and Jensen are stupid in love with each other—couldn't quite put an end to this thing with Jeremy.
And Jensen…okay, Jensen's hot. And perfect. So ridiculously perfect. But Jeff? Misha doesn't get what it is about Jeff that makes Jensen and Jeremy light up like Christmas morning in a story book. But there was Jensen. So it was Misha and Jeremy and Jeff and Jensen, right?
Yeah, wrong. Because then there was Misha and Jeremy and Jeff and Jensen, but there was also Jeff and Jeremy and Jensen.
Misha still gets hot and tight in his stomach when he thinks of the first time Jeremy came home, someone else's—Jeff's—bruises sucked into his skin. The problem is, Misha's not sure if it's anger, or something else.
And that feeling, that prickly, hot, tight feeling, just persists, even after Jeremy and Jeff get their heads out of their asses and get it together enough to, you know, get together. It makes Misha do childish things, signing obscenities and rude things at Jeff behind his back (and where Jensen can't see, because Jensen is his friend, and there are limits) or pretending he can't understand when Jeff talks to him, deliberately mishearing or misinterpreting the things Jeff says to him.
Yet for all Misha thinks Jeff is kind of an asshole (he hurt Jeremy), Jeff lets it go on for a while. Misha can tell that Jeff knows what he's doing. Sometimes, Misha's just a bit embarrassed about it. But things go on like that.
Then one day, Misha's by himself in the office looking at something, and he turns around and Jeff is there. No, like right there. Misha didn't even know Jeff could move that quiet.
Jeff backs Misha into the corner where two bookshelves meet. His eyes are dark, and serious and weirdly kind of smoldery and his voice is like Barry White as he rumbles, "Do we have a problem, sweetheart?"
Misha attempts to glower respectably but it's not working because suddenly he understands a whole lot more about the marks on Jeremy or Jensen's satisfied liquid smile after some shut-door time with Jeff.
Jeff puts his hand on Misha's hip—completely casual, like he'd put his hand on Misha's shoulder or forearm—except his thumb is brushing across the bone, caressing it. Misha's half expecting Jeff to... He's not even sure what he's expecting Jeff to do. Ravish him, maybe, or something equally melodramatic (because he had a brief period of devouring Harlequin romances until Vincent told him to stop damaging his brain with that rubbish).
Instead, Jeff tilts his head and asks, "So...do you want to fuck me?"
Misha knows his eyes get very, very, very wide. Despite his resolution to stay cool, he swallows hard and nods once, jerkily, half convinced this is a joke or a trick. Then, unable to not respond to this bait, even if it is just a trick, Misha leans up—as much as he can, because the PT has helped his leg, but it can't make miracles—and smooches Jeff's chin, because he can't really reach Jeff's mouth.
It feels so much more daring than such a small gesture.
Jeff cups the side of Misha's face and angles it how he wants it. Suddenly, Misha is noticing how big Jeff's hands are—how did he not notice that before?—and then Jeff leans in and just takes Misha's mouth. No other word for it, a taking that brings back the echo of all those impossibly virile Harlequin heroes. Has him open and whimpering in no seconds flat, Misha's hands scrabbling at Jeff's chest, clawing at his arms, and rubbing himself against Jeff's cock and belly...
And then Jeff steps back, eyes dancing like the devil and asks, "So are we going to do this, or what?"
Fucker.
Misha gives him a dark look under his eyelashes but nods. He limps after Jeff, trying to snag his shirt. Partly to make him slow down, but…also to keep him within Misha's sight, half-afraid that Jeff might just disappear around the next turn of hallway.
They get to the bedroom and Jeff just strips down, easy as you please. Misha watches him from the side while Jeff gets out lube and condoms, trying to figure out what's so damned hot about a middle aged man with bad knees and a slightly soft belly. It doesn't make sense.
Then Jeff straightens up and looks at him and it goes straight to Misha's balls like a dirty good rub on his prostate and he thinks:
Oh.
Jeff smirks, fully aware of what effect he's having on Misha and says, "You need some help getting naked, there, Misha?"
Misha scowls and tugs his tie loose while Jeff hops on the bed and lies back lazily, staring openly.
Misha slithers out of his clothes, feeling hot and awkward with Jeff watching like this. He wonders briefly if he should tease, make it sexier, but no; he's not Jensen. He doesn't know how to do this well enough to bother.
But even with his fumbling and businesslike shamble out of his clothes, Jeff takes him in with half-lidded eyes and open desire in his face, as though Misha's somebody else, somebody much hotter.
Misha thinks he likes it, in an uneasy, tentative way he doesn't want to show on his face. He stumbles a little, getting on the bed—it's higher than his bed with Jeremy—and there's a bad moment where Jeff tries to take his arm and help him.
Misha twitches away, glowering again, but then he can crawl on and cover Jeff with his body and kiss him, his mind racing with everything Jensen's tried to teach him.
Except once Jeff starts kissing him, starts touching him, Misha can't remember anything Jensen's ever said. He only can think of that lazy, sated smile and the light that comes on in Jensen—and Jeremy's—eyes when Jeff comes in the room.
Jeff doesn't seem to notice how flaily and inexperienced Misha is, though, molding Misha's bones with heavy, strong hands and making him tingle from skin to core. Misha doesn't even notice Jeff's rolled them over until he pulls out of the kiss—Misha gulps for air like he's drowning—and says, "I think this'll be better for both of us if I'm on top."
