PixCT: 10-18
Oct. 18th, 2007 03:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pixel_0It's that time again...
Fic:
Slash (Dean/Sam)
Adult
1659 words
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A combination of fic, pic, and cock, and that's really all there is to it.
All About Cock Thursday
So Far
September 07
DruCT: 10-4
PixCT: 10-4
DruCT: 10-11
PixCT: 10-11
- - - - -
Today
DruCT: 10-18
My fic:
Slash (Wincest: Dean/Sam) oneshot
Adult rating
1659 words
- - - - -
Dru's Pic Pick
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The piece was heavier than Sam had expected. It was metal, rusted and warmed from the early morning sun. As Sam turned the piece over, inspecting that this was what they needed to end the spell, it left streaks of blood brown flakes on his hands.
“Is that it?” Dean asked, coming from behind Sam.
Sam nodded wordlessly, not turning to face his brother and unable to believe that their months of searching were over because here it was. Simply laying on a rock in the desert. Nothing special, nothing elaborate. Only a large chunk of metal that had the power to return things to the way they were before.
“So,” Dean said, and this time, Sam did look over his shoulder to see Dean with a hand to shield his eyes from the blinding sun, “what now?”
Sam turned his head back away from Dean and instantly reflected on their time together since the spell. How they had been cursed to be attracted to only one another until they found the fragments of ancient metal scattered across the country, and they fitted them together.
The first week had been hellish as they both denied what the witch had hissed at them. Too stubborn, the two of them, they had taken to their own ways to prove that the curse had not affected them. That the curse did not even exist as they stayed at the motel and refused to look for the metal parts.
Dean had gone out and fucked anyone he could find, while Sam locked himself in the tiny bathroom and blasted the shower so he could jack off. When Dean returned reeking of spunk and smoke and Sam had washed his hands until he could no longer smell what he had done, they never talked about it. After all, there was nothing to say. They’d just work through it. Just like everything else they had ever been through.
Following that first week, Dean had decided they were going to at least try to find these pieces—even though both of the brothers doubted their existence. The car rides were filled with the blasting stereo to prevent thoughts from creeping into actions, and Sam didn’t so much as allow their knees to bump together or fingers accidentally touch. It didn’t matter how many times Sam would jerk off during the day; whenever he saw Dean, the rush of feelings overpowered everything else.
Based on the way that Dean had become quieter and more withdrawn, Sam assumed that Dean was wrestling with similar feelings.
They found their first fragment in a small town not far from Chicago. On the back of the metal, a pair of numbers gave them coordinates to where the next piece could be found.
That had been the first time Dean had smiled since the beginning of the curse. He had looked over at Sam and smiled.
“We’re going to beat this bitch yet,” he had gloated. Then he had slapped Sam on the shoulder as he had done a thousand times before, and Sam had been forced to fist his hands just to stop himself from grabbing Dean right then and there.
Dean had stiffened instantly, aware of his mistake, and had mumbled an apology before turning away with angry curses on his lips.
They had eleven pieces in the trunk before Sam finally managed translated one of the inscriptions to figure out that they needed a total of twenty-five pieces to break the spell.
His head had hurt constantly, and he felt overwhelmingly sick. On a rare occasion of utter desperation, he had gone to a bar and picked up a pretty girl. But, buried in her, he only thought of Dean as he came, and Sam tasted bile in the back of his throat.
Somewhere around the fifteenth piece, Sam had suggested they should split up to look for the parts on their own. Dean argued that they only had one car, and most importantly, they wouldn’t know where the next piece was until they found its coordinates on the back of the preceding one.
“Well,” Sam had grumbled, “I don’t think it’s doing either of us any good being together like this.”
Dean swallowed thickly. “Look, there’re only ten more pieces and then we’ll be rid of this bitch. Promise. We can make it that long, okay? I know we can.”
Sam wasn’t so sure.
It was near the twentieth piece when it was pouring outside and the sky dark that Dean came running inside, drenched and spitting obscenities about the rain and Sam, not paying attention with his face in a book about witches, walked directly into him. There was a sharp moment of silence following the most body contact they had had in months.
They reached for each other.
