PixCT: 1-17
Jan. 17th, 2008 04:02 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
Preseries
~400 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
October 07
November 07
December 07
DruCT: 1-03
PixCT: 1-03
DruCT: 1-10
PixCT: 1-10
- - - - -
Today
DruCT: 1-17
My fic:
Slash (Wincest: Dean/Sam) oneshot
Adult rating
Preseries
~400 words
Um. Rambly and weird. Not my usual stuff.
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Pix's Pic Pick
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Autumn was early that year. Unanticipated cool nights to kiss away the green of the plants had transformed once rolling vibrant fields into yellow seas of flapping leaves. While the nights' edges were lined with careful frost, the days were warm and bright.
On the graveled road, ten miles past the county line and ages away from the next, Dean pulled the car over to the shoulder. Parked next to a soybean field and cut the engine underneath a looming oak tree.
He tried to remember how to breathe.
Sam was climbing in his lap. Sam, too big for the passenger seat, barely able to fit in the driver's seat with Dean. But he was trying. Desperate and needy and wanting and too damn in love to assume that anything could stop him--them--from being, yes, together.
Mouth already on Dean's, panting and saying stupid things. Foolish things that he'd been holding back because Dad was always around and listening and they couldn't risk exposure. Risk losing this and them and in that, themselves. Their being and identity.
Dean sputtered through greedy kisses. Couldn't focus with everything Sam suffocating every sense in his body. One hand threaded through Sam's hair, fingers cupping the back of his head, and another hand on the door handle, trying to get them out so they could move freely. Could touch and taste freely.
Sam's hands were on Dean's fly, unbuttoning and unzipping. Undoing every piece of Dean. Fingers, dirt under the nails and knuckles chapped, wrapped around Dean's cock, and Dean threw his head back against the seat, breaking the kiss, and Sam smiled. Sly and wolfish, and he said, Fuck, yeah, like that was supposed encompass everything passing between them.
Gasping, hand no longer near the door, now curled tight over the steering wheel, Dean shook. Sweat on his palms and forehead, and Sam was looming awkwardly over him. Not enough room. Never enough fucking room for the two of them when they crashed together like now.
Senses ripped from his body when he came, white strands on his little brother's hand, and Dean cried out maybe a curse, maybe a name, maybe something he really didn't need--want--to understand at all.
And Sam. Sam, so smart and proud, who was never afraid to ask, took Dean by the wrist, led hand to his own hard-on and said, Now me. Do me, Dean. Please.
Dean swallowed, still choking on the remains of his orgasm, and whispered, Yeah, Sammy, yeah.
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
Pix's Pic Pick
Autumn was early that year. Unanticipated cool nights to kiss away the green of the plants had transformed once rolling vibrant fields into yellow seas of flapping leaves. While the nights' edges were lined with careful frost, the days were warm and bright.
On the graveled road, ten miles past the county line and ages away from the next, Dean pulled the car over to the shoulder. Parked next to a soybean field and cut the engine underneath a looming oak tree.
He tried to remember how to breathe.
Sam was climbing in his lap. Sam, too big for the passenger seat, barely able to fit in the driver's seat with Dean. But he was trying. Desperate and needy and wanting and too damn in love to assume that anything could stop him--them--from being, yes, together.
Mouth already on Dean's, panting and saying stupid things. Foolish things that he'd been holding back because Dad was always around and listening and they couldn't risk exposure. Risk losing this and them and in that, themselves. Their being and identity.
Dean sputtered through greedy kisses. Couldn't focus with everything Sam suffocating every sense in his body. One hand threaded through Sam's hair, fingers cupping the back of his head, and another hand on the door handle, trying to get them out so they could move freely. Could touch and taste freely.
Sam's hands were on Dean's fly, unbuttoning and unzipping. Undoing every piece of Dean. Fingers, dirt under the nails and knuckles chapped, wrapped around Dean's cock, and Dean threw his head back against the seat, breaking the kiss, and Sam smiled. Sly and wolfish, and he said, Fuck, yeah, like that was supposed encompass everything passing between them.
Gasping, hand no longer near the door, now curled tight over the steering wheel, Dean shook. Sweat on his palms and forehead, and Sam was looming awkwardly over him. Not enough room. Never enough fucking room for the two of them when they crashed together like now.
Senses ripped from his body when he came, white strands on his little brother's hand, and Dean cried out maybe a curse, maybe a name, maybe something he really didn't need--want--to understand at all.
And Sam. Sam, so smart and proud, who was never afraid to ask, took Dean by the wrist, led hand to his own hard-on and said, Now me. Do me, Dean. Please.
Dean swallowed, still choking on the remains of his orgasm, and whispered, Yeah, Sammy, yeah.
End
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no subject
Date: 2008-01-24 05:29 pm (UTC)They are so crazy in love. I always enjoy writing them as such, so tangled in each other, really.
Yay oak tree! :D
♥