PixCT: 09-04
Sep. 4th, 2008 04:32 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
~1420 words
- - - - -
A combination of fic, pic, and cock, and that's really all there is to it.
All About Cock Thursday
So Far
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Today
DruCT: 09-04
My fic:
Slash (Wincest: Dean/Sam) oneshot
Adult rating
Preseries
~1420 words
- - - - -
Dru's Pic Pick
It had taken him a few minutes to realize who was sitting at the other end of the table. It was a long table, stretching the length of the mess hall where they had gathered for a trip away over the Labor Day weekend. They were sophomores now, the big group of them, and it'd been an entire summer they'd spent apart. So, now, after returning to Stanford, they came together to share stories about where those tan lines came from or what the other side of the globe looked like.
There were so many of them, all of them Sam's friends in one way or another--some closer than others--that it had taken him a few minutes to realize who was sitting at the other end of the table. He had finished most of his food on the fruit-decorated plates--courtesy of Casey, an English Lit major who had a passion for orange--and had just sliced his peach open when he heard that laugh. It was so familiar and so surprising that a shiver ran down his back, electrifying all the hair on his arms.
He shifted in his seat, craned his neck to look down the table, around the clusters of conversing people, past the Tupperwares of food and bags of chips, and then he saw him. Sam swallowed hard.
He looked up at the same time Dean did, and they met eyes down the table. Dean smiled and winked before the girl next to him grabbed his arm and started talked excitedly.
Sam looked down at his peaches, looked back up at Dean chatting away effortlessly, and looked back down at his peaches. It'd been over a year since he had seen Dean, since he had left for college last August, having chose to spend the summer between his freshman and sophomore year doing lifeguard work here in California. In that time, they'd rarely spoken except for short, staccato conversations that only confirmed they were both still alive and nothing more.
Sitting there now, Dean looked good. All things considered, that was. Sam focused his attention back to the peaches as an all too familiar warmth spread over him. Dammit, Dean.
Sam pushed his chair back and walked over to where Dean was sitting. Sam grabbed an unused chair shoved off to the side, and he pulled up the chair next to Dean.
"Laura," Sam said, catching the attention of the girl who was throwing herself at Dean, "who's your friend? I don't recognize him."
Dean and Laura both turned, and Dean smirked at Sam but said nothing.
"Oh! Sam!" Laura said excitedly. "This is..." She faltered, searching.
"Dean," Dean finished.
"Right! Dean!" She laughed and took another long drink of her already half-finished beer. Sam wondered how many she had already had.
"Hi, Dean," Sam said, sticking out his hand. "Sam."
"Sam," Dean repeated, and he gave a sharp squeeze to Sam's hand.
While Laura babbled on about this and about that, Sam didn't look away from Dean. He was here. In California. At Stanford. It was too much, and Sam struggled to keep his breathing even.
"Well," Dean finally said, more to Laura than to Sam, "if you'll excuse me, I've got to head to the little boys' room." He flashed a spectacular smile to Laura, who only laughed harder, and stood up to walk past Sam.
After a beat, once Laura had returned to her beer and had let her attention from Sam fall away, he, too, stood up and went to the bathroom.
The bathroom was quiet, dim with only a single bulb to illuminate the two stalls and two urinals in the room. Dean was standing in the corner, by a sink, with his arms crossed when Sam entered and fell back against the door to prevent anyone from coming in.
"What are you doing out here?" Sam asked after a long moment of silence and staring.
"Well, hello to you too, Sammy."
"I'm just asking."
"Whoa, whoa, no need to get defensive. I was kinda in the area and thought I'd stop by to see how the first week of school this year had gone."
"Define 'kinda in the area'," Sam said.
"Washington?" Dean laughed as he crossed the room. His boots were noisy on the cement floor.
"Dean," Sam said, but his voice sounded thin and weak even to his own ears.
"What?"
"You just...you just can't show up here and think that we can pick up right where we left off...it's not...it's not like that anymore."
"Oh. Well then." Dean continued to move closer as Sam continued to protest and babble stupidly until Dean was standing right in front of him.
"Dean, look, no. I left to get away from this...you know...it's not right...we can't..." Sam couldn't believe how ridiculous he was sounding. Shit, he was pathetic.
Dean stepped closer this time, close enough that his nose was able to brush Sam's and he could press the full length of his body against Sam's own. "Can't do what?" He grinned.
Sam rolled his eyes. "Aw, fuck it," he hissed, and he reached for Dean.
"That's m'boy," Dean said, laughing again--the smug bastard--before Sam kissed him, and they staggered into one of the bathroom stalls.
In all the hundreds of times--that Sam would deny to his death--that he had envisioned Dean coming back for him, this was not how he had pictured it. Not in a bathroom stall while his classmates and peers and a girl he thought he liked ate and chatted away just a room away. No, no, not like this at all.
But, here it was, not perfect in the least, but it was here, and Sam was going to make the most of it.
Dean fumbled to get his own pants undone while Sam struggled with the same. They were kissing fiercely, breathing hard and heavy into each other's mouths. Finally, Dean pushed his pants down, slipped boxers and jeans just down over his hips, and he slammed himself into Sam. The wall of the stall shook, and Sam was sure they were going to break something in all of this.
