α2-WL22787 (dopplegl) wrote in smutbox,
α2-WL22787
dopplegl
smutbox

What's That in Metric?






Beta'd by the fantastic stone_princess and winterlive

Soundtrack available through Perihelion Records


* * * * *



Thursday. Tom mostly likes Thursday.

Work is short because the cast and crew like watching the finished product from a few weeks before, now that it's been all edited and filled with special effects. Tom and Mike get drunk together and make fun of the show. The other option, going out on a Smallville night, would be suicidal. Mike keeps the booze stocked and is usually still sober enough at 9 to play Supernatural drinking games with him. The time they slammed back shots for exposition is the only night Tom can't remember most of. He lost count around ten, somewhere just after they'd switched from tequila to vodka, not counting whatever he'd licked up off his hand when Mike giggled at the Texas in Jensen's voice and spilled all over the pool table.

This Thursday when Tom pulls open the door to Mike's trailer without knocking, he's promptly hit square in the forehead by a piece of beige plastic. On further examination, it's a piece of *lubed* beige plastic. With a hole in it. He looks up and Jensen grins at him.

"Some greeting, Assckles," Tom says, and throws the damp plastic back at Jensen. "What are you doing here? Don't you have a new costar to blow?" Jensen catches the lump with one hand and squeezes it. It squelches and Tom grimaces.

"Yep." Jensen grins at Tom. "But Mikey invited me to play pool." Mike is the only one with a pool table in his trailer.

Tom frowns and kicks off his shoes. "It's Thursday."

"Worried I'm gonna horn in on your booze party? Nah. JT's coming to rescue me before your little parade of self-destruction begins." He tosses the slimy lump of plastic in the air.

Rolling his eyes at Jensen's obvious mischaracterization of Costar Bonding Night, Tom watches as Jensen nabs the thing and then tosses it again. "What the fuck is that thing?"

"'samatter, Tommy, you never saw a pocket pussy before?" At Tom's startled look Jensen laughs and catches it in his left hand. He sticks his right index finger in the hole as far as it will go, wiggles it around a little, smirks, and says: "You're tighter."

"Like you'd know."

"Mikey tells me all the good gossip about you."

"Mikey's got no feeling left in his dick, as much as he whacks off; he'd think a garbage bag was tight."

Jensen laughs. "You still haven't gotten in his pants yet, have you?"

"He's straight, Assckles."

Jensen snorts. "On The WB? Right."

Tom shrugs. "Look, just because you started sucking my dick within four days of being on the show doesn't mean everyone would." Jensen rolls his eyes as Tom goes on. "How long was it, exactly, before you moved in on tall, dork, and gangly?"

"Oh, a good five or six days. You know, give or take half a week." He smirks again. "It's all the sex I've been having recently -- fogs up my memory." Jensen tosses the pocket pussy in the air again, and catches it. Tom takes a swipe at him.

"Where'd you find that thing, anyway?" he says, mostly to keep his mind from imagining Jensen and Jared having sex. Of course, as soon as he admits to himself that he's trying not to think about it, he's swimming in mental pictures. His dick starts hardening.

"That's the best part: it's Mikey's!" Jensen crows, and Tom just about loses it.

"I knew he was desperate, but that bad?"

"Says the guy who's been trying to suck my dick for the better part of five years." Mike saunters in from the other room, holding a pool cue. "Besides, it's not really mine."

"Which explains why it's in a box with your name on it."

"You been going through my shit again, Jenny?" Mike waves the pool cue in Jensen's direction and Tom laughs.

"Just your Superman lunchbox," Jensen says, as he grabs the cue out of Mike's hand. "You know, the one with all that kinky crap in it?"

Mike laughs, and it's a real laugh, not his Crazy Lex Laugh, but a good belly chuckle. "You mean I never told you guys about that?" He's grinning fit to split his face, but Tom has no idea what he's talking about. Mike giggles and picks up the open metal box from where Jensen left it near the pool table, and brings it over to where the two of them are standing. "This," he says, pawing through its contents, "is the most insane thing anyone has ever given me."

"You mean even more insane than the --" Tom starts, but Mike cuts him off.

"Even more insane than that."

