Kink Bingo - Wet, Messy, Dirty
Sep. 21st, 2011 07:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
setos_puppyTitle: Popped Cherry
Fandom: The Losers
Pairing/Characters: Jensen/Roque
Rating: Mature
Word Count: 700
Warning: inappropriate use of jell-o
Summary: Jensen is far too curious for his own good
Disclaimer: Not mine they belong to Vertigo et al
Notes: Part of my endeavor into![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
kink_bingo for my Wet/Messy/Dirty square.
Dedication: Dedicated toemocezi
Jensen had seen it before on T.V one night when he was stoned off his ass in college and laughed. The idea had seemed completely and utterly ridiculous even though the mental image had been pretty hot. Jell-O wrestling. He had watched two girls do it for nearly an hour before jacking off lazily and passing out, half naked, in his chair. He hadn't really seen the appeal, it had seemed sticky and slippery.
Still he had logged the idea, the image, and the event in the back of his mind for further reference. He had decided that maybe, at some point in his life, if he was batshit insane, drunk, or about to die – maybe all three, that he would give it a shot.
To be honest he was already a little of column a, and he had definitely been in column b when he suggested the idea, and he was sure that because of the aforementioned drunken suggestion he was about to fall into column c.
Him and his stupid mouth.
There were times, they were rare, and extremely few and far between, that Jensen regretted speaking. This was definitely one of those rare, pigs having wings times.
He couldn't believe that he had the balls and the audacity to suggest he and Roque have a Jell-O wrestling match.
What on Earth had possessed him to say such a stupid thing?
Oh right. Cheap tequila.
Fucking Cougar.
So now, here he stood, in a pair of old swim trunks, inside of an abandoned pool filled with red Jell-O, across the gap from Roque.
He was about to get murdered.
And Cougar, Pooch and Clay all had running bets.
Assholes.
In spite of everything Roque didn't look pissed. He actually looked amused. Maybe Jensen would manage to get out of this whole situation without getting his head jammed onto a pike. Maybe, just maybe.
But probably not.
“Ready?”
Jensen glared in Clay's direction before pulling off his glasses and folding them up to safely set aside on the edge of the pool before climbing down the ladder into the gelatin filled pit. If he managed to do this with is dignity in tact it would be a fucking miracle.
The Jell-O was surprisingly cold under his feet and against his legs. How they had managed to get enough of the stuff to fill an eight foot by ten foot pool up to their knees Jensen wasn't sure he wanted to know. It was slick and he was actually having a bit of a rough time keeping his balance.
When Roque dropped in and slipped Jensen couldn't help the small laugh that left him.
Clay made the call and they launched at each other.
And suddenly Jensen got the appeal.
The jelly-like mix was slick. It made it hard to stand and also to grab onto your opponent, it also meant rubbing against them in places that were rather lovely. And it also meant that you and said opponent were being covered in an edible substance you could then bite and lick off of each other if you so desired. And Jensen really desired doing that to and with Roque.
Not that they were dating.
Sex seven times in one night after nearly dying was not a prerequisite to dating the last time Jensen looked.
Jensen slid and went down hard. He grappled when Roque laughed and managed to roll them and dig his teeth into Roque's shoulder. He tasted like their shitty issue soap and of the cherry Jell-O. Jensen's knees gripped hard around Roque's middle and he shoved at him with his hips.
Something in the back of his mind told him that it was a bad idea to be doing this in front of the rest of group but Jensen told that part of his mind to shut up, especially if Roque kept doing that with his tongue. Maybe he should tell Roque to stop. He opened his mouth to say something and then Roque's hand, sticky, slick, red and cool, slid into the back of his trunks and Jensen's brain short-circuited.
He was never going to look at red Jell-O the same way again.
Fandom: The Losers
Pairing/Characters: Jensen/Roque
Rating: Mature
Word Count: 700
Warning: inappropriate use of jell-o
Summary: Jensen is far too curious for his own good
Disclaimer: Not mine they belong to Vertigo et al
Notes: Part of my endeavor into
kink_bingo for my Wet/Messy/Dirty square.Dedication: Dedicated to
emoceziJensen had seen it before on T.V one night when he was stoned off his ass in college and laughed. The idea had seemed completely and utterly ridiculous even though the mental image had been pretty hot. Jell-O wrestling. He had watched two girls do it for nearly an hour before jacking off lazily and passing out, half naked, in his chair. He hadn't really seen the appeal, it had seemed sticky and slippery.
Still he had logged the idea, the image, and the event in the back of his mind for further reference. He had decided that maybe, at some point in his life, if he was batshit insane, drunk, or about to die – maybe all three, that he would give it a shot.
To be honest he was already a little of column a, and he had definitely been in column b when he suggested the idea, and he was sure that because of the aforementioned drunken suggestion he was about to fall into column c.
Him and his stupid mouth.
There were times, they were rare, and extremely few and far between, that Jensen regretted speaking. This was definitely one of those rare, pigs having wings times.
He couldn't believe that he had the balls and the audacity to suggest he and Roque have a Jell-O wrestling match.
What on Earth had possessed him to say such a stupid thing?
Oh right. Cheap tequila.
Fucking Cougar.
So now, here he stood, in a pair of old swim trunks, inside of an abandoned pool filled with red Jell-O, across the gap from Roque.
He was about to get murdered.
And Cougar, Pooch and Clay all had running bets.
Assholes.
In spite of everything Roque didn't look pissed. He actually looked amused. Maybe Jensen would manage to get out of this whole situation without getting his head jammed onto a pike. Maybe, just maybe.
But probably not.
“Ready?”
Jensen glared in Clay's direction before pulling off his glasses and folding them up to safely set aside on the edge of the pool before climbing down the ladder into the gelatin filled pit. If he managed to do this with is dignity in tact it would be a fucking miracle.
The Jell-O was surprisingly cold under his feet and against his legs. How they had managed to get enough of the stuff to fill an eight foot by ten foot pool up to their knees Jensen wasn't sure he wanted to know. It was slick and he was actually having a bit of a rough time keeping his balance.
When Roque dropped in and slipped Jensen couldn't help the small laugh that left him.
Clay made the call and they launched at each other.
And suddenly Jensen got the appeal.
The jelly-like mix was slick. It made it hard to stand and also to grab onto your opponent, it also meant rubbing against them in places that were rather lovely. And it also meant that you and said opponent were being covered in an edible substance you could then bite and lick off of each other if you so desired. And Jensen really desired doing that to and with Roque.
Not that they were dating.
Sex seven times in one night after nearly dying was not a prerequisite to dating the last time Jensen looked.
Jensen slid and went down hard. He grappled when Roque laughed and managed to roll them and dig his teeth into Roque's shoulder. He tasted like their shitty issue soap and of the cherry Jell-O. Jensen's knees gripped hard around Roque's middle and he shoved at him with his hips.
Something in the back of his mind told him that it was a bad idea to be doing this in front of the rest of group but Jensen told that part of his mind to shut up, especially if Roque kept doing that with his tongue. Maybe he should tell Roque to stop. He opened his mouth to say something and then Roque's hand, sticky, slick, red and cool, slid into the back of his trunks and Jensen's brain short-circuited.
He was never going to look at red Jell-O the same way again.