Dear God, though, it felt good. It felt better than good to have Dean pressed up against him again, have his cock slipping in the groove of Sam's hip as he twisted fingers in Sam's too-long hair and whispered stupid, needy things.
"H-how's Dad?" Sam croaked out as Dean sucked on the nape of his neck.
"Mmm...good..." Dean breathed. He snuck a hand up beneath Sam's shirt, palm coming to rest on the bare skin of Sam's chest. "Meet...anybody new h-here?" he asked, cock still rutting against Sam's hips, their cocks bouncing over one another.
"Yeah...Oh, fuck," he hissed when Dean pinched one of his nipples. "Yeah," he continued breathlessly. "L-lots of nice people."
Sam's pants were slowly working their way further down his legs until they eventually pooled around his ankles. This seemed to appeal to Dean, who moved his hand off Sam's chest and wrapped it around his ass to pull them tighter together.
"H-how've you been?" Sam asked.
"Fan--shit--fantastic."
Before Sam could reply, a flash of heat whipped up his spine, and he came, shooting over Dean's stomach and hips. He wobbled, unsteady on his feet, until Dean pulled him closer, wrapping an arm around his waist.
"I got'cha, Sammy," he whispered. He reached down with his other hand and jacked off, hard and quick, until he followed Sam over the edge, sticky white strings landing on his shirt and Sam's.
They stood for a long moment, gasping and staring and remembering where they were and where they weren't. At last, Sam pushed himself away and hobbled to one of the sinks where he grabbed handfuls of the scratchy, paper towel and began cleaning himself off. He pulled up his pants, buttoned and buckled them, and then ran his hands under the running faucet to splash water on his face. Dean only bothered to wipe off his stomach with the brown towel, didn't take interest in fixing his obviously mussed hair and cooling the red marks on his face and neck.
Sam turned around to face Dean, and he exhaled heavily. "Well," he said. "I'm glad...I'm glad we could catch up."
Dean smirked. "Yeah, me too."
"We should, um, we should do it again."
"Catch up? Yeah, sure, we can catch up anytime you'd like. I'll see when I can fit it in my schedule."
"Okay," Sam said and smiled.
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
It had taken him a few minutes to realize who was sitting at the other end of the table. It was a long table, stretching the length of the mess hall where they had gathered for a trip away over the Labor Day weekend. They were sophomores now, the big group of them, and it'd been an entire summer they'd spent apart. So, now, after returning to Stanford, they came together to share stories about where those tan lines came from or what the other side of the globe looked like.
There were so many of them, all of them Sam's friends in one way or another--some closer than others--that it had taken him a few minutes to realize who was sitting at the other end of the table. He had finished most of his food on the fruit-decorated plates--courtesy of Casey, an English Lit major who had a passion for orange--and had just sliced his peach open when he heard that laugh. It was so familiar and so surprising that a shiver ran down his back, electrifying all the hair on his arms.
He shifted in his seat, craned his neck to look down the table, around the clusters of conversing people, past the Tupperwares of food and bags of chips, and then he saw him. Sam swallowed hard.
He looked up at the same time Dean did, and they met eyes down the table. Dean smiled and winked before the girl next to him grabbed his arm and started talked excitedly.
Sam looked down at his peaches, looked back up at Dean chatting away effortlessly, and looked back down at his peaches. It'd been over a year since he had seen Dean, since he had left for college last August, having chose to spend the summer between his freshman and sophomore year doing lifeguard work here in California. In that time, they'd rarely spoken except for short, staccato conversations that only confirmed they were both still alive and nothing more.
Sitting there now, Dean looked good. All things considered, that was. Sam focused his attention back to the peaches as an all too familiar warmth spread over him. Dammit, Dean.
Sam pushed his chair back and walked over to where Dean was sitting. Sam grabbed an unused chair shoved off to the side, and he pulled up the chair next to Dean.
"Laura," Sam said, catching the attention of the girl who was throwing herself at Dean, "who's your friend? I don't recognize him."
Dean and Laura both turned, and Dean smirked at Sam but said nothing.
"Oh! Sam!" Laura said excitedly. "This is..." She faltered, searching.
"Dean," Dean finished.
"Right! Dean!" She laughed and took another long drink of her already half-finished beer. Sam wondered how many she had already had.
"Hi, Dean," Sam said, sticking out his hand. "Sam."
"Sam," Dean repeated, and he gave a sharp squeeze to Sam's hand.
While Laura babbled on about this and about that, Sam didn't look away from Dean. He was here. In California. At Stanford. It was too much, and Sam struggled to keep his breathing even.
"Well," Dean finally said, more to Laura than to Sam, "if you'll excuse me, I've got to head to the little boys' room." He flashed a spectacular smile to Laura, who only laughed harder, and stood up to walk past Sam.
After a beat, once Laura had returned to her beer and had let her attention from Sam fall away, he, too, stood up and went to the bathroom.
The bathroom was quiet, dim with only a single bulb to illuminate the two stalls and two urinals in the room. Dean was standing in the corner, by a sink, with his arms crossed when Sam entered and fell back against the door to prevent anyone from coming in.
