Nobody Sees, Nobody Knows [Jensen Ackles + Misha Collins | Cockles | mxm]

Chapter Thirty-Five

Broad shoulders framed in the bedroom doorway, Jensen regards me with a predatory gleam in his olive eyes.

I swallow thickly, meeting his unwavering gaze as my heart begins to drum, fluttering against my ribcage among a swarm of butterflies until I feel like I'm going to implode from the intensity of his stare.

"Cas," he says simply. The deep, rumbling baritone seeps through my pores and a spike of heat blossoms in my chest.

My ears are flooded with the beat of my own heart, tripling as Jensen begins to move towards me. Slow. Predatory. Eyes latched on my mouth.

We've already shot the dialogue of the scene; now, Jensen peels his shirt over his head as he approaches the bed.

Before I can fully process the sight of his bare torso, he's on top of me, hot hands searing my flesh as I'm slammed into the bed.

"Dean-"

"Shh," he murmurs, covering my body with his own, dipping his head heartstoppingly close to my mouth before glancing off my chin, falling, falling, until teeth sink into the skin above my collarbone. I can't stifle the moan that erupts to save my life, and I thrust my hips upwards in frustration, gnawing on my lower lip when I ram into a hard, denim clad thigh.

Our mouths collide finally, the desperate movement echoing endless days of longing, hours of frustration and more. More, buried underneath all the things that I've never had the courage to say.

Finally.

There should be freaking fireworks or an orchestra, but there's just the heat and weight of Jensen's body and the warm, soft pressure of his lips pressed against my mouth. Smooth and moist and unmoving, his breath falling hot and ragged against the hollow beneath my nose.

I gasp into his mouth and the slight parting of my lips is all the encouragement Jensen needs to lick his way inside me. His tongue is rough and desperate, sweeping over my teeth, the roof of my mouth, his lips locked with mine in hot, passionate suction.

Moaning softy, I tilt my head and grant him deeper access, hands pushing through his hair with fiery desperation. Trembling fingers carding through the rough, golden brown thickness, pulling him impossibly closer. His weight is crushing and heady and real on top of me, muscles taut and flexing against my skin.

Jensen rolls his hips, driving himself into me in slow, deliberate movements. I arc my back, meeting him, our bodies rocking in tandem. In a perfect synchrony of hunger, of ferocious desperation no long suppressed, concealed, denied. Free, to ravage and consume and claim.

Jensen groans and thrusts harder, our groins colliding in an explosion of blessed friction, sending waves of liquid bliss surging through my veins. I can feel his hardness pressed against my own nearly brutal anticipatory erection. I know they're not filming below the waist and this is overkill and still our hips collide again.

Jensen groans into my mouth, a puff of breath dampening my mouth as I pull his lower lip between my teeth. Our breathing crashes through the scant air between us in short, indrawn gasps, ragged and pumping with exhilaration.

Instinctively, I squeeze his sides with my thighs, drawing him into me, pulling him flush against me and closer still, until our bodies seem to melt together in spite of the layers of clothing between us.