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Damn His Blue Eyes

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Ugh. He absolutely loathed these kinds of games. What was he thinking?

He splashed water on his face and looked at himself in the bathroom mirror. “Suck it up, Jensen,” he told his reflection. “It’s just a game.”

He grabbed a towel and patted his skin dry. Yes, it was just a game -- a stupid game he couldn’t believe adults still played. Hadn’t they outgrown this kind of shit? But he could do it.

He looked at his reflection one last time, plastered a smile on his face, and turned out the lights on his way out.

Back in the living room, Misha and Jared were laughing uproariously. “Ah, there you are, Jen!,” Misha said with a smile as Jensen re-entered the room. “It’s Jared’s turn to ask me a question.”

Jensen sank into his favorite armchair and raised his eyebrows. “Let’s hear it!,” he said.

Jared looked a little too pleased with himself. “Truth or Dare, Misha.”

“Truth,” the older man replied. He must have grown tired of Jared’s outrageous and often juvenile dares.

Jared still looked pleased. “Have you ever fucked more than one person at the same time? As in a threesome?”

“That’s too easy, you idiot.” Misha scoffed. “Yes, of course I have. My wife wrote a best-selling book on threesomes and polyamory.”

“You shitting us?,” Jensen asked. He didn’t really know Misha very well, but he sincerely liked the dude. Misha had no problem rolling with their antics on set or instigating his own shenanigans. “You’ve really been with multiple partners -- at once?”


“With your wife?”


“You’re swingers?”

“Not exactly. We just enjoy keeping our sex lively.”

Jared laughed out loud. “Man, you are either the luckiest son of a bitch EVER, or you’ve doomed your marriage to failure.”

Jensen thought about Gen and Jared. He’d never seen a couple more happily in love or content with monogamy. He thought of Danneel and how absolutely insatiable he was when he was with her. He couldn’t imagine wanting sex with anyone else, not when he was lucky enough to be getting married to one of the funniest, sexiest, sweetest, hottest looking women he’d ever laid eyes on.

Misha smiled at the pair indulgently. “Look, I know it’s weird. Maybe even a little deviant. But it works for us, and we are really happy this way. You wait until you’ve been with the same sexual partner for more than a decade, then come back to me and tell me how you feel. ”


Years later, Jensen looked back on that night as a turning point.

He’d known some weird ass shit went down behind closed doors. He’d worked in Hollywood for fuck’s sake. Lived in L.A. He knew a lot of progressive couples who had open marriages. But they were all fucking weird.

“Deviant” was right, he’d decided. And yet he could never quite get the image of Misha banging two chicks at once out of his mind. No wonder the guy was so confident.

After that revelation, Dean had utterly no remorse teasing Misha the way they do on set. The man was some kind of a sex god among men, right? He could handle a little obscenity.

Damn it, those were fun times.



He splashed water on his face, looking at himself in the bathroom mirror. “Come on, Jensen. Grow a pair.” It’s just a game.

Truth or Dare. Again. Jared and Misha were the masters of creative dares. He didn’t have to do anything he didn’t want to. He could just tell the truth. These were his closest friends. Dude. They embarrassed themselves so much around each other, it was practically risk-free.

He straightened his shoulders, gave his reflection a nod, then went into the living room.

“Where’s my scotch?,” he asked no one and every one.

“Here it is, sweetie,” Misha replied, picking up a glass near his and holding it out to Jensen.
Jensen grabbed his scotch and settled into the couch, leaning on the armrest and propping his feet up on the coffee table.

“Truth!” Gen said.

“How many men have you given blow jobs?” Misha asked.

“Hey!” Jared protested. “I’m not sure this is appropriate for a lady.”

“Oh, for crying out loud.,” Gen shot back at Misha. “What are you, twelve?”

She smiled mischievously. Misha’s grin grew larger.

“No, man. I’m serious,” Jared began again. “You don’t have to answer this,” he said, turning to his wife.

“Yes, she does,” said Misha.

“Jen, defend me here.,” Jared said, looking up at Jensen.

“What, man? This is why I hate this game. She has to answer or take the dare.”


“Guys!” Gen interrupted. “It’s cool. I’m cool. I’ll answer the question.” The gleam returned to her eye. “But first, I want Misha to answer MY question.”

Misha laughed, shaking his head. “Those aren’t the rules, but I’ll have mercy on you. What do you want to know? I’ll tell you anything if it makes you more comfortable.”

“How many men have YOU given blow jobs?,” she pitched.

Jensen and Jared broke into wailing laughter, doubling over. If it weren’t for an unexpected feat of dexterity, Jensen’s scotch would have spilled down his pants; he was laughing so hard.

“What did you say?,” she asked Misha. That’s when Jensen realized he’d missed Misha’s answer. He’d been too busy busting a gut.

“I said,” he answered calmly, “at least a dozen. I’ve lost count.”

The fuck?

“I knew it!” Gen squeed triumphantly.

Jensen must have looked surprised because Misha reached over and patted his knee, letting his hand rest there. “What’s the matter? Did I break your brain?”