Tom is impressed. "So who gave you this insane lunchbox?"

"This, gentlemen, is the smutbox." He flips the lid closed to reveal the lettering on the front. "And it was given to me by a fan."

Jensen cackles. Tom gapes. "With a pocket pussy in it?!"

"Yes, Tommy, with a pocket pussy in it. Apparently," he makes a sweeping arm motion, "they think I'm oversexed. Or undersexed. Or something. Who the fuck knows, with fans? But it's creepy as fuck." At Jensen's badly-disguised snigger, Mike raises an eyebrow. "Say what you want, but how'd you like your fans giving you sex toys?"

"Well it's a good thing they didn't give this thing to Tommy boy, here; it'd be full of dildoes and butt pl--"

"Like the clear silicone one Jared got you last month?"

"How the fuck did you know about--"

"Gentlemen!" Mike can be quite loud when he wants to be. "The issue here is the insanity of my fans. And the crazy shit they give me. Take a look." He passes Jensen the tin box and Jensen takes it like it might explode.

Tom reaches in and picks up a plastic bottle. He reads a little of the label and can't stop himself from laughing. "Penis massage cream?"

"Oh, it gets better."

Jensen's got something that looks like a box of conversation hearts. "Aphrodisiac chocolates? Guess they think you're undersexed, Mikey. Tryin' to boost the old engine, there, huh?"

Mike rolls his eyes, but says "You haven't seen the best of it yet."

"A whip." Tom's holding it like he might hold a very fragile document. "A fucking whip."

Jensen rolls his eyes heavenward and says, "God bless fangirls." Tom is close to hysterics now, laughing so hard he might hurt something, but he still manages to pull a box out of the box.

"What's so weird about playing cards?" Tom says, coming down from his laughter-induced high.

"It's not the cards themselves," Mike says. "It's what's on the cards." Tom takes a closer look.

"Can you even *do* that?" he asks, nudging Jensen in the ribs and pointing to a picture on the box.

"Jesus. His arm's behind her--" Jensen looks over at Mike. "Nah, you'd have to be like an acrobat or something."

Jensen has a bottle in his hands that turns out to be massage oil, nothing too fancy. He grabs another item from the box and it turns out to be another candy: "Tit tarts? Well, at least they gave you the benefit of the doubt."

"Yeah, with all you WB fags, it's hard for me to get any pussy around here; glad I've got my sweet and sour tit candy to keep me happy." Mike's dropping into a realm of sarcasm only usually used for cooling nitrogen into a liquid.

"Aww, chill out, Mikey. It's not the end of the..." he trails off, stunned into silence by what he finds in the box next. Tom holds up, gingerly between thumb and forefinger, a ring of purple rubber.

There's a knock at the trailer door. All three guys have their eyes fixed on the purple ring in Tom's hand, but Jensen says, "Come in!" Tom watches through the ring as Jared opens the door and shuts it behind him.

"Jen, what are you..." Jared trails off. "What's so special about a rubber band?"

"It's, uh--" Jensen tries for nonchalant, but he's clearly awed; "it's a cock ring."

"So? What, did Tommy buy it for you? That'd be kind of k--" Jared leans on the wall to kick off his sneakers.

"It's Mike's."

"Whoa, dude, didn't know you went for that kind of thing, Rosie."

"Up yours, Paddy. It was given to me by a fan."

Jared stops dead. "Run that by me again?"

"Oh, I think you heard me."

"You let some nutzoid fan give you that shit? And you didn't haul off and slug her? Rosie, this is your honor we're talking here. I mean, that cock ring is tiny." He walks over and grabs it out of Tom's hand. "Tiny and purple. What does that say about your dick?" Jared squeezes the ring; it's flexible and squishes easily, but springs right back into shape. Tom looks at Mike.

Mike is looking at Jared like he wants to put his fist through Jared's face, but Jared is blissfully unaware, stretching the ring out to its limit and letting it snap back. "No way this would ever fit me, right, Jen?"

"Hey, whoa, I'm not--"

"Impartial observer, Jenny boy," Mike says, surprising them all. "Jare's dick fit in that ring?"

"He's hardly impartial," Tom snarks, but nobody's listening to him.

