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Title: The Man Behind the Curtain
Pairing: Jensen/Misha - Cockles
Fandom: Supernatural RPS
Rating: NC-17/Adult/Explicit
Word Count: 13.8k
Alternate Link: AO3
Link to Art: AO3 || LiveJournal

Full List of Kinks and/or Warnings: AU, 24/7 D/s, dom!Misha/sub!Jensen, cock cages, urethral play, bondage, cock & ball torture, painplay, spanking, paddling, discipline, anal sex, oral sex, anal fingering, crying, humiliation, begging, praise kink, flogging, edgeplay, orgasm denial/delay

Setting: AU

Summary: Jensen is a very successful businessman, a real estate agent to the stars or anyone looking for luxury properties. He's confident, influential, and no one would guess that he's submissive in any facet of his life, much less to Misha, Jensen's butler and the man who blends into the background.

A/N: This was written for the 2016 spn-au-big-bang​. The banner and other lovely artwork is courtesy of my awesome artist, [ profile] bluefire986​. Thank you!

Art by [ profile] bluefire986

The flash went off in his face again and Jensen held still, waiting until the photographer nodded before picking up his briefcase and heading for the door.

"Wait, Mr. Ackles," the photographer called out as he chased after Jensen. "That was only the first set. We need two more."

Jensen came to a stop, then turned to face the man. He was shorter than Jensen, still had that gleam in his eyes that said he was passionate about his job, loved photography, and it was his life.

"Rob, is it?" Jensen said, pointing at the man.

"Yes, sir," Rob said, nodding.

"I'm on my way to show a few houses to my client," he said, transferring the briefcase form his right to his left hand and fishing his keys out of his right pocket. "Now, I don't want to sound condescending, but my client is about to buy her fourth house from me in the last two years, and the budget she gave me can easily pay for your house roughly sixty times over. If I'm late, which I've never been, she'll make me beg for forgiveness on my hands and knees, and after I've sufficiently kissed her ass, she'll laugh in my face and dump me as her agent. You asked for thirty minutes. You got thirty...," he said, then looked down at the three thousand dollar chronograph on his left wrist, "two minutes. We're done."

Rob sighed as Jensen headed for the door again. "But they asked for five different sets with at least three poses each."

Jensen held the door open. "You look like you're good at Photoshop. Put me in front of the Millennium Falcon or something," he said, then walked through the door. He hesitated, then opened the door again, looking at Rob. "I want the green lightsaber. It'll match my eyes and give people the idea I work for the good guys," he said with a smile, then walked away, letting the door close behind him.

He had parked close to the door, and he chuckled when he saw that no one had parked near him. People tended to do that when seeing a car like his Bugatti Veyron Super Sport. It screamed money and the ability to crush anyone who dared breathe on it.

Jensen got into the car and immediately called Genevieve, letting her know he would be on time to the appointment and to let Ms. Harris know so she wouldn't throw a fit and fire him before he even got there.

"But there's no jacuzzi," Ms. Harris said, scowling as Jensen adjusted his tie.

Jensen smiled. "This is the part you're going to love," he said as he held out his hand, gently taking hers when she offered. He led her over a small man-made river feature in the back yard and down the path to an area that had beautiful trees surrounding it, a full set of patio furniture, a grill with all the amenities including a wine fridge and oven, and flowering bushes lining the whole thing.

"All at your fingertips," he said as he pulled the remote out of his pocket and pushed one of the buttons.

Ms. Harris smiled, her eyes almost sparkling as she watched the decking slide open to reveal the jacuzzi underneath.

"Seats twelve comfortably, and you can change the temperature, the jets, and the bubbles from this," he said as he handed her the small remote.

"Oh, you always know just what I want," she cooed as she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. "I'll take it."

"It's all yours, ma'am," Jensen said as she let go of him and started back toward the house.

"Gen, I want you to give Jensen a ten thousand dollar bonus this time," she said to her assistant as she walked by. Genevieve winked at him before following her. "And don't ever let that awful man Folgers try to sell me a house. That idiot said I couldn't have a jacuzzi and a separate indoor pool in this neighborhood."

