PixCT: 11-22
Nov. 22nd, 2007 02:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pixel_0It's that time again...
...but with turkey too!
Fic:
Slash (Dean/Sam)
Adult
1395 words
- - - - -
A combination of fic, pic, and cock, and that's really all there is to it.
All About Cock Thursday
So Far
September 07
October 07
DruCT: 11-01
PixCT: 11-01
DruCT: 11-08
PixCT: 11-08
DruCT: 11-15
PixCT: 11-15
- - - - -
Today
DruCT: 11-22
My fic:
Slash (Wincest: Dean/Sam) oneshot
Adult rating
1395 words
- - - - -
Pix's Pic Pick
- - - - -
The place was on the outskirts of town. An abandoned house with trees that drip-dropped golden leaves to the barren ground and where weeds, tall and brown, had grown up around the edges of the building. Behind the farmhouse, a field, a graveyard of dead corn stalks, rolled on endlessly into the autumn mist.
This was where they stopped and where Dean said, unloading the car, "I hope the stove still works at this place," and Sam looked over, away from the house, and didn't say anything.
Sam picked the lock on the door, pushed it open with his elbow because his hands were full with their duffel bags and backpacks, weapons and clothing, and Dean came up behind him and his plastic grocery bags snapping in the November wind. It was raining lightly, wet and cold, against Sam's skin, and he watched Dean push past him.
"What's in the bags?" Sam asked, following Dean into the house.
"Supplies."
"Oh? When'd you have time to go shopping?"
Dean shrugged, dropped the bags on the tipsy table in the kitchen with yellow linoleum peeling at the corners and replied, "You're a heavy sleeper sometimes."
While Dean busied himself searching though cupboards and cabinets, Sam found a bedroom off to the side of the kitchen to put their bags and coats. It was a small room with a patchwork quilt laying crooked on the bed, and the dresser and closets were bare and dusty. The window, dressed in threadbare drapes, looked out over the cornfield. Briefly, Sam wondered who lived here and what made them leave.
After shucking out of his coat, he wandered back to the kitchen where Dean had a frozen turkey sitting on the kitchen table. The bird was still wrapped in blue and white plastic, and Dean had his arms crossed, one hand holding his chin as he stared at the turkey quizzically.
Sam glanced from Dean to the turkey and then back to his brother before asking, "Something wrong?"
"I don't think I've ever cooked a turkey before. Think it's that much different from beef?"
"Wait. You want to cook the turkey?" Sam echoed, confused and slightly taken aback.
Dean lifted his eyes to Sam. "Well, I'm not just going to leave it on the table for decoration. Today's Thanksgiving--in case you forgot."
"Of course I didn't forget. We just--we just don't usually do holidays is all. I wasn't expecting anything out of the ordinary."
Dean chuckled and walked around the table to his grocery bags. He pulled out a box of instant mashed potatoes, stuffing, a pumpkin pie in the box, and a six pack of beer.
"You need to learn to start expecting the unexpected, Sammy," Dean said proudly, his supplies lined up on the table like a show and tell moment.
Sam didn't reply right away. Stared at the turkey a minute longer before finally saying, "Well, let's get this thing cooked. I'm starving."
An hour and a half later, the brothers had finished the beer and were both nicely warmed with the alcohol in their blood. Sam was in the bedroom, reading a fat paperback he had purchased at a gas station a couple states ago, and Dean was pacing the kitchen, boots thudding quietly over the floor.
"How long does it take for this bitch to cook?" he called.
Sam rolled his eyes. As if they hadn't been over this a hundred times already. "The package said anywhere from three to four hours."
"Three to four hours?" Dean echoed, coming into the bedroom. He leaned against the doorframe; the mostly finished beer bottle was cradled between his fingers. "We still have a while to go yet, huh?"
Sam nodded, barely lifting his eyes away from his book. If anything, he was thankful for this time to spend in silence with a book that didn't involve monsters, and Dean was ruining that. Couldn't Dean just take his impatience elsewhere?
