There’s this one jib clip where misha is lifting up his shirt a little but not towards the audience and across the chairs Jensen is like holding on for dear life, and later when misha leaves there is Meaningful Eye Contact in a dom sort of way and so my mind implied to me that maybe sub Jensen had some sort of um… plug and was being a Good Boy…
There is a jib where there are pics of Jens and it really looks like he has one, with how tight his jeans are lol.
There is a post somewhere on this hellsite about it.
“What are you doing this weekend, Jensen?” Jared asked as they walked to their ten a.m. biology class.
“Nothing. Maybe doing that ‘American Ideals’ paper for the capstone class,” Jensen responded, heaving his backpack into a more comfortable position. “Why did we take half our classes on Friday?”
“To have Mondays and Tuesdays off,” Jared laughed. “Anyway, there’s a rave happening at this club I know of. Wanna go?”
“A rave? Like, an actual rave, not a house party?”
“Yeah! They have strippers until Midnight, then it turns into a Rave. It goes until the morning I’ve heard. They also have some BDSM rooms, supposedly, but you have to be a member to go in there.”
“What’s the cover?” Jensen asked.
“Fifty,” Jared said.
“That’s cheap for Vegas.”
“That’s the whole point! Anyway, what do you think?”
“As long as you don’t kidnap me into a BDSM room, I’m fine,” Jensen joked.
“Ugh,” Jensen groaned. The taste in his mouth made his stomach turn over. It was like something had crawled in there and died. He sat up, careful to extract himself from the unknown man in his bed. His ass still had a dull throb from the previous night.
Slowly getting out of his bed, careful not to wake up his partner from last night, Jensen made his way to the bathroom of the apartment he shared with Jared. He could hear the sounds of throwing up from inside.
“Jare, I’m coming in to brush my teeth!” He hollered, opening the door.
Jared wasn’t the one in the bathroom. A brunette was heaving over the toilet.
“Oh, shit, sorry!” He said. She looked over at him.
“You’re naked,” She stated.
“Sorry,” he said again, and shut the door.
The door to the apartment opened and Jared came down the hall with a drink holder of coffee. He handed one coffee to Jensen, who took it with a word of thanks and took a drink.
“Still throwing up?” He asked, nodding to the bathroom.
“Uh, yeah,” Jensen responded. “I’m gonna go put on pants.”
As he pulled on a pair of soft sweatpants, the man still in Jensen’s bed stretched and then sat up. Jensen handed him his coffee. The man took a deep drink and handed it back.
“Thanks,” he said, getting up and stretching again. “What a party, eh?”
“Wild,” Jensen agreed. The man’s deep voice and electric blue eyes brought a memory of last night to Jensen’s mind.
“I’m gonna fuck you so hard. I’ll bet that’s all you want, filthy slut!”
“Yes, Sir! Please fuck me!”
“Oh, fuck, it’s nearly three!”
He stood up and quickly dressed, gathering the pieces of clothing that had been tossed into various parts of the room.
“Got any cologne I can borrow?” He asked.
“Yeah, on the dresser,” Jensen responded, watching the man get dressed. When the man came up to him, Jensen realized he was nearly as tall as he was, with dark, disheveled hair, and those electric blue eyes that made Jensen feel as though he could see right through him.
“Thanks for last night,” He whispered, Jensen smirked and they kissed.
“See ya around,” Jensen said when they broke apart, though he knew he wouldn’t.
“That party was insane,” Jared said as they sat down on the couch in the small living room.
“I don’t remember much,” Jensen grunted.
“You’ll get some pieces back like usual.”
“Did we… Take anything?” He asked.
“Besides a shit load of alcohol? I don’t think so,” Jared responded absently, scrolling on his phone. “Why?”
“Just wondering.”
“We gotta do that again,” Jared sighed, happily.
“I won’t,” a female voice said. The girl had come around the corner, purse in her hand. “Sorry for spewing my guts out.”
“You okay?” Jared asked.
“Yeah. I’m gonna go,” She turned to Jensen. “You should get on a pole more often.”
“Excuse me?”
“You don’t remember?” She asked, then continued. “You got up on stage and swung yourself around the pole like you’d been doing it for years.”
“I did what?” He asked, incredulous. Jared snickered.
“It was pretty awesome,” Jared muttered.
“Shut the hell up!”
A few days later, he got a text from an unknown number. He was studying in the library.
I can’t stop thinking about you stretched around my cock, those green eyes rolling up into your head.
He looked around, worried, but no one was nearby.
Who is this?
It could be any of his one night stands from the last few weeks.
I’m offended, we had such a good time the other night! - Sir M
It must be that blue eyed man he met at Frenzy. What did he say his name was? It had been something strange. Another message came through.
You were such a good slut for me. I’d love to have you for myself. - Sir M
Jensen blushed to himself. He didn’t usually sleep with the same person twice. He thought briefly about making an exception. It had been an amazing night. Most of the pieces of the night had come back. The blue eyed stranger had dominated over him, easily taking complete control of their time together. Jensen had thoroughly enjoyed it. As the memories floated to the forefront of his mind, Jensen could feel that his cock was hardening. Another message.
I’ll bet you’re so hot and bothered right now, thinking about the way I owned you. - Sir M
Jensen finally texted back.
Yes, Sir.
It became tradition, each month Jensen and Jared would go to a Rave night at Frenzy. They would stay until the place shut down at 5 a.m. and then crash until late afternoon. Sometimes they brought dates home, sometimes not. Sir M and Jensen continued to message each other. Sir M could be very domineering, even over a simple text and it sent thrills of excitement through Jensen’s body.
