PixCT: 2-28
Feb. 28th, 2008 07:50 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
~1070 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
November 07
December 07
January 08
DruCT: 2-07
PixCT: 2-07
DruCT: 2-14
PixCT: 2-14
DruCT: 2-21
PixCT: 2-21
- - - - -
Today
DruCT: 2-28
My fic:
Slash (Wincest: Dean/Sam) oneshot
Preseries
Adult rating
~1070 words
- - - - -
Pix's Pic Pick
- - - - -
Three dozen done. Six dozen to go.
Sam sighed, wiped his face on his sleeve and glanced up at the clock. It was a little after four in the morning, and he had until six o'clock to finish the donuts before his boss came in, ready to start the day with a batch of freshly made donuts for his customers.
The third-shift position at a small donut shop had worked out well enough the first few weeks. Sam worked, went to school, came home and slept while Dean and Dad were out doing...whatever, and then he got up, did some homework and back to work. Repeat and go.
It was cash, and that was good enough right there. Even if it did mean playing with donuts by himself for eight hours every night.
Six dozen donuts left to make. God.
As he spread white frosting onto a donut before dipping it into a large container of sprinkles, Sam heard a knock at the door from the front of the store. He shook his head, deciding to ignore it and continuing his work in the kitchen back here. It was probably a drunk anyway. Nobody else rational would be out at this hour of the morning.
There were a few more raps at the door and then, at last, silence. Probably realized nobody was going to answer the locked door, Sam thought to himself, setting another finished donut on the tray next to the others.
Suddenly, cutting through the silence of the empty store, his cell phone began to ring. He wiped his hands off on his apron and picked it up.
"Hello?" he answered.
"Sammy? Open the door, will ya?"
"Dean? What? What are you talking about? Aren't you still in Wyoming?"
"Jesus, Sam, no. Look outside."
Hesitantly, Sam poked his head out from behind the kitchen's wall to see Dean standing outside the restaurant. Dean grinned, wide and stupid, and waved.
Sam groaned and closed his cell phone, going to the door to let Dean inside.
"What are you doing here?" Sam asked as Dean stepped inside the restaurant.
"Got back early. Wanted to see how you were doing."
"Couldn't you have waited until I got home?" Sam said, walking back to the kitchen to finish his now five dozen donuts.
"Nah," Dean replied, wandering around the kitchen aimlessly. His coat was dirty, and there was a bruise on the left side of his face. "So, this is where you work, huh?"
"Yeah," Sam said as he frosted yet another donut. He had to get these done soon enough because he wouldn't be able to leave at six if the donuts weren't done. If he couldn't leave at six, then he would be that much more pressed for time to get to school that morning.
"You been okay? I mean, while we were gone. Nothing happened, did it?" Dean asked, playing with the wheeled containers where the fifty-pound bags of sugar were kept.
"It's been quiet. Just, y'know, school and work. Same old stuff." Sam paused, looked over at Dean. "The hunt go okay? You look like you took a hit."
Dean's smile was faint when he answered, "Yeah, stupid ass monster got the better of me. I'll be fine, though. Just a bit sore is all. Nothing big."
"And Dad?"
"At home. Sleeping. He's whipped."
Sam nodded. "Yeah, I would've figured."
Dean didn't reply, only came closer and rested his chin on Sam's shoulder. "What do you say we get out of here?"
"Dean, you know I can't just leave work. My boss'll kill me."
"Is that so?" Dean asked, hands coming forward to rest on Sam's hips and front pressing to Sam's back. Dean was warm, warmer than Sam remembered, and Sam had forgotten in the mere two weeks they'd been apart how perfectly they fit together like this.
Damn Dean.
"The donuts..."
"Can wait," Dean finished, burying his face into the crook of Sam's neck. His cheek was rough against Sam's own, and his mouth hot where it met Sam's bare skin.
"Dean..." Sam tried again, one final time, but Dean didn't give Sam a chance for anymore than that. Greedily, he tilted Sam's head towards him and kissed Sam hungrily, cutting off any lingering worries Sam may have had.
Sam grunted as Dean turned him around, backing him against the table where the unfinished donuts still waited for their frosting. Fisting a hand in Sam's hair, Dean nipped and sucked at the tender skin along Sam's neck. His hips were pressed tight against Sam's own, and his cock was a hard ridge in his jeans.