Jensen chuckled softly enough that Danneel wouldn't hear him. He knew she was talking about Kurt Fuller, even though she cared so little about the man that she didn't bother to learn his name. Fuller always tried to steal his clients, but Kurt would never be able to charm people the way Jensen could.

Kurt looked at the rich and famous like they were too good for everyone else. Like they were idols meant to be hidden away from work and anything stressful. He treated them like glass.

Jensen knew better. The rich and famous were still people. Actresses like Danneel worked hard for the money they made. Her last film had her neck deep in the Asmat Swamp of Indonesia. She had almost died of heat stroke on the fifth day of filming because she wouldn't take a break until she got the scene just right.

No, Jensen knew better. Treat them like real people, help them find a luxurious and private place to unwind after the stress of being in the public eye twenty-four hours a day, and they were happy. When they were happy, Jensen got bonuses and repeat customers.

Jensen called the owner's real estate agent and got the ball rolling before he even left the house, ensuring Danneel would get her house and he would get his fifty thousand-dollar retainer back, which had ensured no one else would see the house before Danneel did.

If Danneel had turned it down, he would have lost the money, but he knew Danneel, and he knew she'd take it. He was good at his job.

Jensen climbed back into his car after locking the house up and frowned when the bluetooth system said he had a new text message. He pushed the button on the display and pulled out onto the street.

"The guests will be arriving at eight o'clock," said the female voice from the navigational system. "Your suit is on the bed."

"Reply," Jensen said, waited for the beep, then said, "Thanks, Misha. I'll be home in about twenty minutes. Send."

The evening was a success. Of course it was. It always was. Jensen watched surreptitiously as Misha quietly moved about the patio, the kitchen, the living room, and the dining room, refilling glasses and conveniently passing by right when someone was done with their paper napkin.

Nobody else noticed him. Not because he was plain, but because Misha had a way about him that most people didn't take note of. In his button down shirt, vest, slacks, and shiny shoes, he didn't look the part of a wealthy party-goer. And that suited Misha just fine. He wanted to be the background noise, and Jensen loved watching him in his element.

He was more than a butler, and Misha had turned down more than a few offers to change employers. Jensen knew that his guests sometimes tried to steal him away, if they happened to take note of the hard-working man, but he wasn't worried.

Misha made his way to Jensen's side of the room, coming up behind him as if he was just tidying up. "Mr. Chau is looking for a place with a good security system and a location that allows for privacy while still staying close to his agent in Malibu," Misha said softly, then disappeared into the kitchen again.

"Osric!" Jensen said, shaking hands with the man who recently sold his second IT business and fifth best-selling FPS.

"Oh, hey, Mr. Ackles," Osric said, cheeks flushing.

Jensen flashed him a smile. "Call me Jensen," he said, finding the blush on the man's cheeks completely adorable. The poor kid was out of his element amongst all the others in the room who had either been born into money or who had lived with it for years. Osric still couldn't see himself as anything other than the geeky kid who liked to mess with computers in his mom's basement.

"Uhm, okay, J-Jensen," he said, trying it out on his tongue. "This is a great party."

It was obvious the kid was flirting, but he was too intimidated to make a big move. Jensen nodded. "Thanks. I'm glad you're having a good time."

"Oh yeah!" Osric side, eyes going wide as he held up his napkin. "These are the best... things I've ever eaten."

"Those are crab tartlets," Jensen said, keeping his voice low so as not to embarrass Osric and also getting closer so the kid felt special, like he was getting an inside secret.

"Oh, well they're amazing," Osric said, the tips of his ears turning pink.

"Yeah, I ate four of them before the tray even made its way out here," Jensen said, then winked.

Osric stopped breathing for a few moments, then let out a honking laugh before blushing even more.

If Jensen were interested in twinks, this kid would be in his bed already. But Osric didn't need to know that. He'd wait for the right moment and send him off toward one of the other people attending the party. Osric was openly bisexual, so Jensen had his pick of who to get him interested in, and he already had his eye on the beautiful woman in the corner.

"So I heard you acquired another collection recently," Jensen said. "I've gotta know how you chose to display it."