Misha arches his eyebrows, miming Jeff fucking him before tracing a question mark: change of plans?
Jeff smiles at him and bumps his forehead against Misha's. "No. Same plan, different position." He shifts so he's kneeling on either side of Misha's hips, grimacing at a twinge in his knees. It should look awkward, but it doesn't.
Misha reflexively reaches down and rubs the long muscle of Jeff's thigh. Because, well. Misha doesn't want him to hurt himself. That's just bad manners. And also, Jensen would never forgive him.
Jeff stretches on him, rutting a slick stripe up Misha's hip, taking them both in his big hand; Misha hitches all over, making that inadvertant purring sound of deep satisfaction that Jeremy seems to like so much, and pushes up into Jeff.
"Fuck." Jeff braces himself against the headboard with his other hand, looking at Misha spread out under him with his kiss-shined mouth half open. "You kill me. So damned pretty."
Jeff leans down, licking across Misha's mouth, his cheek, reminding Misha a little—hilariously—of Winston, but hotter, sweeter. Better, making him writhe up even though it shouldn't be sexy at all. Then Jeff leans down to Misha's ear and growls, "Grab the lube, sweetheart. Need those big, clever fingers of your to open me up for your cock."
Misha arches up under him, whining low in his throat, and fumbles the lube into his open palm. Slicks it across his fingers, strings of it stretching between them catching the light, and shimmies his hand down between their bodies. Jeff hums, shifting to open for him, and shudders as Misha skims his fingertips over Jeff's balls, slipping back to stroke the taut skin of his perineum. He presses curiously, remembering with sudden heat the way Jensen had murmured in his ear all the ways to undo a man with light simple touches there, how to rub and stroke.
Jeff hums against Misha's ear and then nudges lower, nosing at the soft skin behind. The sudden hard sucking pressure of Jeff's lips is startling, brutal, and—like everything else Jeff does—sears through to Misha's dick, against all logic and sense. The mattress groans under them as they rock together, tidal.
"I want you to finger my hole," Jeff says, without lifting his mouth from Misha's neck. "All around the outside. Smear that lube in there, good and messy. Get it all wet for yourself, sweetheart."Another lick, right across the excruciating bruise he just left. "Then I want you to put one finger in me, nice and slow. I'll be tight; been a long time since I let anyone fuck my ass."
The low words jolt through Misha, and he wants more than he has in a long time to talk, to ask "who?" and "when?" and "not Jeremy?" But it is what it is.
He knuckles Jeff's taint once, as much to say that he hears Jeff and that he wants more, as to nudge another purring moan from Jeff's throat, then strokes his tentative way back. Jeff's hole is as creased and tight as Jeff promised. Misha can't think of pressing in, of fitting there, but he smears lube with light exploring touches and then deeper strokes, feeling Jeff grind against him, the pulse of wetness from Jeff's dick onto his belly.
Jeff softens, literally and figuratively, as Misha strokes him, hips pushing back for each caress, hole pucker-flexing and murmuring iron-voiced encouragement: "Yeah. Yeah, just like that. Harder, now. Gimme more."
Bossy fucker.
Jeff mauls Misha's throat, an aging tiger with still sharp teeth. The pain blends strangely and seamlessly with the wonder of opening Jeff on his hand; with the restless, lazy pressure of their two dicks slicked together and the too-loose pressure of Jeff's stroking hand around them.
Sex with Jeremy is not like this.
Greatly daring, Misha gnaws his lower lip and lets his fingertip press deeper, deep enough to sink into Jeff. And the heat, the intense pressure of it...
"Yeah," Jeff breaks from Misha's throat to purr, dragging the word out long. "S'good. Do it."
Misha's chest aches, reminding him to breathe. He huffs out all at once and sucks in air, a gasping deep noise that sounds more strung out than he wants, but Jeff growls and gnaws a new mark on Misha's collarbone. Pushing his hips up into Jeff's hand, Misha curls his finger in and seeks. Finds, judging from the jerk of Jeff's abs, the punishing squeeze of his body.
"F-fuck, that's good," Jeff says, head jerking back and giving Misha the space to see the close-eyed bliss on his face. "Don't have to be so gentle, kid. M'not made of glass. Fuck me. Open me wide. I bet your cock's going to feel even better than that talented-ugnh-finger." Jeff opens his eyes and pins Misha again with just a look. "How's it going to feel, me squeezing all around your fat dick, tight enough to break it, hot like wildfire. Think you'll like that? Your cock in me? Think that'll feel good?"
Some part of Misha unravels, too weakened by this to hold, scorched open. He gives Jeff whatever sound he can, an moan that's not words, and grinds up into him. He wants to say something, but all he can do is edge a second finger deep into that hot squeeze that almost hurts. With his other hand—and why does this feel more dangerous than fucking Jeff open?—he touches Jeff's face, maps it like he's blind as well as mute. Thinks yes and thanks and God, I get why Jeremy comes to you, I get it as hard as he can, as he drowns in the language of Jeff's body, the growl of his voice and the low-down filth of his words.
"If you fuck as good as you finger, you might just kill me," Jeff says, lapping messily into Misha's mouth, filling Misha with his used breaths. "Might kill me anyway, lookin' at me, like that. Twist your fingers, oh...like that."