He didn’t know how to answer. “Nah, man. I just didn’t know you swung that way. You’re a dad for Christ’s sake.”

“I am,” he agreed happily. “I don’t see why the two are mutually exclusive.”

“You’re married,” he shot back.

“I am.” Misha said again. “I feel like a broken record. What does that have to do with sucking guys off?”

“So, you’re bi?”

“You could say that. I like to think of myself as … open.”

Suddenly the hand on Jensen’s knee didn’t feel so safe. Misha’d always been touchy-feely, an invader of personal space. Jensen had gotten used to it.

He looked down at the hand on his knee, then up into a set of blue eyes.

The air left the room.

Misha removed his hand and leaned back against the armrest on his side of the couch. His eyes swept up and down Jensen’s frame, a thoughtful expression glued to his features.

“Well,” Misha finished, “I don’t exactly advertise it, so I appreciate your discretion.” He looked at Jared and Gen as he spoke, and they nodded their heads.

“I knew it!” Gen repeated with a smile. “Four.”

“Huh?” Jensen asked.

“Four. My answer is four.” She met Jensen’s eyes. “Wow. Misha really did break your brain,” she said with an edge of laughter.

“Your turn!” Jared piped in, slapping Jensen’s shoulder as he walked by.

Jensen grinned stupidly, wondering why it felt as if the axis of the world had tipped.

“Sure man, but I gotta take a leak,” he said.

“Dude. You were just in there.” Jared said from the liquor cabinet.

“Yeah, well, this scotch is having a field day with me,” he said as he stood up and excused himself from the room.

About ten minutes later Misha found him. Jensen had been standing on the back porch, looking out at the backyard as he leaned against the railing. He’d been watching his breath in the chilly night air. The gleam from the neighbor’s well-lit windows provided plenty of light to see by.

“It’s chilly to be out without a coat,” Misha said as he leaned against the railing next to him.

“I fucking hate that game,” Jensen replied.

“I don’t,” Misha volunteered. “It’s how my wife and I first got into threesomes. We were playing truth or dare with her best friend, drinking cosmopolitans. I dared them to kiss. Turns out they had the hots for each other. I was so fucking aroused; I kid you not.”

Jensen stole a sideways glance at Misha. The man was looking out across the yard, into the past.

“I immediately got hard. The girls noticed. Before we knew what was happening, it was like a fucking orgy. When we woke up tangled in our bed the next morning, it felt good. None of us regretted what we’d done.”

He paused and looked Jensen in the eye. “It was a fucking epiphany.”

Where had all the air gone again? Jensen remembered to breathe and swallowed a gulp of excess saliva.

“When did you realize you liked guys?” Jensen asked. He immediately berated himself. Was this a damn daytime talk show? He didn’t need to talk about this. “Don’t answer,” he amended, breaking eye contact. “I don’t need to know.”

“It’s okay,” Misha said. “You want to know, and you’re my friend.” He turned back to look at the back fence.

“It was in a threesome. Vicki wanted to bring a guy to our bed, so we did. He went down on me. Gave me fucking fantastic head.” He paused and turned to face the house, leaning with his back against the railing, and crossed his outstretched legs at the ankles.

“It wasn’t long before I realized I could give as well as get. The line’s imaginary, my friend. Sex is sex. Pleasure is pleasure.” He shrugged and caught Jensen’s gaze again. “It’s simple. Not even almost a big deal.”

Jensen thought about his friend’s words and nodded.

Not even almost a big deal.

He and Danneel had been married a little more than half a year. Nights like tonight made him miss her. Not only did she have work in L.A., but she loved the year round sun and heat. She called their house in Malibu her “slice of heaven,” and she didn’t want to leave. But that left him stuck up here in the cold, working for nine months straight with very few breaks to travel down to L.A. to see her.

He had to admit it. Marriage was not what he thought it would be. It was NOT a one way ticket to as much awesome sex as you desired. He hardly saw his wife, and when he did he was like a horny teenager, always ready to get it on. What an exercise in frustration! Talk about blue balls. His life was like a litany of reasons to not have sex. It’d be her period, or she’d have a headache, or they’d be together but have such a busy schedule that even quickies seemed like too much trouble.

“I wish Danneel were here,” he blurted out.

“Missing your wife?” Misha asked.

“Yeah,” he offered back.

“How about you two? You ever venture into the land of deviant sex?” Misha asked with a smile.

“None of your goddamn business,” Jensen smiled back.

“I see,” Misha said like a long-held suspicion of his had been confirmed. “You really do stay faithful to each other even while you live in two different cities most of the year?”

“Of course.”

“When I became a regular last year, I got an apartment up here. I didn’t want my wife to be alone in L.A., so I encouraged our girlfriend to move in with her.”

“Your girlfriend?,” Jensen coughed in surprise. “As in ‘you,’ plural? You both SHARED a girlfriend?”

Misha nodded. “What? We had a thing. A long-term thing. Vicki and I both loved her, but we weren’t married to her. What else should we have called her?”

“Jesus.” Jensen swore.