"Oh, the signed Transformers collection?" Osric asked, a big smile breaking out on his face. He leaned a little closer to Jensen, as if he was drawn closer just because Jensen was interested in something geeky. "Yeah, I don't have room for it yet."

"No?" Jensen asked, feigning surprise. He knew exactly how big Osric's condo was. The kid was so busy being overwhelmed by his success that he hadn't bothered to move out of the two bedroom condo he'd purchased after the sale of his first best-selling RPG. That was after he'd purchased a multi-million dollar home for his mama.

Osric shrugged. "I know I need to get a new place. The stuffy guys in suits criticize me for having such a shitty little place, but I hate looking for houses. I bought my parents a nice house, but my agent set up the whole thing, and he's been so busy scheduling me for cons and appearances that I don't want to dump more on him."

"Well what kind of place are you looking for?" Jensen asked. Of course he already knew exactly what Osric would like, not only because Misha told him, but because Jensen was a good judge of character, and he'd already narrowed it down to two local properties.

"It needs to look cool," Osric said. "The magazines keep tearing me up over the fact that I've got a shitty Honda and the condo isn't even in a gated community. I don't really care, but Mr. Beaver said it would make people take me more seriously if I lived in a more exclusive area.'

"Exclusive," Jensen said, pretending to think about it. "So you want to be in the city? A loft or something? Main street?"

Osric choked on his champagne. "Oh, Hell no!" he said, wiping his lip with the back of his hand. "If I have to live somewhere posh and snooty, I need it to be private and gated. There's a sense of security when you're living in a condo community. All those people to notice if something's wrong. If I lived in a house, I want big gates, a nice security system, and I want anybody driving by out front to only see a fence, not in my windows or anything."

"Ah, I see," Jensen said, then pretended to think about it again. "Oh, well, I think I know a couple places that might be just what you're looking for."

"Really?" Osric asked, hopeful tone to his voice.

"Yeah," Jensen said, nodding. He reached out and put his right hand on Osric's shoulder. "I think finding a home where you can spread out and still not worry about the paparazzi intruding is totally do-able."

"O-okay!" Osric said, smiling. "That would be awesome!"

"What kind of budget are we looking at?" Jensen asked.

Osric frowned, then popped the rest of the tartlet into his mouth. "Can you keep it at or below twenty million?" he asked, looking up at Jensen.

"I think we can do that," Jensen said, flashing another one of his smiles.

Of course he could put the kid into a home with twenty million. And Jensen's percentage on it would be one point four million. It would be an easy job because there was no doubt in his mind Osric would defer to him on any decisions and he wouldn't be picky.

"Here's my card," Jensen said, handing Osric his business card. It was printed on thick card stock with white lettering on a matte black finish. It was just classy enough to let people know he wasn't some idiot, but not too flashy, which would scare people off, thinking he was out for nothing but their money.

"Thanks," Osric said, glancing at the card before putting it in his jacket pocket. "And thank you for inviting me. The last time I was at an advanced screening of anything, the security sucked and the paparazzi got in and scared the shit out of all of us."

Jensen chuckled. "I run a tight ship and pay my workers well. You can relax and enjoy the movie."

"Thanks," Osric said.

"Oh, and you might want to go introduce yourself," Jensen said, gently turning Osric toward the far wall of the room. "She just sold her ninth novel in the Cyborg Series and I hear she's a big Transformers geek."

"How is that woman single?!" Osric croaked.

"Her name's Cindy Sampson," Jensen said, mouth close to Osric's left ear. She looks intimidating, but she's totally adorable. Get her talking about anything geeky and she'll melt for you."

"Dude, you're awesome," Osric said, letting out a nervous chuckle as Jensen gave him a push toward her.

Jensen took off for the kitchen, but Misha met him before he even got close to the doors. He redirected Jensen toward the back patio, hurrying him along.

"Mr. Pellegrino just fired his agent, his publicist, and his gardener," Misha whispered as they walked. "The gardener flooded the basement, the publicist didn't stop the story from going to the press, and the agent made the mistake of laughing. Pellegrino said it's the last straw for the shitty house he's in."