"What bug crawled up his ass and--" Jared pauses, realization visibly dawning on his face. "He wore it." He grins and turns to Mike. "You little shit, you wore this thing and it fits you and somebody's jealous!" He tosses the cock ring at Mike and it hits him in the chest just as Mike's hand comes up and swipes at it, missing.

It bounces off Mike's chest and lands on the carpet, turning in a lazy circle before it flops down on one side.

"Eww, you wore it and then put it back in the box?" Jensen says, making a disgusted face that has Jared cackling.

"It's not like I expected you dipshits to come over and go through all my crap."

"But. You had that on your dick."

"No shit, Jenny."

"And you just put it back?"

"What, you think I should've taken it dancing first?"

Tom turns as if examining Mike for the first time. "Oh, I don't know; a little toning here, some fake tanner there, you'd be a natural!"

Mike's jaw drops. "You know what? I'm gonna take my tit-shaped candies, since I know I'm the only one who will enjoy them, and I'm gonna let you three douchebags wallow in the delicious mental picture Tommy boy just cooked up there." He snatches up the tit tarts from the end table where Jensen had dropped them and storms out of the room the way he'd entered, pulling the door behind him as he goes.

There's a pause. Tom says, "For a guy who claims he's straight, he's a real drama queen." The truth of that gets a little bit of a laugh of acknowledgement. Tom picks up the cock ring from where it has fallen and holds it up to his eye. "Yeah, this thing's pretty tiny." At Jared's smirky superior look, he says, "What, you think you have some kind of monopoly on the big dick card?"

Jared just shrugs and says, "All I know is, my dick sure as hell wouldn't fit in that little rubber band."

"Mine either."

"Oh, so you think you're the big man, huh?"

"I'm no slouch." Tom draws himself up to his full 6'3" even though he knows Jared's taller.

"Either am I," Jared says, and the inch he has on Tom shows in the way his head tilts down.

"Just ask Jensen," they say in unison, and Jensen's eyes widen. Tom's not sure why he's stirring up this particular can of worms; it's not like Jared's a bad guy. But if there's a big dick competition brewing, Tom's determined to win.

They turn to him at the same time and Jared asks, "Oh, Jensen, was there something you wanted to tell me about your old costar?"

Jensen, meanwhile, is slowly backing toward the door. "It's, uh. It was a long time ago, and--"

Tom snorts. "Try up until your pilot." He looks at Jared. "Did you really not know about us?"

"No." Jared's chin is sticking out and... his jealous defiance is kind of hot, Tom thinks.

Jared looks at Tom, up and down a couple times. The he nods and says, "Well at least he didn't go for the bald one." Jensen's hand touches the doorknob. "Don't even think about it, Jen. You've still got a score to settle here."

"A score?"

"Can't you pay attention once in a while?" Jared laughs and slaps his hand down on Tom's shoulder. "Gotta tell which of us is bigger."

"You are, by an inch. You can read that in Teen People."

"Smartass. Get over here and get on your knees if you ever want to be on the receiving end again."

Jared's got an edge to his voice that he didn't have a minute ago, and even Tom feels it in his knees, Tom who first made Jensen beg. There's something about a guy who's taller than you are, especially when you're as tall as Tom is. It's all down to power dynamics, and Tom's just finding that out for the first time; Jared's time on Cheaper By The Dozen was so limited and rushed that there hadn't been the chance to really get to know the guy. At least, not in the kind of way that would've led to this.

Jensen takes a second, just staring at Jared, and then his hand falls from the doorknob, and he heads back in their direction. "That," Tom says quietly to himself, "is something I've got to learn to do." Jared chuckles. When Jensen is standing, arms crossed, eyes rolled to the ceiling, in front of Jared, the corner of Jared's mouth turns up.

He's looking Jensen right in the eye, and if his voice is having this kind of knee-threatening effect on Tom, Tom can't even imagine what Jensen's going through, having that stare fixed on him. "I think our little dispute is one you can settle, huh, Jen?" He reaches up and wraps his hand around Jensen's neck and pulls him in for a kiss. It's deep and slow, and Tom feels dirty for watching, like it's something he wasn't meant to see, but he's definitely turned on. After all, he knows how Jensen kisses. When Jared pulls back, emanating a smug satisfaction, he looks Jensen in the eyes again and says, "You gonna do that for us, Jen?" in a rough whisper, and there's the barest fraction of a nod from Jensen.

