RockStarPeach

Title: Wreck My Bed
Pairing: Jared/Misha (non-con), Jensen/Misha (friendship), Jensen/Jared (past dubcon)
Rating: Adult
Summary: Everyone knows Misha has a thing for Jared. Jared takes advantage. It's not the first time Jared has done this, but this time, Misha's going to put the blame where it belongs. Written for a prompt at spn_kinkmeme that asked for Jared raping Misha, and Misha going to Jensen for support.
Word Count: 3000
Warnings: Rape. Jared does not come off good in this story. Please keep in mind that it's fiction and the intent isn't to proclaim that Jared is a horrible human being, but to celebrate the fact a character can acknowledge that being violated is not a reflection of himself, but of the asshole that did the violating.

I love Jared, I love Misha, I love Jensen and the characters in this story are entirely made up and are NOT meant to be reflections of the men on which their likenesses are based.


***

It's not that Misha wouldn't have fucked him.

Right from the moment they'd met Misha had made up his mind about that, because have you seen Jared? With those eyes and that smile and that ass? Hello! The guy is basically hotter than the sun and sweet as a fucking kitten, to boot. A handsy, over-sized, hyperactive kitten perhaps, but clumsy and cute and curious, eager to play and hungry for attention.

And with Jensen right there next to him when they first met, almost as tall and just as broad and slapping Jared on the back so he half-tripped on his way to shake Misha's hand, well. Jared had just looked all the more adorable, next to too-cool-for-school, sex-on-legs Jensen.

And Jensen is attractive, don't get wrong. He'd have fucked him, too given the chance. But everybody wants Jensen: he's conventionally beautiful. And Misha is nothing if not unconventional. No, for Misha's money, Jared is definitely they pretty one.

Plus, Jensen's a little too bossy.

So no, it's not even a little bit that Misha wouldn't have fucked him.

It's that Jared didn't even ask.

Drinks, Jared had said.

Drinks after work and Jensen had been there, so Misha was under no impression at all that it was supposed to be a date, but that hadn't stopped him from checking out Jared's ass when he leaned over the bar to pick up their shots. Didn't stop Jensen from noticing, from snickering and leaving early with a wink and a redhead tucked under his arm.

“Slut,” Jared mumbled with a smile, as Jensen ushered the woman toward the door. “I'll get us another round.”

It was that last round that sealed his fate.

It tasted just the same as the ones before, but – and don't take this the wrong way – Misha knows what it feels like to get roofied.

He was smart about it, told Jared he had to leave as soon as he knew something was wrong but Jared followed him out and got into the taxi with him, wrapped his giant octopus arms around him and gave the cabbie his own address, manoeuvred Misha up the walk and into the front door.

And Misha had tried to protest. He hadn't drunk the whole of that last beer so he still had more control over himself than Jared probably wanted, but not enough that his protests made any difference. He was shorter, smaller to start with and the drugs in his system made his defensive pushes and kicks completely ineffectual.

Now he's flat on his back, arms tangled above his head, wrapped up one of Jared's cheap ties as Jared hikes his shirt up underneath his arms and works his pants down over his hips.

Jared scowls a little as he takes in Misha's cock, soft and small and lying flaccid against his thigh as it's bared.

“Not happy to see me?” he asks Misha, cocking his head. “That's okay. We'll get you there.”

Jared grabs his dick then, fist firm and sure and slippery with lube. He jacks Misha a few times and Misha doesn't want to get hard, but that doesn't stop it from happening.

He mumbles again, shakes his head and tries to twist his hips, but Jared only laughs.

“Ooo, feisty,” he says. “I knew you wanted it. Everyone else did, too.” His hand gets faster, urges Misha to full hardness as he nudges Misha's legs together and straddles them.

“No,” Misha manages to force out, mostly a moan but the message is clear, he's sure. Jared just smiles.

“Yes,” he says. “I've seen you checking me out. Hell, Jensen's been telling me to go for it for years now. He thought you were going to make a move tonight; that's why he left so early.”