Jensen stepped outside, leaving Misha inside, and he leaned over the railing, letting out a sigh. "It's a little stuffy in there tonight," he said, looking out over his yard.

Mark was pacing to his left. "Huh? Oh, yeah. Stuffy."

"At least the movie should be really cool," Jensen said, then turned to give Mark a smile.

"I think I'm going to have to leave," Mark said, shoving his phone into his pocket. "I apologize."

"Something wrong?" Jensen asked, standing up and using his 'I'm a concerned host who thinks he's done something wrong to ruin your evening' face. "Was it the shrimp? I had Misha inspect the order, but if something's wrong with it..."

"No, no," Mark said, shaking his head, then letting out another sigh. "It's nothing you did. The party's going well, the food is great, and I really wanted to see that movie, but I employ imbeciles and I need to go take care of the damage they've done."

"Whoa, whoa," Jensen said, holding out his hands and giving Mark a smile. "What happened? Can I do anything to help?"

Mark let out a growl and turned around, gripping the railing for a moment. Jensen glanced toward the door and saw Misha mouthing something at him.

"All set," he mouthed as he made a calming gesture with his hands.

Jensen smiled and winked back at him before walking up to Mark and putting a hand on his back. "C'mon, Mark. I've been to enough of your parties and gotten too wasted to drive myself home for you to give up on a great evening now that I've got you here."

Mark chuckled. "You know what? You're right. They fucked up, they can damn well fix it. I'm having a good time here."

"So what happened?" Jensen asked. Thanks to Misha he knew the basics, but he wanted more.

"I knew I shouldn't have spent ten million on a basement renovation," Mark said, shaking his head. "The fuckin' gardener was doing some landscaping and busted through the wall and a pipe. I mean who does that? Have you ever heard of anybody doing that much damage in just a few minutes? The city has to get involved they did so much damage!"

Jensen shook his head. "I'm sorry, Mark."

"The worst part is I don't even like the house," Mark said, letting out a huff. "I wish the whole thing would go away and I could get into someplace nicer. Something closer to my mom. I miss her."

Jensen clapped Mark on the back. "Now that I can help with."

"Yeah, I know you can help," Mark said, "but I thought maybe you were pissed at me for using Curtis to buy the house I'm in."

Jensen snorted. "No, not at all. In fact, as a show of good faith, how about you let me get my guys into your place and start getting it ready for sale tonight?"

Mark's eyes widened and he stood up just a little taller. "Tonight? It's after nine. You know anybody worth their weight who works after six o'clock?"

"Let me handle it?" Jensen asked, grinning as he playfully elbowed Mark.

Mark chuckled. "You already sent somebody over."

Jensen laughed and patted Mark on the back. "Yup. And I'll find someplace you'll love by the end of the week."

"Thanks, Jensen," Mark said.

The last guest left sometime after two in the morning, and even though Jensen was tired of dealing with them, the buzz of excitement running through his veins wasn't going away anytime soon.

He locked up the house, then went upstairs, pulling his clothes off and draping them on the overstuffed chair in the corner of his bedroom. His tie and jacket were off, and just as he started on his button down shirt, arms wrapped around him from behind.

"Did I tell you to undress?" Misha asked.

Jensen's body reacted without conscious thought, relaxing and almost melting back against Misha, his arms going to his sides. "No, sir."

"Give me a number," Misha said. "I wasn't with you earlier today, and I've got a number in my head, but I want to know what you think it is."

Jensen didn't hesitate. "Eight."

Misha placed a kiss on Jensen's right shoulder, then unbuttoned the shirt from behind. "That's the number I had in mind as well, but that's unusually high for the events of the party, the photo shoot, and showing the house to Ms. Harris. Tell me what else happened."

It felt so good to be known by someone. Someone who didn't expect anything out of him but to tell the truth and obey every command.

"Vicki called while I was on my way to the photo shoot," Jensen said, closing his eyes as Misha's hands smoothed over his stomach, his chest. "She said James Patrick Stewart sent papers over to the office."

"Whatever it is, we'll deal with it," Misha said quietly.

"He's suing," Jensen said, the muscles in his neck tensing.

