A man of quick wit and quicker decisions, Misha wasted no time in succumbing to the sudden impulsive urge that surged within himself, crowding into Jensen’s space and dipping his head down to wrap his chapped lips around the man’s thumb. He gave the digit a thorough cleaning with repeated swipes of his tongue and applying sucking pressure, eventually pulling back with an obscene popping noise. His eyes never left Jensen’s for a single moment, his vision partially obscured as he glanced up through his eyelashes.
It must’ve been quite a sight and exactly what Misha wanted.
At last Misha inched back enough to give them both a little breathing space, licking his lips in afterthought as if hoping to taste remnants of Jensen’s sun-kissed skin mixed in with the faint traces of wine.
“Thanks,” he replies hoarsely and way too late for it to be a proper expression of gratitude, and if he didn’t sound like Castiel yet he was well on his way to getting there. His pupils were blown wide, a thin slice of blue surrounding a glinting black that reflected his spike of lust.
While he never exactly expected their little not-date date to end this way, he certainly isn’t going to complain any time soon and is just intoxicated enough to not care either way. It’s a huge gamble he’s betting on that might forever ruin his friendship with Jensen, but Misha was always more of the type to leap before looking, anyway.
The strangled noise Jensen made, sounded a tad inhuman, but really who could blame him with Misha’s mouth latched on to his thumb. He felt a bit dizzy watching is ministrations his mouth slightly agape.
He thought maybe, just maybe he could recover from the onslaught of Misha’s mouth, until he all but growled out his thanks, sounding a little too much like a certain awkward angel of the Lord.
“Welcome.” He ground out. Well clearly he had no room to tease him about sounding like the character he portrayed, he was doing no better.
All the while he was trying to reign in how turned on he was by Misha’s little performance. He was a man who was not quick to make decisions. He looked at everything from every angle before making an educated choice, but with Mish, that seemed to just fly out the proverbial window.
Now seemed to be one of those instances. One minute he was telling himself that no matter how much he wanted to-and god did he want to- this would be a bad idea. And the next he is attacking Misha’s mouth, sampling the taste of his best friend, and the wine, which was a heady mixture indeed.
Like a dream come true (God, he hoped he wasn’t dreaming or at least he never woke up) Jensen’s mouth found his, an inevitable collide of lips slotting together and teeth clashing as their tongues tangled together in an intricate dance. He framed Jensen’s face with his hands, narrow fingers splayed out across his cheeks with the intention of either pulling him closer or keeping him there, likely both. The taste of him sent a different kind of drunken rush through his body, already addicted and seeking more of it, their heads tilting to deepen the kiss further.
Misha hadn’t felt this good from a kiss since his high school days, and maybe that should worry him but he’s too occupied with thoroughly mapping out Jensen’s mouth with each successive lick of his tongue, taking his time as if he’ll never have another chance to do this. With any luck there will be more make-out sessions like this and from how Jensen is responding to him in kind, Misha thinks his chances are good.
One of his hands slid to cup the back of Jensen’s head, gripping at the short hair he found there and he tugged none too roughly. The longer the kiss continued the more Misha shifted his body, gravitating closer toward Jensen until their bodies collided in a sweet press of friction chest-to-chest, a soft groan escaping past his now-swollen and flushed lips
Parting for much needed air, Misha rested his forehead against Jensen’s. There was the beginnings of a smile forming on his face and his preternaturally blue eyes shone even brighter than usual.
“Jesus, Jensen,” he breathed. “You’re one hell of a kisser.”
What else was there to say? He suspected some of his higher brain functions needed rebooting so there was a complete lack of any quip formulating in his mind. He was, quite literally, at a loss for words.
The way Misha was kissing him ignited a slow burn, curling tendrils of want and desire flaring to life in him, in a way he hadn’t felt in what seemed like a ridiculously long time, and that was just from a kiss. Sparks licked across his skin as Misha delved into his mouth like it was the last thing he would experience on this earth.
The idea of Misha being that thorough, led to other thoughts, about how he could be so in depth at other things. Said things made him shiver a sharp contrast to the burn setting in his chest as they took the kiss deeper.
He could feel the heat of Misha as he pressed closer to him, eliciting a small noise of pleasure when their chests finally met, sliding together until Jensen thought between them both they would spontaneously combust.
He thanked the heaven sfor small miracles, when Misha pulled back to breathe. He gulped in air, as he ordered the raging fire in him to simmer down to a steady roar. He cupped the back of Misha’s neck dragging in a breath.
“That wasn’t even my A game Collins.” He joked wondering where his new brashness had suddenly come from.