“I don’t think she’d have answered to that, but you never know.” Misha deadpanned.

“Fuck me, Misha.” Jensen laughed.

“Only with your wife’s permission, honey.”

Jensen looked up, the laughter draining away as quickly as it had burst forth. He locked eyes with Misha and held his breath. The backyard stilled. He knew this look. It’s what Cas and Dean shared. He couldn’t look away, and instead tried to ignore the words Misha’s eyes were screaming.

“You wish,” he finally breathed out.

“I do.” Misha said sincerely.

It was too fucking much. Jensen looked away. Co-star. Co-star. Co-star. His fucking co-star was fucking hitting on him.

And damn it. He was straight. He was married. Misha didn’t care. Didn’t have the same boundaries.

“Ain’t gonna happen,” Jensen said gently.

“I know.” Misha said, equally as quiet. Jensen looked back up at him then, saw his smiling eyes and forgiving face. He smiled back.


This was good. Misha’s sex life didn’t change anything. They were still friends.

“But, you gotta admit it gets lonely.” Misha said, switching modes.


“Living in two different cities. Missing your wife. It gets lonely. It’s why I gave Vicki a green light for having sex without me. We have an open marriage now.”

“It wasn’t that before? When you had your threesomes?”

“Nah. We had very defined rules in the beginning. It was our way of staying confident about the whole thing. We only ever had sex if both of us could participate. Now it’s different. Now we can have sex without each other, we just have to make our intentions clear. We have to actually be open and honest, not hiding anything.”

Jensen whistled.

“I know,” Misha said. “It’s a big leap in trust. I have to trust that she’ll still want me, still be there for me when I get back to her. Trust that she won’t have moved on. Trust that, in her heart, I’m still her husband and no one will displace me.”

“I can’t even fucking imagine it.”

Misha smiled. “Most can’t,” he said with sincerity.



Jensen was fucking lonely.

Gen was pregnant, and Jared was spending almost all his free time with her. Danneel was still in L.A. He didn’t resent their absence. He just missed them.

Misha was … gone. Written off the show. He knew Sera was having a problem with Castiel’s storyline. Cas was too powerful an ally. If he could magically solve the boys’ problems with a flick of his wrist, then where was the drama?

He understood. He did.

Yet, it didn’t console him when the unshed tears welled up in his eyes. Misha was part of the family. You don’t just kill them off. Rip them out of the story. Misha had saved him this past year, just by being here with his ridiculously infectious laughter when his best friend Jared couldn’t be. God damn it. There was a Misha-sized hole in his life.

So what if he understood why the writers killed off Cas for good?

It didn’t make him any less alone when he dragged his ass back to his Vancouver apartment every night for months on end, any less alone when he spent his unexpected days off perched on his couch drinking beer and playing video games against a fucking computer.

At least he had good plans for Christmas. He and Danneel were headed back to Texas for a family holiday. They’d hook up with Jared and Gen there, too.

He sat on his sofa, bare feet propped up on the coffee table, and opened the script for episode 17. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t this.

They were giving him his Misha back.

He nearly dropped the script. HIS Misha? Since when had Misha ever been his?

Who fucking cares? He thought. Misha is coming home.

A smile as wide as Texas spread across his face. Thank God for fans. Doing the cons with Misha this past Fall had been a bitch. The guy had been so obviously sad, maybe a little bitter, about Cas dying, particularly with no known plans for his return. At least the fans had made it clear they loved Cas, loved Misha, and wanted him back. He was going to fucking kiss Bobby for listening to the fans and convincing Sera to do it.

Three weeks.

He’d see Misha in three weeks. Then things could go back to normal.



His face visibly brightened the moment he saw Misha on set. He put his plate of food down, excused himself from a polite conversation with a PA, and walked right over to his blue-eyed friend.

“Hey handsome, how ya doing?” Misha said as Jensen approached.

“Man, it’s fucking good to see you.” Jensen replied, pulling Misha into a tight hug.

“Missed me?”

Jensen pulled out of the hug and clapped Misha on the shoulder. “You know it.”

“Good.” Misha’s eyes roamed over Jensen’s body, settling on his face. “You lose a little weight?,” he asked with concern.

“A little. Nothing to write home about. How about you?,” he asked, dropping his arm. “How did you get a tan in the dead of winter?”

“It’s not winter in L.A.”

“Right. Well. Glad you’re back.”

“I’m happy to be back.”

“So, let’s do dinner tonight, okay? Catch up.”

Misha dipped his chin and looked at Jensen with a coy smile in his eyes. “You asking me out on a date?” he quipped.

“Abso-fucking-lutely.” Jensen said with a grin. “I’ve missed you.”

“So you said. In that case, you’re on.” He looked down at his watch. “I gotta run. I hear I get to wear something other than that trenchcoat.”

Jensen’s grin grew wider. “Okay, man. Catch you later.”

“And Jensen?,” he heard Misha call out as he backed away.


“Wear something sexy.” He winked and turned around, headed towards wardrobe.

Something sexy.

The words rattled around in his head, shaking a few screws loose.