Misha pinched a nipple hard enough that Jensen let out a small gasp. "I said we'll deal with it."

"Yes, sir," Jensen said, but he couldn't make his muscles relax again.

"Tomorrow morning, I'll call Sterling," Misha said. "You're going to let me handle it."

"Yes, sir," Jensen said.

"Until tomorrow morning, what are you going to focus on?" Misha asked.

"You," Jensen replied.

"Good boy," Misha said, then took Jensen by the hand and headed for the play room.

Jensen blinked away the burn in his eyes as Misha's thumb rubbed over the back of his hand. He let Misha pull him down the hallway and into the big room with the double doors. It was the only room in the house that didn't have hardwood floors. About twice the size of his bedroom and covered in textured cement, coated for easy cleanup.

There were cabinets all along the left side of the room which held their toys and a full sink with hot and cold running water. There were three area rugs on the floor, each with a piece of furniture on them. Misha walked Jensen to the rug all the way to the right where a spanking bench was set up. Jensen knew that was where Misha was going before they even entered the room.

"How long has it been since you peed?" Misha asked.

"Just before I came upstairs," Jensen said.

"Stay," Misha said, then walked over to the cabinets, washed and dried his hands, then pulled out a few items.

Jensen knew he'd be put on the spanking bench, but he wasn't sure what else Misha would do with him. He figured he was in for some impact play because it always calmed him down.

Misha walked back to the rug and Jensen shivered as he got a good look at what Misha had in his left hand.

"Look at me," Misha said, then waited for Jensen to look him in the eye. "Pull yourself up onto the bench, open your slacks, and pull out your penis."

Jensen took a cleansing breath and nodded. "Yes, sir," he said, doing just as Misha had told him, though his hands shook some as he held his penis up.

Misha set the sealed package down on the bench's leg rest, then opened a packet, pulling out a moist wipe. He gently wiped the tip of Jensen's dick, then tossed the wipe and packaging into the garbage can by the bench. He opened a small packet of lube and set it on Jensen's left thigh before picking up the sealed cock cage.

Jensen tensed as Misha opened the blister pack and pulled out the sterilized metal. It wasn't the cock cage itself that Jensen didn't like. It was the urethral plug that attached to it. He hated having things inside his dick. But Jensen didn't get to make the decisions. He didn't get to say no.

He and Misha had been together for years, and after a few failed attempts at dom-slash-sub games, they had a serious talk about going further.

"Breathe," Misha said as he lubed up the metal plug.

Jensen took a few shaky breaths and forced himself to stay where he was. Misha wasn't doing it as punishment. He wasn't even doing it to distract Jensen. He was doing it because Jensen was in control of everything outside the house, and it was immensely stressful, so when he walked into his own home and gave up that control completely, it was a healing and a defense against the outside world.

Misha took Jensen's cock in his left hand, and Jensen gripped the edge of the spanking bench while Misha squeezed the tip and pushed the plug in just a little.

"Big breath in," Misha said. Once Jensen had done as he was told, he nodded and said, "Let it out."

Jensen blew out through pursed lips, closing his eyes, fingers digging into the padding of the bench as Misha let the plug fall into his cock.

"Good boy," Misha said, voice low as he pushed the smallest ring over the head of Jensen's cock. "So good for me."

Jensen winced as Misha locked everything in place and ran his fingers over every part of the cock cage, making sure it wasn't too tight and that the plug fit snugly without pinching or anywhere. Jensen was completely flaccid. Even if he had started to get hard as they had walked into the play room, which he hadn't because he'd been so stressed, he would have lost that erection when he saw the urethral plug.

Misha cupped the back of Jensen's neck and pulled him forward, pressing his lips to Jensen's. Jensen let out a whimper as he tilted his head and let Misha control the kiss. It was gentle and tender in a way that had Jensen's eyes burning again.

When he pulled back, Misha cupped Jensen's face and smiled at him. "You're very good for me. Now I want you to undress and get over the bench."

"Yes, sir," Jensen said.

Misha took each piece of clothing as Jensen handed it to him, and while Jensen climbed onto the bench, Misha hung them in the cabinet closest to the door.