Jeff groans, trailing off and Misha feels a spiteful pride at having pushed Jeff far enough to cut off the flow of words, but then Jeff raises his head and lets go of Misha's cock to grab his pistoning wrist, saying, "Enough. Fuck. Enough. You're gonna give me that cock now. And I'm going to..." Jeff shifts, groaning again, arranging Misha how he wants him, and this time Misha doesn't mind the manhandling at all. "I'm going to take it." Jeff holds Misha's shaft up for him to align himself, hot slickness and the aching promise of more.
Misha whimpers and bites his lip too late, straining with the need to push into Jeff's hand, to sink deep and fill him, but it's Jeff's game and Jeff's speed. He holds still, running his fingers again and again through Jeff's hair, restless motion to keep the rest of his body from surging into Jeff like they can mold together into one.
Huffing out another breath, Jeff grinds out a long moan as he takes Misha, takes him in one deep stroke that doesn't stop and doesn't stop. Misha feels like white noise, electric, surrounded and pinned to the ground.
"Don't come," Jeff intones, the unsteady quaver in the middle of the words showing he's not as unaffected as he seems. His body is arched tight over Misha's, head thrown back. Misha eyes the strong, prominent veins of Jeff's throat, the taut peaks of his nipples, and wants to bite; sink his teeth in sweet flesh until Jeff unravels as much as he's undone Misha.
Instead, he digs his nails into the long, bunched thighs framing his hips, sliding his thumbs into the crease and the soft-taut flesh underneath. Presses.
Jeff bucks hard, like a bronco, and shudders out a gasping moan. Then, Jeff's hands crush down on Misha's shoulders. "So good," Jeff slurs, sounding drunk, and he does something with his hips that makes him flex inside, milking Misha's cock like a mouth. "So good, Mish. God, so good. Touch me. Touch me, while I ride you."
Yes, Misha thinks, of course yes, and hates that he can't say it or sign it because Jeff wouldn't get it. Instead he lets go of Jeff's hair and drags his nails down Jeff's ribs, down his belly. Jeff twitches on him, head jerking back, but doesn't object; the rippling moan isn't a protest. Misha smiles, and loses that smile as Jeff moves on him. Takes him. He isn't topping, he knows that much, he's showing belly and being shown... something in turn.
"Good," Jeff husks, digging his thumbs into Misha shoulders, bruising, marking him up. Flirting with holding him by the throat. Misha grinds his head back on the pillow, daring Jeff to try it, even as he finds Jeff's cock. So wet, hot and hard in Misha's hand, and just touching drags a sweet noise from Jeff's mouth.
Jeff doesn't wrap his hand around Misha's throat, though, just rubs his thumb hard and deliberate along the jugular, like a miser fingering gold. "What do you think Jeremy would say if he could see you like this, cock buried in my ass, all strung out on fucking Big Bad Jeff." Jeff licks his lips, eyes half lidded and still predatory. "Think it would turn him on, seeing you fuck me? Seeing me come on your dick? Should we invite him up?"
Misha shudders, shocked to the edge of coming by the sudden turn, and grabs Jeff by his narrow hips to hold him still for a second. He can't not grind up, bottoming out, seeing red behind his eyes. He should be angry that Jeff thinks he can do this, turn Misha inside out, even if he is. That isn't the point.
The corner of Jeff's mouth turns up, and he tightens deliberately around Misha. Misha rubs his thumb up the underside of Jeff's dick, pressing his thumbnail into the slit just a little.
"Jeremy," drawls Jeremy from the doorway, "would say 'Oh yeah, it turns him on'. Couldn't keep your hands off him?"
It's unclear which of them he means.
Jeff laughs unevenly. "Bout time you showed up. Wasn't sure how much longer I could hold on. Your boy is good." Jeff glances at Misha, devil sparkle turned to something warmer, more intimate, something meant, Misha feels, just for the two of them. "He's really fucking good, oh..."
"He's not my boy." Jeremy says, sounding mild but with an edge behind it. He comes to the edge of the bed, finger stroking almost absently up Misha's thigh. "Don't confuse us for you and Jensen." Jeremy reaches between them, shoving Misha's fingers aside almost thoughtlessly to take over jacking Jeff's cock. "Where is Jensen, anyway?"
"Right here." Jensen's voice comes so promptly and calmly from the dimness at the end of the room that Misha jumps. "Where else would I be?"
Jeremy pushes Misha back to the mattress with his free hand, rubbing his belly like he does just before sleep. It's good and Misha can feel his control coming loose, that tight low feeling in his belly beginning to spiral out, but he still knots up at Jeremy's irritation.
He signs, Was this bad? should I stop?, and considers too late that his hand is smudged with lube, with Jeff's precome and his own.
Giving him a smile, the real one that makes creases around his eyes, Jeremy takes Misha's hand and sucks his fingers clean, slow, loving licks that curl Misha's toes. "Fine," he murmurs into Misha's palm, "you're fine. God, you're gorgeous."
Over the soothing of Jeremy's voice, Misha can hear Jeff coax Jensen onto the bed with them. Even on Jeff's giant bed, it's cramped conditions, but Jensen shimmies up Misha's side and touches each of the bruises Jeff left behind, pressing them just hard enough to sting. Misha flicks a concerned look at him, trying to gauge Jensen's reaction. From the intent look in his dark eyes, Jensen just seems pleased by the aesthetics.
Figures.
"Still hanging," Jeff reminds them, the strain starting to show in his voice. Then, to Jeremy, "I didn't make Misha do anything he didn't want, Jer. I asked him. And he said yes."
"Like he was gonna say no to this?" Jeremy's squeaks a little at the end, an almost adolescent break that shows he isn't nearly as angry as he wants to seem. "Never happen."