Misha whimpers and bites his lip, fights back how fucking good it feels when Jared squeezes the head of his cock between his thumb and forefinger, forcing out precome.

“Oh, that's gonna feel good,” Jared tells him. “You're not as big as Jensen, but you're not bad.”

“Don't,” Misha says, a whisper. He can't believe this. He can't believe that Jared – sweet, floppy Jared – is raping him and he can't believe that now he's finally got the chance, he doesn't want to fuck the guy.

“Tell me 'no' all you want,” Jared shrugs. “I know you want this. More importantly, Jensen knows you want this. He used to look at me like you do. He gladly gave it up when I asked. And he's not for a second going to believe that you didn't.”

Except, Misha thinks. Except... “You didn't ask.”

“Course not,” Jared says, lifting his hips to place Misha's cock between his cheeks. “Where would be the fun in that?”

He sinks down.

They both groan.

Jared's is ecstasy, Misha's is defeat.

It feels amazing.

It feels amazing all the way through Jared's hand over his mouth, Jared promising they'll do this again and again, Jared warning him that nobody will believe him if he claims he didn't want it. He does want it, Jared tells him. He's a slut for Jared's hole, just like Jensen was.

Misha almost believes him. Would have, if this had gone down differently.

“You can't...” Misha mumbles. His words feel slippery and too big for his mouth. “Jared, please, you can't. I don't want this.”

“What are you gonna do about it?” Jared challenges, quirking his brow as he screws his hips down hard and lets out a deep, satisfied moan. “Cry? 'Cause you know, I don't think I'd mind.”

“I'll tell,” he breathes out, but even he knows it's bullshit. There's no way he wants anybody to know what's happening right now.

Jared seems to think it's bullshit as well, because he actually laughs.

“Oh, baby,” he says, once he stops. He's still smiling. It's cruel, nothing like the sweet, inviting Jared-smile Misha's gotten to know and love. “No you won't. Who'd believe you? And don't say Jensen, because that? Is fucking hilarious.”

But you did this to Jensen, too he wants to say. Jared had admitted as much. Jensen has to believe him, if he's been through the same thing. Then again, Jared said that Jensen wanted it, so maybe it was different with them.

“The police,” he says, brain trying to dig through the fog. He's got drugs in his system. He just needs to get to the cops, a hospital or something, before he pisses them back out again.

Jared laughs. Not as genuinely this time, but he still laughs.

“Not a chance. You're not going anywhere tonight and I didn't dose you that hard. And it's not like you're gonna have any 'tearing or bleeding' on your side. Now why don't you be a good little slut, lie back and take it?”

Misha does take it, all the way through Jared's nails digging into the skin over his ribs, the marks left behind and it feels way better than he wants it to through Jared squeezing hard around his cock and coming, warm and slippery all over his belly.

“Come on,” Jared says when Misha thinks he's done, giving another roll of his hips. “Come.”

Misha just blinks up at him. He doesn't think he could, even if he wanted to. It all feels so good, but in a far-off way, guilty way.

Jared circles his hips again, pushes down hard one more time and then he shrugs and lifts himself off, flops down on the bed next to Misha.

“Whatever,” he says, like it's not a big deal.

Misha would laugh, if he could. It's a huge fucking deal. He just got raped, by someone he'd considered a friend. And Jared was right – nobody would believe that it wasn't consensual, not with Misha doing little to hide his interest over the years.

“Next time though, you're gonna fill me up. Maybe a couple of times.” Jared sighs and slides a hand over his taut belly and lets it rest just next to his spent cock. “God yeah, I can feel it already.”

It's another five minutes, maybe ten before Jared gets up, unties Misha's hands and rolls him over. He slaps Misha's ass on his way into the bathroom and comes back seconds later with a large glass of water. He eases Misha up and holds the glass to his lips, feeds him a few deep swallows and then sets it down on the table.

And then Jared kisses him. A soft, gentle press of Jared's lips to Misha's forehead. Misha flinches back and Jared laughs, warm and deep.