About a week after his one night stand with Sir M, Jensen walked into the studio shyly, it was his first time here. He’d been curious about pole dancing ever since that girl had told him how well he’d done.
“Shoes off please!” The teacher, Jaz, behind the desk said sharply. “No outside shoes on the studio floor. Please sign this waiver and set your yoga mat down next to one of the poles.”
Jensen ended up loving pole dancing, going to class three times a week in between his college classes and working a part time job. One day after class, about six months later, Jaz called his name as he was walking out the door.
“Yeah?” He said, walking over to her, his bag slung over his shoulder and a yoga mat in his hands.
“You’re still pretty new, but I know you like to go to Frenzy every so often. They get a lot of their talent from this studio and they’re holding closed auditions for a new male act. I was wondering if you wanted to audition? You’re one of my only male students and I think I have just the song for you.”
Jensen stood there for a moment, his mouth hanging open.
“Oh, I don’t know,” He said eventually, “I mainly do this for fun-”
“Strippers there, especially males, make upwards of $500 a night.”
That was more than Jensen was making now, way more. He thought for a few moments, then relented.
“Let me know what to do.”
Three Saturdays in a row, he practiced one on one for three hours with Jaz. On the fourth Saturday, they ran through the entire routine twice. Jensen was sore, tired, and out of breath.
“You’re ready,” Jaz said excitedly. “I think you’ll take the job easy.”
“You… Sure?” Jensen said between gulps of air.
“I’m damn sure. You’ll knock ‘em dead this afternoon!” She gave Jensen a quick hug and began to ready the studio for her next class. “Make sure you drink plenty of water-”
“And eat plenty of protein,” Jensen finished, rolling his eyes in mock annoyance. “I know.”
That afternoon, Jensen arrived outside Frenzy at 1:30. Auditions started at 2. He showed his paperwork to the bouncer at the door and was let in. The place was a little unnerving when it was mostly empty and the lights were all on. He made his way towards the Rave Hall and saw a check-in table. He walked up to the two women. One looked up as he approached.
“Here for an interview for the bouncer positions?” She asked.
“Uh.. no,” he said, caught slightly off guard. “I have an audition for pole dancing.”
“Oh,” she said, surprised. “Sorry! Um, name?”
“Ackles,” He said.
“Got it. Locker rooms are that way,” She pointed. “Follow the signs. They’re still doing female auditions, so they may be running slightly late. Do you have a song?”
“Yeah,” he handed over a CD with his name and audition number on it, then made his way to the locker rooms.
As he got dressed, his nerves started to send butterflies to his stomach. He pulled on a pair of tight black cycling shorts and a plain black t-shirt. He had decided to go barefoot for this audition. From the information he had received, there would be a panel of judges and they would ask him a few questions before he danced. Jensen noticed as he waited for his name to be called that most people were doing slow and sensual songs, sometimes even emo. This made him slightly more nervous since Jaz had chosen a fast song for him.
“Next up is Ackles! Ackles to the stage!”
Jensen took a deep breath and then stepped out of the curtain onto the stage. He stood next to the pole and blanched slightly. It seemed like most of the auditioners were staying in the room after they’d auditioned to see the rest of the performers. Jensen only saw three other men in the audience. Then he looked at the panel of judges. Two men and a woman sat there.
The man in the middle had electric blue eyes. Electric blue eyes that made Jensen feel as though he could see right through him. Electric blue eyes that Jensen recognized. Sir M. It knocked the breath clean out of him.
“You used your real name?” The bearded man asked, rolling his eyes. “What’s your stage name?”
“I..I don’t have one,” Jensen stuttered, shrugging.
“Oh boy,” he said in annoyance. “Any tattoo-”
“Red Stud,” the blue eyed man interrupted.
“What?” the bearded man snapped. “Collins, are you in-”
“No, I’m just giving him a stage name. Red hair and just look at those muscles! Yummy.”
“Red Stud, I guess it works,” The man turned back to Jensen. “Tattoos?”
“N-No,” Jensen sputtered, he started to think this had been a mistake. He grabbed the pole, noticing it was on spin. He could do the routine either way, but doing it on spin was harder.
“Why do you want this job?” The woman asked, speaking for the first time.
“I love to dance,” Jensen said smoothly, he was aware his voice had become more even and slightly huskier. “I can dance, and I want to make money doing what I love.”
“Well, I think we’d love to see!” Sir M clapped his hands together. “Go on.”
I saw him dancin' there by the record machine
I knew he must a been about seventeen
The beat was goin' strong
Playin' my favorite song
And I could tell it wouldn't be long
'Til he was with me, yeah, me
And I could tell it wouldn't be long
'Til he was with me, yeah, me, singin'
As soon as the music started, Jensen felt right at home. As if he were back in the studio practicing with Jaz. The loud guitar strums and drum set blasted through the speakers and Jensen opened “I Love Rock N’ Roll” by flexing his biceps, rolling his hips, and showing off his muscles, visible even under the t-shirt, to the various parts of the room. People started clapping along with the beat. When the lyrics started, he climbed the pole to the top, stopping at the end of each line to do various hangs to show off his strength, flowing with the hard rock.
I love rock n' roll
So put another dime in the jukebox, baby
I love rock n' roll
So come and take your time and dance with me
Ow
Once he reached the top of the pole, the chorus started and Jensen folded over and around the pole, holding an attitude position before quickly hip-switching to a sundial. He pulled up and inverted into a Fang, spinning quickly with the music before doing a cartwheel dismount.
