The scene was a simple one, but dialogue and blocking would surely make it a pivotal and emotional moment for the episode.
The morgue set was a standard one, used more than once before; green tiled walls and bright fluorescent lights overhead. A wall of stainless steel drawers lay beyond Jensen and Misha, and between you, the object of discussion. An extra who’s name you couldn’t remember lay on the steel table in the middle of the room, special fx makeup matting his face with wolf scratches and open wounds. The camera was poised to look just over your left shoulder, focused on Castiel for an overly dramatic Angel Mojo Moment.
If all went well, the scene would be a short: a rolling Castiel monologue with a sweeping camera shot that would heighten the tension exquisitely.
However, the lure of making Misha break during such a scene was too great to pass up, and after little cajoling, Jensen had convinced you to help him in his prank.
For his part, Jensen would slyly rub his foot slowly up Misha’s leg in a highly suggestive manner, inching ever closer to the Promised Land until Misha cracked a smile. If that failed, you were to use any means necessary to distract him from his lines, and you knew just what to do.
Perhaps it was having ten years of mid-scene pranks under his belt that helped Misha stay on task, for even as Jensen’s foot nudged at his undercarriage, the blue eyed man stayed in character.
Take one was a success.
But the lighting was odd, and cast a gray tint over Jensen’s face, so after a few minutes of adjustment, you went again.
“I’m sensing…” Misha paused as Castiel and took a deep breath, scrunching up his face as his Angel Powers were in use. Jensen used the moment to reach over and tickle the poor man’s ass, ramming his hand between the cheeks. Misha jumped a tiny bit, but amazingly, it seemed to work in the moment, so the camera kept rolling.
“There was more to this, it seems than just werewolves,” Misha went on, his voice deep and scratchy as the beloved angel.
Jensen gave you a subtle nod, telling you to take over.
“Looks like wolves to me,” Jensen said in Dean’s croaking voice. “Let’s not make this a huge deal.”
It was your turn. The camera wasn’t on you, nor would it be for a while, so you went ahead with your plan.
“Cas,” you said firmly in character. “Maybe Dean’s right.”
When the angel’s blue eyes flashed to you, you licked your lips seductively and cocked and eyebrow, giving Misha your best bedroom eyes.
He barely flinched.
“No. There is more happening here than we can see. I-” Out of nowhere, Misha coughed, breaking the scene. “Shit,” he said, clearing his throat in apology. “I’m sorry.”
Jensen’s eyes widened slightly in your direction, and you knew that was your signal to step it up a notch.
“I’m sensing…” Misha paused in the same place, but this time, as his eyes opened, he glimpsed you slowly sucking on your index finger, rolling your tongue around the tip. “This feels, uh, looks, um…” Misha gaped as you stuck your finger all the way into your mouth and sealed your lips tight, hollowing your cheeks. “More than…wolves, Dean.”
It was a nice try, but the director was unimpressed.
Take four saw your slowly opening the buttons on your blouse, just enough to give Misha a peek at your breasts. He coughed again, choking on his own spit.
Next round, you pouted and squeezed your breasts together, making his eyes grow incredibly large.
Through it all, Misha kept his composure, only fumbling over his lines a few times, but never truly breaking. You’d seen him lose control so badly he had to leave the set for twenty minutes to calm his laughter, but today he seemed as hard as a diamond. Little did you know, that description was valid in more ways than one.
As the clacker fell on take number seven, you gave your final push.
As the scene reset, you took three steps backwards and hopped up onto the mortician’s desk. No one said anything, since you weren’t in the shot anyway, and you were miked. If they had paid you any mind, they would have seen the incredible view that you now gave Misha, and my default, Jensen. You leaned back on your palms and spread your legs as wide as you could in your pencil skirt, flashing your naked pussy.
“But, Dean, I- holy fuck, Y/N!”
That did it. Castiel was gone, and so was Misha’s calm. His face grew bright red, his blue eyes huge, mouth twitching as it decided what to do.
Beside him, Jensen let out a breath that transformed into an interested, “Whoa.”
Immediately, Misha grabbed Jensen’s upper arm and yanked him, turning his body and prying eyes away from your unabashed display.
Sensing a fight brewing, you quickly hopped down and rushed towards the table. Even the dead extra was up now, wondering what the commotion was all about.
“Dude, relax,” Jensen laughed, trying to wrench his arm out of Misha’s tight fist.
“Relax?” His voice cracked like a pubescent teenager, and you dove in just in time before Jensen, and the entire crew, got an earful.
“Misha!” you hissed as you practically jumped over the table, reaching over what’s his name to grab Misha’s hand. “Stop it.”
He took a deep breath as he turned to face you, nostrils flaring, eyes enormous. He opened his mouth to shout back at you, but thankfully, the director called for a break.
