Spa-ntaneous
Aug. 22nd, 2009 11:34 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thecatevariAnother silly, indulgent AKB thing that's too (relatively) spoilery to post elsewhere. Still, it pleases me. Don't mind the title, I was feeling silly. *facepalms* This is all ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nilchance's fault.
Jensen takes Misha to the spa.
It's something else Misha's done; for all Lord Price's staggering fortunes, Misha had managed his own grooming, like a catchall slave. Which, Jensen supposed, was largely what Misha had been. Still, when Misha had signed, What's the big deal? Jensen knew he had to bring Misha with him, next time he went.
So he did.
The waxing goes about as well as can be expected. Misha gives Jensen deeply wounded eyes. "You were too shaggy anyway," Jensen laughs.
The mani/pedi provides the start of Misha's forgiveness, especially once they apply the hot paraffin. By the time they get to the hot mud massage, Misha sighs happily and signs, Okay. Maybe you have a point.
Though the technicians at the spa are eminently discreet—with their clientele, they could hardly be otherwise—Jensen talks to Misha in sign, preferring that extra layer of privacy it affords. He's been acting as Misha's translator all day; idly, he muses whether he should try to find a spa that has technicians on hand who know ASL.
This is the gossip: Jeremy still isn't having intercourse with Misha, even though they're fucking around in other ways. Misha seems okay with this—and personally, Jensen thinks Misha has a little nervousness about first-time anal sex at his age, but he doesn't advance that theory to Misha. Of course, Jensen is still in the rosy, glowing nimbus of being Jeff's boy, fully and completely, and he may be a little biased. He recommends Misha up the size on the butt plug he's been working with.
Jeremy apparently likes being bitten, marked—as much as Misha apparently enjoys marking him up—factoids Jensen files away for later. Misha also makes a rusty, almost catlike purr when he feels pleasure. Jensen files that away, too, though he's less certain about the reasons why.
Misha can drive, but he's still a little nervous behind the wheel and Jensen knows he's usually limp and languid after a day at the spa, so he arranged for cars to pick them up and drive them home. They tell you not to touch your skin too much, after a waxing, that the skin might get irritated. Jensen, on the other hand, can't wait to be touched.
Everyone in the house knows how it goes, on spa days, though Jeff and Jensen are the only ones looking forward to it, probably. After the first couple times, Jeff's learned to wait for Jensen in their room, wait for Jensen to slink in, liquid-limbed and sloe-eyed.
They both like for Jeff to strip Jensen naked; Jeff says he doesn't care, but Jensen would have to be stupid not to notice the pleasure Jeff takes in touching his denuded skin, each time like something new, as if he's never touched Jensen before.
The reverence, the soft touches, only last so long, though, before they both want something rougher, more intense; Jensen needing—asking—to be held down and filled.
The whole house knows and the afternoon—and sometimes the evening—is theirs, set entirely to the music of the soft, needful noises they make, crying out.
nilchance's fault.Jensen takes Misha to the spa.
It's something else Misha's done; for all Lord Price's staggering fortunes, Misha had managed his own grooming, like a catchall slave. Which, Jensen supposed, was largely what Misha had been. Still, when Misha had signed, What's the big deal? Jensen knew he had to bring Misha with him, next time he went.
So he did.
The waxing goes about as well as can be expected. Misha gives Jensen deeply wounded eyes. "You were too shaggy anyway," Jensen laughs.
The mani/pedi provides the start of Misha's forgiveness, especially once they apply the hot paraffin. By the time they get to the hot mud massage, Misha sighs happily and signs, Okay. Maybe you have a point.
Though the technicians at the spa are eminently discreet—with their clientele, they could hardly be otherwise—Jensen talks to Misha in sign, preferring that extra layer of privacy it affords. He's been acting as Misha's translator all day; idly, he muses whether he should try to find a spa that has technicians on hand who know ASL.
This is the gossip: Jeremy still isn't having intercourse with Misha, even though they're fucking around in other ways. Misha seems okay with this—and personally, Jensen thinks Misha has a little nervousness about first-time anal sex at his age, but he doesn't advance that theory to Misha. Of course, Jensen is still in the rosy, glowing nimbus of being Jeff's boy, fully and completely, and he may be a little biased. He recommends Misha up the size on the butt plug he's been working with.
Jeremy apparently likes being bitten, marked—as much as Misha apparently enjoys marking him up—factoids Jensen files away for later. Misha also makes a rusty, almost catlike purr when he feels pleasure. Jensen files that away, too, though he's less certain about the reasons why.
Misha can drive, but he's still a little nervous behind the wheel and Jensen knows he's usually limp and languid after a day at the spa, so he arranged for cars to pick them up and drive them home. They tell you not to touch your skin too much, after a waxing, that the skin might get irritated. Jensen, on the other hand, can't wait to be touched.
Everyone in the house knows how it goes, on spa days, though Jeff and Jensen are the only ones looking forward to it, probably. After the first couple times, Jeff's learned to wait for Jensen in their room, wait for Jensen to slink in, liquid-limbed and sloe-eyed.
They both like for Jeff to strip Jensen naked; Jeff says he doesn't care, but Jensen would have to be stupid not to notice the pleasure Jeff takes in touching his denuded skin, each time like something new, as if he's never touched Jensen before.
The reverence, the soft touches, only last so long, though, before they both want something rougher, more intense; Jensen needing—asking—to be held down and filled.
The whole house knows and the afternoon—and sometimes the evening—is theirs, set entirely to the music of the soft, needful noises they make, crying out.