As he talks Jeremy strips Jeff's cock, short hard strokes, almost angry. Jeff doesn't seem to mind the roughness, though. Quite the contrary, curling one hand around the nape of Jeremy's neck, the two of them bending toward each other like stubborn weeds fighting for the same patch of sun.
"I think all this talking has put Misha off," Jeff says suddenly, breaking off his staring contest with Jeremy to glance to Misha. "He feels a little softer than he did. Jensen—you think you can fix that, sweetheart?"
Jensen hums and goes for the jugular, familiar with every sensitive inch of Misha's body. Probably memorized them. No, Misha thinks, shivering taut again as Jensen nuzzles the curve of his throat and mouths the marks, reaching across Misha to thumb his nipple, definitely memorized them.
Jeff is kissing Jeremy, eating him from the mouth down, his nails pressing half-moon marks into Jeremy's neck.
Not paying attention.
Misha pushes up into him, fucks into him, and is much pleased by the guttural noise Jeff makes in response.
Misha's hands are free; he wraps them tight around the spurs of Jeff's hips and drags him down on every thrust, grinding deep into Jeff's body, rubbing his cock sweetly in and out.
The hand Jeff has slung aound Misha's neck tightens reflexively, convulsively. And then it's Jeff who's convulsing, spurting hot through Jeremy's fingers to lay stripes of messy possession across Misha's chest, his belly.
Distantly Misha hears Jensen hiss against his skin, shuddering as if Jeff brought him off with him but too well-trained to grind off against Misha's hip. Distant because Jeff is tightsotight, wringing him out, and he can't, he has to thrust raggedly up into Jeff, he has to fuck up into him and then Jensen is twisting his nipple a little viciously and he has to, he comes in Jeff with hard pulses that curl his body up like a bow.
Jeff lifts up slightly, just enough for Misha to slip out, before collapsing sideways with a grimace, Jensen there to catch him and tangle around him, kissing greedily at Jeff's mouth.
Misha half wishes Jeremy would do the same, plunder his mouth that same way, even though he knows it's not Jeremy's way. Instead, Jeremy settles on the edge of the bed and cards his fingers through Misha's hair, his crooked smile in place and that…that feels more like them. So he got you too, huh? Jeremy signs, private, just between the two of them.
Misha is exhausted, but he glares anyway, springy possessiveness heating his chest. I'm yours, Misha signs furiously, hand slapping against his bare chest and Jeremy's still clothed one. Unless you're trying to get rid of me. I think Burton still wants me.
Jeremy laughs, a swift burst of sound that draws attention from Jensen and Jeff both, and leans down close to Misha's ear. "No," he whispers. "No. I think you're stuck with me."
Still glaring, Misha shoves at Jeremy's shoulder a little. Idiot.
Lay down he signs. Come spoon or something. I want you.
That cracks the wiseass guard Jeremy has up, a flash of soft underbelly, delicate vulnerability that makes Misha want to cover him, hide Jeremy under him.
Jeremy noses Misha's cheek and shoves onto the bed, too angular to be strictly comfortable. "Mine," he murmurs, and considers the bruise on Misha's collarbone before adding, softer, "Yours."
Misha tugs him up by the hair and kisses him.
Fandom: RPS
Pairing(s): JDM/Misha, Jensen/JDM, JDM/Jeremy Sisto, JDM/Misha/Jensen/Jeremy
Rating: Adult, certainement.
Warnings: None.
Word Count: 3981
AN: This is what
nilchance & poisontaster did to survive Friday. It is IMMENSELY spoilery for the end of A Kept Boy. It comes after this ficlet, which is ALSO intensely spoilery for A Kept Boy. Don't read either one if you want to be surprised. It takes place a few years after the end of the main A Kept boy arc.This is what he pieced together: Jeff and Jeremy used to have a thing. Or… still have a thing, because it clearly wasn't over, even by the time Misha came into the picture. Except by then, there was Jensen. But even that—and Jeff and Jensen are stupid in love with each other—couldn't quite put an end to this thing with Jeremy.
And Jensen…okay, Jensen's hot. And perfect. So ridiculously perfect. But Jeff? Misha doesn't get what it is about Jeff that makes Jensen and Jeremy light up like Christmas morning in a story book. But there was Jensen. So it was Misha and Jeremy and Jeff and Jensen, right?
Yeah, wrong. Because then there was Misha and Jeremy and Jeff and Jensen, but there was also Jeff and Jeremy and Jensen.
Misha still gets hot and tight in his stomach when he thinks of the first time Jeremy came home, someone else's—Jeff's—bruises sucked into his skin. The problem is, Misha's not sure if it's anger, or something else.
And that feeling, that prickly, hot, tight feeling, just persists, even after Jeremy and Jeff get their heads out of their asses and get it together enough to, you know, get together. It makes Misha do childish things, signing obscenities and rude things at Jeff behind his back (and where Jensen can't see, because Jensen is his friend, and there are limits) or pretending he can't understand when Jeff talks to him, deliberately mishearing or misinterpreting the things Jeff says to him.
Yet for all Misha thinks Jeff is kind of an asshole (he hurt Jeremy), Jeff lets it go on for a while. Misha can tell that Jeff knows what he's doing. Sometimes, Misha's just a bit embarrassed about it. But things go on like that.
Then one day, Misha's by himself in the office looking at something, and he turns around and Jeff is there. No, like right there. Misha didn't even know Jeff could move that quiet.