Jensen took a few cleansing breaths, ignoring the way the cock cage knocked into the metal of the bench as he squirmed, getting comfortable. He listened as Misha opened a cabinet, then closed it before opening a drawer and pulling something out, then closing it.

He loved listening to Misha moving around in the playroom. It was familiar, and the way Misha moved whenever they were alone was calming in and of itself. Misha never hurried, never fidgeted, and his movements were sure and graceful.

Jensen closed his eyes as Misha undressed, and he didn't even have to look to know that Misha would be in nothing but his boxers when he came back over. He'd teased Misha about that once. How other doms would dress up or try to look cool, and there was Misha in nothing but his striped boxers, sometimes socks too. Misha had smiled and said clothing had nothing to do with a dom's ability to make his sub happy and content.

Once they moved on to a master-slash-slave relationship, Jensen realized just how right Misha had been. Misha could have walked around in a clown outfit, complete with big red nose and giant shoes, and Jensen would've still gone to his knees and respectfully licked those ridiculous shoes.

Jensen heard Misha's soft footfalls as he came back to Jensen, feet almost silent on the rug.

"I'm not going to tie you down," Misha said. "I want you to stay in position for me."

"Yes, sir," Jensen said, then smiled as the falls of a flogger trailed over his back, his ass, his legs, and even the bottoms of his feet before making their way to his shoulders and tickling his neck.

Misha started gentle strokes, back and forth. It wasn't meant to hurt, just to warm up the skin, and the soft thump each time the flogger came down calmed Jensen even more.

Jensen listened to Misha's steady breathing, soothed by the thump of the flogger. The blows got harder, but Jensen barely noticed as it was so gradual. Always steady. Always rhythmic.

By the time Misha moved down to Jensen's ass, his entire back was tingly and warm. Misha let the falls trail over the crack of Jensen's ass before he flicked his wrist, the tips of the leather strips catching the underside of his balls.

Jensen let out a moan, then chuckled as Misha's hand went between his legs and checked that the cage wasn't too tight. Misha was always careful, always mindful of things like that.

Misha stepped back and started to bring the flogger down again, this time with stronger strokes. Jensen wriggled around a little, getting even more comfortable on the bench and settled in as he started to feel little pinpricks of pain from the flogger.

Up the right side of his back, over the shoulder blade, then back down the left side of Jensen's back. His ass received the same treatment, then his thighs, and by the time Misha made his way back to Jensen's ass, the force of the blows was making Jensen's breathing a little uneven.

Jensen wasn't sure when Misha switched hands, but the flogger kept falling even as a finger trailed down his crack and pushed between his cheeks. Jensen wanted to spread his legs wider, especially when what Jensen assumed was Misha's thumb pushed on his hole, his fingers brushing Jensen's taint.

The thumb alternated with the flogger, pushing between each hit, and Jensen wanted to beg that Misha just push it in already, play with his prostate, do something. Anything.

"Ah, Mi-ah! Mish, please," Jensen cried out as the blows from the flogger became more painful. He didn't want it to stop, he just needed to make noise, and Misha always encouraged noise out of him.

When Jensen was under stress or upset, he shut down. He continued to work and do everything he needed to do, but communication became minimal. Jensen tried to break out of it, but it wasn't until he started to let go of all the responsibility on his shoulders that he would start to make unnecessary noise.

The thumb pushed into his hole, almost like it was a reward, and Jensen whimpered. It was dry, but just that small amount of extra connection between the two of them made a few more of Jensen's walls come down.

Misha pulled on his rim, and Jensen shivered, crying out again as the falls wrapped around his side and the ends hit his skin with more force. It felt wonderful, and Jensen wanted more.

The thumb came out of his hole and Jensen let out a noise of disappointment as Misha checked his cock. The flogger stopped, the falls resting on his back.

"I don't want to take the cage off yet, so you'll have to make your cock calm down," Misha said, then pinched the skin of Jensen's balls.

"Ah! I'm sorry," Jensen yelled, fingers digging into the padded hand rests.

"I didn't tell you to get hard," Misha said.