He smiled, so I got up and asked for his name
"That don't matter", he said, "'cause it's all the same"
I said, "Can I take you home where we can be alone?"
And next we were movin' on
He was with me, yeah, me
Next we were movin' on
He was with me, yeah, me singin'
He pole walked once, before unveiling his next climb. Jaz had spent the majority of their first session teaching him this complex no legs, hand-over-hand climb until Jensen could do it perfectly without falling. Jensen was surprised to hear cheers. He climbed, doing a pull up at the end of each line of music until he was at the top of the pole again. He quickly maneuvered into a cross-legged sit so his arms were free.
I love rock n' roll
So put another dime in the jukebox, baby
I love rock n' roll
So come and take your time and dance with me
Ow
Jensen tore his shirt in half splitting it down his chest, then took it off and flung it at the blue eyed judge. He then inverted into a crucifix and nose dived down the pole. Jensen gracefully dismounted as the music faded. He took a bow to the cheering audience before turning his attention towards the judges. Jensen became all too aware of the sheen of sweat covering his face and chest and felt his cheeks reddening - it had nothing to do with the workout he’d just done and everything to do with Sir M staring at him.
“I...I thought Jaz said you were new to pole dancing,” the woman said in awe.
“I mean, I’ve only been pole dancing for about six months,” Jensen responded, shrugging. “Should I go?”
“Can you dance like that tonight?” Sir M asked, his voice deep and vibrating.
“I- What?”
“Can. You. Dance. Like that. Tonight?” He asked again, more slowly, like Jensen was hard of hearing.
“I’d need a new black t-shirt… but yeah, I can,” Jensen felt even more blood rushing to his face.
“Then the job is yours. You’re on at midnight,” the bearded man said. “Be here no later than 11.”
As he was walking out, he heard his name called. Turning, he was shocked to see Jared.
“Since when do you dance?”
“Six months or so,” Jensen said, looking away from Jared.
“Dude, you’re insanely good!”
“Uh...Thanks. Why are you here?”
“Got hired as a bouncer!” He said excitedly.
“Dude, that’s awesome!” Jensen exclaimed. “I gotta go call Jazzy and tell her I got the dance slot and then get ready for tonight.”
“I’ll see you tonight! It’s my first night too.”
Jensen was able to meet most of the other dancers that night in the locker room. It turned out that there were only three other male dancers, so everyone shared one locker room. A girl came up to Jensen. She was dressed in a red thong and red corset. She had blonde hair that was curled in large spirals. He recognized her as the female judge from earlier.
“Hi, Red,” She said, smacking some gum and winking at him.
“Hey,” He nodded.
“Come on, I’m gonna show you the ropes and rules. I’m Cherie by the way. So, tonight. They’re just going to have you open the Rave with your routine, but people will still throw tips at you. Each of us also has a jar at the bar where people can place tips, too. Don’t forget to empty it before you leave for the night. If you have any problems with patrons on the floor, grab one of the bouncers. After a couple weeks, you might do some dancing for tips, or they might have you out on the floor to do lap dances and such. I dunno, Mish will let you know.”
“‘Mish?’” Jensen asked.
“Misha Collins?” She looked at him incredulously. “Big blue eyes, stubbled jaw, orgasm inducing voice?”
“Oh, him.”
“Yeah, him. Let's get some makeup on you.”
Jensen fidgeted as midnight approached. His butterflies were even bigger now and he worried he’d mess up the entire routine. As the acts neared his, the music got faster. Cherie was just before him in the lineup, her song started, ‘Cherry Pie’ by Warrant. Jensen warmed his body and put grip aid on his hands. Cherie came through the curtain. She had removed the corset during her act and was down to her red thong and pasties.
“Good luck, Red,” She winked at him.
He swallowed hard and entered the stage through the curtain. A few whistles met him.
“Please welcome to the stage, our newest dancer. His debut performance right here, right now! RED STUD!” the emcee announced.
‘I Love Rock N’ Roll’ started and Jensen began his routine. He only slipped once and it was barely noticeable. Cheers and applause met him and he bowed. Then, he quickly picked up the cash tips that had been tossed onstage and exited. He’d made nearly $250 from tips he’d picked up off the stage.
Jensen made his way to the bar after he put on another black shirt from his locker. The lights shut off completely and black light turned on. Glow sticks lit up the room. A thumping bass beat blared through the speaker. Jensen sat down at the bar in an open seat and waited for the bartender to see him. The bartender came over to him.
“What can I get ya?” He yelled over the thick bass beat.
“Shot of whiskey!” He yelled back. As he went to hand over a ten, a hand caught him. Jensen turned to see Misha standing right next to him. He was wearing a red t-shirt that was a size too small and stretched dangerously over his shoulders. Up close, Jensen was able to see just how handsome the man- Misha- really was.
“On the house!” He yelled to the bartender. “And make it two!”
Jensen and Misha tapped glasses and took the shots together. After four more shots each, Jensen was feeling much more free and relaxed. Misha tapped his hand against his shoulder.
“Come with me!” He yelled.
Misha dragged Jensen into the Rave and they began to dance together. After the second song they were both drenched in sweat and the alcohol was really hitting Jensen’s head. He hadn’t eaten anything in a few hours. Misha raised his hand to his mouth and swallowed. Then raised his hand to his mouth again. This time he grabbed Jensen’s face and began kissing him. Jensen opened his mouth in surprise and Misha shoved his tongue in and Jensen felt a small pill. Guessing what it was, he swallowed and continued to make out with Misha.
