RockStarPeach

So, a while ago I wrote a Dean/Cas fic and dedicated it to my best friend ash_carpenter. She loved it (duh) and said the only way it could have been better was if it was Jensen/Misha. I immediately promised her some Jensen/Misha schmoop with mpreg (although I failed to deliver on the latter because it seems I can't write that, even when I'm being sarcastic).

There is schmoop and porn and adorable boys, so yay for that, right?

Title: Where You Least Expect It
Pairing: Jensen/Misha
Rating: Adult
Summary: AU. Misha’s bored at a party and then Jensen shows up. They really hit it off.
Word count: 2900


***
Misha doesn’t really like parties.

He’s good at them though, people seem to enjoy his company and he’s an excellent conversationalist, but he doesn’t like parties. He likes people and he likes alcohol and he likes music, so in theory it’s all good, but he prefers things a little more intimate, a little more eventful.

He’s not much for crowds. Or sitting still. He gets bored easily and so far this motley little crew of Jared’s friends isn’t doing such a bang up job of holding his interest. They’re not bad, they’re just not his friends and he doesn’t really want them to be. He doesn’t think he has to give it long, maybe another hour, before he can leave without insulting Jared too much.

They haven’t known each other long, a few months maybe, but Misha likes him. He might be new in Misha’s life, but he’s a friend now, a good one. Has been since the moment they bumped into each other, literally, in the frozen food section at the supermarket.

He’s a nice guy, genuine and charismatic and he attracts Misha in a way that not many people do, but he doesn’t have the best taste in friends, as far as Misha can tell. Forgettable and ordinary, for the most part. Not that ordinary is bad, it’s just not Misha’s thing.

Which is probably why, after less than twenty minutes, he ends up pressed against the wall in Jared’s bedroom, watching the birthday boy down shots through the crack in the door while a very pretty boy with a sinfully youthful mouth and lashes to die for, works Misha’s belt buckle open with his teeth.

Jake is his name, he’d told Misha. He’s a college junior who lives down the hall from Jared and his fingers are incredibly nimble.

“Mmmm,” Misha moans, encouraging him when he cups the bulge of Misha’s hardening cock beneath the denim of his pants. It doesn’t come out particularly convincing – Misha’s half still watching the party – but Jake doesn’t seem to notice. Not if the way he moves his fingers, curls them and paws at Misha’s sac through his jeans is any indication.

Jake is attractive. He’s enthusiastic and Misha isn’t normally one to turn down a free blow job, so he cups Jake’s face in a hand and slides his thumb inside his mouth. His eyes flutter closed when Jake sucks and his mouth falls open as he breathes in shakily. Yes, this is probably the single best way he can think of to spend the next few minutes, here in an apartment full of strangers. And after he comes down Jakes throat he’s going to kiss him, messy and dirty. He’s going to wish Jared a happy birthday once more and head home to a Discovery Channel special on lemurs that he’s got TiVo’d.

And maybe some key lime pie.

That’s the plan anyway, but then there’s a knock at the door, followed by Jared’s drunken cheering and Misha cracks his eyes open again, turns his head once more to look through the door and into the living room.

And then his dick goes from half-mast to full on, divert the blood flow from his brain, achingly, desperately hard.

The newcomer, who currently has his arms wrapped around Jared, laughing as Jared plants a sloppy kiss on his cheek, is the most breathtakingly gorgeous man Misha has ever seen. Misha’s chest feels tight, his skin too small. His breath catches in his throat and pre-come leaks from the tip of his prick and he can’t feel his fingertips. He’s never believed in love at first sight, still doesn’t, but this… is pretty damn close.

And suddenly Jake, with his perfect skin and his sex-blown doe eyes and his complete willingness to service Misha, isn’t what he wants anymore. He pulls his thumb from Jake’s mouth, eases the boy’s head back with the palm of his hand on his cheek and then slips his belt back through the buckle, then the loop on his pants.

Jake looks up at him with an indignant pout and sits back on his heels.

“What the fuck?”

“I’d love to finish this, really I would,” Misha tells him, offering the boy a hand to help him up. “But it looks like my future life partner just walked in, and it might make a bad impression if I have my dick in your mouth the first time we meet.”

“Your…” Jake starts, shaking his head and palming his crotch, wincing as he adjusts his erection. “You got a boyfriend or something?”

“Not yet,” Misha says, opening the door a little wider and watching intently as his future intended slaps a bottle of beer into Jared’s hand and flings an arm around his shoulders. Jared kisses him once more, on the neck this time and the guy rolls his eyes but his smile grows. It’s blinding, makes Misha’s heart stutter and flip. Jared’s too, Misha can tell.

Jared looks happier to see this guy than he has anyone else so far tonight, so either Jared is really drunk by this point, or this guy is a really good friend. Jared slaps a hand on the guy’s chest and slowly lowers it down his front, rests it on his belly while he tilts his head down and breathes in the guy’s hair.

Jared can be exceedingly gay, for a straight man.

Jake takes a step closer, follows Misha’s line of sight and then snorts.

“What?” Misha asks, maybe a little too much bite to it.

