That's When We Uncover [Jensen Ackles + Misha Collins | Cockles | mxm]

Chapter Seventeen

I stumble out of bed the next morning having slept like shit and unable to even give a crap about it anymore. I'm used to the insomnia in Misha's absence.

I yawn and adjust the waistband of my sweats before trudging sleepily down the dim hallway. Dani and my parents are still slumbering away.

I pause to linger outside JJ's door, watching her sleep through my hazy, blinking eyes. She's curled up underneath the blanket sucking her thumb, her pillow clutched to her chest like a makeshift companion.

I wonder if she misses the comforting warmth of Misha's arms like I do. He's rocked me to sleep often enough that I know how good, how safe, it feels drifting off in that man's arms. I never felt particularly unsafe before, but now I struggle to make it through the night without him.

I'm embarrassed to concede that JJ's been handling the separation from Misha far better than me. I've fared miserably thus far, waking up in a cold-sweat with bloodshot eyes and a hammering heart and an ache that won't dissipate until I dig out the clothing he left me and bury my whole face in it and inhale his presence back into me. Yes, he left me a few articles of his clothing. So I could function.

Just fuck this whole insomnia thing front and back; I'm finished.

Settling down in my office, I dedicate a few hours to communicating with the publicity team, discussing their latest "rebranding" ideas, then sorting out my trip back to BC on the phone with management. I'll be flying up to Vancouver again for filming in about a month. It will be frigid compared to Cali this time of year, but it boasts of one essential thing my home here lacks. Misha Collins.

I think back with longing on the nights we spent together in his trailer. So much has happened within the confines of those admittedly undersized walls, much of it unspeakably dirty.

But there were also moments of beautiful intimacy. After a long day on set, I would use the key Misha gave me to sneak stealthily into his trailer under the cover of darkness. His sleeping form would be barely visible in the dim moonlight, chest rising and falling under the covers, lashes fluttering softly against high cheekbones and making my heart swell with a surge of the affection and longing I'd repressed all day.

I'd finally be able to peel off my shirt, strip down to my boxers and crawl into bed with him. And when I'd pull his ass snugly against my crotch, it wouldn't be sexual, but rather completing, intimate, and just the comfort and reassurance I needed in my exhausted state.

I've never held anyone like that before.

Even though he's gone home, I can still see him standing in my kitchen cooking a gourmet meal, doing the laundry, reading with JJ. I can still see his unkempt dark hair, messy from tossing around in the sheets, hear his precious moans when I please him in bed, delight in the way his dark lashes cascade against his lightly-tanned skin and frame his sea-blue eyes when he looks at me. He looks at me like I'm the greatest thing in the world, like he'll never let me go. I can still hear the sound of my name molding itself on his tongue and flying past his lips over and over again with blazing passion, can almost feel the intense flurry of moist velvety tongues and hot breaths when I kiss him... I want to always remember these sensations, in glorious technicolor detail.

My eyes glaze over as I daydream about the Christmas gift I'm going to treat him to when I see him again. Suffice it to say that I will give him a good fucking night. I'm going to be on him like fucking white on rice, gonna give him the best orgasm of his life, make him come at exactly 11:59:59 PM on Year's Eve. I wouldn't want to start the new year off any other way.