Within ten minutes, the drug was taking effect. Jensen began to feel remarkably loose, happy and floaty. Misha was grinding against his ass and Jensen didn’t mind one bit. The music thrummed heavily through his head, his heart speeding up to match the rapid music. The bass beat dropped and Misha was reaching around palming Jensen’s half hard cock through the shorts he was wearing. His moan was lost in the music as he leaned back into Misha’s solid body.
Then, Misha was pulling him along, through the waves of people. They reached a door on the other side and Misha pushed him through it. They were in a back hallway and Misha pushed Jensen into another room. The lights flicked on. Noise was completely silenced when the door closed but Jensen’s head pounded with the remnants of the bass line.
“Should we be in here?” Jensen asked, eyes widening as he took in the sight of the room. It was a smaller room, but it was beautiful and dangerous. The walls were red, the carpet was plush and black. A few sex toys were scattered around and Jensen could only imagine what was in the armoire at the other side of the room. There was also a double bed in the corner behind the door.
“It’s my private room,” Misha said.
“A private room?”
Misha came up behind him and began kissing and nipping at his neck. Misha grabbed the hem of Jensen’s shirt and dragged it over his head before going back to kissing his neck. Jensen moaned lightly.
“Owning the place does have its perks,” Misha growled, his voice low and lust-filled.
Jensen turned to face Misha and pulled the other man’s shirt off. Misha pulled Jensen over to the bed and pushed him down on it. As Misha kicked his jeans off and leaned down on top of Jensen, something clicked into place.
“Are you a Dom?” Jensen asked.
“You could most certainly say that,” Misha laughed.
“I’ve never really… Except that night with you and I don’t remember everything.”
“Well, it’s up to you, but I promise I’ll make it worth it if you stay, Boy,” the voice slipped down a few notes and Misha reached a hand into Jensen’s hair and pulled lightly. A rush of pleasure flowed through his body. Jensen moaned. “What are your limits?”
“Nothing too crazy, I’m, uh, pretty vanilla you could say.”
“Vanilla it is, but next time we do things my way,” Misha smirked before kissing Jensen again. Blood rushed to his face and his cock, making his brain spin. He laughed into Misha’s mouth, the feeling of euphoria enveloping him again.
--
As Jensen began to swim into consciousness, he squeezed his eyes shut more tightly. His head was pounding, his muscles ached, his ass hurt, and his mouth was as dry as the deserts surrounding Las Vegas. Slowly, he opened his eyes and looked around the room. He had no idea where he was. The room was lit softly through thick curtains. The walls were a cool grey and matched the bedding. An unopened water bottle was sitting on the nightstand and Jensen grabbed it, cracking it open and taking a deep drink.
“I was thinking I was going to have to come wake you up. It’s nearly five,” Misha’s voice startled Jensen, and he looked around to see Misha standing in the doorway.
“I’d have been up at three if you hadn’t slipped me Ecstasy,” Jensen grumbled. “Where are my clothes?”
Misha walked over to the closet and stepped inside. He threw a shirt and a pair of jeans on the bed.
“You only had on those pole shorts when we came home,” Misha answered. “Take those. They should fit okay.”
Jensen got out of bed and stumbled sideways. Misha caught him. He became suddenly dizzy and shut his eyes trying to clear the feeling before it made him hurl.
“You okay?” Misha asked.
“Just a bit dizzy… Stood up too fast,” Jensen grunted. He slowly put weight back on his legs and got dressed in Misha’s clothes. They smelled like leather and cologne. An image of Misha pushing his cock into Jensen’s mouth came to mind.
“We should get some food in you,” Misha said. “Do you want to have dinner with me?”
“Sure,” Jensen said, his stomach snarling at the thought.
--
“Everything okay?” Misha asked.
“When you said ‘have dinner’ I thought you meant a dive bar or a diner or something…”
“Oh no, Sweetness, when I dine, I dine in style.”
“I’m not really appropriate-” Misha cut him off.
“Nonsense. Come on.”
The maitre’d greeted Misha by name and led them all the way to the back of the restaurant to a private booth. A waitress dropped off water, smiling at them before gliding away to the kitchen. Jensen fiddled with the menu, slightly uncomfortable.
“What’s wrong?” Misha asked in his low, gravelly voice.
“Just nervous,” Jensen mumbled.
“Listen, about last night-” It was Jensen’s turn to cut off Misha.
“I don’t regret anything.”
“Well… Good, then,” Misha said. “Are you good to go on tonight?”
“Of course,” Jensen waved a hand at Misha.
The waitress arrived with an appetizer.
“The usual, Sir?” She asked Misha. He nodded, then the waitress turned to Jensen, but Misha interjected.
“Let me order for you.” It wasn’t a question.
Jensen, shocked, nodded at him jerkily. Misha whispered into the waitresses ear and she gave him a nod before vanishing again. He turned back to Jensen, and put a hand on his scruffy face. Jensen suddenly had butterflies in his stomach again.
“So what are you into?” Jensen blurted out the question.
“Huh?”
“You know, like you have a private room at Frenzy- Hell, you OWN Frenzy. You’re a Dom, you asked my limits…” Jensen trailed off.
“I’m into things you couldn’t even dream of,” He said, darkly. Jensen shivered. It was strange, the way Misha could make him feel both scared and aroused at the same time. “But for the most part I’m into Dom/sub.”
“Like, whips and chains and ‘Master’?” Misha chuckled at the look on Jensen’s face.
“I’m more into the relationship, the power exchange, not the punishments, and I prefer to be called ‘Sir,’” He responded. “You know nothing of BDSM if you’ve just watched porn.”
