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Language:
English
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Published:
2013-05-13
Words:
381
Chapters:
1/1
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68
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1,763

Not on the Resume

Summary:

Misha gets to experience something that wasn't on Jensen's resume.

Notes:

inspired by the Jensen and Misha's "resume off" at JIBCon 2013

Work Text:

Jensen quietly followed Misha to his hotel room; their long day finally coming to an end, both ready to relax and unwind. Misha chuckled softly as they entered.

“What’s funny?” Jensen watched as his co-star sat on the edge of the bed.

Misha gently shook his head, “Nothing.” Tilting his head, Jensen eyed him skeptically. “I didn’t expect you to –” he paused, biting his lower lip. “–to dance like…” his words trailed off; eyes downcast.

“Like what?” Jensen’s movements are slow as he approaches Misha.

“I don’t know, like, well, the way you did.” Misha replied, waving off-handedly.

“Right,” Jensen nods. The way Misha looked up at him caused his body to move on its own accord, hips rolling exactly like his earlier performance on stage. Misha’s legs spread, inviting, fists clutching the comforter; eyes locked on Jensen’s every move. “You mean like this?” Jensen stood between Misha’s spread thighs, hips still thrusting, shoulders shimmying.

“Yeah,” Misha reached out, hand firmly grasping Jensen’s hip.

Jensen placed one knee beside Misha’s thigh, gripping his shirt as his other knee hit the bed, lowering himself on the other man’s lap, grinding.

“Fuck, this is better.” Misha groaned, bringing Jensen tighter against his body.

Jensen raked his fingers through Misha’s hair, tugging his head back, lips attaching to Misha’s neck, hips moving faster. Jensen nipped along Misha’s jaw to his lips, tongue flicking out to lick against the seam until Misha opened his mouth, moaning as their tongues slid together. Misha’s hips thrust up, meeting Jensen thrust for thrust. Misha’s hands slid underneath the back of Jensen’s shirt, warm hands resting on the already overheated skin of the small of his back, blunt nails lightly digging in.

“Misha,” Jensen pants as their hard cocks grind together, still trapped in the confines of their jeans. “Come on, come on.” Jensen groaned hotly in Misha’s ear, biting the lobe. “Fuck Misha, come on.”

Misha’s hips stuttered, mouth biting down onto Jensen’s clothed shoulder, growling as his orgasm shook his body. The feeling of Misha’s orgasm, and the marks that Misha is sure to leave on his body, pushed Jensen over the edge.

“Shit Jen.” Misha’s blissed out face looked up at Jensen once their bodies calmed down considerably. “I don’t think that was on your resume.”