“Jensen?” Jake says, tilting his chin. “Good luck with that, man.”

“Why? Please don’t tell me he’s not gay. Not with those lips.” It would be criminal. Misha might have to throw himself off the balcony at the injustice of it, if this Jensen guy turns out to be straight.

“He’s… flexible,” Jake says with a grin. “We’ve fucked around once or twice, but he doesn’t really date. I’ve asked him out like a dozen times. So far, no joy.”

“Ah,” Misha says, and the furrow of his brow smoothes out, eyes going soft at the corners as he watches Jensen clap Jared on the back a few times after a large gulp of beer goes down wrong. Not dating is okay. Misha sort of wants to skip straight to the ‘I do’s and the happily ever after, so he can live just fine without dating.

***

He leaves a disappointed Jake in the bedroom and hovers around the kitchen for the next half hour, waiting for the perfect opportunity to make his move. Misha’s not shy, he’s not timid and he has complete faith in his wooing capabilities, but given Jake’s words of warning, he thinks he might need to play this a little bit carefully if he wants Jensen for more than a one off.

And he most certainly does.

Jensen notices him. His eyes dart to Misha a few times, furtive glances that he hides behind sips of beer and pieces of conversation with Jared and a few of the others. He sees Misha looking back – Misha’s not being subtle about it in the least – but so far he seems content to go about his business and pretend that Misha’s not going to marry him one day.

Which is fine, Misha’s in no hurry. The party won’t be over for hours.

His window opens when a pretty little brunette manages to corral Jared into a quiet corner of the living room and Jensen heads out onto the balcony for a bit of fresh air. Misha gives him a minute before he joins him, takes a moment to admire the view, Jensen bent over slightly, elbows resting on the railing with his hands clasped loosely together as he looks down at the ravine below.

He’s gorgeous from any angle, Misha would gladly look at him for hours. Just look, admire, drive himself slowly mad with desire. He might, later. When he’s got Jensen naked in his bed, when they’re both spent and satisfied, maybe Misha will ask him to stay and maybe he’ll say yes. Maybe Misha can look at him for the rest of his life, drink his fill every morning and work up a brand new thirst every night.

He closes the sliding glass door behind him, notices the slight shift of Jensen’s shoulders that indicate he knows he’s no longer alone. Jensen doesn’t do anything to give Misha the impression that he’s looking for company, doesn’t move or turn his head or say hello when Misha moves to stand next to him, mirrors his stance and looks out over the trees.

That’s okay, if Jensen wants to play a little. Misha’s good at this. He always gets the boy.

“I’m not good with lines,” is his opening line, after a few seconds of silence.

“Uh… okay,” is Jensen’s slightly confused answer. He does skirt his eyes over to Misha for a moment before looking forward again and his mouth is soft, turned up slightly at the corners, so that’s something. Misha presses on.

“There really aren’t any good ones, and every time I’ve tried to use them people just think I’m being sarcastic. They get offended and I strike out.” Which is not actually true at all, but then he’s counting on Jensen realising that. “So I’m not going to ask if you come here often, or tell you that Heaven must be missing an angel, or anything cheesy like that. Don’t worry.”

Jensen throws his head back and laughs, that same deep laugh Misha heard all the way in the bedroom when Jensen first showed up and Misha goes warm all over, can’t take his eyes off the long line of Jensen’s neck.

“Are you coming on to me?” he asks, grinning at Misha with a slight shake of his head. “I can’t really tell.”

“Yes you can,” Misha tells him, doesn’t hide his confidence. It would probably only insult Jensen. “And it’s working. Admit it.”

Jensen’s lips twitch, a sly little smirk at the corner of his mouth and Misha doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything so sexy in his entire life. He smiles with his entire face, for God’s sake.

“It might be,” Jensen teases and his tongue comes out to lick thoughtlessly over his bottom lip. Misha’s dick responds accordingly, fills slightly and swells in his jeans. He bites his lip to keep from groaning and Jensen’s eyes follow the movement, his smile turning crooked in amusement when he realises that he’s got Misha, hook line and sinker and he wasn’t even trying. It’s a good thing Misha’s already half way to in love with this guy because cocky doesn’t usually go over well with him.

“Misha,” he introduces himself, turning to face Jensen and offering up his hand. “Collins.”
“Jensen Ackles,” Jensen says, pressing his hand into Misha’s and giving it two firm pumps. So well mannered. Misha is going to have fun reducing him a writhing, pleading mess of tightly coiled need. He makes to pull back after the socially acceptable second and a half, but Misha holds on tight, turns their hands over so his is underneath Jensen’s and he traces the prominent vain along the back slowly with his thumb.

He feels Jensen tense and jerk, hears a sharp intake of breath and watches as Jensen’s eyes slide down to their joined hands. Misha eases off his grip a little, but Jensen leaves his hand where it is, his fingers twitching, skittering over the delicate skin at Misha’s wrist.

Misha does groan then, doesn’t bother to hide it as a sharp sliver of need shoots from his wrist straight to his groin. God, shaking hands with someone has never been so fucking electric before. Misha wonders if maybe he’s had too much to drink, because people don’t affect him like this, not this quickly, but no. He’s only had two beers.