"I'm gonna do something for you," Jensen says, aiming for a wisecrack and missing. "You gonna tell me what you want, or am I gonna have to drag it out of you?"

The change in Jared is almost instantaneous -- he pushes Jensen to his knees, strong hands on his shoulders, and looks over at Tom; Jared's practically giving off smugness in waves. "Bombs away," he says, and pulls at his belt. A flick of his thumbs and his jeans fall to his ankles. "Getting the drift?" he says to Jensen as he slides his hand inside his boxers.

Jensen's response is a typically smartassed, "No, I'm not quite sure. I think you might need to help me out, here," before Jared pushes the waistband of his boxers down and his dick up, and it's right in Jensen's face, already pretty hard and fucking beautiful. Jensen eyes it critically and slides his hand around it, running his thumb along the underside and watching Jared grow harder along his palm. Jared's head swivels in Tom's direction, and he catches Tom's eye and cocks his eyebrow. "What's the matter, Tommy? Don't wanna play with the big boys?"

Tom suppresses his urge to punch Jared in the face. Instead, he pitches his voice for cool surety and says, "Thought you said it was a contest -- I gotta play to win, right?" Tom's hands don't move as quickly as Jared's did, but the desire to have Jensen's hand on his dick is strong: when his pants hit his ankles his boxers aren't far behind. When Jensen tentatively curls his fist around Tom it feels comfortably familiar.

Jensen's got them both by the dick and he pulls a little forward; Tom's hips come along involuntarily and he can see Jared's do the same. Jensen pulls them, lightly stroking all the while, until they're practically chest-to-chest, hot and rapid breath sharing the same space.

"Oh yeah," Jensen whispers, "how about this?" and he touches their dicks together, horizontally, Jared's on top. Tom can feel Jared's pulse.

Touching him lightly in the small of the back, Jensen pushes Tom forward until Jared's cockhead brushes Tom's skin, just above his dick. There's a hitch in Jared's breath on Tom's cheek, and then it starts again, ragged but no less hot.

"Well, what do you know; I can't tell from here. Give me a sec," Jensen says conversationally, but there's mischief in his voice. There's some movement below them, but Tom fixates on the little mole on Jared's left cheek, far safer than looking him in the eyes. Tom's not sure exactly when this became more than a size comparison, but it's way past that now; he's so totally switched on in the moment that the very smell of Jared's skin may do him in.

The hand holding their dicks together shifts toward Tom and then he can't breathe because Jensen's tongue is running along the both of them, right in between, and Tom's pretty sure he might come if he gets to take in any air. His feet arch up and he does the only thing he can do: he draws breath from Jared, fixing their mouths together, his tongue in almost instantly. Instead of sputtering, Jared's kissing him back, deeper, and it's kind of weird but exciting to be kissed by someone taller than he is for once. Jensen makes another pass with his tongue, and Tom nearly swallows Jared's. Jared breaks the kiss and says "Jesus, Jen."

"Can't a guy take a couple of measurements in peace around here?" Jensen says, still at crotch-height, his voice slightly muffled by the miles of tanned skin above him.

"You do that one more time and Tommy boy here's going to have me halfway down his throat, and I'm gonna be wearing his jizz all down my boxers."

"Telling me to rush my research?" Jensen can't keep the smile out of his voice, and as he talks he rubs Tom and Jared's now-slick cocks together.

"I'll tell you what to--" Jared begins, but Tom cuts him off.

"He's telling you to be ready to publish in thirty seconds."

Jensen gives their dicks a squeeze. "Yes sir!" He laughs, lets go, and promptly swallows Tom's cock until his nose is in Tom's pubes. Jensen's doing this thing with his throat that Tom can't even describe -- they haven't yet invented the adjectives he'd need -- but it's making him a very vocal supporter of this experiment.