"What are you doing out here?" Sam asked after a long moment of silence and staring.
"Well, hello to you too, Sammy."
"I'm just asking."
"Whoa, whoa, no need to get defensive. I was kinda in the area and thought I'd stop by to see how the first week of school this year had gone."
"Define 'kinda in the area'," Sam said.
"Washington?" Dean laughed as he crossed the room. His boots were noisy on the cement floor.
"Dean," Sam said, but his voice sounded thin and weak even to his own ears.
"What?"
"You just...you just can't show up here and think that we can pick up right where we left off...it's not...it's not like that anymore."
"Oh. Well then." Dean continued to move closer as Sam continued to protest and babble stupidly until Dean was standing right in front of him.
"Dean, look, no. I left to get away from this...you know...it's not right...we can't..." Sam couldn't believe how ridiculous he was sounding. Shit, he was pathetic.
Dean stepped closer this time, close enough that his nose was able to brush Sam's and he could press the full length of his body against Sam's own. "Can't do what?" He grinned.
Sam rolled his eyes. "Aw, fuck it," he hissed, and he reached for Dean.
"That's m'boy," Dean said, laughing again--the smug bastard--before Sam kissed him, and they staggered into one of the bathroom stalls.
In all the hundreds of times--that Sam would deny to his death--that he had envisioned Dean coming back for him, this was not how he had pictured it. Not in a bathroom stall while his classmates and peers and a girl he thought he liked ate and chatted away just a room away. No, no, not like this at all.
But, here it was, not perfect in the least, but it was here, and Sam was going to make the most of it.
Dean fumbled to get his own pants undone while Sam struggled with the same. They were kissing fiercely, breathing hard and heavy into each other's mouths. Finally, Dean pushed his pants down, slipped boxers and jeans just down over his hips, and he slammed himself into Sam. The wall of the stall shook, and Sam was sure they were going to break something in all of this.
Dear God, though, it felt good. It felt better than good to have Dean pressed up against him again, have his cock slipping in the groove of Sam's hip as he twisted fingers in Sam's too-long hair and whispered stupid, needy things.
"H-how's Dad?" Sam croaked out as Dean sucked on the nape of his neck.
"Mmm...good..." Dean breathed. He snuck a hand up beneath Sam's shirt, palm coming to rest on the bare skin of Sam's chest. "Meet...anybody new h-here?" he asked, cock still rutting against Sam's hips, their cocks bouncing over one another.
"Yeah...Oh, fuck," he hissed when Dean pinched one of his nipples. "Yeah," he continued breathlessly. "L-lots of nice people."
Sam's pants were slowly working their way further down his legs until they eventually pooled around his ankles. This seemed to appeal to Dean, who moved his hand off Sam's chest and wrapped it around his ass to pull them tighter together.
"H-how've you been?" Sam asked.
"Fan--shit--fantastic."
Before Sam could reply, a flash of heat whipped up his spine, and he came, shooting over Dean's stomach and hips. He wobbled, unsteady on his feet, until Dean pulled him closer, wrapping an arm around his waist.
"I got'cha, Sammy," he whispered. He reached down with his other hand and jacked off, hard and quick, until he followed Sam over the edge, sticky white strings landing on his shirt and Sam's.
They stood for a long moment, gasping and staring and remembering where they were and where they weren't. At last, Sam pushed himself away and hobbled to one of the sinks where he grabbed handfuls of the scratchy, paper towel and began cleaning himself off. He pulled up his pants, buttoned and buckled them, and then ran his hands under the running faucet to splash water on his face. Dean only bothered to wipe off his stomach with the brown towel, didn't take interest in fixing his obviously mussed hair and cooling the red marks on his face and neck.
Sam turned around to face Dean, and he exhaled heavily. "Well," he said. "I'm glad...I'm glad we could catch up."
Dean smirked. "Yeah, me too."
"We should, um, we should do it again."
"Catch up? Yeah, sure, we can catch up anytime you'd like. I'll see when I can fit it in my schedule."
"Okay," Sam said and smiled.
End
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2008-09-04 08:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-04 09:06 pm (UTC)Sam hearing Dean's voice at the other end of the table gave me happy-chills.
♥
no subject
Date: 2008-09-05 03:04 pm (UTC)*beams* Thank you! :)
♥
no subject
Date: 2008-09-04 09:07 pm (UTC)"Define 'kinda in the area'," Sam said.
"Washington?" Dean laughed as he crossed the room.
♥ ♥ ♥
no subject
Date: 2008-09-05 03:07 pm (UTC)Hehe. Dean... :D
Thank you! :)
♥
no subject
Date: 2008-09-04 09:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-05 03:08 pm (UTC)♥
no subject
Date: 2008-09-05 04:17 am (UTC)Love this!
no subject
Date: 2008-09-05 03:14 pm (UTC)And, of course Sam would ask about John. lol. Can't you see him being all, "Well, I guess I should probably do something useful, like find out about the old family, while we're at this..." lol.
Thank you very much! :D
♥
no subject
Date: 2008-10-31 06:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-02 09:15 pm (UTC)