Dean made some kind of affirming noise in the back of his throat and lingered a moment longer in the doorway.
Too engrossed in his book, Sam didn't see Dean until he crawled onto the bed, swinging one leg over Sam's outstretched own, so that Dean knelt, straddling Sam's knees.
"Dean..." Sam began, peering up at his brother over the edge of his book.
"Don't mind me. Just trying to get a good view of the field from here. Window's closer is all."
"Uh-huh," Sam replied dubiously and returned his eyes to the page in front of him. Let Dean do whatever he wanted about the cornfield.
Then Sam felt a pair of hands working at his belt and he moved his book away to see Dean grinning at him.
"What...what are you doing?" Sam asked in a stupid sort of way.
"We've got a couple hours to kill and there's nothing trying to chase us down," Dean replied, as if this answered Sam's question exactly. With Sam's belt unbuckled, Dean went to work at Sam's button before pulling down the zipper on his pants. He tugged at Sam's jeans, enough to get them off Sam's hips, before leaning forward and rubbing Sam's cock through his briefs.
Instantly, Sam jerked at the touch, and his book nearly dropped from his hand.
"Jumpy a bit, hm?" Dean murmured, lips ghosting over the exposed area by Sam's navel. Dean mouthed Sam's hip, tongue hot and teeth sharp where he nipped and licked the skin. He slipped his hands down into Sam's briefs, fingers coming to curl around Sam's cock and cup his balls.
Sam groaned, head thumping against the wall, and closed his eyes. Prickles of heat scattered up his body, and he curved a hand over Dean's head, letting his fingers slip through Dean's short, bristled hair.
Fisting Sam's briefs and jeans in his hands, Dean said, "C'mon, Sammy, work with me here," and he yanked the clothing down as Sam lifted his hips, sliding down on the bed. When Sam was bare from the waist down, Dean settled himself over Sam again and jacked Sam's cock, watching it grow hard and red in his fist.
Bending down, Dean licked his way around the head of Sam's dick, dribbling saliva and refusing to quicken his pace with his hand, even as Sam writhed and moaned on the bed. He pushed Sam's legs apart to kiss the hot creases of flesh beside Sam's balls, and Dean rubbed the callused edge of his thumb along the wet slit of Sam's cock.
"You close?" Dean asked, lifting his mouth away for the briefest of a moment.
Sam's broken affirmation and frantic, shaking fingers digging into Dean's scalp were enough of an answer.
"Mm, that's good," Dean mumbled, voice thick with want, and Sam, struggling to keep his eyes open, watched blearily as Dean undid his own pants. Dean's cock was hard when he tugged his pants down, and he lay down on top of Sam to press their groins together.
Sam's hands went white-knuckled on the rumpled quilt at the sensation, and he choked down a miserable noise of need.
Not wasting any time, Dean grabbed Sam's wrists in each hand and then held them together above Sam's head. Sam's fingers curled helplessly over Dean's tight hand, and then Dean snapped his hips forward and all thoughts scattered.
Sam didn't last long, and the orgasm tore through him, leaving him dazed and breathless as Dean continued to thrust against him, while Sam's hands remained pinned above their heads. Lifting his head as much as he could manage, Sam gnawed at Dean's jawline and chewed on Dean's earlobe, whispering in his brother's ear.
Dean came with a curse, and his hips stuttered frantically, catching that sweet release, before slowing and coming to a stop. He lay, panting, before saying something that Sam didn't hear.
"What was that?" Sam mumbled, heart finally calming down.
"How much longer till the turkey's done?"
Wearily, Sam lifted his wrist to look at his watch. "Still a long time."
Dean grinned, squeezed Sam's cock that was covered in its own cooling come, and asked, "Think you can go again?"
"Mm," Sam mused. "Only if you can make it something to be thankful for."
Dean laughed. "C'mon, Sammy, this? You and me?" He kissed Sam on the mouth and whispered, "It's always something to be thankful for."
End
...but with turkey too!