Tom's head tilts back when he starts moaning and Jared moves in, leaning down to lick up Tom's neck and then along his jawbone before fastening their lips together. Then all at once the warm, hot, wetness of Jensen's mouth is gone from his dick and it feels like he's missing something -- and almost immediately Jared melts against Tom. The noises Jared's making feel like moaning in reverse, guttural insistence flooding him from the outside. Tom imagines Jared without Tom's mouth to contain him, a loud stretch of twentysomething with an absolutely filthy vocabulary. Tom's blood is on fire, drumbeats in his ears and his dick, and he's harder than he's been in months.

Jared slides his hand through Jensen's hair, holding him in place, and Jared's almost bucking his hips, crotch rising to meet Jensen's mouth in a relentless rhythm. When Jared nearly peaks, Jensen fights the rhythm and the hand in his hair and pulls himself off Jared, whose hips snap up once, involuntarily, to meet a mouth that isn't there.

Jensen tortures them this way for longer than Tom can keep track of; all concept of time's been lost since Jensen's mouth enveloped his cock. When he finally lets Tom come, it's almost a relief to have it over and done with, the orgasm ripping through his body, Jensen swallowing, Jared's kiss absorbing Tom's breathy moan.

Tom and Jared stay tangled together at the mouth as Jensen finishes with Jared and Tom tries to remember how to stand. Their lips break just briefly, but it's enough time for Jared to whimper out a "motherfucker" before Tom turns a little sideways, wraps his arm around Jared's shoulders, and leans back in. The moaned blasphemies coming out of Jared increase in pitch until he's practically singing into Tom's throat, vocal cords thrumming sympathetically, before he clutches at Tom and then sags.

When Jensen's back at eye level he pries Tom and Jared apart, hoisting Jared off Tom's thigh so Tom can try his hand at walking. Jared's the first to speak.

"So who's the winner?"

"You know," Jensen says, the cat-and-canary grin firmly in place, "it must've slipped my mind."

"I'll slip your mind, you little shit," Jared says, but he's chuckling as he swipes his giant hands at Jensen.

"Promises, promises."

Jared pulls at his boxers, hoists his jeans, and does up his belt, all the while grinning like a fool at Jensen, who tries and fails to look serious. "I'm gonna nail you to the wall tonight."

"Actually," Jensen says, sliding his arm around Jared's shoulders, "I'm gonna break out that box from my sister."

"What kind of twisted chick sends her brother strips of silk for Christmas?"

"The kind who also tells him he's landed a catch, doofus." Laughing, Jensen presses his nose to Jared's temple and whispers something in Jared's ear. Jared beams.

There's heavy thud and some creative cursing from the next room, and they all freeze. "Shit, Mikey!" Tom says, and he starts frantically shuffling himself back into place: his jeans are still halfway to the floor, his hair is everywhere, and his lips are swollen with Jared's kisses, but by the time Mike bangs open the door between the main room and his bedroom, Tom's a perfect picture of propriety. With swollen lips.

Jared and Jensen are at the door, hastily shoving their feet in shoes and scrambling to turn the doorknob, and Mike's attention is drawn there first, but Tom looks at Mike and something isn't right there. "Leaving so soon, Jenny? What about our game?" Mike asks, brandishing a cue.

"Rain check," Jensen calls over his shoulder. "We've, uh, remembered some really important stuff that we--"

"Pages," Jared interjects. "Pages that have to be done tomorrow, and--"

"Save it, kids; go boink one another in peace." Mike smirks. "And not in my trailer." Tom flushes through most of the red end of the spectrum. "But that's one in the win column for me."

"You're just jealous," Jensen says, "and if you even think of messing with the score, I'm gonna-"

"Whatever, Jen, let's go." Jared's opened the door and Jensen's through it before Tom realizes what seems off about Mike.

"Did you..." Tom trails off, aware of how stupid he's going to sound.

"Did I what?" Mike turns to Tom and at that moment Tom realizes he's absolutely right.

"You were just whacking off, again. God, I don't even know why I hang out with you. Always disappearing to--"

"Not like I was gonna let you guys have all the fun."

Tom stares. "You were..."

Mike grins, totally unrepentant. "What are you gonna do about it?"

Tom shoves him back through the bedroom door.
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