Maybe he should have let Jake finish that blow job. It’s clearly fucking with his judgement, being on edge like this. He kind of loves it. It’s intoxicating and not something he gets very much of.

Jensen’s eyes snap back up to Misha’s and this time when Jensen’s tongue slides out, pink tip brushing over his plush lower lip, making it glisten with saliva and making Misha want to lean in and bite, it’s deliberate. Jensen is turned on as well by this, he’s playing along and that’s good. It’s really, really good. If Misha doesn’t fuck him soon, he’s… Well, there is no or else. He just really needs to fuck Jensen.

And then buy a little cottage and live in the woods, cooking great food with ingredients from their very own garden (he hopes Jensen can cook, because Misha sure can’t) and swimming naked in a creek in the afternoons and curling up in front of a warm fire every night.

But first and foremost, he’s concerned about the immediate need for sex.

Misha slips his hand free, finally, slowly, allowing the tips of his fingers to linger against Jensen’s along the way.

“The things I’m going to let you do to me, Jensen Ackles,” he says, a low rumble of words that make Jensen shiver. And he means it. He’s going to let Jensen do anything, absolutely anything he wants. Misha is pretty adventurous in all aspects of his life, the bedroom included, but he always likes to be in control. He’s not at all nervous giving Jensen carte blanche though – he doesn’t look like he’s got a real wild side and even if he does, Misha’s going to love anything and everything they do. He’s only been talking to him for a few minutes and all he’s done so far is shake his hand, but he’s already just a strong breeze away from coming in his pants.

Jensen takes a breath, blinks and shakes his head, glazed eyes clearing as he smiles again, wickedly.

“You’re gonna have to at least buy me a drink first.”

***

Two hours, three drinks and a knowing smirk from Jared later, Misha is blindfolded and handcuffed to Jensen’s bed with Jensen’s entire hand up his ass.

Okay, so maybe he was wrong about Jensen being a lights off, missionary type of guy, but it’s not like Misha has never been in this position before. Besides, he was right about enjoying every single second of it.

Jensen is amazing, everything he does hurts so incredibly good. The way his knuckles brush against Misha’s prostate and the way the bones of his wrist stretch his rim and the way the fingertips of his other hand bite into Misha’s nipples – it all makes Misha squirm, buck and gasp and beg for more, for less. But Jensen’s so goddamn gentle about it, slow and sweet and perfect, that Misha’s nearly crying with need by the time Jensen finally takes off the blindfold and pushes his cock inside him.

Misha tugs at his bound wrists while Jensen kisses him, slips his tongue over his lips and inside his mouth, drags it along his teeth and leaves them both breathless. He tilts his hips, spreads his legs and pulls Jensen in deeper, asks him for harder, faster, but Jensen just hushes him with kisses and takes his time.

It’s exactly what Misha needs, Jensen is exactly what Misha needs and now that he’s found him he’s never letting him go. He’ll slap these cuffs on Jensen when he’s free, if he has to, but this is it.

He comes with Jensen’s hand on his dick, balls slapping against Misha’s ass and then Jensen pulls out, reaches up and flicks the switch to unlatch the cuffs just before he pulls off the condom.
Misha feels the sudden rush of blood to lax, numb limbs as he pulls his arms down. They feel light, like they’re floating and they tingle with painful little pricks as he gets his circulation back. He rests his hands on Jensen’s hips as Jensen props himself up with one hand, uses the one covered in Misha’s spunk to jerk himself off.

He shoots his load over Misha’s spent cock, moans while he does and then collapses on top of him.

“Holy shit,” he mumbles into Misha’s neck and Misha can feel the curve of his lips as they form a smile. “That was…”

“Don’t go declaring your love this soon,” Misha jokes, kisses Jensen’s temple and wraps his arms around him. “That would just be sad.”

“I ain’t gonna lie,” Jensen says with a slight chuckle, sending vibrations through Misha’s sated body. “I could get used to this.”

Misha laughs then too, helps Jensen lever himself off and to the side, pulls him in and wraps him up tight in his arms.

“You’re embarrassing yourself,” he says. Then, “You have beautiful eyes.”

Jensen barks at that, a sharp sound of amusement. “Thanks. But you’ve already gotten lucky tonight, hot stuff.”

Misha smiles at that, closes his arms tighter around Jensen.

“I’d love to have your babies,” he says. “It’s your eyes, really. And your lips and your wit and the way you move. Your genes need to be passed on. But we should probably do the socially conscious thing and adopt children from Africa. Or maybe China. Or Italy.”

Jensen laughs. “Dude, it’s not take-out. And you might be getting a little ahead of yourself there.”

“Okay, we’ll hold off on the kids for now,” Misha says, affecting a heavy sigh. It’s best Jensen learn early on that Misha is high maintenance. “But I think we should at least start planning the wedding.”

Jensen rolls slightly, looks up at Misha and presses a kiss to his shoulder before resting his head there.

“I’ll call the caterer in the morning,” he says, before wrapping his arm around Misha and slipping his hand under his back.

By the time Misha even thinks about going home again, it’s only to pack up his things.

END