“Sleep it off, champ,” he says. “You'll feel better in the morning.”

Misha doubts that.

***

Next time.

Misha can't get the words out of his head.

Weeks go by and it doesn't go away. Every time someone touches him, every time he hears someone step up behind him, every time someone is there, in the shadows, in the empty space next to him, Misha hears them.

Next time you'll fill me up.

Next time we'll go all night.

Jensen laughs at something Jared says, a little too loud, a little too close where he's sitting on the couch next to Misha and Misha flinches.

Next time I'll make you love it, make you beg for me.

Misha manages an empty smile, manages to contribute to the rest of the conversation with vague non-answers and nods and non-committal 'hmms'. When Jared finishes his lunch and gets up off the chair opposite them, he gets bigger all of a sudden, like he has every day since... Since.

Misha unconsciously shifts a little closer to Jensen and when Jared shoots him a wink before he leaves, Misha looks away.

Misha hates this. He fucking hates it. He's a grown-ass, capable, confident man, he's no shrinking violet. He can take care of himself, stand up for himself and he knows, he knows there's no shame in what was done to him. The shame is all Jared's and Jared should bare that shame. He should wear a sign on his chest, they both should, so everyone knows that Misha's still strong and Jared is weak.

Jared is sick.

He knows this, which makes it all that much more incomprehensible to him when each and every time he sees Jared at work, Jared gets more comfortable and Misha gets more jumpy.

Next time....

He hasn't eaten or drunken anything he didn't bring from home, turned Jared and Jensen down every time they'd asked him if he wanted to get supper after work, or drinks. Jensen's noticed something's wrong, clearly he's noticed but he's probably gotten some kind of explanation from Jared, because for the first few days after... After, he'd given Jared the same kind of apologetic, sympathetic looks he'd given Misha.

“Hey,” Jensen says, low and deep as he leans even closer. Misha shivers but he tilts his neck, leans into Jensen. Jensen is safe. Jensen won't... won't rape him. Fuck, Misha hates what he's been turned into.

Jensen's lips are almost touching Misha's ear, his hand coming to rest on Misha's shoulder. Misha flinches again and Jensen only squeezes tighter, rather than letting go.

“Hey,” he says again. “What's up with you, man?”

“Up?” Misha asks, stupidly.

Jensen rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, up. As in, what the hell is your problem lately. I know things didn't work out with you and Jared, but this cold shoulder shit you've got going on isn't the way to handle it.”

Misha is still, silent for a long, long moment. Then, he bursts out laughing. It takes him a good minute to stop, which in itself is fairly amusing, since not a thing Jensen said was in any way funny.

“Don't forget to tip your waitress,” Jensen mumbles confusedly. “I'll be here all week.”

“No,” Misha say, half-breathless, holding his side as he breathes deeply. “No, it's not... It's not funny. At all. I just... Sorry. Sorry. You think things 'didn't work out' between Jared and I?”

Jensen inches back, tosses his half-finished slice of pizza onto the coffee table in front of them. He looks around the lunch room to make sure they're alone and then he sighs.

“Jared told me what happened.”

“He did,” Misha says. He doubts it.

“He'd been drinking. A lot. And okay, that's not an excuse.”

“No, it's not,” Misha agrees.

“But you're a good-looking guy and he got caught up in the moment. When you made a move, he sort of... went with it. He made a mistake. And it's okay that you're having a hard time getting over it. He has that effect.” Jensen pauses to smile down at his knees. “But it was one night, man. You need to let him go.”

Jensen is right. He's completely wrong, but he also completely fucking right.

It was one night. One damn night in all of Misha's life and it was a horrible night, a night in which Misha was violated and abused but it was only one night. And Misha needs to get over it.

“Jared raped me,” he says. Huh. Okay, so he can go that way, too.

“I... huh?” Jensen asks, like Misha's speaking a foreign language.