Misha began explaining the mechanics and the true BDSM scene. Jensen became much more interested, and aroused, as Misha explained the true relationship between Dominants and their submissives. He never figured this sort of scene would be up his alley, but the way Misha had made Jensen beg for release last night…
“You’ve barely touched your food,” Misha stated. “Eat.”
Jensen did so. Misha smirked at him, his eyes were filled with lust and approval.
“What?” He asked.
“You absentmindedly enjoy being told what to do. I just had a very intriguing thought,” Misha said in a hushed voice.
“What?” Jensen was even more confused.
“Let me introduce you to being submissive. I think we’d be a good match. We like each other and damn you’re just yummy. I can’t get enough of you.”
Jensen looked down at his mostly empty plate, his mind was hesitant, but his cock was thoroughly interested in the idea of having sex with Misha again.
“Try it,” Misha pressed. “If you don’t like it, no harm no foul… But I think you’ll fall in love with it.”
“Fine,” Jensen relented, telling himself he could try something new. “We should get going. I need to go home and shower. I also need to work out a little. I missed my afternoon class today.”
“Want a ride home?” Misha asked.
“That would be welcome,” Jensen whispered.
Jensen finally got back to Frenzy at ten pm. He opened his locker and saw a jar of tips. The jar from the bar. Jensen groaned, knowing he would probably be in trouble with the bartender for forgetting to pick them up. He then pulled his phone out of his locker to check it. He had a message from Sir M.
I need you to open and close the dance acts next weekend. Open with a slow, sensual song for me? Then close with your regular routine. Next week you work Wednesday thru Sunday. W & Th & Sun 7p - 3a.m. Fr & Sat 7pm - 12:15 am, then you’ll join me in the Member’s Club -Sir M
He immediately texted Jazzy to find out if she could help him with a new routine.
We can practice this week, I’ve got a good one for you. I’m here btw! To see you perform.
That week was one of the hardest of his life. He even skipped a few classes at the college trying to get some rest between the club, school, practicing a completely new song, and texting Misha. He barely even saw Jared except at Frenzy.
Friday evening came and Jensen was a ball of wrecked nerves. He was exhausted, but got a jolt of excitement at the thought of performing a slow song just for Misha. The emcee was beginning to announce the acts and Jensen’s whole body buzzed with nervous excitement.
“Let’s open up with Red Stud!” The emcee yelled.
Jensen took the stage and a few whistles broke out above the chattering crowd. He sat down in front of the pole, back pressed against it and nodded toward the emcee. “You’re the Best” by Wet played through the speakers as Jensen began to go through the choreography Jazzy taught him. It was slow and sensual, just what Misha had asked for. Most of the choreo had him on the floor, using the pole as just a prop, instead of being on it the entire time. He ended the song on the floor, in a shoulder mount with his legs split. People clapped, cheered, and whistled. Jensen collected the money on the stage and went back to the locker room, to rest and get ready for the closing act.
After the closing act, Jensen got a t-shirt on and went out into the now Rave Room. As he approached the bar, he saw Misha talking to a few patrons. One girl was draped over his shoulder and a hotness spread through Jensen’s body. Jealousy. They had never said they’d be exclusive, Jensen reasoned, but he still wanted to toss the girl into what was now becoming a mosh pit.
He grabbed a couple shots from the bartender, downing one right after the other. His eyes were trained on Misha at the other end of the bar, the jealousy burning through his veins, just like the whiskey he’d shot down. He finally shoved himself from the bar, deciding he could play the same game. He disappeared into the rave to find a partner for the evening.
As he was grinding with a stranger, he felt a hand fist the back of his shirt and yanked him back. Jensen was shocked, he looked around and saw Misha was the one who had his shirt. He was surprised at the roughness and then saw the look on Misha’s face.
His jaw was clenched and eyes were narrowed in anger. There was fury written into his face. He caught Misha’s eye for just a moment and saw only rage in the flashing blue. Misha shoved him through the same door as last weekend and into his private room.
“Think you’re funny?!” Misha spat as all other sound was drowned out. Jensen opened his mouth but a single flash of Misha’s eyes and his voice died in his throat. “Grinding on some stranger right in front of ME? You’re mine!”
Something strange happened at Misha’s words. He was slightly scared, very much confused and then a shooting feeling of arousal coiled through his belly. Jensen found his voice.
“You had women all over you at the bar! We never said we were exclusive,” He strained his voice to keep it level.
“I wasn’t the one out on the dance floor practically having sex!”
“You were last weekend!” Jensen cried, aware that his words were making less sense.
“You’re MINE, Boy!” Misha barked. The arousal came back, harder and stronger than before.
“Promise?” Jensen breathed.
Anger melted from Misha’s face. He looked confused, then a grin broke across his face.
“What?” Jensen snapped, but the anger was melting completely and being taken over by desire.
“You liked it.”
“Liked what?”
“Being called names. When I called you ‘boy’ I saw your cock jump in those tight shorts. You like being humiliated,” Misha looked at him fondly. “I’ll tuck away that information for later.”
They ended the night a lot happier than it had started, the fight completely forgotten, like the clothes all over the floor.
--
Jensen was sitting at Misha’s kitchen table. A laptop, books, notebooks and folders were spread out around him. Jensen had his forehead pressed to the cool wood. He’d spent the better part of three hours trying to write a paper for his english class. What does each room color symbolize in Mask of the Red Death? Discuss. Jensen then thought of the two ten-page papers due at the end of the semester. A Topic of Your Choosing Using Compare and Contrasting Methods and How are American Ideals Still Relevant in Today’s Day and Age?