Fic:
- - - - -
A combination of fic, pic, and cock, and that's really all there is to it.
All About Cock Thursday
So Far
- - - - -
Today
Pix's Pic Pick
The place was on the outskirts of town. An abandoned house with trees that drip-dropped golden leaves to the barren ground and where weeds, tall and brown, had grown up around the edges of the building. Behind the farmhouse, a field, a graveyard of dead corn stalks, rolled on endlessly into the autumn mist.
This was where they stopped and where Dean said, unloading the car, "I hope the stove still works at this place," and Sam looked over, away from the house, and didn't say anything.
Sam picked the lock on the door, pushed it open with his elbow because his hands were full with their duffel bags and backpacks, weapons and clothing, and Dean came up behind him and his plastic grocery bags snapping in the November wind. It was raining lightly, wet and cold, against Sam's skin, and he watched Dean push past him.
"What's in the bags?" Sam asked, following Dean into the house.
"Supplies."
"Oh? When'd you have time to go shopping?"
Dean shrugged, dropped the bags on the tipsy table in the kitchen with yellow linoleum peeling at the corners and replied, "You're a heavy sleeper sometimes."
While Dean busied himself searching though cupboards and cabinets, Sam found a bedroom off to the side of the kitchen to put their bags and coats. It was a small room with a patchwork quilt laying crooked on the bed, and the dresser and closets were bare and dusty. The window, dressed in threadbare drapes, looked out over the cornfield. Briefly, Sam wondered who lived here and what made them leave.
After shucking out of his coat, he wandered back to the kitchen where Dean had a frozen turkey sitting on the kitchen table. The bird was still wrapped in blue and white plastic, and Dean had his arms crossed, one hand holding his chin as he stared at the turkey quizzically.
Sam glanced from Dean to the turkey and then back to his brother before asking, "Something wrong?"
"I don't think I've ever cooked a turkey before. Think it's that much different from beef?"
"Wait. You want to cook the turkey?" Sam echoed, confused and slightly taken aback.
Dean lifted his eyes to Sam. "Well, I'm not just going to leave it on the table for decoration. Today's Thanksgiving--in case you forgot."
"Of course I didn't forget. We just--we just don't usually do holidays is all. I wasn't expecting anything out of the ordinary."
Dean chuckled and walked around the table to his grocery bags. He pulled out a box of instant mashed potatoes, stuffing, a pumpkin pie in the box, and a six pack of beer.
"You need to learn to start expecting the unexpected, Sammy," Dean said proudly, his supplies lined up on the table like a show and tell moment.
Sam didn't reply right away. Stared at the turkey a minute longer before finally saying, "Well, let's get this thing cooked. I'm starving."
An hour and a half later, the brothers had finished the beer and were both nicely warmed with the alcohol in their blood. Sam was in the bedroom, reading a fat paperback he had purchased at a gas station a couple states ago, and Dean was pacing the kitchen, boots thudding quietly over the floor.
"How long does it take for this bitch to cook?" he called.
Sam rolled his eyes. As if they hadn't been over this a hundred times already. "The package said anywhere from three to four hours."
"Three to four hours?" Dean echoed, coming into the bedroom. He leaned against the doorframe; the mostly finished beer bottle was cradled between his fingers. "We still have a while to go yet, huh?"
Sam nodded, barely lifting his eyes away from his book. If anything, he was thankful for this time to spend in silence with a book that didn't involve monsters, and Dean was ruining that. Couldn't Dean just take his impatience elsewhere?
Dean made some kind of affirming noise in the back of his throat and lingered a moment longer in the doorway.
Too engrossed in his book, Sam didn't see Dean until he crawled onto the bed, swinging one leg over Sam's outstretched own, so that Dean knelt, straddling Sam's knees.
"Dean..." Sam began, peering up at his brother over the edge of his book.
"Don't mind me. Just trying to get a good view of the field from here. Window's closer is all."
"Uh-huh," Sam replied dubiously and returned his eyes to the page in front of him. Let Dean do whatever he wanted about the cornfield.
