Fic: Falling into Black
Title: Falling into Black
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Word Count: ~600
Summary: “Dean had technique like a thousand-bucks-an-hour call girl-probably learned it from one who gave it to him for free-and it was all technique and no heart, except for the hot, filthy words Sam was almost too far gone to hear.” Angsty, porny coda for “Red Sky at Morning.”
Author’s notes: Written over the holiday weekend; apparently idle hands are the devil’s workshop. Further author’s notes under the cut. Crossposted widely: sorry for the flist spamming.
Generic warning on all my stories: A minority of my fics contain character death. For artistic reasons, I do not disclaim it in the headers. If you need to know if one of the Winchester brothers dies before going on, click here for the spoiler.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
More A/N: The story is set immediately following the second car fight in “Red Sky at Morning.” If you need to rewatch the ep to refresh your memory: my apologies. The beginning and ending scenes are the only two that matter here.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Dean had technique like a thousand-bucks-an-hour call girl-probably learned it from one who gave it to him for free-and it was all technique and no heart, except for the hot, filthy words Sam was almost too far gone to hear.
“You’re going to give it all up for me, Sammy, understand? Everything, Sam. It’ll be okay, let it go, I’m gonna make it so good...”
Two bricks of money were tossed on the dresser, Sam’s shirts were on the floor to the right of the bed, his jeans to the left, and his boxers were God knew where. Maybe the same place his sanity went when Dean slammed him against the wall, nipping at his neck, shoving a hand between his legs, and getting him rock-hard before his brain processed the word ‘brother.’ And talking, God, talking when he wasn’t using his mouth to drive Sam someplace he’d never been.
“With me-fuck, oh God, fuck,” he choked as Dean went at it again with his tongue. “C’mon, up here, need you with me.”
Dean hummed around his cock long enough for Sam to forget he wanted that mouth anywhere but where it was. Then he unzipped his jeans, slid up to stretch the length of his body against Sam’s, and started rocking against Sam’s hip.
“Gotta do yourself now, okay?” he instructed as he fumbled to put Sam’s hand on his own dick. He licked and bit at Sam’s neck and jaw, worked his way up to his lips, and slid his tongue into Sam’s mouth as he pushed two fingers into his ass. “You know what feels good, Sammy,” he murmured after he kissed Sam breathless. “Make it good.”
A twitch of Dean’s fingers sent fire lancing up Sam’s spinal cord to the primal part of his brain that just wanted to get off, didn’t care how or with who. Groaning, Sam started jerking himself. Dean stared hungrily into his face, urging him on, and this was just one more thing Sam was going to give up.
“Together,” Sam insisted, needing to see that one unguarded moment in Dean’s eyes, needing to not be the only one who fell apart. He squeezed the base of his cock, restraining himself until Dean caught up.
“Yeah, okay,” Dean promised, speeding up his thrusts. He worked his fingers again, and Sam was suddenly crazy to stop holding the orgasm off and rush toward it instead.
Dean started up that scorching litany again, promising Sam ecstasy, telling him to jack himself faster. It was control without dominance, Dean’s response to Sam’s acts of independence: reestablishing himself as the rock when Sam’s world was shaken. Even if that meant turning the world upside down himself. It was what Dean needed most, and what Sam wanted least.
“Feel that, Sam? Let go, it’s gonna be so fucking hot when you let go...”
It was already hotter than anything Sam had imagined. His panting breaths were too shallow to fill his lungs, his hands were numbing and his head was spinning-Christ, going over the edge together wasn’t going to matter for shit because Sam was going to come so hard he passed out. He knew it, Dean knew it, and no way in hell could he stop it.
Another flick of Dean’s fingers, and he was there. His back arched so far he nearly bucked Dean off, moans that would shame a hooker tearing from his throat. As the hot splashes hit his belly Dean jerked against him, telltale grunts escaping his mouth, but Sam’s vision was already graying out. He was going to give up everything and Dean was giving up nothing, and Sam threw back his head and fell into black.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Feedback is welcome. All my fic (both gen and slash) may be found here. Most of it has more plot.
