Entry tags:
rpf fic: catch as catch can (jared, jensen, misha)
I'm sure by now everyone has heard about Jensen, Jared, and Misha wrestling in their hotel rooms. Or at least they've read that kinkmeme fill. I blamed the following on ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
amonitrate and ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
viridian_magpie, but really if anyone took a porn prompt and turn it into fartsy 2nd-person POV claptrap, I really only have myself to blame.
Knowing me, it's probably gen. Knowing you, it's probably not. I don't know anymore.
Catch As Catch Can
RPF. J2M. 835 words. not porn :(
The wrestling fic.
You are too old for this.
“Stop using that as an excuse,” Jared says. “Stop using that as an excuse and hit me.”
All flashing teeth and hair falling over his eyes. There is a manic look about him. Yes, this is all a grand joke to him, as it is to you all, but every time they pin you to the floor, they forget. You forget.
“You’re only as young as you feel,” Jensen yells, ever the peanut gallery.
You tell him yes, that’s your point exactly.
Jared lunges at you and instinct kicks in.
+
This is your point, exactly: your knee on the small of Jensen’s back, your hand on his neck, the other hand cutting your fingernails into his wrist. This will leave marks. Make-up will hate you in the morning.
You don’t usually pin him. He is the one who pins you, but if you let the shock of victory sink in, you will be distracted. You have to hold this for five seconds.
four
three
Jensen chokes out a ragged gasp.
two
He throws you off.
+
No biting. You’d think that would be a given, but Jensen brings it up in all seriousness and you laugh. What kind of wrestling does Jensen do and where can you download it without getting a computer virus and forty thousand pop-ups?
Jared breaks the biting rule.
In a minute, you will crow at his disqualification and your measly second win. In two minutes, Jared will make a cannibalism joke and Jensen will say, “I told you, man, I told you.”
“Not that it matters,” you’ll say.
Not that it matters, because right now Jared’s mouth is on your neck, the fight panting to a stop. You can smell his sweat. You can feel his warmth. You can feel his tongue when it flicks out between his teeth and tastes your skin.
+
Your favorite part is when they wrestle each other, the way they seamlessly switch from breathless laughter to the merciless intent to conquer. Between jokes worthy of any middle schooler, Jared would slam Jensen face-first to the floor and Jensen would put his weight on Jared’s chest until they hear something crack. It’s a no-holds-barred brutality that has been forged by years of utter trust.
“I’m not sure if my insurance covers fight club,” Jared wheezes.
“Does it cover being a little bitch?” Jensen demands.
And then there’s you, spectator to this spectacle, sloshing beer everywhere as you clap your hands and yell bravo, bravo.
+
“What on earth!” Tracy cries out when you show up for make-up with a purpling bruise on your cheek. “What happened?”
“First rule of fight club, Trace,” Jared says, poking her in the side as he passes by.
“What rule?” she calls out after him. “No, don’t tell me! I haven’t watched the movie!”
“People are always asking me if I know Tyler Durden!” Jared yells.
“I’m not listening!” Tracy yells back, smudging the foundation thickly over your cheek. It stings a little. “Not listening, you monster!”
+
“-and if this is your first night at fight club,” Jensen says, going for pomp and circumstance, and is interrupted when Jared tackles him to the bed. You wander over to kitchenette to heat up a bag of popcorn. Behind you, something breaks on the floor with a satisfying crash, and Jensen says, “Loser pays for that!”
It’s just that everybody wins.
+
“Woah, woah, cut! Cut!”
No, keep rolling, this is perfect, this is it. Jensen shoves you against a tree with his prop sword to your throat, and the fans will freak out over this scene, but in this moment, it is perfect. He is perfect. The moment is familiar but the context is not. You watch his eyes as Dean flickers out of Jensen, and then he grins.
“Come on, you guys!” the director whines. “We’re two hours overtime!”
Later at home, Jensen has you pinned to the mattress and no one yells cut. Constant violence has shaken something loose in you, in him. You acquire new bruises, and a corner of your mind thinks, Tracy will not be pleased.
“I can’t tell who’s winning,” Jared says, yanking off his shirt.
No shirts, no shoes. Only two guys to a fight.
The three of you manage the first rule just fine. The second, after Jared kicks off his sandals, not so much.
+
“It’s me,” Jared says later, when the three of you are collapsed in a sweaty heap on the bed. “I’m the winner. I won that fair and square.”
You demand a rematch.
Jensen laughs and says, “You would,” but Jared is already descending upon you, and you pull Jensen into the fray.
Round two.
And then, round three.
