PixCT: 01.01
Jan. 1st, 2009 06:09 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
~420 words
- - - - -
A combination of fic, pic, and cock, and that's really all there is to it.
All About Cock Thursday
So Far
Sept 07 - Sept 08
Sept/Oct 08
Nov 08
Dec 08
- - - - -
Today
DruCT: 01.01
My fic:
Slash (Wincest: Dean/Sam) oneshot
Adult rating
Preseries
~420 words
- - - - -
Dru's Pic Pick
Dean brought home the bottle with its gold foil seal and green glass body. Figured that they needed something special to ring in the new year, given that Dad was gone and it was just the two of them. Not that this was anything unusual. Unusual would have been having Dad home instead out in the snow.
They drank straight from the bottle, didn't bother with cups because they didn't want to do the dishes later. Sam hiccupped when the bottle was halfway gone and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes were drowsy when he leaned over to Dean, sitting next to him on the couch, and said, "I think I wanna kiss you."
Dean pulled the bottle away from his lips and looked to Sam, who was fourteen and clumsy, hair too shaggy and limbs too long, and Dean said, "Oh really?"
"Really," Sammy said. He smiled. "I think I'm drunk."
"Is that so?"
Sam nodded, plucked the bottle from Dean's hand to set it on the floor, and climbed into Dean's lap. He twisted and turned until he was straddling Dean's legs, knees on either side of Dean's hips.
"Can I kiss you?" Sam asked, leaning down. His breath was sweet and warm, and his hands curved over Dean's shoulders to pull him closer.
Dean swallowed. Smiled. Shrugged and said, "If you want." His words were casual; his heart was going crazy. He hoped he didn’t give anything away.
Sammy leaned in, leaned down, and brought his lips against Dean's. It was a soft kiss, a gentle kiss. Both nothing and everything like Dean had imagined. When Dean lifted his hands to tangle fingers in Sammy's hair, Sam jerked, hips jutting just enough for Dean to feel the hard line of Sam's cock against his belly.
They kissed and kissed until Dick Clark started the countdown, and Sam rolled off to the side while the numbers fell from ten to zero. They watched the ball drop, big and sparkly, in Times Square, and when a new year had started, Sam leaned over again for another kiss.
"Y'know," Sam whispered, forehead still resting against Dean's, eyes closed, as people whooped and hollered on the television, "I wouldn't have done that if I'd been sober."
Dean smiled. Kissed Sammy again. Said, "I know." He decided not to tell Sam that the drink he’d brought home was non-alcoholic and the only drunkenness had been in Sam's head. Dean just decided to enjoy the kisses—however 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
Dean brought home the bottle with its gold foil seal and green glass body. Figured that they needed something special to ring in the new year, given that Dad was gone and it was just the two of them. Not that this was anything unusual. Unusual would have been having Dad home instead out in the snow.
They drank straight from the bottle, didn't bother with cups because they didn't want to do the dishes later. Sam hiccupped when the bottle was halfway gone and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes were drowsy when he leaned over to Dean, sitting next to him on the couch, and said, "I think I wanna kiss you."
Dean pulled the bottle away from his lips and looked to Sam, who was fourteen and clumsy, hair too shaggy and limbs too long, and Dean said, "Oh really?"
"Really," Sammy said. He smiled. "I think I'm drunk."
"Is that so?"
Sam nodded, plucked the bottle from Dean's hand to set it on the floor, and climbed into Dean's lap. He twisted and turned until he was straddling Dean's legs, knees on either side of Dean's hips.
"Can I kiss you?" Sam asked, leaning down. His breath was sweet and warm, and his hands curved over Dean's shoulders to pull him closer.
Dean swallowed. Smiled. Shrugged and said, "If you want." His words were casual; his heart was going crazy. He hoped he didn’t give anything away.
Sammy leaned in, leaned down, and brought his lips against Dean's. It was a soft kiss, a gentle kiss. Both nothing and everything like Dean had imagined. When Dean lifted his hands to tangle fingers in Sammy's hair, Sam jerked, hips jutting just enough for Dean to feel the hard line of Sam's cock against his belly.
They kissed and kissed until Dick Clark started the countdown, and Sam rolled off to the side while the numbers fell from ten to zero. They watched the ball drop, big and sparkly, in Times Square, and when a new year had started, Sam leaned over again for another kiss.
"Y'know," Sam whispered, forehead still resting against Dean's, eyes closed, as people whooped and hollered on the television, "I wouldn't have done that if I'd been sober."
Dean smiled. Kissed Sammy again. Said, "I know." He decided not to tell Sam that the drink he’d brought home was non-alcoholic and the only drunkenness had been in Sam's head. Dean just decided to enjoy the kisses—however they came.
End