It wasn’t really a date, was it? It was just two guys hanging out, catching up. There would be nothing romantic about it, no candle lights and flowers, just Misha’s endearingly abnormal and unconventional behavior.

That man. He always operated with his flirt volume turned up to 100%. He had no hesitation when it came to raunch. He was sex on two feet. Maybe you could call that romantic, but you could also just call it playful or whimsical or the natural consequence of a man who had routinely ...

Once again, the image of Mish banging two chicks at once flashed through his mind unbidden. He pictured Misha’s lithe muscles tensing and relaxing as he laid back on a bed being ridden by his wife, saw a nameless woman straddle his face as he fucked her with his crazy long tongue. Watched in awe as she tilted her head back and moaned with pleasure.


He needed to switch gears. No need to fantasize about his friend and co-worker. No need to imagine what else that tongue could do. How good it would be at giving head.

What. The. Fuck.

He escaped to his trailer and closed the door behind him. He was half-hard with fantasies. This is what the sex-deprivation torture technique called marriage did to a man. It made him fucking masturbate. All the fucking time.

He locked the door to his trailer and sat down on the couch, stroking himself through his pants. He couldn’t get his wardrobe dirty, so he pulled down his pants and boxers and grabbed some tissues.

Tugging and stroking at his cock, willing it to get harder, he imagined Danneel giving him a blow job. She’d be down on her knees. He’d have a nice view down her shirt. She’d cup his balls and take him into her mouth.

He closed his eyes. Tugged a bit more forcefully. He wasn’t growing harder, and he wasn’t relieved either.

He let his mind wander. What had turned him on in the first place? Misha with two women. Misha sucking his cock.


Misha sucking his fucking cock. Misha’s wet mouth, his wickedly long tongue playing over the head and down the vein.

Jensen’s rigid cock was slick with precome now. Imagining Misha’s lips leaving a hot, moist trail up and down, up and down, up and down his cock wasn’t a stretch. Jensen began pumping his fist harder, faster, twisting at the top of each stroke to build to a quick orgasm.

Just as he teetered on the edge, he opened his eyes and imagined Misha sitting right between his legs, blue eyes looking up at him through long lashes.

The eyes undid him, unraveled him from the inside out. He came with Misha’s name escaping his lips in a moan.

What. The. Fuck.

I am straight. He thought.

Am I?

He glanced down at his watch. Damn. He had to hurry. He was due to do a walk through with lighting in five minutes.


Filming with Misha was like coming home. It was easy. Inviting. Cozy, even. He knew the man’s idiosyncrasies, knew exactly how to make him break character and laugh.

Jensen was high on Misha’s laughter.

He couldn’t get enough of it. It intoxicated him, made him feel powerful. That laugh. He’d made it happen. He’d rocked his hips, given the man a Come Hither look, and fucking made it happen. When Misha laughed, his eyes lit up. The bridge of his nose crinkled, and he’d double over with tears streaming out of his eyes.

Eventually, though, he’d tone it down. They needed to get SOME useful takes, after all.


“Man, is it good to have you back.,” Jensen said as he slung his arm around Misha’s shoulder.

They had wrapped filming their scenes for the night and were walking back to their trailers while Jared reshot a few reactions.

“Jared is fun, but nothing beats making you laugh,” he continued.

“I should do it less,” Misha said. “I shouldn’t be so easy to break. I’m an awful actor.”

“Whatever,” Jensen dismissed. “You’re fucking awesome. That’s what you are.” He dropped his arm from Misha’s shoulders and ran a few steps ahead, turning around to face Misha while walking backwards and looking Misha squarely in the eyes.

“You’re fucking awesome,” he repeated, a bit more seriously.

“Yeah, I’m a regular Marlon Brando.”

“I mean it, Mish. You’re fucking awesome, and I …” his voice caught in his throat. “I really fucking missed you.”

There were not tears in his eyes. Nope.

Misha stopped walking and held Jensen’s gaze. “I missed you, too.”

Jensen stood transfixed, locked onto Misha’s blue eyes. Whatever he was going to say next had flown straight out of his head. What the hell was happening to him? He started walking backwards again. “You’re gonna tell me before I walk into something, right?”

Misha grinned and shook his head, keeping step with Jensen.

“Well, shit,” Jensen said, chancing a glance behind his shoulder. “At least I’m headed the right direction.”

“Turn the fuck around, Jen. If you trip and break your neck, it’ll be my head on a platter.”

Jensen turned around and slowed so he was alongside Misha.

“This sexy enough for you? Or should I un-Dean myself?” Jensen asked, looking down at his clothes.

“Oh Dean is definitely up there in the sexy rankings.”


“Oh yeah. He’s one hot son of a bitch.”

“Got a killer fashion sense, does he?” Jensen grinned.

“You know it. Nothing turns me on like plaid.”

“It screams ‘fuck me sideways,’ does it?” Jensen teased.

Misha’s voice dropped into an echo of Cas’ as he coyly said “No. It screams ‘get me the fuck out of these clothes,’ and it’s imagining what’s underneath that leaves me hot and bothered.”