Jeff backs Misha into the corner where two bookshelves meet. His eyes are dark, and serious and weirdly kind of smoldery and his voice is like Barry White as he rumbles, "Do we have a problem, sweetheart?"
Misha attempts to glower respectably but it's not working because suddenly he understands a whole lot more about the marks on Jeremy or Jensen's satisfied liquid smile after some shut-door time with Jeff.
Jeff puts his hand on Misha's hip—completely casual, like he'd put his hand on Misha's shoulder or forearm—except his thumb is brushing across the bone, caressing it. Misha's half expecting Jeff to... He's not even sure what he's expecting Jeff to do. Ravish him, maybe, or something equally melodramatic (because he had a brief period of devouring Harlequin romances until Vincent told him to stop damaging his brain with that rubbish).
Instead, Jeff tilts his head and asks, "So...do you want to fuck me?"
Misha knows his eyes get very, very, very wide. Despite his resolution to stay cool, he swallows hard and nods once, jerkily, half convinced this is a joke or a trick. Then, unable to not respond to this bait, even if it is just a trick, Misha leans up—as much as he can, because the PT has helped his leg, but it can't make miracles—and smooches Jeff's chin, because he can't really reach Jeff's mouth.
It feels so much more daring than such a small gesture.
Jeff cups the side of Misha's face and angles it how he wants it. Suddenly, Misha is noticing how big Jeff's hands are—how did he not notice that before?—and then Jeff leans in and just takes Misha's mouth. No other word for it, a taking that brings back the echo of all those impossibly virile Harlequin heroes. Has him open and whimpering in no seconds flat, Misha's hands scrabbling at Jeff's chest, clawing at his arms, and rubbing himself against Jeff's cock and belly...
And then Jeff steps back, eyes dancing like the devil and asks, "So are we going to do this, or what?"
Fucker.
Misha gives him a dark look under his eyelashes but nods. He limps after Jeff, trying to snag his shirt. Partly to make him slow down, but…also to keep him within Misha's sight, half-afraid that Jeff might just disappear around the next turn of hallway.
They get to the bedroom and Jeff just strips down, easy as you please. Misha watches him from the side while Jeff gets out lube and condoms, trying to figure out what's so damned hot about a middle aged man with bad knees and a slightly soft belly. It doesn't make sense.
Then Jeff straightens up and looks at him and it goes straight to Misha's balls like a dirty good rub on his prostate and he thinks:
Oh.
Jeff smirks, fully aware of what effect he's having on Misha and says, "You need some help getting naked, there, Misha?"
Misha scowls and tugs his tie loose while Jeff hops on the bed and lies back lazily, staring openly.
Misha slithers out of his clothes, feeling hot and awkward with Jeff watching like this. He wonders briefly if he should tease, make it sexier, but no; he's not Jensen. He doesn't know how to do this well enough to bother.
But even with his fumbling and businesslike shamble out of his clothes, Jeff takes him in with half-lidded eyes and open desire in his face, as though Misha's somebody else, somebody much hotter.
Misha thinks he likes it, in an uneasy, tentative way he doesn't want to show on his face. He stumbles a little, getting on the bed—it's higher than his bed with Jeremy—and there's a bad moment where Jeff tries to take his arm and help him.
Misha twitches away, glowering again, but then he can crawl on and cover Jeff with his body and kiss him, his mind racing with everything Jensen's tried to teach him.
Except once Jeff starts kissing him, starts touching him, Misha can't remember anything Jensen's ever said. He only can think of that lazy, sated smile and the light that comes on in Jensen—and Jeremy's—eyes when Jeff comes in the room.
Jeff doesn't seem to notice how flaily and inexperienced Misha is, though, molding Misha's bones with heavy, strong hands and making him tingle from skin to core. Misha doesn't even notice Jeff's rolled them over until he pulls out of the kiss—Misha gulps for air like he's drowning—and says, "I think this'll be better for both of us if I'm on top."
Misha arches his eyebrows, miming Jeff fucking him before tracing a question mark: change of plans?
Jeff smiles at him and bumps his forehead against Misha's. "No. Same plan, different position." He shifts so he's kneeling on either side of Misha's hips, grimacing at a twinge in his knees. It should look awkward, but it doesn't.
Misha reflexively reaches down and rubs the long muscle of Jeff's thigh. Because, well. Misha doesn't want him to hurt himself. That's just bad manners. And also, Jensen would never forgive him.
Jeff stretches on him, rutting a slick stripe up Misha's hip, taking them both in his big hand; Misha hitches all over, making that inadvertant purring sound of deep satisfaction that Jeremy seems to like so much, and pushes up into Jeff.
"Fuck." Jeff braces himself against the headboard with his other hand, looking at Misha spread out under him with his kiss-shined mouth half open. "You kill me. So damned pretty."
Jeff leans down, licking across Misha's mouth, his cheek, reminding Misha a little—hilariously—of Winston, but hotter, sweeter. Better, making him writhe up even though it shouldn't be sexy at all. Then Jeff leans down to Misha's ear and growls, "Grab the lube, sweetheart. Need those big, clever fingers of your to open me up for your cock."
Misha arches up under him, whining low in his throat, and fumbles the lube into his open palm. Slicks it across his fingers, strings of it stretching between them catching the light, and shimmies his hand down between their bodies. Jeff hums, shifting to open for him, and shudders as Misha skims his fingertips over Jeff's balls, slipping back to stroke the taut skin of his perineum. He presses curiously, remembering with sudden heat the way Jensen had murmured in his ear all the ways to undo a man with light simple touches there, how to rub and stroke.
