PixCT: 07-24
Jul. 24th, 2008 09:37 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
~670 words
- - - - -
A combination of fic, pic, and cock, and that's really all there is to it.
All About Cock Thursday
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- - - - -
Today
DruCT: 07-24
My fic:
Slash (Wincest: Dean/Sam) oneshot
Adult rating
~670 words
- - - - -
Dru's Pic Pick
She hears muffled voices coming from the downstairs. The voices are deep, masculine and thick, and she thinks the two of them arguing about something. Their feet creak and scuffle over the wooden floors, and she hears the thud of a body being slammed against a wall.
Carefully, ever so carefully, she tiptoes down the stairs, leaving her bedroom behind. She knows where the squeaky spots are on each step, and she avoids them so she doesn't make noise as she climbs down. She perches on the end of the stairs, just behind the wall of the hallway so she can see these men but they're can't see her.
One is taller than the other, she notices that first. They're both pretty in that rugged way she remembers her brother being. The taller one, with his long dark hair and back to her, reminds her the most of Christopher.
She is so lost in her memories of her brother that she almost misses what the two men in the hallway are saying. The tall one is whispering, fast and furious through clenched teeth. "Dammit, Dean. I--I don't know. I just--I want...want you so bad right now."
The short one, Dean, with his leather jacket and back against the wall wears worried eyes. "It's this house, all right? We need to get out of here."
"But Dean," he sighs, pressing Dean up against the wall with a roll of his hips. "I know you want it too." His hands are fisted in Dean's jacket, knuckles gone white. "Tell me you want it too."
"Sam...this house is fucking with your head. With my head. It's not right."
Sam groans, and one of his hands makes it way between their bodies. She can't see where it goes, but she knows the moment when Sam closes around Dean's cock because Dean's eyes roll back in his head and he utters a choked, "Fuck..."
"You like that?" Sam murmurs. His face is pressed into the crook of Dean's neck, and she can barely hear what he's saying. "Yeah?" His arm flexes, and Dean groans, eyes fluttering shut. "Not just the house, y'know? Not just the house," Sam babbles. "Always been like this. Just didn't want it so bad we couldn't stop."
"Sam," Dean croaks, but he makes no movement to stop him.
There's the sound of a zipper being undone, and she hears the soft slap-slap of skin against skin, and Dean's huffing curses between frantic kisses. She swallows a lump in her throat, wishes she didn't feel the heat between her legs from watching this. To keep silent, she bites the tip of her thumb, holding in her sounds as Dean comes with a groan, slouching into Sam.
Sam pulls his hand away, and the come drips onto the floor and leaves shiny dots where it lands. He's panting, and she can't see his face, but Dean's is a mix of confusion and awe.
"Sam," Dean says again, but this time his voice is softer, welcoming, and Sam goes to him. They curl around each other and sag against the wall. She can see the defeat--no, acceptance--in Dean's eyes when he buries his face into Sam's hair.
She smiles. She knows they'll be okay because they have each other, and in each other, they'll have all the answers to figure this one out for themselves.
She stands, turns and climbs the stairs, hand trailing along the dusty banister. Inside her bedroom, at the top of the stairs, she closes the door behind her.
He's sitting on the bed, smiling when she comes into the room.
"Christopher," she whispers, breathless, as she is every time she sees him.
He holds out his hands for her, and she approaches until she's standing between the space of his legs. He runs his fingers through her hair, curls a hand around her breast, and says, "I missed you."
They kiss as wide and as passionate as they did one hundred and fifty years ago before they were shot by the town for their love. They tumble, laughing, back onto the bed and vanish into the darkness from where they came.
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
She hears muffled voices coming from the downstairs. The voices are deep, masculine and thick, and she thinks the two of them arguing about something. Their feet creak and scuffle over the wooden floors, and she hears the thud of a body being slammed against a wall.
Carefully, ever so carefully, she tiptoes down the stairs, leaving her bedroom behind. She knows where the squeaky spots are on each step, and she avoids them so she doesn't make noise as she climbs down. She perches on the end of the stairs, just behind the wall of the hallway so she can see these men but they're can't see her.
One is taller than the other, she notices that first. They're both pretty in that rugged way she remembers her brother being. The taller one, with his long dark hair and back to her, reminds her the most of Christopher.
She is so lost in her memories of her brother that she almost misses what the two men in the hallway are saying. The tall one is whispering, fast and furious through clenched teeth. "Dammit, Dean. I--I don't know. I just--I want...want you so bad right now."
The short one, Dean, with his leather jacket and back against the wall wears worried eyes. "It's this house, all right? We need to get out of here."
"But Dean," he sighs, pressing Dean up against the wall with a roll of his hips. "I know you want it too." His hands are fisted in Dean's jacket, knuckles gone white. "Tell me you want it too."
"Sam...this house is fucking with your head. With my head. It's not right."
Sam groans, and one of his hands makes it way between their bodies. She can't see where it goes, but she knows the moment when Sam closes around Dean's cock because Dean's eyes roll back in his head and he utters a choked, "Fuck..."
"You like that?" Sam murmurs. His face is pressed into the crook of Dean's neck, and she can barely hear what he's saying. "Yeah?" His arm flexes, and Dean groans, eyes fluttering shut. "Not just the house, y'know? Not just the house," Sam babbles. "Always been like this. Just didn't want it so bad we couldn't stop."
"Sam," Dean croaks, but he makes no movement to stop him.
There's the sound of a zipper being undone, and she hears the soft slap-slap of skin against skin, and Dean's huffing curses between frantic kisses. She swallows a lump in her throat, wishes she didn't feel the heat between her legs from watching this. To keep silent, she bites the tip of her thumb, holding in her sounds as Dean comes with a groan, slouching into Sam.
Sam pulls his hand away, and the come drips onto the floor and leaves shiny dots where it lands. He's panting, and she can't see his face, but Dean's is a mix of confusion and awe.
"Sam," Dean says again, but this time his voice is softer, welcoming, and Sam goes to him. They curl around each other and sag against the wall. She can see the defeat--no, acceptance--in Dean's eyes when he buries his face into Sam's hair.
She smiles. She knows they'll be okay because they have each other, and in each other, they'll have all the answers to figure this one out for themselves.
She stands, turns and climbs the stairs, hand trailing along the dusty banister. Inside her bedroom, at the top of the stairs, she closes the door behind her.
He's sitting on the bed, smiling when she comes into the room.
"Christopher," she whispers, breathless, as she is every time she sees him.
He holds out his hands for her, and she approaches until she's standing between the space of his legs. He runs his fingers through her hair, curls a hand around her breast, and says, "I missed you."
They kiss as wide and as passionate as they did one hundred and fifty years ago before they were shot by the town for their love. They tumble, laughing, back onto the bed and vanish into the darkness from where they came.
End
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no subject
Date: 2008-11-02 09:14 pm (UTC)