Jensen stumbled. He’d flirted with Misha before. The man couldn’t help but tease and turn everything into innuendo. Yet now that he had an image of Misha’s tongue on his cock carved into his psyche, now that he’d orgasmed while moaning Misha’s name, it weighed heavier.

It wasn’t casual anymore. At least not for him.

They reached Jensen’s trailer and he bounded up the steps as Misha said, “you okay?” behind him.

“Yeah, why?” he answered as he let Misha in.

“You seem … different.”

“Fuck, Mish. I am different. It’s been five months.”

“I know,” Misha sighed.

“So, what’s for dinner? You wanna grab some burgers? Or maybe Thai?”

“I’m game for anything.”

“Thai it is, then. Let me grab my keys.”

Jensen moved into the trailer’s kitchenette and opened the drawer that had his wedding ring, his bracelet, and his car keys. He picked up his ring, thought of Danneel, and put it down. Grabbing his bracelet and keys, he slammed the drawer shut.

“Something wrong?” Misha asked from behind him

“No.” Jensen said, turning around.

“You look guilty.”

“And you look nosy.”

Misha let out an exasperated sigh. “What’s in the drawer, Jen?”


“Just tell me what’s in the drawer.”

Jensen moved out of the way. “See for yourself.”

Misha opened it and peered inside. “Not wearing your ring? What happened?”

“Nothing happened.”

“So why aren’t you wearing it?”

“I don’t feel like it.”

“Jensen,” he began reprovingly, “I am still your friend. Is there something you’re not telling me? Are you doing drugs?”

“What? NO. Why the fuck would you say that?”

Misha shrugged. “You lost weight. You’re acting different. It seemed possible.”

“No, man. Nothing more than the occasional joint to loosen up. You know how it goes.”

“Then what is it?” he asked, staring at Jensen intently, like he was a puzzle waiting to be solved.

Understanding lit up Misha’s features. “You’re having an affair?”

“What? NO. Danneel’s awesome. Why would I cheat on her? And what’s with the tenth degree?”

Misha sighed. “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I’m not trying to accuse you of anything. I’m just trying to understand.”

Jensen sagged against the counter. How could he tell Misha what had happened? How could he tell him that he’d jacked off while fantasizing about him? That he felt unfaithful, even if he hadn’t been? That he was so fucking confused becaused he’d never been attracted to another man before?

“Look, Mish. It’s okay. Let’s just get some grub. You can tell me all about West and Vicki, Random Acts, that crazy ass web series, you name it.”

He moved towards the door. Misha nodded his agreement.

“You need anything from your trailer, buddy?” Jensen asked as they stepped out of his.

“No. I’m good.”


Dinner was full of easy laughter and a little wine. Jared had texted him about halfway through their meal, but he hadn’t bothered replying. The guy was going home to his wife, lucky bastard.

“What’s it like?” Jensen blurted out.

“What’s what like?”

“Having sex with people other than your wife, when your wife isn’t there?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

Jensen did a double-take. “I thought you had an open relationship?”

“We do.”

“But you’ve never -- done it?”


“Why not?”

“No need, for one. I was only a regular for season five, and even then I wasn’t in a lot of episodes.” He paused, sizing Jensen up. “I can go home, Jen,” he said quietly.

Jensen deflated.

Misha cocked his head to the side and asked “Why?”

“Why’d I want to know?”


Jensen shrugged. “Don’t know. Just curious, I guess.”

“Curious, my ass,” Misha smiled mischievously. “You want to fuck me.”

Jensen inhaled his water and choked. As he beat his chest and waited for the feeling to pass, he saw Misha eyes grow large with curiosity.

“You do,” he said with a hint of awe.

Jensen kept his mouth shut. Misha eyed him like a tiger about to pounce on his prey. “You do,” he repeated more firmly. He looked vindicated. Downright pleased with himself. “It explains everything weird about tonight.”

Jensen shook his head. “We’re not talking about this.”


“No,” he said, looking furtively around the restaurant. “We are not talking about this here.”

Misha nodded. “Okay.” He stood up.

“Where are you going?”

“WE are getting out of here so we can talk,” Misha said, throwing some bills down on the table.

“No, Mish. Man, listen. It’s not like that.”

“We’re not talking about this here, Jen. You said it.” He turned around and started walking towards the door. “You coming?,” he threw over his shoulder.

Jensen scrambled out of his seat and after Misha. He caught up to him as they reached his car.

Misha abruptly paused and turned around, facing Jensen.

“You want to fuck me,” he said again with conviction, locking onto Jensen’s eyes.

Jensen looked away, walking past him and getting out his keys. “No.”

Misha stepped into Jensen’s space.

Jensen stepped back, bumping into the closed car door.

Misha inched closer, catching Jensen’s gaze with his own. His voice like gravel, he spoke slowly. “You. Want. To fuck. Me.”

Damn if the voice didn’t do it to him. His own erection began pressing against his jeans, and fuck it all if he couldn’t think beyond those hypnotizing words.

“No,” he whispered.