Only now, Misha's gotten started and he's not stopping. Jensen was right. One night, that Misha needs to get over and this how he does it. By confronting it. By admitting it. By putting the blame where it belongs.

He shifts away from Jensen on the couch, enough that he can turn to face him fully and he says again, “Jared raped me. He drugged my drink and he took me home and he forced himself on me.”

Jensen is staring at him, slack-jawed and wide-eyed but he's not calling Misha a liar or punching him in the face, so Misha goes on.

“He said you wouldn't believe me, said nobody would. Because I have a crush. Had a crush,” Misha corrects, chuckling a little. “I'm clearly over it.”

Jensen's face is still blank. It changes though, slowly. At first it looks confused, then astonished, then angry and it finally lands on determined.

“He drugged you?” Jensen asks. “You're sure about that?”

Misha sits up straighter.

“And if I wasn't?” he asks. “He still forced me to have sex with him. Does it only count as rape if I was drugged?”

“No,” Jensen says, shaking his head. “No, I didn't mean... It's just. Jared is my best friend. It's sort of hard for me to imagine...”

Misha sighs and looks down. Of course. Jared was right. And he does like Jensen, doesn't want to make an enemy of him.

“I get it,” he says. “Perhaps I was mistaken.”

“No!” Jensen says, a little too sharply and then he deflates somewhat. “No, wasn't calling you a liar, jeeze. I just wanted... to be sure.”

“You believe me?” Misha asks. He sounds surprised. He is surprised and he feels like shit. He was the wronged party, here. He should he expecting all the support. Fucking Jared, getting into his head like that.

Jensen is silent for a long time. Too long.

“I know how Jared can be. I know he has knack for talking people into things they might be hesitant about. I've been there.”

“He raped you, too.”

“No, he didn't,” Jensen insists.

“He told me he did.”

“Well then he lied,” Jensen snaps. “It wasn't rape. I might not have been exactly eager but he made a convincing argument. And I didn't say no.”

“Well I did,” Misha says. “You may have wanted it. I may have found him attractive. But I said no. He heard me. It was rape.”

Jensen takes another deep breath.

“Do you believe me or don't you?” he asks. Because he knows now, suddenly, that a line has been drawn. Sides need to be chosen.

“Jared is my best friend.”

“Do you believe me?”

“I.... let me talk to Jared,”

It's not the answer Misha had hoped for, but he nods along anyway, gets up and leaves Jensen alone in the lunchroom.

***

They both quit by the end of the day.

Jensen drives him home and comes upstairs with him, fiddles around the cup of tea Misha offers.

“Sorry,” Jensen mumbles.

Misha's glad to hear the apology. Jensen's sorry. Sorry that Jared raped him and sorry that Jensen didn't believe him right away.

“Yeah,” Misah answers, taking a sip from his own mug. “What did he say to you?”

Jensen huffs a quick laugh and shakes his head. He pushes his mug away with the tips of his fingers.

“Not what I'd hoped. Not what...”

“He admitted it?” Misha doesn't know if he's surprised about that or not.

Jensen laughs again, harder and sharper.

“He bragged about it. I mean, not in so many words. He didn't say 'I raped him', but... That's what he meant. Told me it was just like...”

“Just like with you?” Misha hedges, putting his hand down on top of Jensen's and looking up into his eyes.

“It was nothing like me,” Jensen growls. “I told you, I didn't say no.”

Misha doesn't bother contradicting, just takes a breath and nods. He doesn't move his hand and Jensen doesn't either.

Misha finishes his tea. He gets up to get them something harder, vodka, followed closely by scotch.

“So,” he says, much, much later when they've moved to Misha's couch. It's dark and it's quiet and Jensen's arm is wrapped around Misha from behind, Misha's head resting back on Jensen's chest. “What now?”

Misha feels Jensen sit up a little straighter, feels him suck in a deep breath. He lets it out slowly as he leans forward to press a kiss to the top of Misha's head. Friendship. Solidarity. Misha's not alone, no matter what.

Jensen doesn't answer.

Misha smiles.

END