Jeff hums against Misha's ear and then nudges lower, nosing at the soft skin behind. The sudden hard sucking pressure of Jeff's lips is startling, brutal, and—like everything else Jeff does—sears through to Misha's dick, against all logic and sense. The mattress groans under them as they rock together, tidal.
"I want you to finger my hole," Jeff says, without lifting his mouth from Misha's neck. "All around the outside. Smear that lube in there, good and messy. Get it all wet for yourself, sweetheart."Another lick, right across the excruciating bruise he just left. "Then I want you to put one finger in me, nice and slow. I'll be tight; been a long time since I let anyone fuck my ass."
The low words jolt through Misha, and he wants more than he has in a long time to talk, to ask "who?" and "when?" and "not Jeremy?" But it is what it is.
He knuckles Jeff's taint once, as much to say that he hears Jeff and that he wants more, as to nudge another purring moan from Jeff's throat, then strokes his tentative way back. Jeff's hole is as creased and tight as Jeff promised. Misha can't think of pressing in, of fitting there, but he smears lube with light exploring touches and then deeper strokes, feeling Jeff grind against him, the pulse of wetness from Jeff's dick onto his belly.
Jeff softens, literally and figuratively, as Misha strokes him, hips pushing back for each caress, hole pucker-flexing and murmuring iron-voiced encouragement: "Yeah. Yeah, just like that. Harder, now. Gimme more."
Bossy fucker.
Jeff mauls Misha's throat, an aging tiger with still sharp teeth. The pain blends strangely and seamlessly with the wonder of opening Jeff on his hand; with the restless, lazy pressure of their two dicks slicked together and the too-loose pressure of Jeff's stroking hand around them.
Sex with Jeremy is not like this.
Greatly daring, Misha gnaws his lower lip and lets his fingertip press deeper, deep enough to sink into Jeff. And the heat, the intense pressure of it...
"Yeah," Jeff breaks from Misha's throat to purr, dragging the word out long. "S'good. Do it."
Misha's chest aches, reminding him to breathe. He huffs out all at once and sucks in air, a gasping deep noise that sounds more strung out than he wants, but Jeff growls and gnaws a new mark on Misha's collarbone. Pushing his hips up into Jeff's hand, Misha curls his finger in and seeks. Finds, judging from the jerk of Jeff's abs, the punishing squeeze of his body.
"F-fuck, that's good," Jeff says, head jerking back and giving Misha the space to see the close-eyed bliss on his face. "Don't have to be so gentle, kid. M'not made of glass. Fuck me. Open me wide. I bet your cock's going to feel even better than that talented-ugnh-finger." Jeff opens his eyes and pins Misha again with just a look. "How's it going to feel, me squeezing all around your fat dick, tight enough to break it, hot like wildfire. Think you'll like that? Your cock in me? Think that'll feel good?"
Some part of Misha unravels, too weakened by this to hold, scorched open. He gives Jeff whatever sound he can, an moan that's not words, and grinds up into him. He wants to say something, but all he can do is edge a second finger deep into that hot squeeze that almost hurts. With his other hand—and why does this feel more dangerous than fucking Jeff open?—he touches Jeff's face, maps it like he's blind as well as mute. Thinks yes and thanks and God, I get why Jeremy comes to you, I get it as hard as he can, as he drowns in the language of Jeff's body, the growl of his voice and the low-down filth of his words.
"If you fuck as good as you finger, you might just kill me," Jeff says, lapping messily into Misha's mouth, filling Misha with his used breaths. "Might kill me anyway, lookin' at me, like that. Twist your fingers, oh...like that."
Jeff groans, trailing off and Misha feels a spiteful pride at having pushed Jeff far enough to cut off the flow of words, but then Jeff raises his head and lets go of Misha's cock to grab his pistoning wrist, saying, "Enough. Fuck. Enough. You're gonna give me that cock now. And I'm going to..." Jeff shifts, groaning again, arranging Misha how he wants him, and this time Misha doesn't mind the manhandling at all. "I'm going to take it." Jeff holds Misha's shaft up for him to align himself, hot slickness and the aching promise of more.
Misha whimpers and bites his lip too late, straining with the need to push into Jeff's hand, to sink deep and fill him, but it's Jeff's game and Jeff's speed. He holds still, running his fingers again and again through Jeff's hair, restless motion to keep the rest of his body from surging into Jeff like they can mold together into one.
Huffing out another breath, Jeff grinds out a long moan as he takes Misha, takes him in one deep stroke that doesn't stop and doesn't stop. Misha feels like white noise, electric, surrounded and pinned to the ground.
"Don't come," Jeff intones, the unsteady quaver in the middle of the words showing he's not as unaffected as he seems. His body is arched tight over Misha's, head thrown back. Misha eyes the strong, prominent veins of Jeff's throat, the taut peaks of his nipples, and wants to bite; sink his teeth in sweet flesh until Jeff unravels as much as he's undone Misha.
Instead, he digs his nails into the long, bunched thighs framing his hips, sliding his thumbs into the crease and the soft-taut flesh underneath. Presses.
Jeff bucks hard, like a bronco, and shudders out a gasping moan. Then, Jeff's hands crush down on Misha's shoulders. "So good," Jeff slurs, sounding drunk, and he does something with his hips that makes him flex inside, milking Misha's cock like a mouth. "So good, Mish. God, so good. Touch me. Touch me, while I ride you."