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Word Count: ~600
Summary: “Dean had technique like a thousand-bucks-an-hour call girl-probably learned it from one who gave it to him for free-and it was all technique and no heart, except for the hot, filthy words Sam was almost too far gone to hear.” Angsty, porny coda for “Red Sky at Morning.”
Author’s notes: Written over the holiday weekend; apparently idle hands are the devil’s workshop. Further author’s notes under the cut. Crossposted widely: sorry for the flist spamming.
Generic warning on all my stories: A minority of my fics contain character death. For artistic reasons, I do not disclaim it in the headers. If you need to know if one of the Winchester brothers dies before going on, click here for the spoiler.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
More A/N: The story is set immediately following the second car fight in “Red Sky at Morning.” If you need to rewatch the ep to refresh your memory: my apologies. The beginning and ending scenes are the only two that matter here.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Dean had technique like a thousand-bucks-an-hour call girl-probably learned it from one who gave it to him for free-and it was all technique and no heart, except for the hot, filthy words Sam was almost too far gone to hear.
“You’re going to give it all up for me, Sammy, understand? Everything, Sam. It’ll be okay, let it go, I’m gonna make it so good...”
Two bricks of money were tossed on the dresser, Sam’s shirts were on the floor to the right of the bed, his jeans to the left, and his boxers were God knew where. Maybe the same place his sanity went when Dean slammed him against the wall, nipping at his neck, shoving a hand between his legs, and getting him rock-hard before his brain processed the word ‘brother.’ And talking, God, talking when he wasn’t using his mouth to drive Sam someplace he’d never been.
“With me-fuck, oh God, fuck,” he choked as Dean went at it again with his tongue. “C’mon, up here, need you with me.”
Dean hummed around his cock long enough for Sam to forget he wanted that mouth anywhere but where it was. Then he unzipped his jeans, slid up to stretch the length of his body against Sam’s, and started rocking against Sam’s hip.
“Gotta do yourself now, okay?” he instructed as he fumbled to put Sam’s hand on his own dick. He licked and bit at Sam’s neck and jaw, worked his way up to his lips, and slid his tongue into Sam’s mouth as he pushed two fingers into his ass. “You know what feels good, Sammy,” he murmured after he kissed Sam breathless. “Make it good.”
A twitch of Dean’s fingers sent fire lancing up Sam’s spinal cord to the primal part of his brain that just wanted to get off, didn’t care how or with who. Groaning, Sam started jerking himself. Dean stared hungrily into his face, urging him on, and this was just one more thing Sam was going to give up.
“Together,” Sam insisted, needing to see that one unguarded moment in Dean’s eyes, needing to not be the only one who fell apart. He squeezed the base of his cock, restraining himself until Dean caught up.
“Yeah, okay,” Dean promised, speeding up his thrusts. He worked his fingers again, and Sam was suddenly crazy to stop holding the orgasm off and rush toward it instead.
Dean started up that scorching litany again, promising Sam ecstasy, telling him to jack himself faster. It was control without dominance, Dean’s response to Sam’s acts of independence: reestablishing himself as the rock when Sam’s world was shaken. Even if that meant turning the world upside down himself. It was what Dean needed most, and what Sam wanted least.
“Feel that, Sam? Let go, it’s gonna be so fucking hot when you let go...”
It was already hotter than anything Sam had imagined. His panting breaths were too shallow to fill his lungs, his hands were numbing and his head was spinning-Christ, going over the edge together wasn’t going to matter for shit because Sam was going to come so hard he passed out. He knew it, Dean knew it, and no way in hell could he stop it.
Another flick of Dean’s fingers, and he was there. His back arched so far he nearly bucked Dean off, moans that would shame a hooker tearing from his throat. As the hot splashes hit his belly Dean jerked against him, telltale grunts escaping his mouth, but Sam’s vision was already graying out. He was going to give up everything and Dean was giving up nothing, and Sam threw back his head and fell into black.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Feedback is welcome. All my fic (both gen and slash) may be found here. Most of it has more plot.