“Let’s call this lunch!”
Misha’s grip on Jensen slackened and you sighed. “Sorry,” you mouthed as Jensen rubbed his arm and turned away.
There was a long, uncomfortable pause during which Misha stung your soul with an icy glare. Even the Dead Guy on the slab was afraid to move, not wanting to anger him any more. Very slowly, he slipped away with most of the rest of the crew, leaving you alone with Misha’s punishing eyebrow.
It didn’t take much to make you squirm, but the energy pulsing at you from across the table had you almost twitching with nerves and arousal.
“I can explain all that…” you said, breaking the silence but not his stance.
Misha subtly shook his head and you bit your bottom lip. You were in trouble.
Trouble guided you off the morgue set and into the next. The lights were off as the room wasn’t in use for the current episode, but you recognized the grand columns and shelving immediately as the Bunker’s Library.
“I’ll never get used to this,” you said casually, trying to lighten the mood and get him to speak to you. “We just came from Milwaukee, and twenty yards later, bam! Back in the Bunker.” A gentle laugh accompanied your attempt, but it was cut short when Misha came to a dead stop in front of you and spun on his heel. His face was sharp with anger, but not the kind that scared you. No, this anger made your body shiver and your thighs clench with anticipation.
He took a step forward, suddenly so tall, so imposing as he towered above you. He wasn’t that much taller than you, but everything in his current demeanor made him seem like a giant. Despite your trust in him, his sudden move made you take a step backwards, and Misha’s hand shot out to wrap around your upper arm just as it had Jensen’s.
“Where are you going?” he asked quietly, his voice dropping to a deep, accusing whisper.
“Um?” He tilted his head and let his eyes tear through the thin fabric of your cheeky confidence. You swallowed hard and looked up with a pathetic expression, silently begging for leniency.
Misha leaned into you, almost brushing your nose with his. “You were very naughty, Y/N.” His breath was hot on your lips, and you closed your eyes, hoping for a kiss that never came. “What did you think you were doing in there?”
Your eyes fluttered open, but no words came out, only a quick exhale that you pulled back in instantly.
“Answer me,” he said firmly, pushing his body against yours. “You thought you could, what, prank me? Get me to break?”
Your lip quivered. “I just thought… Jensen said maybe…”
He pushed you backwards until your ass hit the big table, his fingers tightening when you mentioned the other man. “Jensen said what?”
“He… said it would be funny.”
“Did he tell you to expose yourself to the entire room?”
Ice rain through your veins. “N-no,” you stammered, gasping as Misha dropped his free hand to your bare thigh. “And…and not everyone saw,” you said quickly, hoping to appease him somewhat. “Really just you.”
“And Jensen,” he growled as his hand slide up between your legs, warm and rough.
“I’m sorry,” your voice was but a squeak, a tiny shocked yelp as Misha’s hand reached your pussy. He cupped your sex with his wide hand, pressing his palm against your clit, making your muscles tense automatically.
“You’re wet,” he said calmly as he crooked his middle finger and slid it upwards into your pussy. “You liked showing off, didn’t you? Liked thinking you’d get caught; knowing I’d be mad.”
“You.” His finger slid back out slowly. “Are.” Back in again. “In.” The heel of his hand pressed hard against your clit. “Big.” And out. “Trouble.”
The steady thrust of his finger and the staccato melody of his reprimand made your eyes roll back, your body weak. You melted against him, held up by the table and his firm hand, that he now moved from your arm to wrap around your shoulders, holding you to him. He pressed his big lips to your throat, enjoying the quickening pulse that pushed back as he wound you up.
“I’m sorry,” you moaned as your head rolled onto your shoulders.
“Sorry for what?” he demanded, slipping a second digit into your pussy.
“For…for showing Jensen my pussy,” you whimpered, biting back a loud moan.
His hand pushed hard against you, grinding your throbbing clit with an infuriating pressure. “Who’s pussy?”
“Yours!” you gasped as his teeth scraped against your neck; a gentle reminder of your continued surrender. “Your pussy. Yours.”
Misha pulled away suddenly, the air chilling your body in his absence. He took a step back and shrugged Castiel’s trench coat from his shoulders, carefully laying it over the back of a nearby chair. “Turn around,” he ordered as his black suit jacket joined the coat. “Now.”
Without a word, you turned your back to him and held your breath; waiting, shivering, wanting.
The giant set was silent but for your heavy breaths and the gentle metallic rip of Misha’s zipper as he opened his slacks. He returned to you all at once, his firm body pushing into your back, his strong right hand sliding through your hair, pulling it tight. “Bend over,” he whispered, giving your head a gentle shove downwards.