“Why are you lying, Jen?” Misha’s soft words rang in his ears like a thunderclap, fierce and heady.

Jensen felt the fight go out of him. He sighed and leaned his forehead forward so that it touched Misha’s.

“I’m afraid.”

Misha closed the distance between them, locking their hips together with the firm grip of his hands.

“Are you afraid of me, Jen?”

“No.” Jensen sighed. “I’m afraid of me. What the fuck is wrong with me?”

“I don’t understand.”

Jensen lifted his head and looked Misha in the eyes. “I’m not myself, Mish. This isn’t me. I am not attracted to you. I am happily married to the most awesome woman I’ve ever met.”

“You’re the nice boy next door who follows all the rules and never gets a speeding ticket.”

“This isn’t me.”

Misha ground their hips together, eliciting a stuttered moan from Jensen as their two fully hard cocks touched through layers of clothing.

Jensen closed his eyes and tilted his head back. “Not me.”

“Okay,” Misha said, backing away. “Let’s get me home.”

They didn’t speak on the drive to Misha’s apartment. When they parked, neither made a move to get out of the car.



“What changed?”

“I don’t know. You left. Jared got busy with Gen. Heck, even Jim was killed off. It was lonely.” He shrugged.

“So, how is this different than any summer hiatus?”

“It wasn’t a break, man. It was a fucking morgue. You were dead. I didn’t know if we’d ever see each other outside of cons with any sort of regularity again.”

Misha reached over and put a hand on Jensen’s shoulder.


“Yeah?,” he asked, looking up to meet Misha’s gaze.

“It’s good to be back.”

Jensen smiled, “I know.”

“Thanks for dinner,” Misha said as he opened the car door.

“You bought.”

“Damn, I did. Didn’t I? You’ll just have to make it up to me,” he winked.

“Night, man.”

“Sweet dreams, Jen,” Misha quipped as he closed the car door and started walking away.


The next day they shot Dean and Cas’ reunion. It was weird, playing Dean against a Castiel who had no memory of him. He was polite and distant, but his eyes. Those eyes saw Dean, the same way Misha’s saw Jensen.

When they wrapped the scene, Jensen went to his trailer to take a break. On the way, his phone rang.

“Hey, Jay,” he said into the phone to Jared.

“Hey. You’ll never guess what I’m doing.”

“You’re skydiving.”





“Fuck no. Man, this is gonna take forever.”

“I don’t have all day.”

“But I do. And that’s the beauty of it. I am not shooting today, and that’s awesome.”

“Rub it in.”

“You’re getting warmer.”


Jared gave out a frustrated sigh. “Fuck it. I’m just gonna tell you. I got Gen and I massages. I’m getting a massage.”

Jensen stopped walking and stared at his phone. “Fucking pansy,” he teased.

“Jerk,” Jared shot back.



“I’m hanging up now.”


“Bye, Jay. Give Gen my love.”

“You’re just jealous.”

“Damn straight. Now get off my phone.”

“See you tomorrow, Jen.”

“Bye,” he said and hung up on his best friend.

He opened the door to his trailer, flung his phone on the counter, and headed for the couch. He needed to rest. He had not slept well. Every time he closed his eyes last night, he felt Misha’s hard cock rub against his. He had to jerk off twice. As in, two times. Each time, he came imagining Misha’s blue eyes staring up at him through those lashes.

Damn it. He’d done it again.

He’d gotten hard just thinking about his Misha-inspired fantasies. He eased his zipper down, lowered his boxers, and palmed his cock. As he sat stroking himself, he closed his eyes and tilted his head back, imagining Misha’s lips, Misha’s tongue, Misha’s eyes. His thrusting and fisting grew fierce. He arched his back further and moaned Misha’s name.

He heard a sharp intake of breath from somewhere in front of him. His eyes flew open and his hand stilled.

Misha stood in his door, lips parted and eyes shot wide and dark with lust. His gaze drifted from Jensen’s cock to his eyes, then back to his cock again.

Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit.

Misha turned and grabbed the door. Jensen didn’t want him to go, was about to protest, when he heard a lock snapping in place. Misha had locked the trailer door, with himself inside. He turned slowly back towards Jensen, resolve shoring up his features.

“You want to fuck me,” he said, his voice gravel.

“Fuck yes,” Jensen replied.

In two swift strides Misha was beside him, then he was fucking kneeling in between his legs. His cock twitched like a greedy whore in need of a fix.

“May I?” Misha asked.

Jensen couldn’t speak. He nodded instead.

Time stilled to snapshots. Misha, licking his lips. Misha’s hollowed mouth around his cock. His hips, rocking into Misha with a mind of their own. Misha’s tongue teasing his slit, his head, working fucking miracles. Misha taking him in, taking him deeper.

He closed his eyes. Gave himself to the sensation. It was fucking weird getting blown by a guy. Stubble scraped the inside of his thighs. But his cock didn’t care. It grew harder, thicker, needier. He grabbed the hair at the base of Misha’s neck, trying and failing to be gentle. Misha began humming against his length, swallowing when Jensen’s cock hit the back of his throat.