Sam would later say it was Dean who made the first move, and Dean would say the exact opposite. In the end, it didn’t matter who started it because suddenly, Dean’s hands were fisting in the collar of Sam’s shirt and Sam was cupping Dean’s face fiercely, pressing his thumbs into Dean’s cheekbones.
Dean hissed, “Fuckin’ wrong, man,” and they had kissed.
That small gesture, nothing more than a meeting of lips, had felt better than all of the girls, all of the orgasms, all of everything Sam had in the past weeks. Something, propelled by the curse and its wicked, insatiable desire, snapped in Sam.
Dean was biting at Sam’s skin, gnawing at his jawline and twisting his fingers greedily in Sam’s hair. It hurt, but as Sam sucked hard enough to leave a mark on Dean’s neck, he barely cared.
They had stumbled together, pushing and tugging, neither accustomed to the other’s dynamics until Sam shoved Dean against the wall. He had slammed himself against Dean’s wet body and groaned, “Can’t do this.”
Dean chuckled, a bitter sort of sound and with a gripping hand hard on Sam’s back, he had panted, “Yeah, I know.”
They didn’t stop, couldn’t stop themselves when Dean began to rock against Sam, cock hard through his damp jeans. Mouths clamped together, they had licked and gasped, tried to tell their bodies to move away from the other, but legs and arms wouldn’t listen to whispering rationale.
Sam had undone his pants, shoved them down just past his hips when Dean did the same. With rain cold fingers, Dean had grabbed onto Sam’s wrist and led Sam’s hand to his cock.
“C’mon, Sammy, touch me,” Dean had growled, reaching for Sam’s cock and giving a harsh flick of his wrist.
Sam groaned unintelligibly and hooked his free hand around the back of Dean’s neck. He pumped Dean’s cock hard and fast, keeping up with the frantic, desperate pace that Dean had set.
Foreheads pressed together, gasping and choking because it was too fast, too much all at once, they thrust into each other’s fists, unable to control anything.
Dean had shouted when he came, and his hand tightened around Sam’s cock. It pulled everything out of Sam until he had followed Dean over the edge as they collapsed, breathless and sticky against the wall.
There was a moment of silence as they let their spinning minds come back to earth again until Dean had whispered into Sam’s shirt, “We’re so fucked.”
They had continued after the pieces, interlocking the metal teeth in hopes that when this was all over with they would be able to forget the feel of hands on naked skin in the darkness.
In a bathroom in Washington, Dean had gotten down on his knees, licked his lips and said, opening Sam’s jeans, “Don’t say anything, okay?” Sam’s eyes had rolled back in his head and he felt that tiled floor drop away beneath him.
They showered together, Sam standing behind Dean, soapy fingers curling around Dean’s cock and cupping his balls while Sam had nibbled on Dean’s earlobe. “We’re going to end this, right, Dean?” he murmured as the hot shower water beat on his back. “Tell me we’re going to be normal again.” Dean, wet fingers reaching behind to leave their mark on Sam’s ass, couldn’t reply.
Dean had pushed Sam onto a motel bed somewhere out near Chesapeake Bay and trailed his tongue down Sam’s bare back until he spread Sam’s ass and licked his way around Sam’s hole. Burying his face in the pillow, Sam had arched his back and tried not to cry from the sensations burning beneath his skin. “This isn’t going to be forever,” Dean had promised. “We’re just doing this to keep from going fuckin’ crazy.”
Somewhere around piece number twenty-two when Dean shoved his hand down Sam’s pants and they clambered into the backseat of the Impala together to fog the windows, they had quit making excuses. Quit apologizing and quit searching for reasons. The only words that they spoke were encouragements of more and pleas not to stop.
Now, they stood next to the twenty-fifth piece, and Sam knew that if they were to go back to the Impala with the piece, they could fit it into the others and the puzzle would be complete. The spell would be lifted, and Dean and he could return to their normalcy. Dean could fuck his women and Sam could stop staring hungrily at his brother.
“What do you wanna do with it?” Dean asked again.
“What do you want to do?”
Dean shrugged wordlessly, and Sam fought back the instant smile on his face. He replaced the piece down onto the rock where they had found it, and he went back with Dean to the car’s trunk to unload the other twenty-four pieces. They buried the other fragments of metal not far from the twenty-fifth piece. After they were done, they walked, fingers laced together on their return to the Impala where they slid into the car, kissed without a word, and drove away from the pieces of their curse.
