It started as a joke — “grip me tight,” Jensen said, laughing, “and raise me from perdition” — but somehow it turned into something that seriously turns them both on. They’ll both be naked, so no trenchcoats are involved, but Misha stares at Jensen in that intense way that’s usually reserved for scenes on set, and Jensen’s trembling all of a sudden.
"Cas," he’ll say, "Cas, I don’t—" and Misha will cut him off, say "Dean" in that low voice, and crawl toward him on the bed. They’ll share a kiss, and while Jensen’s still panting from the intensity of it, Misha will murmur, "I want more," and it sounds just like an angel taking his first taste of pleasures of the flesh.
Jensen cries out, then, his cock aching and his whole body on edge, and draws Misha close to him; he opens himself to Misha in a way Dean never could, and that’s the difference between them and their characters… but still, it’s amazing to pretend.
"You wanted to rehearse?" Rob says, because that’s what Jared and Jensen said they wanted to stay and do, even after everyone else abandoned set for craft services and lunch. But he knows different; the truth is written in their eyes, has been since they started working on this scene early this morning, and Rob can’t say he objects to the predatory intention written there.
They feel him up, rub their hands all over him, under the thin white shirt and the flimsy boxers, and when Jared’s mouth meets his it’s all dangerous heat flooding his system; Rob moans, and Jensen cups his ass, grinding his erection there until Rob’s gasping for more than the clothes-on contact they’ve managed so far. And the Js oblige, pulling down those boxers and wetting him up with spit and some lotion Jensen pulls out of seemingly nowhere; the whole thing’s a blur and Rob can’t keep track of the details, but somehow he’s slick and open and ready, moaning like a whore for the two of them as mere yards away, a whole set ful of people innocently eat their lunch and don’t notice a thing.
Rob grabs the couch and holds on for dear life as Jared fucks him for a few minutes, then pulls out so Jensen can have a turn; between the two of them and their thick cocks, just differently angled, he’s moaning and crying out, trying to keep from coming all over the costume as one by one they empty into him, then rub his back and kiss each other, reveling in the game they like to play together and in their newly discovered playmate.
Once they figured out it was a dream (“I dreamed there was an actor who played me” “I am an actor who plays you” “Oh, cool…”) it wasn’t too long before Chuck just blurted out, “So… wanna fuck?” Dreams have that effect on your tact and sense of propriety, and maybe it was the dream state too that made Rob shrug and say, “Sure, why not?”
Dream or no, cut to the chase and they’re wrapped around each other, all skinny legs and arms and frantic mouths landing on each other’s skin like blizzards. Rob’s easygoing and lithe where Chuck is tense and gangly, and he keeps gasping, muttering things about how he’s so glad he gave Chuck some sexual prowess when he was imagining his character.
As for Chuck, he just knows the cock riding against his is hard, and so is the press of Rob’s lips, and he’s in the best dream of his life… doesn’t much matter whose it is.
Richard’s cheek is pressed against the bed and his arms are pressed above his head, wrist crossed, held down by one powerful hand. Rob’s other hand is on his hip, guiding him up and down to meet Rob’s thrusts, and Richard can’t quite work out how it works, how Rob’s arms can be that long or that strong. Rob’s hips, too, are an impossibility, and so is the long curve of his cock, the way it stretches Richard apart and fills him. A delicious impossibility, and Richard can’t keep from moaning with each stroke, can’t control the rise of his own body as it lifts to meet Rob’s over and over again. He clutches the sheets with his held-down hands and groans out a curse and a beg for more, full and aching-hard, and Rob’s hands just harden on his wrists and hip, keeping him pressed to the bed and wanting.
He’s got a dildo, but he’s not sure at the moment whether to stick it inside himself or to just use it to deliver stimulation directly to his cock; the former takes longer, but the latter can chafe. In the end, Misha opts for a sweet compromise: he slides it in about three-quarters of the way and rocks on it wantonly, pressing his body forward like a lever to push his balls back against the base. Fuck, the vibrations are good, and when Misha grasps his cock in one hand the feeling shoots through him like raw electricity, rocketing him up toward orgasm almost immediately.
