FIC: Outtake #1: Kissing
Jun. 5th, 2012 03:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nilchanceTitle: Outtake #1: Kissing
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nilchance
Pairing: Misha Collins/Jeremy Sisto, Jensen Ackles/Misha Collins, Jensen/JDM
Rating: Adult
Disclaimer: This isn't real.
A/N: Set inpoisontaster's A Kept Boy 'verse. This story deals with slavery as used in the AKB 'verse. This chapter is set during Chapter 62 of poisontaster's story A Kept Boy.
The kissing happens like a dream.
Jensen's mouth. He tastes clean, like he's always ready to be kissed, like a piece of art that looks effortless until you're close enough to see the work at its heart. The kiss is kind but awkward, a brush of lips, a tease, a lesson. Misha tries to lean into Jensen, to control the contact, but Jensen leans away from him.
Jensen makes a correction: "just feel," he says.
(Misha's first kiss is years behind him, at ten, a girl at one of endless sunburnt protests, her bubblegum taste and the spittiness of it, just another adult thing he doesn't understand, until his little brother comes and tells him he's gross and that there are turtles under the dock.)
As if Jensen knows that Misha's mind just skittered in a thousand different directions, he puts his hand on the back of Misha's neck. Jensen's hand is warm, the intimate curl of his fingers against the base of Misha's skull. The touch wakes an answering heat in his belly, an unfurling that makes Misha uneasy; he's used to suppressing that heat when it comes. His breath comes faster. There's enough air in the space between him and Jensen, he doesn't have to fight for it.
Just feel, Jensen says, as if that's something Misha should know to do on his own. Misha thinks he just feels for a moment, but it's feeling that his knee fucking hurts, and he pulls back into the safety of ignoring his body.
There's another correction, something about not closing his eyes and wanting and Misha thinks this is very complicated and it's not just anything, but then Jensen is kissing him again. There's no graze and retreat this time, the kiss settling and deepening. Jensen holds him and seems to ask things with that kiss, for Misha to wake up. The heat in Misha's body sinks, opening, to his groin. His cock. Misha's fingers flex. He wants to touch Jensen back.
And then Jeremy interrupts: "yeah, am I supposed to be mad? Because that's just..."
There's a rich, hot note in Jeremy's voice that is new to Misha. Misha's fingers clench on his thighs. When Jensen lets him go, Misha glances sidelong at Jeremy and sees him watching, eyes dark. He remembers the way Jeremy touched his throat, that night that he came to take Misha home, and what Jeremy said to him: there's nothing for you here.
Jeremy had been half-crazy that night, not himself. Misha had thought that Jeremy wanted him to touch, to fuck.
This is not his game, Misha had decided, but oh. Oh. He likes that look in Jeremy's eyes. It's heady to be looked at like that. He feels his pulse in his throat.
"Hot," Jeff murmurs. His eyes are on Jensen, a half-lidded hungry look that bides its time. Misha expects his feeling to shrink away into remembered wariness, but it remains smoldering. Even when Jeff glances at Misha, at Misha's mouth. Misha realizes that his lips are parted, and he presses them together, self-conscious. Jeff returns his attention to Jensen, where it should be, because Jensen reacts to Jeff's hunger like a flower soaking up sun.
His master's voice, Misha thinks, and it sours him.
There is banter. Misha ignores it, watching as Jensen leaves with Jeff without a glance back. Jeff's hand rests on the small secret curve of Jensen's spine, an encircling possession that Misha's not sure he even wants.
Curious, testing, Misha kneels at Jeremy's feet and apologizes. He watches Jeremy's face.
Jeremy pulls him up, embarrassed. "Hey, no..."
The steady throbbing quiets but does not die, smoldering low, waiting for the chance to burn him.
Misha wonders, now that it's started, if he can put this fire out.
Author:
nilchancePairing: Misha Collins/Jeremy Sisto, Jensen Ackles/Misha Collins, Jensen/JDM
Rating: Adult
Disclaimer: This isn't real.
A/N: Set in
poisontaster's A Kept Boy 'verse. This story deals with slavery as used in the AKB 'verse. This chapter is set during Chapter 62 of poisontaster's story A Kept Boy.The kissing happens like a dream.
Jensen's mouth. He tastes clean, like he's always ready to be kissed, like a piece of art that looks effortless until you're close enough to see the work at its heart. The kiss is kind but awkward, a brush of lips, a tease, a lesson. Misha tries to lean into Jensen, to control the contact, but Jensen leans away from him.
Jensen makes a correction: "just feel," he says.
(Misha's first kiss is years behind him, at ten, a girl at one of endless sunburnt protests, her bubblegum taste and the spittiness of it, just another adult thing he doesn't understand, until his little brother comes and tells him he's gross and that there are turtles under the dock.)
As if Jensen knows that Misha's mind just skittered in a thousand different directions, he puts his hand on the back of Misha's neck. Jensen's hand is warm, the intimate curl of his fingers against the base of Misha's skull. The touch wakes an answering heat in his belly, an unfurling that makes Misha uneasy; he's used to suppressing that heat when it comes. His breath comes faster. There's enough air in the space between him and Jensen, he doesn't have to fight for it.
Just feel, Jensen says, as if that's something Misha should know to do on his own. Misha thinks he just feels for a moment, but it's feeling that his knee fucking hurts, and he pulls back into the safety of ignoring his body.
There's another correction, something about not closing his eyes and wanting and Misha thinks this is very complicated and it's not just anything, but then Jensen is kissing him again. There's no graze and retreat this time, the kiss settling and deepening. Jensen holds him and seems to ask things with that kiss, for Misha to wake up. The heat in Misha's body sinks, opening, to his groin. His cock. Misha's fingers flex. He wants to touch Jensen back.
And then Jeremy interrupts: "yeah, am I supposed to be mad? Because that's just..."
There's a rich, hot note in Jeremy's voice that is new to Misha. Misha's fingers clench on his thighs. When Jensen lets him go, Misha glances sidelong at Jeremy and sees him watching, eyes dark. He remembers the way Jeremy touched his throat, that night that he came to take Misha home, and what Jeremy said to him: there's nothing for you here.
Jeremy had been half-crazy that night, not himself. Misha had thought that Jeremy wanted him to touch, to fuck.
This is not his game, Misha had decided, but oh. Oh. He likes that look in Jeremy's eyes. It's heady to be looked at like that. He feels his pulse in his throat.
"Hot," Jeff murmurs. His eyes are on Jensen, a half-lidded hungry look that bides its time. Misha expects his feeling to shrink away into remembered wariness, but it remains smoldering. Even when Jeff glances at Misha, at Misha's mouth. Misha realizes that his lips are parted, and he presses them together, self-conscious. Jeff returns his attention to Jensen, where it should be, because Jensen reacts to Jeff's hunger like a flower soaking up sun.
His master's voice, Misha thinks, and it sours him.
There is banter. Misha ignores it, watching as Jensen leaves with Jeff without a glance back. Jeff's hand rests on the small secret curve of Jensen's spine, an encircling possession that Misha's not sure he even wants.
Curious, testing, Misha kneels at Jeremy's feet and apologizes. He watches Jeremy's face.
Jeremy pulls him up, embarrassed. "Hey, no..."
The steady throbbing quiets but does not die, smoldering low, waiting for the chance to burn him.
Misha wonders, now that it's started, if he can put this fire out.