As Dean leaned into him, Sam reached behind to steady himself when he was suddenly picked up and hoisted onto the table. The donuts went skittering away, some landing on the floor, others toppling into the opened drawer of sprinkles, and Sam made a noise of protest.
"Fuck the donuts, Sammy," Dean growled, as he struggled with Sam's belt beneath his work apron.
For the first time that night, Sam agreed.
Dean swore angrily, unable to get Sam's pants undone, and Sam batted his hands away. "Here, let me," he panted, quickly unzipping his pants as Dean pushed his own down past his hips.
On his tiptoes, Dean leaned into the opened space between Sam's legs. He jacked Sam's cock, quickly, frantically, before fisting their cocks together.
Sam choked and found himself falling forward, cheek coming to land on Dean's shoulder, as Dean flicked his wrist to make them both groan and gasp.
"Dean, I-I..." Sam whispered, fingers curling tight through Dean's short hair.
"C'mon, Sammy, c'mon."
His orgasm was a hot whiplash through him, and Sam cursed when he came, white knuckled hands buried in Dean's shirt. Dean shuddered and shot over his fist, coating their cocks together.
Still gasping for air, Sam leaned back against the wall behind the table, as Dean stepped away, face flushed and eyes wide.
Sam looked up at the clock and groaned in disgust. "I've still got the donuts to make," he complained, heedless to his opened pants and cock going limp against his zipper.
Dean grinned as he picked up one of the unfrosted donuts. With his hand still dripping come, he swiped a finger on the surface of the donut, smearing it white, before dipping it in the sprinkles.
"There," he smiled, looking down at the sprinkled donut that sat innocently enough on the table, "one done for ya."
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
Three dozen done. Six dozen to go.
Sam sighed, wiped his face on his sleeve and glanced up at the clock. It was a little after four in the morning, and he had until six o'clock to finish the donuts before his boss came in, ready to start the day with a batch of freshly made donuts for his customers.
The third-shift position at a small donut shop had worked out well enough the first few weeks. Sam worked, went to school, came home and slept while Dean and Dad were out doing...whatever, and then he got up, did some homework and back to work. Repeat and go.
It was cash, and that was good enough right there. Even if it did mean playing with donuts by himself for eight hours every night.
Six dozen donuts left to make. God.
As he spread white frosting onto a donut before dipping it into a large container of sprinkles, Sam heard a knock at the door from the front of the store. He shook his head, deciding to ignore it and continuing his work in the kitchen back here. It was probably a drunk anyway. Nobody else rational would be out at this hour of the morning.
There were a few more raps at the door and then, at last, silence. Probably realized nobody was going to answer the locked door, Sam thought to himself, setting another finished donut on the tray next to the others.
Suddenly, cutting through the silence of the empty store, his cell phone began to ring. He wiped his hands off on his apron and picked it up.
"Hello?" he answered.
"Sammy? Open the door, will ya?"
"Dean? What? What are you talking about? Aren't you still in Wyoming?"
"Jesus, Sam, no. Look outside."
Hesitantly, Sam poked his head out from behind the kitchen's wall to see Dean standing outside the restaurant. Dean grinned, wide and stupid, and waved.
Sam groaned and closed his cell phone, going to the door to let Dean inside.
"What are you doing here?" Sam asked as Dean stepped inside the restaurant.
"Got back early. Wanted to see how you were doing."
"Couldn't you have waited until I got home?" Sam said, walking back to the kitchen to finish his now five dozen donuts.
"Nah," Dean replied, wandering around the kitchen aimlessly. His coat was dirty, and there was a bruise on the left side of his face. "So, this is where you work, huh?"
"Yeah," Sam said as he frosted yet another donut. He had to get these done soon enough because he wouldn't be able to leave at six if the donuts weren't done. If he couldn't leave at six, then he would be that much more pressed for time to get to school that morning.
"You been okay? I mean, while we were gone. Nothing happened, did it?" Dean asked, playing with the wheeled containers where the fifty-pound bags of sugar were kept.
"It's been quiet. Just, y'know, school and work. Same old stuff." Sam paused, looked over at Dean. "The hunt go okay? You look like you took a hit."
Dean's smile was faint when he answered, "Yeah, stupid ass monster got the better of me. I'll be fine, though. Just a bit sore is all. Nothing big."
"And Dad?"
"At home. Sleeping. He's whipped."