“But… here?” you asked, out of line but worried. Previous actions could be explained away as a close-quarter conversation, but if someone walked in on him fucking you on the table…
“What’s the problem, Y/N? I thought you liked showing off.” His fingers left your hair and curled around your throat, tight, but carefully, with just enough pressure to reinforce his tone. “Let’s show them who’s girl you are.” Slowly, he released your neck and dragged his hand down your spine and over your ass, watching as you swayed in place, apprehension and willfulness leaving your body. When they reached your leg, his fingers swung quickly upwards, yanking your skirt up as high as it would go. You gasped and jerked forward a bit, caught off guard by the abrupt change of pace.
“I said, bend over. Now.”
Your palms hit the table, bracing your fall as you bent over and settled into place against the thick wood. Misha kicked at your heel with his foot and you spread your legs, opening yourself to him completely.
“Look at that, you’re dripping,” he said with a grin, tracing the wetness on your thigh with two gentle fingers. He scooped up your juices and leaned over you, pressing his fingers to your lips. “Suck.” He lingered by your ear, his breath tickling your neck, and slid his fingers into your mouth, letting out a soft growl as you cleaned them with your tongue.
You moaned as Misha withdrew his hand and stood back up, his hard cock jutting between your legs, lazily rubbing against your pussy, but not giving you what you needed. His hands fell to your hips, fingers taking hold in their usual place as he rocked on his heels, coating his erection in your slick.
“Please…” Your whimper was soft and needy, and Misha’s fingers dug into your flesh.
“You want me, Baby Girl?” he asked, pushing a little harder, making you crazy.
“Yes, Sir, please!”
Misha’s chuckle was almost imperceptible. “You going to behave yourself from now on?”
Near to frustrated tears, you twisted as much as you could to try and see him, nodding quickly, begging. “Yes, I promise. Please! Please fuck me.”
His lips curled into a sleek smile as he changed angles to strike your clit with the tip of his cock. “But, here?” he teased, rolling his hips, “where anyone could walk in and catch us?”
Your eyes rolled back, your breath left your lips in a heavy rush; your voice was deep and desperate. “Please…”
“OK,” he said with the hint of a laugh, “if you’re sure…”
His name on your lips faded into a cry as he finally pushed inside, stretching you with his delicious width.
“So tight, Y/N/N,” he moaned, pumping into you with quick, even thrusts. “You’re ready to pop already, aren’t you?” You hummed wordlessly in reply, cheek pressed against the hard table. “Got yourself all worked up for me like a good girl.”
Every jab of his hips pulled your body taut until all you could do was hold on; keep your lips sealed and the screams inside. Sweat beaded on your forehead; your cheek stuck to the polished wood of the table, squeaking slightly with every push against the grain.
Misha fucked you hard and fast, holding you in place with his big hands, his muscular thighs slamming into yours with each repetition. You bit into your lip, nearly drawing blood as you tried to keep quiet, but soon a string of expletives echoed through the big space; your only relief until he said the magic words.
“I’m so close, Baby,” he grunted, pulling on your hips, yanking you backwards to meet his forward thrusts. “So close. You gonna cum with me? You ready?”
“Ready. Yes. Please.” Your words were clipped, mirroring the slap of flesh on flesh.
He groaned deeply, the sound filling your head, vibrating through you as he neared the end.
That was all you needed. The blissful wave slammed into you like a tsunami, quick but delicious, and you tightened around him, giving him the final push to follow.
He softened in demeanor as well as stature as the high faded away, and Misha lovingly rubbed your back as you caught your breath, still pinned to the table.
“That was fun,” he grinned, leaning over you to peck your cheek.
“It was.” A turn of your head brought your lips together for a gentle kiss, and you expelled a loud sigh as he pulled out of you. You felt his cum dripping down your thigh, and you feared for your costume, knowing you were due back on set any minute.
Before you could say a word, Misha pulled the bright blue tie from his neck and swiped it gingerly across your pussy, cleaning you up as best he could.
“Dude… you’re gonna get in so much trouble for that,” you said, standing up in time to watch him stash the ruined silk in his pocket.
“Eh, Wardrobe has a ton of these,” he shrugged. “You think this is the first tie I’ve ruined?”
“Better be the first tie you’ve ruined in this way,” you teased, popping a hip as you sassed him.
Misha smiled and grabbed your face, pulling you close for a silencing kiss. He was warm and tender once more, and you suddenly could not decide which Misha you liked better. Luckily, you never had to choose. You got every side of him.
“Hey,” he said, leaning back to look into your eyes. “Please don’t go around flashing my friends.”
You couldn’t help but laugh despite the serious plea. “I’m really sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t realize Jensen could see me at that angle.” You paused to peck his lips once more. “I’m all yours. I promise.”
Misha smiled and wrapped his strong arms around your shoulders. “Good. Me too.”