+
Tracy flicks the dark scrape on your temple, and you wince. “Are you going to make a habit of this?”
“Probably, yes.”
She sighs, and gets to work.
amonitrate and viridian_magpie, but really if anyone took a porn prompt and turn it into fartsy 2nd-person POV claptrap, I really only have myself to blame. Knowing me, it's probably gen. Knowing you, it's probably not. I don't know anymore.
Catch As Catch Can
RPF. J2M. 835 words. not porn :(
The wrestling fic.
You are too old for this.
“Stop using that as an excuse,” Jared says. “Stop using that as an excuse and hit me.”
All flashing teeth and hair falling over his eyes. There is a manic look about him. Yes, this is all a grand joke to him, as it is to you all, but every time they pin you to the floor, they forget. You forget.
“You’re only as young as you feel,” Jensen yells, ever the peanut gallery.
You tell him yes, that’s your point exactly.
Jared lunges at you and instinct kicks in.
+
This is your point, exactly: your knee on the small of Jensen’s back, your hand on his neck, the other hand cutting your fingernails into his wrist. This will leave marks. Make-up will hate you in the morning.
You don’t usually pin him. He is the one who pins you, but if you let the shock of victory sink in, you will be distracted. You have to hold this for five seconds.
four
three
Jensen chokes out a ragged gasp.
two
He throws you off.
+
No biting. You’d think that would be a given, but Jensen brings it up in all seriousness and you laugh. What kind of wrestling does Jensen do and where can you download it without getting a computer virus and forty thousand pop-ups?
Jared breaks the biting rule.
In a minute, you will crow at his disqualification and your measly second win. In two minutes, Jared will make a cannibalism joke and Jensen will say, “I told you, man, I told you.”
“Not that it matters,” you’ll say.
Not that it matters, because right now Jared’s mouth is on your neck, the fight panting to a stop. You can smell his sweat. You can feel his warmth. You can feel his tongue when it flicks out between his teeth and tastes your skin.
+
Your favorite part is when they wrestle each other, the way they seamlessly switch from breathless laughter to the merciless intent to conquer. Between jokes worthy of any middle schooler, Jared would slam Jensen face-first to the floor and Jensen would put his weight on Jared’s chest until they hear something crack. It’s a no-holds-barred brutality that has been forged by years of utter trust.
“I’m not sure if my insurance covers fight club,” Jared wheezes.
“Does it cover being a little bitch?” Jensen demands.
And then there’s you, spectator to this spectacle, sloshing beer everywhere as you clap your hands and yell bravo, bravo.
+
“What on earth!” Tracy cries out when you show up for make-up with a purpling bruise on your cheek. “What happened?”
“First rule of fight club, Trace,” Jared says, poking her in the side as he passes by.
“What rule?” she calls out after him. “No, don’t tell me! I haven’t watched the movie!”
“People are always asking me if I know Tyler Durden!” Jared yells.
“I’m not listening!” Tracy yells back, smudging the foundation thickly over your cheek. It stings a little. “Not listening, you monster!”
+
“-and if this is your first night at fight club,” Jensen says, going for pomp and circumstance, and is interrupted when Jared tackles him to the bed. You wander over to kitchenette to heat up a bag of popcorn. Behind you, something breaks on the floor with a satisfying crash, and Jensen says, “Loser pays for that!”
It’s just that everybody wins.
+
“Woah, woah, cut! Cut!”
No, keep rolling, this is perfect, this is it. Jensen shoves you against a tree with his prop sword to your throat, and the fans will freak out over this scene, but in this moment, it is perfect. He is perfect. The moment is familiar but the context is not. You watch his eyes as Dean flickers out of Jensen, and then he grins.
“Come on, you guys!” the director whines. “We’re two hours overtime!”
Later at home, Jensen has you pinned to the mattress and no one yells cut. Constant violence has shaken something loose in you, in him. You acquire new bruises, and a corner of your mind thinks, Tracy will not be pleased.
“I can’t tell who’s winning,” Jared says, yanking off his shirt.
No shirts, no shoes. Only two guys to a fight.
The three of you manage the first rule just fine. The second, after Jared kicks off his sandals, not so much.
+
“It’s me,” Jared says later, when the three of you are collapsed in a sweaty heap on the bed. “I’m the winner. I won that fair and square.”
You demand a rematch.
Jensen laughs and says, “You would,” but Jared is already descending upon you, and you pull Jensen into the fray.
Round two.
And then, round three.
+
Tracy flicks the dark scrape on your temple, and you wince. “Are you going to make a habit of this?”
“Probably, yes.”
She sighs, and gets to work.