"I'm sorry," Jensen said, pressing his forehead against the head rest and trying to think unsexy thoughts.

"Nothing to apologize for," Misha said.

It was something Misha said a lot. Jensen had always worked hard to please people, and that didn't stop in the bedroom. He had a craving, a need to make others happy and satisfied. It wasn't guilt. Jensen didn't really have guilt issues. It was the failing that was very hard for him. The disappointment he could feel from someone he loved, someone he cared about.

Misha didn't fuck with his head like that, though others had. With Misha it was easier, even if Jensen sometimes forgot and fell back into old habits.

"I know," Jensen said. "I'm trying."

"You're doing very well," Misha said, then kissed his back. He placed another kiss over the curve of Jensen's left ass cheek. "You're not coming tonight."

Jensen didn't complain. He knew it wasn't a punishment. Whatever Misha wanted, he'd get, and Jensen was more than happy to follow any instructions. Of course, he'd like to come, but he was much more interested in how Misha would play with his body and his head, and he knew without a doubt he'd fall asleep with someone who was proud of him.

The flogger began hitting his back again, the blows starting off softer, then quickly gaining strength until Jensen was grunting with each hit. Misha backed away and let Jensen breathe for a moment, then brought the flogger down over Jensen's left outer thigh.

"Ah, shit," Jensen hissed as the pain flared, the tips of the falls wrapping around his leg and starting a line of fire on his inner thigh.

"Very good," Misha said as he moved to Jensen's right leg, repeating everything he'd done to Jensen's left leg. "You're doing so well."

Jensen clenched his teeth, but still let out a yell when Misha brought down the last three strikes. He panted, getting a little lost in the pain and shivering when Misha ran his fingers over all his sore skin.

Misha moved around the room, and soon he was running his fingers through Jensen's hair. "I'm going to help you up."

Jensen nodded, then slowly pushed himself up and back, getting to his feet. Misha tilted Jensen's head up and took a quick look at his eyes, then smiled.

"Time for bed," Misha said, then took him by the hand and led him out of the playroom.

"But...," Jensen started, then closed his mouth. If Misha said it was time for bed, then it was time for bed. Jensen didn't feel like he was done with the playroom, and he felt a little miffed over the it, but he followed Misha just the same.

Misha pulled the blanket back and made sure Jensen got into bed without falling on his ass. Jensen's eyelids were already drooping, and Jensen had to admit, even if only in his own head, that Misha had been right to make it a short night.

Jensen had forgotten about the cock cage and plug, and since he usually slept on his stomach, he rolled onto his back. Misha crawled onto the bed and got between Jensen's legs.

"I didn't say we were done," Misha said, then grinned, "so you can stop pouting."

Jensen frowned. "I wasn't pouting."

Misha chuckled as he unlocked the cage and gently pulled the rings off Jensen's balls and cock. He dropped the cage onto the rug by the bed, then held Jensen's dick up with his right hand and took hold of the plug's ring with his left.

Jensen whimpered as Misha pulled it out halfway, then let it sink back in. He did it again, and Jensen fisted the sheets on either side of him, trying to stay still. He hated the way it felt. Hated the way the metal was so hard, so slick. The way it pushed at him from the inside out.

"Hand me the lube, please," Misha said.

Jensen reached out with his left hand and opened the bedside table drawer, fumbling around until he found the bottle and handed it to Misha. Misha flipped the lid open with his left hand and drizzled some of the lube onto Jensen's balls before closing it and dropping it on the bed by Jensen's hip.

Misha massaged his balls, rubbing the lube into the skin and tugging just a bit more than would have been comfortable for someone who was overly sensitive. Jensen liked it, and soon his cock was getting hard.

Jensen moaned as Misha's fingers prodded behind his balls and down to his hole, two of his slick fingers pushing in. Misha pressed on Jensen's prostate, harder and harder until Jensen whimpered, then pulled his fingers out, filling Jensen's hole with his cock instead.

"Squeeze," Misha said.

Jensen frowned, obviously tired and trying to concentrate. He squeezed around Misha rhythmically, biting his lip as he worked Misha's cock.