End
Fic:
- - - - -
A combination of fic, pic, and cock, and that's really all there is to it.
All About Cock Thursday
So Far
- - - - -
Today
Dru's Pic Pick
The piece was heavier than Sam had expected. It was metal, rusted and warmed from the early morning sun. As Sam turned the piece over, inspecting that this was what they needed to end the spell, it left streaks of blood brown flakes on his hands.
“Is that it?” Dean asked, coming from behind Sam.
Sam nodded wordlessly, not turning to face his brother and unable to believe that their months of searching were over because here it was. Simply laying on a rock in the desert. Nothing special, nothing elaborate. Only a large chunk of metal that had the power to return things to the way they were before.
“So,” Dean said, and this time, Sam did look over his shoulder to see Dean with a hand to shield his eyes from the blinding sun, “what now?”
Sam turned his head back away from Dean and instantly reflected on their time together since the spell. How they had been cursed to be attracted to only one another until they found the fragments of ancient metal scattered across the country, and they fitted them together.
The first week had been hellish as they both denied what the witch had hissed at them. Too stubborn, the two of them, they had taken to their own ways to prove that the curse had not affected them. That the curse did not even exist as they stayed at the motel and refused to look for the metal parts.
Dean had gone out and fucked anyone he could find, while Sam locked himself in the tiny bathroom and blasted the shower so he could jack off. When Dean returned reeking of spunk and smoke and Sam had washed his hands until he could no longer smell what he had done, they never talked about it. After all, there was nothing to say. They’d just work through it. Just like everything else they had ever been through.
Following that first week, Dean had decided they were going to at least try to find these pieces—even though both of the brothers doubted their existence. The car rides were filled with the blasting stereo to prevent thoughts from creeping into actions, and Sam didn’t so much as allow their knees to bump together or fingers accidentally touch. It didn’t matter how many times Sam would jerk off during the day; whenever he saw Dean, the rush of feelings overpowered everything else.
Based on the way that Dean had become quieter and more withdrawn, Sam assumed that Dean was wrestling with similar feelings.
They found their first fragment in a small town not far from Chicago. On the back of the metal, a pair of numbers gave them coordinates to where the next piece could be found.
That had been the first time Dean had smiled since the beginning of the curse. He had looked over at Sam and smiled.
“We’re going to beat this bitch yet,” he had gloated. Then he had slapped Sam on the shoulder as he had done a thousand times before, and Sam had been forced to fist his hands just to stop himself from grabbing Dean right then and there.
Dean had stiffened instantly, aware of his mistake, and had mumbled an apology before turning away with angry curses on his lips.
They had eleven pieces in the trunk before Sam finally managed translated one of the inscriptions to figure out that they needed a total of twenty-five pieces to break the spell.
His head had hurt constantly, and he felt overwhelmingly sick. On a rare occasion of utter desperation, he had gone to a bar and picked up a pretty girl. But, buried in her, he only thought of Dean as he came, and Sam tasted bile in the back of his throat.
Somewhere around the fifteenth piece, Sam had suggested they should split up to look for the parts on their own. Dean argued that they only had one car, and most importantly, they wouldn’t know where the next piece was until they found its coordinates on the back of the preceding one.
“Well,” Sam had grumbled, “I don’t think it’s doing either of us any good being together like this.”
Dean swallowed thickly. “Look, there’re only ten more pieces and then we’ll be rid of this bitch. Promise. We can make it that long, okay? I know we can.”
Sam wasn’t so sure.
It was near the twentieth piece when it was pouring outside and the sky dark that Dean came running inside, drenched and spitting obscenities about the rain and Sam, not paying attention with his face in a book about witches, walked directly into him. There was a sharp moment of silence following the most body contact they had had in months.
They reached for each other.
Sam would later say it was Dean who made the first move, and Dean would say the exact opposite. In the end, it didn’t matter who started it because suddenly, Dean’s hands were fisting in the collar of Sam’s shirt and Sam was cupping Dean’s face fiercely, pressing his thumbs into Dean’s cheekbones.
Dean hissed, “Fuckin’ wrong, man,” and they had kissed.