“Fuck, Misha. YES!” Jensen groaned.

Misha’s hands gently stroked under his balls, teasing in rhythm to his sucking.

His hips bucked up. He opened his eyes. And there he was in all his glory. Misha Fucking Collins with his Fucking Blue Eyes staring up at him through those fucking long lashes.

He came in a frenzy of built up tension, exploded with a fury and force that bordered on violence and was engulfed by sheer ecstasy, moaning Misha’s name.

Misha swallowed him down, held him during his aftershocks, and continued lapping with his tongue as his cock lost its vigor and began to shrink. And all the while, those blue eyes kept contact with his own. It was electric.

Jensen closed his eyes and threw back his head. “Fuck, Misha. Now that’s a way to die.”

Misha crawled into his lap and began kissing his neck, rutting his hard cock against Jensen’s abs.

“Oh fuck.” Jensen said. “Let me help.” His hands went to Misha’s waist, finding his belt buckle and deftly releasing it. Misha stilled.

“I knew you’d be a generous lover, Jen, but no.”


“Have you ever had sex with a man?”

Jensen shook his head no.

“Ever given a man a blow job? A hand job?”


“Listen to me, Jen. You just got blown by a man. You’re not straight.”

Jensen’s heart pounded in his chest. He wasn’t straight?

“I’m not?” Was he a fucking moron? Of course he wasn’t. He’d known that.

“No. And while this feels fucking fantastic and I really want to take you here and now, I don’t want to leave you with regrets. I want you to be ready.” He tapped Jensen’s temple. “Here,” he said. “And here,” tapping Jensen’s chest, just above his heart.

“You’ve got to accept yourself first,” he continued. “Accept us. This. Sex with a man.”

Jensen felt Misha’s throbbing need pressing against him. He moaned and rolled his eyes. “Misha, you’re an idiot.”

He leaned over and planted a fevered kiss on the other man’s lips. Aside from the stubble, they were as soft and supple as any woman’s. He teased Misha’s lips with his tongue. With a moan, Misha opened his mouth and deepened the kiss.

Jensen bucked up into Misha’s ass, used one hand to push Misha down to grind against him, the other to hold the back of his neck and pull him even closer. Misha wrapped his arms around Jensen’s neck and began writhing against him.

His body felt nothing but heat. Fire. A wake of sparks left from Misha’s touch.

He broke the kiss and began sucking Misha’s neck, getting a shiver from Misha when he teased a spot behind the man’s ear.

“Fuck me, Jen. You’re weakening my resolve.”

“That’s the plan,” he said with a thrust of his hips upward. He was already growing a little hard again.

“No, it’s not.” Misha said firmly, pushing himself off Jensen’s lap. “Talk to Danneel. That’s the plan.”

Jensen groaned in frustration, “and what about you?”

“You’ve been on my short-list for years, Jen.”

Jensen raised his eyebrows. Short-list?

“As in, this is a short list of people my wife has given me permission to fuck, should the occasion ever arise.”

Jensen rolled his eyes. “I meant, what about your hard on, dude?”

Misha looked down at his erection and grinned. “I know how to take care of myself, Jen. I spent years studying tantric sex.”


MARCH 2012

“Too many clothes,” Misha moaned as he reached over and removed Jensen’s tee. He ran his hands down Jensen’s chest, feeling the smooth, hard muscle and whimpered as Jensen palmed Misha’s cock through his jeans and said, “I know.”

Jensen unbuttoned Misha’s jeans, lowered his zipper, and discovered the man was going commando. Hallelujah. He’d never touched another man’s cock, but it couldn’t be too different from touching his own, right?

“Jensen!” Misha moaned as the man formed a fist around his cock and began stroking it. He was straddling Jensen’s lap, facing him in an act of intimacy they hadn’t shared since January. Misha put his hands on the back of the couch, on either side of Jensen’s head. He lowered his head to grab Jensen’s gaze with his own blue eyes, then lifted his chin keeping their eyes locked on each other the whole time.

It was so fucking intense. Who did that?

Misha began rocking his hips in time to Jensen’s stroking. Soft moans and grunts escaped his lips.

“You like that?” Jensen asked, revelling in his own power, his ability to make Misha come undone.

“Hnnng.” Misha moaned in reply.

“Want to fuck me Mish? To bury yourself inside me? To feel me all tight and wet and needy for you?”

Misha slowed his bucking and stopped breathing. His eyes widened into their most open expression. “More than anything,” he whispered.

Jensen closed his eyes. He would do it; he decided. He opened his eyes and met Misha’s gaze.


Misha stilled completely. The air became thick with need.

“Come on, Mish. Show me how it’s done.”

Misha stepped off Jensen’s lap and to one side, stroking himself with calm ease.

“Take off your pants,” he said to Jensen. Jensen pulled his jeans and boxers off and kicked them out of the way.

“Your socks.”

He took those off, too.

Misha’s gaze lingered over Jensen’s body. He traced the lines from Jensen’s calves to his strong thighs with his eyes, resting them on the man’s cock.

Jensen’s cock twitched upward under the scrutiny, growing harder.