Then Sam felt a pair of hands working at his belt and he moved his book away to see Dean grinning at him.
"What...what are you doing?" Sam asked in a stupid sort of way.
"We've got a couple hours to kill and there's nothing trying to chase us down," Dean replied, as if this answered Sam's question exactly. With Sam's belt unbuckled, Dean went to work at Sam's button before pulling down the zipper on his pants. He tugged at Sam's jeans, enough to get them off Sam's hips, before leaning forward and rubbing Sam's cock through his briefs.
Instantly, Sam jerked at the touch, and his book nearly dropped from his hand.
"Jumpy a bit, hm?" Dean murmured, lips ghosting over the exposed area by Sam's navel. Dean mouthed Sam's hip, tongue hot and teeth sharp where he nipped and licked the skin. He slipped his hands down into Sam's briefs, fingers coming to curl around Sam's cock and cup his balls.
Sam groaned, head thumping against the wall, and closed his eyes. Prickles of heat scattered up his body, and he curved a hand over Dean's head, letting his fingers slip through Dean's short, bristled hair.
Fisting Sam's briefs and jeans in his hands, Dean said, "C'mon, Sammy, work with me here," and he yanked the clothing down as Sam lifted his hips, sliding down on the bed. When Sam was bare from the waist down, Dean settled himself over Sam again and jacked Sam's cock, watching it grow hard and red in his fist.
Bending down, Dean licked his way around the head of Sam's dick, dribbling saliva and refusing to quicken his pace with his hand, even as Sam writhed and moaned on the bed. He pushed Sam's legs apart to kiss the hot creases of flesh beside Sam's balls, and Dean rubbed the callused edge of his thumb along the wet slit of Sam's cock.
"You close?" Dean asked, lifting his mouth away for the briefest of a moment.
Sam's broken affirmation and frantic, shaking fingers digging into Dean's scalp were enough of an answer.
"Mm, that's good," Dean mumbled, voice thick with want, and Sam, struggling to keep his eyes open, watched blearily as Dean undid his own pants. Dean's cock was hard when he tugged his pants down, and he lay down on top of Sam to press their groins together.
Sam's hands went white-knuckled on the rumpled quilt at the sensation, and he choked down a miserable noise of need.
Not wasting any time, Dean grabbed Sam's wrists in each hand and then held them together above Sam's head. Sam's fingers curled helplessly over Dean's tight hand, and then Dean snapped his hips forward and all thoughts scattered.
Sam didn't last long, and the orgasm tore through him, leaving him dazed and breathless as Dean continued to thrust against him, while Sam's hands remained pinned above their heads. Lifting his head as much as he could manage, Sam gnawed at Dean's jawline and chewed on Dean's earlobe, whispering in his brother's ear.
Dean came with a curse, and his hips stuttered frantically, catching that sweet release, before slowing and coming to a stop. He lay, panting, before saying something that Sam didn't hear.
"What was that?" Sam mumbled, heart finally calming down.
"How much longer till the turkey's done?"
Wearily, Sam lifted his wrist to look at his watch. "Still a long time."
Dean grinned, squeezed Sam's cock that was covered in its own cooling come, and asked, "Think you can go again?"
"Mm," Sam mused. "Only if you can make it something to be thankful for."
Dean laughed. "C'mon, Sammy, this? You and me?" He kissed Sam on the mouth and whispered, "It's always something to be thankful for."
End
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no subject
Date: 2007-11-23 12:11 am (UTC)As an expat living in the UK I've spent all day trying to explain the concept of Thanksgiving to people. They keep confusing it with the 4th of July. Silly people....this brought back so many memories it's not even funny. Instant potatoes, boxed stuffing, pie...and family love. That's what it's all about.:)
no subject
Date: 2007-11-24 11:02 pm (UTC)Yeah, I've tried to explain Thanksgiving to some of my international friends and I usually get the, "So, it's all about eating until you're sick?" Heh. Well, um, kinda...but that's not everything.
Thank you! :)