Yes, Misha thinks, of course yes, and hates that he can't say it or sign it because Jeff wouldn't get it. Instead he lets go of Jeff's hair and drags his nails down Jeff's ribs, down his belly. Jeff twitches on him, head jerking back, but doesn't object; the rippling moan isn't a protest. Misha smiles, and loses that smile as Jeff moves on him. Takes him. He isn't topping, he knows that much, he's showing belly and being shown... something in turn.
"Good," Jeff husks, digging his thumbs into Misha shoulders, bruising, marking him up. Flirting with holding him by the throat. Misha grinds his head back on the pillow, daring Jeff to try it, even as he finds Jeff's cock. So wet, hot and hard in Misha's hand, and just touching drags a sweet noise from Jeff's mouth.
Jeff doesn't wrap his hand around Misha's throat, though, just rubs his thumb hard and deliberate along the jugular, like a miser fingering gold. "What do you think Jeremy would say if he could see you like this, cock buried in my ass, all strung out on fucking Big Bad Jeff." Jeff licks his lips, eyes half lidded and still predatory. "Think it would turn him on, seeing you fuck me? Seeing me come on your dick? Should we invite him up?"
Misha shudders, shocked to the edge of coming by the sudden turn, and grabs Jeff by his narrow hips to hold him still for a second. He can't not grind up, bottoming out, seeing red behind his eyes. He should be angry that Jeff thinks he can do this, turn Misha inside out, even if he is. That isn't the point.
The corner of Jeff's mouth turns up, and he tightens deliberately around Misha. Misha rubs his thumb up the underside of Jeff's dick, pressing his thumbnail into the slit just a little.
"Jeremy," drawls Jeremy from the doorway, "would say 'Oh yeah, it turns him on'. Couldn't keep your hands off him?"
It's unclear which of them he means.
Jeff laughs unevenly. "Bout time you showed up. Wasn't sure how much longer I could hold on. Your boy is good." Jeff glances at Misha, devil sparkle turned to something warmer, more intimate, something meant, Misha feels, just for the two of them. "He's really fucking good, oh..."
"He's not my boy." Jeremy says, sounding mild but with an edge behind it. He comes to the edge of the bed, finger stroking almost absently up Misha's thigh. "Don't confuse us for you and Jensen." Jeremy reaches between them, shoving Misha's fingers aside almost thoughtlessly to take over jacking Jeff's cock. "Where is Jensen, anyway?"
"Right here." Jensen's voice comes so promptly and calmly from the dimness at the end of the room that Misha jumps. "Where else would I be?"
Jeremy pushes Misha back to the mattress with his free hand, rubbing his belly like he does just before sleep. It's good and Misha can feel his control coming loose, that tight low feeling in his belly beginning to spiral out, but he still knots up at Jeremy's irritation.
He signs, Was this bad? should I stop?, and considers too late that his hand is smudged with lube, with Jeff's precome and his own.
Giving him a smile, the real one that makes creases around his eyes, Jeremy takes Misha's hand and sucks his fingers clean, slow, loving licks that curl Misha's toes. "Fine," he murmurs into Misha's palm, "you're fine. God, you're gorgeous."
Over the soothing of Jeremy's voice, Misha can hear Jeff coax Jensen onto the bed with them. Even on Jeff's giant bed, it's cramped conditions, but Jensen shimmies up Misha's side and touches each of the bruises Jeff left behind, pressing them just hard enough to sting. Misha flicks a concerned look at him, trying to gauge Jensen's reaction. From the intent look in his dark eyes, Jensen just seems pleased by the aesthetics.
Figures.
"Still hanging," Jeff reminds them, the strain starting to show in his voice. Then, to Jeremy, "I didn't make Misha do anything he didn't want, Jer. I asked him. And he said yes."
"Like he was gonna say no to this?" Jeremy's squeaks a little at the end, an almost adolescent break that shows he isn't nearly as angry as he wants to seem. "Never happen."
As he talks Jeremy strips Jeff's cock, short hard strokes, almost angry. Jeff doesn't seem to mind the roughness, though. Quite the contrary, curling one hand around the nape of Jeremy's neck, the two of them bending toward each other like stubborn weeds fighting for the same patch of sun.
"I think all this talking has put Misha off," Jeff says suddenly, breaking off his staring contest with Jeremy to glance to Misha. "He feels a little softer than he did. Jensen—you think you can fix that, sweetheart?"
Jensen hums and goes for the jugular, familiar with every sensitive inch of Misha's body. Probably memorized them. No, Misha thinks, shivering taut again as Jensen nuzzles the curve of his throat and mouths the marks, reaching across Misha to thumb his nipple, definitely memorized them.
Jeff is kissing Jeremy, eating him from the mouth down, his nails pressing half-moon marks into Jeremy's neck.
Not paying attention.
Misha pushes up into him, fucks into him, and is much pleased by the guttural noise Jeff makes in response.
Misha's hands are free; he wraps them tight around the spurs of Jeff's hips and drags him down on every thrust, grinding deep into Jeff's body, rubbing his cock sweetly in and out.
The hand Jeff has slung aound Misha's neck tightens reflexively, convulsively. And then it's Jeff who's convulsing, spurting hot through Jeremy's fingers to lay stripes of messy possession across Misha's chest, his belly.