He walked carefully into Jensen’s space, not touching him, but holding his eyes in a steady, blue-eyed stare. Misha was still fully clothed, zipper undone, stroking his full length casually with one hand. The air fucking crackled with electricity, like a hum coming off Misha’s body and caressing Jensen’s.

“Turn around,” he ordered. Jensen obeyed.

His voice dropped even lower, and in a husky whisper Misha said, “kneel.”

Jensen swallowed hard. He was going to do this. He was actually going to do this. He kneeled.

Why the fuck wasn’t Misha touching him? It drove him crazy with want. He heard his blood surging through his veins, his pulse pounding in his ears. His breathing grew more shallow. Fuck, how he wanted this, needed this, needed Misha.

“Misha,” he whimpered. “Please.”

“Bend over.”

Jensen lowered his chest to the couch, leaving his naked ass exposed to the air. To Misha. He felt the air behind him move, and his whole body tensed with anticipation.

“Oh Jensen,” Misha said reverently. “You are so fucking beautiful.”

Jensen pushed his ass back higher into the air like a cat in heat. Where the fuck was Misha?

“Sweetie,” Misha hesitated. “You can stop this now. It’ll be okay if you do. I’ll still love you. You won’t lose a friend.”

“Misha,” Jensen’s voice broke. “Please,” he begged.

He felt slippery firm wet heat on his opening and let out a moan of surprise. Misha and his perfect tongue. He was lapping more moisture on his hole, gently applying pressure with his tongue to help the muscles relax. When his tongue glided in with ease, Misha pressed in a wet finger.

Jensen bucked against Misha’s hand and moaned. He’d never experienced anything even remotely like this. He suddenly felt empty, like a vessel that needed filling. Misha dipped his finger in and out, in and out, eventually gaining enough space to crook it against Jensen’s prostate. His whole body tensed and vibrated with pleasure.

“Fuck me!” Jensen groaned. “What was that?”

Misha stilled his movements. “That, Jen, is your happy spot. Your prostate.”

“Oh God, Mish. Don’t stop,” he whimpered, bucking back into Misha’s finger. Misha continued pumping, hitting Jensen’s prostate with every other thrust, eventually working in two, then three fingers.

Jensen was a mess. His cock hard and throbbing. His body caught in an agony of want, of emptiness, of need.

“Need you,” he mumbled into the couch cushion.

“I know,” Misha said. “I’ve got you.” He removed his fingers and looked at his handiwork. “You’re fucking perfect, Jensen. Just like this. So open, so hungry.”

Another whimper escaped Jensen’s lips. He felt so fucking empty. Misha lined himself up behind Jensen’s ass, but didn’t move.

Jensen started crying. “Please, Misha. For fuck’s sake. Please.” He felt the soft, yet firm touch of Misha’s head at his opening and sobbed with relief as it slowly pressed into him.

He was stretched. Filled. Humbled. “YES,” he said fiercely as Misha kept moving deeper inside him.

“Oh Jensen,” Misha moaned. “I have waited so long for this.” He swiftly pulled out and thrust back in, pounding his thighs against Jensen’s ass.

“So.” Pound.

“Fucking.” Pound.

“Long.” Pound.

Jensen began bucking back against Misha harder, letting each thrust fill him.

Their rhythm became fast and urgent, lending an intensity to the pleasure that was almost like pain.

“You like it rougher, Jen?”

“Need. You.” Jensen panted in reply in cadence with Misha’s thrusts.

Misha planted a hard slap on Jensen’s ass cheek, causing Jensen to moan and vibrate around the cock inside him. Jensen reached back and grabbed Misha’s thighs, trying to pull him in closer, harder. There was too much space between them.

“God, Mish.” He said with halting breath. “I want more.” Anything to connect them. Anything to mark him as Misha’s.

Misha slapped him harder, and Jensen groaned a guttural “YES.” He slapped him again, harder again. “Yes!” Soon, Misha was slapping Jensen which each thrust of his hips, eliciting groans of “Fuck yes,” with each strike.

Then Misha leaned over the length of Jensen’s back, flesh on flesh and Jensen came undone. He grabbed his own cock and began stroking it in time to Misha’s thrusts. Misha slapped his hand away and grabbed it, pinning it to the couch above his head. Jensen’s other hand reached down to fill the void, to nurse his leaking cock, but Misha moved it away, too.

“No, sweetie. That’s mine,” he said in a gravelly voice. He put his own hand there, forming a fist around his cock for Jensen to fuck.

He’d been fucking claimed.

He thrust forward into Misha’s hand, “YES.” Rocked back against Misha’s cock, “Unnng.” Over and over, building upwards into a crescendo.

“Jen, it’s time,” Misha said. “Come with me.” It was too much. His body tensed and shuddered, and the orgasm that seized him blinded him with it’s intensity, racking his body in shaking moans, causing goose bumps to erupt along his back and arms, and eventually slowing to trembles.

Misha eased out of him. “I’ve got you, sweetie. Lean back.” Jensen fell back into Misha’s arms and chest and blacked out.