He groaned and lifted his head up. He found Misha standing against the counter to his right. Misha was wearing a suit, crisply ironed, with a khaki top coat over it. From the looks of it, Jensen figured it was probably cashmere.
“Looks like a tornado came through,” He indicated the mess on the table.
“More like a typhoon. I’m drowning in this.”
“I wanted to talk to you about some things, but it can wait if you’re too busy.”
“Please, I could use a break from this.”
“Now that we’re going to delve into this relationship, I want to lay out a couple rules for you to follow,” Misha sat down at the table and looked at Jensen seriously. Jensen nodded. “Number One, you call me ‘Sir.’ Number Two, you don’t cum unless I say so. Number Three, do not lie to me, EVER. And Number Four, is this.”
He took a small, leather-bound book from the inside of his topcoat and set it in front of Jensen. Upon further inspection, it was a journal with lined pages. Jensen cocked an eyebrow at Misha.
“I want you to keep a journal. At least one page per day, more if you feel like it. On the first page,” Misha flipped the book open, “I’ve written some prompts I’d like you to start off writing about, so we can hone and mold our relationship together.”
“So, I’m drowning in homework… And you give me more?” Jensen said, indicating the haphazard papers that littered the table.
“I guess so, yeah. Got a problem with that, Boy?” Misha’s voice dipped into a commanding voice.
“No,” Jensen responded.
“No, what?” Misha’s voice dripped with venom.
“Uh, no, Sir,” Jensen looked down at the table.
“Failure to follow my rules will result in punishment, and trust me, punishment does not equal pleasure.”
“Yes, Sir,” Jensen said, nodding his understanding.
“That’s my good slut,” Misha said, patting his hair. Misha and Jensen had found out fairly quickly that the pet name turned Jensen on to no end and Jensen felt a swell of happiness each time Misha used it. “I have a meeting. Be good.”
As Misha left, Jensen looked at the table. He rolled his eyes in frustration and grabbed the journal. Opening it to the first page, he saw Misha’s handwriting. It was slanted, neat, almost calligraphy
What are your likes and dislikes in the bedroom? Discuss.
How are you currently feeling about our relationship? Write this subject weekly
What do you want from a sexual partner?
What do you need from a sexual partner?
There was a hard line penned into the page
Only Jensen may write, unless he gives permission for me to respond.
This is Jensen’s safe space to write what he needs.
Jensen will never be judged for what is written.
Jensen looked between the journal and the three college papers he was working on. He groaned and pulled the laptop towards himself, deciding to write a little more about Mask of the Red Death before trying to fill out his journal.
The first room is blue, which symbolizes Poe’s own depression…
“You know, maybe he just liked the color blue!” Jensen yelled at the empty house. He tossed The Works of Edgar Allan Poe across the kitchen.
I’m honestly not sure how I feel about the relationship with Sir. I’ve barely met him but I feel like I’ve known him for a long time. I’m nervous and scared, but also aroused…
Jensen felt extremely weird writing in the journal at first, but once he got the first few sentences out, a bunch more were written. He ended up with three pages. By the time Jensen finished his journal as well as the Poe paper, it was nearing 5 pm. Jensen stood and stretched. It was Monday, so he didn’t have work and he didn’t have class: college or pole.
He felt like he hadn’t seen Jared in forever. At least, the last time he saw Jared outside of work or school. They never really had time to talk while busy studying and working. Jensen texted Jared.
Where are you?
Video Games was the response.
Jensen was getting ready to head over to his apartment when a thought struck him. He quickly texted Misha.
I’m going over to the apartment to hang with Jared.
Home by 2am came only a few seconds later. Jensen set an alarm on his phone to go off at 1.
Jensen had only been by the apartment a couple times in the last two weeks and that was only to grab some clothes, his toothbrush, and school things. Jared hadn’t been home. He was splayed across the couch, playing COD. Jensen grabbed a controller and joined the game. As they played, he couldn’t help but feel a sort of tension between them. After about half an hour, Jared shut the game off.
“Drink?” Jared asked stiffly.
“I’m gonna drive back to Misha’s later,” Jensen said. “Is something up?”
Jared finished his own beer and grabbed another one from the fridge. He scoffed.
“What?” Jensen pressed.
“You know, dude,” said Jared, turning to him. “I don’t even know what to say. You get this job at Frenzy, end up in the back room WITH THE OWNER, and then disappear for three weeks. What the fuck, Man?”
“It’s not like that-” Jensen started before Jared cut him off.
“That’s how it looks from my angle! You’ve never been that kind of whore! Tell me, is it true? Are you Collins’ new bitch? I have never known you to sleep with a partner more than once, but now that it’s some rich dude...”
“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” Jensen tried to explain, but he realized Jared must have been drinking most of the day; he wasn’t usually this hurtful. “What?” Jensen was taken aback as he comprehended the last sentence.
“That’s what I heard. That’s what everyone at Frenzy is talking about. You hopping in bed with the owner. Man, I knew you liked to sleep around but this...”
“Jared, I’m sorry, dude. Let me explai-”
“Explain what? Just answer the question, Jensen!” Jared yelled.
“We’re in a relationsh-” Jensen started to yell.
“It’s been three weeks and you’re basically moved in with him! Do you know how worried I’ve been? I would’ve called the cops if I hadn’t seen you at Frenzy!”
“I’m fine, Jared! What? Can’t bear me actually being happy?!”