That small gesture, nothing more than a meeting of lips, had felt better than all of the girls, all of the orgasms, all of everything Sam had in the past weeks. Something, propelled by the curse and its wicked, insatiable desire, snapped in Sam.
Dean was biting at Sam’s skin, gnawing at his jawline and twisting his fingers greedily in Sam’s hair. It hurt, but as Sam sucked hard enough to leave a mark on Dean’s neck, he barely cared.
They had stumbled together, pushing and tugging, neither accustomed to the other’s dynamics until Sam shoved Dean against the wall. He had slammed himself against Dean’s wet body and groaned, “Can’t do this.”
Dean chuckled, a bitter sort of sound and with a gripping hand hard on Sam’s back, he had panted, “Yeah, I know.”
They didn’t stop, couldn’t stop themselves when Dean began to rock against Sam, cock hard through his damp jeans. Mouths clamped together, they had licked and gasped, tried to tell their bodies to move away from the other, but legs and arms wouldn’t listen to whispering rationale.
Sam had undone his pants, shoved them down just past his hips when Dean did the same. With rain cold fingers, Dean had grabbed onto Sam’s wrist and led Sam’s hand to his cock.
“C’mon, Sammy, touch me,” Dean had growled, reaching for Sam’s cock and giving a harsh flick of his wrist.
Sam groaned unintelligibly and hooked his free hand around the back of Dean’s neck. He pumped Dean’s cock hard and fast, keeping up with the frantic, desperate pace that Dean had set.
Foreheads pressed together, gasping and choking because it was too fast, too much all at once, they thrust into each other’s fists, unable to control anything.
Dean had shouted when he came, and his hand tightened around Sam’s cock. It pulled everything out of Sam until he had followed Dean over the edge as they collapsed, breathless and sticky against the wall.
There was a moment of silence as they let their spinning minds come back to earth again until Dean had whispered into Sam’s shirt, “We’re so fucked.”
They had continued after the pieces, interlocking the metal teeth in hopes that when this was all over with they would be able to forget the feel of hands on naked skin in the darkness.
In a bathroom in Washington, Dean had gotten down on his knees, licked his lips and said, opening Sam’s jeans, “Don’t say anything, okay?” Sam’s eyes had rolled back in his head and he felt that tiled floor drop away beneath him.
They showered together, Sam standing behind Dean, soapy fingers curling around Dean’s cock and cupping his balls while Sam had nibbled on Dean’s earlobe. “We’re going to end this, right, Dean?” he murmured as the hot shower water beat on his back. “Tell me we’re going to be normal again.” Dean, wet fingers reaching behind to leave their mark on Sam’s ass, couldn’t reply.
Dean had pushed Sam onto a motel bed somewhere out near Chesapeake Bay and trailed his tongue down Sam’s bare back until he spread Sam’s ass and licked his way around Sam’s hole. Burying his face in the pillow, Sam had arched his back and tried not to cry from the sensations burning beneath his skin. “This isn’t going to be forever,” Dean had promised. “We’re just doing this to keep from going fuckin’ crazy.”
Somewhere around piece number twenty-two when Dean shoved his hand down Sam’s pants and they clambered into the backseat of the Impala together to fog the windows, they had quit making excuses. Quit apologizing and quit searching for reasons. The only words that they spoke were encouragements of more and pleas not to stop.
Now, they stood next to the twenty-fifth piece, and Sam knew that if they were to go back to the Impala with the piece, they could fit it into the others and the puzzle would be complete. The spell would be lifted, and Dean and he could return to their normalcy. Dean could fuck his women and Sam could stop staring hungrily at his brother.
“What do you wanna do with it?” Dean asked again.
“What do you want to do?”
Dean shrugged wordlessly, and Sam fought back the instant smile on his face. He replaced the piece down onto the rock where they had found it, and he went back with Dean to the car’s trunk to unload the other twenty-four pieces. They buried the other fragments of metal not far from the twenty-fifth piece. After they were done, they walked, fingers laced together on their return to the Impala where they slid into the car, kissed without a word, and drove away from the pieces of their curse.
End
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no subject
Date: 2007-10-21 09:40 pm (UTC)It was, well, "different" in so many, many ways. ;P