Sam nodded. "Yeah, I would've figured."
Dean didn't reply, only came closer and rested his chin on Sam's shoulder. "What do you say we get out of here?"
"Dean, you know I can't just leave work. My boss'll kill me."
"Is that so?" Dean asked, hands coming forward to rest on Sam's hips and front pressing to Sam's back. Dean was warm, warmer than Sam remembered, and Sam had forgotten in the mere two weeks they'd been apart how perfectly they fit together like this.
Damn Dean.
"The donuts..."
"Can wait," Dean finished, burying his face into the crook of Sam's neck. His cheek was rough against Sam's own, and his mouth hot where it met Sam's bare skin.
"Dean..." Sam tried again, one final time, but Dean didn't give Sam a chance for anymore than that. Greedily, he tilted Sam's head towards him and kissed Sam hungrily, cutting off any lingering worries Sam may have had.
Sam grunted as Dean turned him around, backing him against the table where the unfinished donuts still waited for their frosting. Fisting a hand in Sam's hair, Dean nipped and sucked at the tender skin along Sam's neck. His hips were pressed tight against Sam's own, and his cock was a hard ridge in his jeans.
As Dean leaned into him, Sam reached behind to steady himself when he was suddenly picked up and hoisted onto the table. The donuts went skittering away, some landing on the floor, others toppling into the opened drawer of sprinkles, and Sam made a noise of protest.
"Fuck the donuts, Sammy," Dean growled, as he struggled with Sam's belt beneath his work apron.
For the first time that night, Sam agreed.
Dean swore angrily, unable to get Sam's pants undone, and Sam batted his hands away. "Here, let me," he panted, quickly unzipping his pants as Dean pushed his own down past his hips.
On his tiptoes, Dean leaned into the opened space between Sam's legs. He jacked Sam's cock, quickly, frantically, before fisting their cocks together.
Sam choked and found himself falling forward, cheek coming to land on Dean's shoulder, as Dean flicked his wrist to make them both groan and gasp.
"Dean, I-I..." Sam whispered, fingers curling tight through Dean's short hair.
"C'mon, Sammy, c'mon."
His orgasm was a hot whiplash through him, and Sam cursed when he came, white knuckled hands buried in Dean's shirt. Dean shuddered and shot over his fist, coating their cocks together.
Still gasping for air, Sam leaned back against the wall behind the table, as Dean stepped away, face flushed and eyes wide.
Sam looked up at the clock and groaned in disgust. "I've still got the donuts to make," he complained, heedless to his opened pants and cock going limp against his zipper.
Dean grinned as he picked up one of the unfrosted donuts. With his hand still dripping come, he swiped a finger on the surface of the donut, smearing it white, before dipping it in the sprinkles.
"There," he smiled, looking down at the sprinkled donut that sat innocently enough on the table, "one done for ya."
End
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2008-02-29 12:50 am (UTC)Nuurgh, YEY. :D Very nice, and there's something great about Sam's mundane lil donut job and Dean returning to that after their regular kinda stint.
♥
no subject
Date: 2008-03-06 12:32 am (UTC)I dunno why, but that mental image is one of a happy sort of place for me. Or. Just either of the boys lifting the either one onto something. Heh.
Thank you!
♥
no subject
Date: 2008-02-29 02:01 am (UTC)*dies laughing*
Sam with his work ethic, and Dean knowing Donuts aren't worth missing out on brother-time, convincing Sam to fall in line... *draws hearts*
no subject
Date: 2008-03-06 12:27 am (UTC)I think I'm becoming more corrupted every week. ;P
Thank you! :)
no subject
Date: 2008-02-29 05:57 am (UTC)Can I just say, "Dean didn't reply, only came closer and rested his chin on Sam's shoulder. "What do you say we get out of here?"" could quite possible be THE most adorable image in the history of ever? I certainly "AWWWWWW"ed right out loud. :)
no subject
Date: 2008-03-06 12:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-03-01 03:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-03-06 12:28 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-03-01 05:22 am (UTC)OH DEAN. Hee!
HOT.
no subject
Date: 2008-03-06 12:28 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-03-01 11:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-03-06 12:29 am (UTC)I like normal Sam too. He's so fun to play with. :)
Thank you! :)
no subject
Date: 2008-03-07 01:58 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-03-13 10:02 pm (UTC)Thank you! :)