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i'm wearing my stripey sweater! yay!
KIM IS WRITING ME SCHMOOP, OMG. I am so excited, I cannot even. She never writes schmoop! It's, like, a thing written in, like, STONE or something, and she's writing it. For me. *faints from joy* Also, that reminds me - I don't remember exactly who I'm writing fic for this holiday season. I know I have some crack-licious j-squared on the way for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
iamtinkerbean, and something involving spanish and vibrators for chickypooh, but, um...I've forgotten anything else, if I promised it. Link me to your wishlists, peoples!
Links for posterity:
Dress!Porn (Sam/Dean, R)
Build-a-Bear Fic (Sam/Dean, PG-13)
Comment!Porn (Sam/Dean, NC-17)
And, ok, this ficlet is forstarsouls1013, who said, "You cop out, you didnt do the porn!" yesterday. Sort of a take-off from a line in my hooker!Dean ficlet, Hey Pretty, and it's so completely and utterly PWP I really have no excuse. Not that that's ever really stopped me before. Er, usual warnings apply - have fun.
“You’re fucking insatiable, you know that?” Dean pants, letting his head fall back against the wall. This is the third position tonight, and Sam doesn’t show any signs of flagging – the little fucker hasn’t come once, even though he’s forced two orgasms out of Dean already.
Sam smirks, snapping his hips up like a taunt. Dean can’t stop the tortured moan from slipping out, or his fingers from clenching tight against Sam’s broad shoulders.
“I bet you’re regretting getting in my car,” Sam purrs, and his fingers spread Dean’s ass cheeks further, cock reaching deeper than Dean thought possible.
And Dean doesn’t have a response for that, so hard he’s out of breath. Sam’s fingers are against him now, feeling the way Dean’s hole stretches around his cock on every egress. It’s fucking hot: maddeningly light little brushes of Sam’s ridiculous, nimble fingers against his rim, the shudders he can feel wracking through Sam’s body every time he accidentally touches himself.
But even though Dean knows Sam’s cock must be read to fucking burst, Sam is as calm and collected as ever, eyes bright and clear like he’s just taking a walk in the park and not ramming hard up into Dean’s ass as if he means to put a dent in the wall. His teeth flash bright in the motel room’s dim light when he grins at Dean, leaning forward to nip and bite along the line of Dean’s neck.
“If I touch you,” he says, breath stuttering when Dean tilts his hips up –“If I wrap my fist around your cock and jerk you off hard and fast, will you come for me again?”
Dean’s keening high in the back of his throat before Sam’s hand even gets anywhere near his dick: “Fuck, fuck, Sam,” and then those fingers are tugging another orgasm out of him, a clever twist at the end of each stroke that scrapes Sam’s palm across the head of his cock.
It goes on for what seems like forever, Dean cursing and scratching his nails down Sam’s back, and then all at once his knees are buckling under him and Sam is pulling him up against that broad, smooth chest. He pushes his forehead against Sam’s collarbone and breathes deep, trying to regain feeling in his legs.
Sam chuckles low right above Dean’s head, hands falling to grip the curve of Dean’s sides. His hips twitch forward just enough to remind Dean that he’s still hard. “I’m not done with you,” he says, and Dean groans because there is no way he’s surviving this night in one piece.
ps, this icon makes me quiver, holy hell.
iamtinkerbean, and something involving spanish and vibrators for chickypooh, but, um...I've forgotten anything else, if I promised it. Link me to your wishlists, peoples! Links for posterity:
Dress!Porn (Sam/Dean, R)
Build-a-Bear Fic (Sam/Dean, PG-13)
Comment!Porn (Sam/Dean, NC-17)
And, ok, this ficlet is for
starsouls1013, who said, "You cop out, you didnt do the porn!" yesterday. Sort of a take-off from a line in my hooker!Dean ficlet, Hey Pretty, and it's so completely and utterly PWP I really have no excuse. Not that that's ever really stopped me before. Er, usual warnings apply - have fun.“You’re fucking insatiable, you know that?” Dean pants, letting his head fall back against the wall. This is the third position tonight, and Sam doesn’t show any signs of flagging – the little fucker hasn’t come once, even though he’s forced two orgasms out of Dean already.
Sam smirks, snapping his hips up like a taunt. Dean can’t stop the tortured moan from slipping out, or his fingers from clenching tight against Sam’s broad shoulders.
“I bet you’re regretting getting in my car,” Sam purrs, and his fingers spread Dean’s ass cheeks further, cock reaching deeper than Dean thought possible.
And Dean doesn’t have a response for that, so hard he’s out of breath. Sam’s fingers are against him now, feeling the way Dean’s hole stretches around his cock on every egress. It’s fucking hot: maddeningly light little brushes of Sam’s ridiculous, nimble fingers against his rim, the shudders he can feel wracking through Sam’s body every time he accidentally touches himself.
But even though Dean knows Sam’s cock must be read to fucking burst, Sam is as calm and collected as ever, eyes bright and clear like he’s just taking a walk in the park and not ramming hard up into Dean’s ass as if he means to put a dent in the wall. His teeth flash bright in the motel room’s dim light when he grins at Dean, leaning forward to nip and bite along the line of Dean’s neck.
“If I touch you,” he says, breath stuttering when Dean tilts his hips up –“If I wrap my fist around your cock and jerk you off hard and fast, will you come for me again?”
Dean’s keening high in the back of his throat before Sam’s hand even gets anywhere near his dick: “Fuck, fuck, Sam,” and then those fingers are tugging another orgasm out of him, a clever twist at the end of each stroke that scrapes Sam’s palm across the head of his cock.
It goes on for what seems like forever, Dean cursing and scratching his nails down Sam’s back, and then all at once his knees are buckling under him and Sam is pulling him up against that broad, smooth chest. He pushes his forehead against Sam’s collarbone and breathes deep, trying to regain feeling in his legs.
Sam chuckles low right above Dean’s head, hands falling to grip the curve of Dean’s sides. His hips twitch forward just enough to remind Dean that he’s still hard. “I’m not done with you,” he says, and Dean groans because there is no way he’s surviving this night in one piece.
ps, this icon makes me quiver, holy hell.