Sure, he’s gonna be winded when he’s done with this, but better to recover and then get more than to be denied all night long. Especially with Jensen smiling at him the way he is, and it’s a glance at Jensen’s smile, patient and a little sadistic but all pleasure and the promise of more, that sends Misha spiraling into a holy-fucking-crap-that’s-so-hot-it-hurts orgasm just under the four-minute mark.
"You know I don’t like it when other guys touch you, Rob," Richard murmurs, sliding his hands around Rob’s waist to hold him from behind.
Rob whines and twists in Richard’s grasp, angling upward for a kiss, but he’s denied. “Don’t be like that,” he murmurs, kissing Richard’s neck instead, “I’m all yours and you know it.”
Richard sighs, but his hand lands hard on Rob’s hip, fingernails biting in; Rob keens, whispers “Rich…” and breaks off into a sigh as lips come down on his shoulder, giving way to teeth that burn as they bite.
"Better show me again just how mine you are," Richard says, his voice barely above a growl as he hefts Rob’s cock in one hand, stroking until Rob is swinging his hips into the touch, wriggling in Richard’s arms. He stops himself, though, controls the desperate thrust of his hips, and turns to face Richard; one more kiss, this one landing firmly on Richard’s mouth, and Rob is bending down, ready to prove his loyalty through each move of his hands and lips on Richard’s skin.
Sometimes Misha likes to see him with other men, just to watch him take big cocks and cry out like the whore he is as just the penetration makes him hard, but tonight he’s here for Misha and Misha only, and that means a special dose of humiliation for which there is no equal.
"Let me see you," Misha says lazily, and Rob steps out, naked, his whole body shaking in anticipation. He’s hard already, even though he knows he’s going to have to parade around the room, strike poses and listen to Misha call him a slut and a whore— or maybe it’s not in spite of the humiliation to come but because of it.
"On the table," Misha says after a moment of contemplation, "with your legs spread for me, let’s see you like you’re about to take my cock."
Rob’s there in an instant, spreading his legs, and as Misha comes toward him, hissing under his breath that Rob looks like the most wanton little slut ever, Rob arches on the table, begs for a cock to breach his slutty hole… and means every word of it.
"Sit up for me," Jensen commands, and Richard and Rob come to their knees in a moment, side by side, panting and fixing eager eyes on him. Jensen nods and takes his cock in hand, fisting it roughly until a few drops of pre-come appear on the head, then walks toward them, holding his cock out so its wet head is angled toward their faces.
"Who wants some," Jensen asks, and they salivate, Richard moaning and Rob trying to walk on his knees just a little bit further forward.
"Bad dog," Jensen snaps, "on all fours," and Rob falls to the ground, whimpering in disappointment. Jensen turns to Richard, eases his cock into Richard’s open mouth, and says, "That’s good— you can suck me until I’m ready to come, and then we’ll punish the bad dog together."
Anonymous asked: Misha Collins / Richard Speight Jr. / Rob Benedict / Sebastian Roché — They're playing poker, and the winner takes it all.
We filled an almost identical prompt here.
They’re in the back of a smoky, seedy bar, and Rob’s drunk off his mind, drunk enough to plant himself in Matt’s lap and slur “Right here” into Matt’s mouth, wiggling suggestively. And Matt’s sober enough to get hard to it, and to hold Rob down, quiet his drunken laughter and tell him, “You have to be quiet, or they’ll arrest us for this.”
"You mean… really?" Rob says, and grins so hard Matt thinks he’s gonna pass out.
But Rob has incredible staying power, for a drunk, and as the bargoers walk by and the cigars puff their smokescreen into the air, he manages to pull down his pants just enough that Matt can slick him up and ease into him without too much skin showing. And then it’s all Matt and Rob making out, their hips moving sinuously together, and only the sharpest of eyes can pick out just how tightly they’re joined and just how good of a time they’re having.