Distantly Misha hears Jensen hiss against his skin, shuddering as if Jeff brought him off with him but too well-trained to grind off against Misha's hip. Distant because Jeff is tightsotight, wringing him out, and he can't, he has to thrust raggedly up into Jeff, he has to fuck up into him and then Jensen is twisting his nipple a little viciously and he has to, he comes in Jeff with hard pulses that curl his body up like a bow.
Jeff lifts up slightly, just enough for Misha to slip out, before collapsing sideways with a grimace, Jensen there to catch him and tangle around him, kissing greedily at Jeff's mouth.
Misha half wishes Jeremy would do the same, plunder his mouth that same way, even though he knows it's not Jeremy's way. Instead, Jeremy settles on the edge of the bed and cards his fingers through Misha's hair, his crooked smile in place and that…that feels more like them. So he got you too, huh? Jeremy signs, private, just between the two of them.
Misha is exhausted, but he glares anyway, springy possessiveness heating his chest. I'm yours, Misha signs furiously, hand slapping against his bare chest and Jeremy's still clothed one. Unless you're trying to get rid of me. I think Burton still wants me.
Jeremy laughs, a swift burst of sound that draws attention from Jensen and Jeff both, and leans down close to Misha's ear. "No," he whispers. "No. I think you're stuck with me."
Still glaring, Misha shoves at Jeremy's shoulder a little. Idiot.
Lay down he signs. Come spoon or something. I want you.
That cracks the wiseass guard Jeremy has up, a flash of soft underbelly, delicate vulnerability that makes Misha want to cover him, hide Jeremy under him.
Jeremy noses Misha's cheek and shoves onto the bed, too angular to be strictly comfortable. "Mine," he murmurs, and considers the bruise on Misha's collarbone before adding, softer, "Yours."
Misha tugs him up by the hair and kisses him.
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Date: 2009-09-05 04:09 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-09-08 01:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-09-05 04:41 am (UTC)oh, that was lovely.
oh.
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Date: 2009-09-08 01:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-09-05 05:08 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-09-08 05:38 pm (UTC)Thank you, bb!
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Date: 2009-09-05 05:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-09-09 01:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-09-05 06:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-09-09 02:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-09-05 07:47 am (UTC)And why is it so sexy for Jeff to say "sweetheart" in his gravelly voice? Never mind...that is a rhetorical question.
And I love that Misha is so fierce and prickly and different than Jensen and Jeremy. Still able to appreciate what draws them to Jeff but his own man. And Jeremy's.
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Date: 2009-09-09 06:47 pm (UTC)And I kinda heart this Misha, difficult as he is. ;)
Thank you!
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Date: 2009-09-05 08:24 am (UTC)But seriously for someone who's not read much any of the AKB stuff, the fact that you &
BTW I can't say I like Jeff much, but then I'm not sure I'm supposed to.
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Date: 2009-09-11 01:59 pm (UTC)I think Jeff here is colored by Misha's perceptions; Misha is an unreliable narrator if only because he doesn't know how much Jeff had to struggle to get to this point. So, yeah.
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Date: 2009-09-05 11:57 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-09-11 01:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-09-05 04:04 pm (UTC)Also, so KNEW Jensen would not be far away ... the descent/escalation into 4 on the bed was just lovely!
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Date: 2009-09-11 02:00 pm (UTC)Thank you!
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Date: 2009-09-05 04:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-09-11 02:25 pm (UTC)Thank you.
Heaven is a stranger place
Date: 2009-09-05 07:14 pm (UTC)Re: Heaven is a stranger place
Date: 2009-09-11 02:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-09-05 09:47 pm (UTC)(also...I really like that Jeff comes first...in so many ways, he is so much the one in control...but he loses control first here)
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Date: 2009-09-05 10:44 pm (UTC)Oh yes, I liked this. Plus you answered two things that I was pondering, did Misha get his voice back or his limp fixed.
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Date: 2009-09-06 11:17 am (UTC)He's not even sure what he's expecting Jeff to do. Ravish him, maybe, or something equally melodramatic (because he had a brief period of devouring Harlequin romances until Vincent told him to stop damaging his brain with that rubbish).
I love this; it's so much back story in one little package, and it makes perfece sense for everything we know about Misha and Vincent.
And this..
Jeff leans down, licking across Misha's mouth, his cheek, reminding Misha a little—hilariously—of Winston, but hotter, sweeter.
OMG Misha compared Jeff to a dog... but it's so sweet. And so appropriate. :D
Love the characterizations. Can't wait to see how the 'verse gets to this point. Very intriguing!! :D
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Date: 2009-09-06 03:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-09-06 07:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-09-06 09:26 pm (UTC)Thanks so much for writing! :D
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Date: 2009-09-08 02:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-09-09 08:12 pm (UTC)And my favourite part was the realisation that Jensen had been present the entire time. Up until then, although Misha and Jeff were oh-so-hot, there was a little shiver of uncertainty for me. A tremulous little fear of 'please don't hurt Jensen'!
Just a suggestion - and I'll raise it with PT too - but when AKB is done and dusted (I really don't want that day to come, though) can you try to pin down all the stories by all the authors and group them together, please? I think I've missed some, you see - in particular, the backstory for Misha and Jeremy.
Or am I jumping the gun?
Anyway, love, love this.
Wren
xx
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Date: 2009-09-26 11:28 pm (UTC)also...fuck
i think this is the hottest thing i've ever read.
you are really very awesome. ♥ thank you for sharing your work!!
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Date: 2009-11-12 02:50 am (UTC)hugs