“You’re a goddamn idiot! You have no idea what this guy’s intentions are! Sure, we’ve all done one night stands, but this… This is a whole new level, even for you,” Jared had gotten right into Jensen’s face. Jensen didn’t back down. The hurt was pumping through his body and he stabbed Jared right where it hurt.
“You’re the one who almost killed yourself over Gen leaving you!” Jensen shoved Jared hard. He didn’t react fast enough to the fist that connected to the side of his head.
“Get. The fuck. Out,” Jared snarled.
Jensen had to sit in his car for fifteen minutes before the dizziness finally passed enough for him to drive to Misha’s...To home. When he pulled into the driveway, he could see the lamp on in Misha’s bedroom. He felt relief at the sight, not wanting to be alone after his fight with Jared. He let himself in the house and went down the hall to Misha’s room. He hesitated for a few seconds before knocking on the door.
“Enter,” Came a distracted response.
Misha was propped against the headboard, wearing only his boxers. He was reading Things Fall Apart by an author whose name Jensen couldn’t begin to pronounce. He felt that, in a way. That his life was falling apart around him. The room began to blur and shift and Jensen clenched his hands at his side. It had been a long time since something like this had happened. His head began to buzz loudly, like angry bees.
“Jensen?”
The room began to come back into focus, but then thoughts of the night and the last month of his life overwhelmed him and the room spun wildly, his heart raced, and tears fell from his eyes. Misha was at his side, steadying him.
“I need. My medicine,” Jensen was almost hyperventilating. “In my bag.”
Jensen curled up on the floor, holding himself until Misha came back with a prescription bottle. He popped it open and handed Jensen one pill. When shaking hands, Jensen put the pill into his mouth and swallowed. It would take about ten minutes for the effect to settle in and calm him down. With arms stronger than Jensen imagined, Misha scooped him up and set him down in the large bed.
“Shh, just breathe,” Misha soothed.
As time passed, Jensen felt his heartbeat begin to slow and his breathing evened out. He became aware of Misha holding him with one arm, the other carding through his hair. The feeling was soothing, comforting. When he felt he could, Jensen sat up and faced Misha.
“Panic attack?”
Jensen nodded.
“That may have been something you should have told me about.”
“I haven’t had one for two years,” Jensen whispered.
“Did it have something to do with the bruise that’s darkening on your face?”
“I had a fight with Jared,” He explained.
“Obviously. What about?”
“This. Us,” Jensen said, apologetically. “I should go lay down. The medicine makes me insanely tired.”
“Stay. I want to keep my eye on you.”
Jensen hadn’t stayed the night in Misha’s bed since their second night together. Jensen felt a swoop of anxiety, but then Misha brought a hand to his face, and it melted away. He leaned into Misha’s touch.
After a moment, Misha got out of bed and beckoned Jensen to do the same. He set the book carefully on the nightstand and pulled the covers back. He indicated to Jensen to get into bed, then slid in after him.
“Why do you have panic attacks?” Misha asked.
“When I was little, and my Mom and Dad were still together, they fought, like, all the time. Downright screaming matches. Their fighting started causing panic attacks. So, now whenever there’s arguing it can cause an attack.”
“I guess the fight just really affected me. I shouldn’t have said some things,” Jensen sighed deeply.
“We’ll have to be careful. Everything will be okay,” Misha soothed.
The light clicked off and Misha spooned Jensen, his arm wrapped around his waist comforting him. Jensen pushed himself back into Misha’s chest and within minutes, the exhaustion from the day as well as the medicine pulled him into sleep.
Jensen woke the next morning, groggy and feeling like his head was too heavy to lift. He was alone in Misha’s bed. Slowly, he sat up. He noticed a small piece of paper on the nightstand on top of the book that Misha had been reading. He grabbed it.
I will be in my office when you wake, taking care of some work. Eat some eggs and toast and meet me when you’re through. -Sir
Jensen went to the guest room he’d been calling his own. He slipped into the bathroom attached and did his morning routine. He then made his way to the kitchen, wishing he knew where Misha kept the Tylenol.
As Jensen ate breakfast, he scrolled through his phone lazily. The group chat he was in with the other guys and girls had blown up the previous night. Jensen scrolled through quickly, getting the gist of what had been discussed. He paused, however, when the chat shifted.
Cherie: It’s almost Mish’s Birthday y’all. What are we doing this year? Another showcase?
Brad: Maybe, he never gets tired of watching us dance.
Ariel: What if we did a choreographed routine with all of us? We could do it on the weekend of his birthday.
Michelle: Ooo I like that. Unless @Red Stud has a better idea?
Brad: That’s a good idea. Everyone meet at noon at Frenzy tomorrow. Come with song ideas.
Cherie: Great idea! See everyone then?
Shit. It was almost eleven now. He quickly finished breakfast and packed a bag. Then he went to Misha’s office. Jensen knocked on the open door.
“Enter,” Came a reply.
Misha was sitting behind a large carved desk, looking through a stack of papers. He glanced up at Jensen.
“Where are you off too?” Misha asked.
“Uhh,” Jensen hesitated, not knowing if the birthday party was a surprise.
“Don’t lie to me,” Misha reminded him suddenly, fixing him with a blue-eyed stare that seemed to read his mind.
“Okay, I’m meeting the other girls and guys at Frenzy-”
“Ah, yes. My birthday,” Misha rolled his eyes. “Anyway, I just wanted to give you this and ask you to fill it out. I’m filling one out, too. We will compare them and make necessary changes before signing.”
Misha slid a thick packet towards Jensen. He walked to the desk and picked it up. Standard D/s Contract - Misha Collins was the title. Jensen felt his cheeks heat up.