"Harder," Misha commanded.

"Do I have to do all the work?" Jensen asked, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Yes," Misha said.

Jensen let out a huff, but he wasn't really upset. Misha could do anything he wanted, could tell Jensen to do anything and Jensen would do it.

"You're going to make me come just like this," Misha said.

"Oh, fuck," Jensen groaned, planting his feet on the bed and tilting his hips so he could work Misha's cock. "You sure I can't come? 'Cause that's fuckin' hot, man."

"Do you need help keeping your erection under control?" Misha asked.

Jensen started shaking his head before Misha was even finished with the sentence. "Nope. No, sir. I'm good."

"I don't mind helping," Misha said, holding his hand over Jensen's balls, touching the tip of his thumb to his middle finger. It was a clear threat.

Jensen winced. Misha knew him all too well, and if Jensen didn't get himself under control, Misha would be able to tell. And then his balls would get flicked.

"I think I'm okay," Jensen said. Misha demanded the truth, and even though it got him in trouble at times, Jensen gave it to him. "I think I've got it."

Misha wrapped his hand around Jensen's balls and lifted them, looking at Jensen's hole. "Faster."

"Shit, Mish," Jensen whined. "Hole's getting sore."

"I can distract you," Misha offered.

Jensen let out a huff of laughter. "You're very generous, but I'll live."

"No, I think you need a distraction," Misha said.

Jensen nodded. "Yes, sir." He had no idea what Misha was going to do, but he knew it would hurt.

"Hands behind your head," Misha said.

Jensen obeyed, then tensed as Misha prodded at his balls, rolling them around until he got his fingers around Jensen's left testicle and pressed his fingers together from either side of Jensen's sac.

"Ah, fuck," Jensen cried out, forcing himself to stay still.

"Keep squeezing," Misha said.

Jensen clenched his teeth and tried to focus on his asshole, on obeying Misha, but it was hard. Misha was very good at cock and ball torture, and though Jensen liked it, it was still very painful.

"Is this helping?" Misha asked.

Jensen's back arched away from the bed. "Yes, sir. I'm not going to complain about my asshole at-ah! At all anymore."

"Open your eyes and look at me," Misha said.

Jensen hadn't realized he'd closed them, and he did as he was told, panting through his teeth.

"Keep squeezing," Misha reminded him.

"Ow, fuck, ow," Jensen cried out, barely able to obey orders. "Mi-Misha, please. Fuckin' h-ow! Oh, fuck!"

Jensen could feel the sweat breaking out all over his body, could feel the pain all through his crotch and gut, all the way to his throat, nearly gagging him. He'd had worse. He'd even had worse at Misha's hands.

"Who owns these balls?" Misha asked, pressing harder.

"Ah, fuck!" Jensen yelled, feet slipping on the sheets. "I ca-Misha, Mish, I can't. Fuckin' hur-ow! Hurts! Fuck! Oh, fuck!"

"Who owns these balls, Jensen?" Misha asked.

"You! You-ah! Ah-ow! Ow! No, oh-ow!" Jensen screamed, his body bowing on the bed as the pain became overwhelming.

He couldn't take it anymore. He was at his limit, but he wasn't pushing Misha away. He was holding position. His brain was nothing but white hot pain and his nerves were on fire, but he was holding position.

Suddenly it all stopped, leaving behind a throbbing ache in his balls, the left worse than the right, and Misha was cuddling up behind him, wrapping his arms around him and kissing his shoulder.

"You were very good for me," Misha said in between kisses. "Kept position the whole time. Very good."

Jensen shivered, then smiled as he felt something warm leaking out of his hole. A calm came over him, one that he got whenever he made Misha come. He was proud of himself, fulfilled, and the evidence was leaking onto the sheets. Sheets that Misha was going to wash the next day while Jensen was hard at work.

Work. Jensen had forgotten about it. He'd forgotten about the stresses and the problems. Forgotten about that stupid lawsuit that he was probably going to have to deal with.

He smiled, snuggling back against Misha. He'd do anything for Misha, but he also knew Misha would do anything for him.

Next: Part 2
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Maya (37 & AroPan)
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