“Okay,” Jensen said, slipping the contract into his gym bag.
“Okay what?” Misha snit.
“Sorry. Yes, Sir,” He amended. Jensen walked around the desk, so he was directly next to Misha, who had gone back to his report. He gave Misha a soft kiss on the cheek which he accepted.
“Tell the girls and boys not to worry too much. I think I’ll be getting exactly what I want for my birthday already,” Misha threw him a quick, dirty look.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Be good, Slut.”
Jensen closed his eyes for a moment, letting the heat pool in his belly. Then, he left to get to Frenzy. He seemed to be the first one there, surprisingly. He changed, then warmed himself up quickly. He walked out to the stage and placed his phone off to the side, hitting the “Play” Button on the song he wanted. The slow guitar started and Jensen began swaying his body to the music, body rolling on the pole, doing slow spins.
Whenever I'm alone with you
You make me feel like I am home again
Whenever I'm alone with you
You make me feel like I am whole again
Whenever I'm alone with you
You make me feel like I am young again
Whenever I'm alone with you
You make me feel like I am fun again
“I think Red should do the choreography!” He heard the yell, it startled him and he lost grip on the pole, landing painfully on his elbow.
“I have no idea how to do choreography,” Jensen said tersely, sitting up and rubbing his aching elbow. He looked around and saw Brad, Cherie, and Michelle, who seemed to be the one who’d yelled.
“Yes, you do,” Cherie said. “I know you can. Just by watching that performance, I know you can.”
Everyone filtered in and then Cherie called for silence.
“I think Red should do choreo,” Michelle said again.
“All in favor?” Cherie asked. Everyone except Jensen yelled ‘Aye!’
Jensen groaned.
“Now, what song should we do? Fast or slow?”
“Slow,” Jensen said. “I’m a lot better at slow choreo. Jazzy’s the one who usually choreographs for me.”
It took nearly an hour before they’d settled on a song. Jensen huffed, it wasn’t a very slow song, but he could work with it.
“Give me a half hour to figure out what we’re doing,” He grumbled, grabbing a pad of paper from behind the bar.
Jensen played Breathe on Me at least five times, stopping and starting and writing the choreography on the pad. He called Cherie over and went through it with her. That way she could teach group one and he could teach group two. After about two hours, Jensen called it quits for the day.
After a long shower, Jensen settled down at the kitchen table to do his homework and try to go through the large contract Misha had given him that morning. He’d gotten his english paper done, his journal written in, and was just staring at the front page of the contract when Misha arrived.
“Slut,” He greeted, flashing a smile his way.
“Sir,” Jensen nodded at him, a smile spreading across his face.
“I’ll be in my room. Have fun.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Jensen, in his limited free time, had been doing a lot of research into proper BDSM etiquette and rules. As Jensen read through the contract, filling in the blanks, he was all too aware of his cock hardening. He palmed himself as he went through the listed kinks and fetishes and circled ones he’d be willing to try. One line of the contract kept playing through his mind.
Above all, the primary duty of this submissive is to please.
Jensen grinned to himself. He had a sudden idea, and it sent warm heat through his body as his heart sped up. He hoped this would work, because if not, he’d be having a hard time following Misha’s rule not to cum without permission.
He walked down the hallway, his heart pounding in his chest. The door to Misha’s room was open and Jensen dropped to his knees just outside the threshold. He put his hands on his thighs and bowed his head, closing his eyes. He’d seen this pose on a website as one of the accepted sub poses. He itched to call out, call attention to himself, but he pushed the urge down, stubbornly. Jensen waited.
A calmness washed over him. His breathing and heartbeat slowed, the thought of pleasing Misha helped him ignore the numbness in his knees. Finally, Jensen heard an intake of breath and the swish of sheets rubbing against pajama pants. Jensen kept still, unmoving. He fought the urge to snap his head up. To meet those blue eyes that could read his mind.
“How long have you been here?” Jensen couldn’t help the shiver that ran through his body at the soft, loving tone. Misha was right next to him. A hand rested on Jensen’s head. Jensen leaned slightly into the touch before remembering to keep his pose. Words were lost to him.
“Speak,” Misha’s voice was still soft, but had an authoritative tone that Jensen couldn’t ignore.
“I don’t know,” He answered honestly. It could have been five minutes or three hours. The time had melted away, had become meaningless.
“What do you need?” Misha asked.
“To please you,” spilled from his mouth.
“Good Slut.”
A sense of pride swelled inside him and a jolt of arousal coursed through his cock.
“Crawl in here and take your position,” Misha guided him to an open space in the bedroom.
When Jensen had resumed his pose, he listened intently, trying to figure out where Misha was and what he was doing. Misha’s hand curled into his hair, lifting his head. Jensen struggled to keep his eyes closed, but his lips parted slightly as his breathing quickened. The soft, velvety head of Misha’s cock brushed lightly against his lips. A shiver went down his spine. Sure, he’d sucked guys off before, even Misha, but never like this.
“Is this what you want?” Misha asked, his voice low and growly.
Guys, I am rewatching this video again and again. It’s my favorite cockles video ever found. I love the way Jensen gives Misha microphone and tries to talk to the only one. I love dominative Misha, when Jensen just got lost for a few seconds and couldn’t speak, he literally forgot what he wanted to say, looking at blue eyes. I love their magnetic chemistry and the way they make me keep smiling from the beginning and to the end. I love how Jensen can see, what Misha doing, without looking at him, just feeling! They are cute and protective, synchronized and they really have very special bond. They are perfect.
