(no subject)
Shining Brightly After
SPN RPF
Jared/Sandy; R
1,020 words
A/N: for mcee, who has the plague. Again. Thanks to femmenerd for beta.
Jared's almost always the first one up, to feed and walk the dogs before he and Sandy start their morning battle for hot water, space at the bathroom sink, the last cup of coffee. But sometimes Sandy will wake up first, long before the alarm and for no apparent reason--just suddenly and fully awake. She rolls over (carefully, quietly) and Jared's still asleep, lips parted, feet tangled in the kicked-off blankets. She touches her thumb to the arch of Jared's eyebrow as it furrows, to the damp corner of his mouth.
Jared almost smiles, and Sandy edges closer to find the puzzle-piece way they fit like this, with Jared on his back and Sandy pressed along his side, her head tucked under his chin. She breathes him in, tickling her nose along the scratchy underside of his jaw. Jared stirs, finally, his fingers curling loosely over Sandy's arm.
"I was dreamin'," he drawls, and Sandy grins, resting her hand on Jared's chest. His heartbeat skips, then settles. She props herself up on her elbow, watching Jared's face. His eyes are closed; he might be asleep still, or again.
"What about?" she murmurs, nuzzling his throat again, mouthing along his jaw to his ear. He shivers, and she closes her teeth gently over the lobe. Her hand slides down to his stomach, sleep-warm and trembling under her palm. "Tell me."
"There was..." Jared pauses, clears his throat and tries again, but his voice is still hoarse and thick with sleep, rumbling through him and into her. "We were at a party, somewhere, and..." He trails off, and she can tell he's struggling to remember, can feel it in the way his shoulders tense, the way he holds his breath a moment before exhaling. "Nah, it's gone."
"Doesn't matter." She touches Jared's mouth again, the swell of his bottom lip; his stubble catches in the whorls of her fingers, splayed across his cheek. She closes her eyes and nudges up for a clinging press of lips, the tip of Jared's tongue against her thumb as the kiss deepens. "This is better, anyway."
He hums in agreement, gets his arms around her to haul her up and over him until she's straddling his waist, his cock nestled warmly against her ass. She sits up, shaking her hair back off her shoulders as he runs his hands lightly down her arms, up her thighs. She thinks she loves him best like this, in the mornings when he's so pliant and unguarded, his touch hungry but quietly reverent. Her cunt pulses when his hands come up to shape her tits, and she rocks her hips, smearing his belly with her wetness.
She raises up a little, slicks her hand through her cunt and fists his cock, stroking him once, twice with her wet fingers before sinking down onto him, hissing air through her teeth. She's always a little surprised by it, even now--how thick he is, how big. She feels stretched, full, as he pushes up into her, just past the point of comfort. But the edge of pain is good, making her eyes flutter closed and her mouth fall open. Her back arches and her head lolls back, forcing her tits into his hands.
He sits up clumsily, their shaky rhythm fallen apart, his cock slipping out of her unexpectedly. She whimpers, throbs around the emptiness and reaches for him again, rubbing the head of his cock against her clit. He bats her away, splaying his hands on her hips. When he pushes in again the angle's different, sweeter. His hips flex and she feels the distant gathering of her orgasm, deep in her belly and high in her chest, where it's getting hard to breathe. She slides her hands into his hair, tangled and damp, and his mouth drags hotly down her throat, across her collarbone, his rough cheek shaking an unexpected giggle out of her.
She cups his face in her hands, brings his mouth up to hers. "You tickle," she grins into the kiss, and feels his answering smile against hers. His breathless chuckle trails off into a grunt as he hitches up into her, his hands curving over her ass.
His cock's hitting just right, rubbing over and against that bitterly tender spot she can never seem to reach on her own; she clenches around him in hard little pulses, cunt and thighs and the curl of her fingers against his skin, urging him on with weak, throaty cries.
She's still coming down, shivering aftershock-soft when he comes into her, his shoulders bunching as he stiffens, spilling deep. He presses his face to her neck, his breath a ragged current against her skin, his cock going soft inside her. She sighs when he eases out, cards her fingers through his hair to see the flush across the tops of his cheeks, the dark flutter of his lashes.
"Goddamn," he murmurs, palming her shoulder blades; then softer, against her mouth: "Love you, baby."
She kisses it back to him, scratching her nails up his back the way he likes. "Coffee?" she asks, and he hums, nods. "Mmm, and you should make me some toast, too, while you're up." She laughs, squealing when he rolls her over and pins her to the mattress, her wrists engulfed in his hands. Her whole body thrums at his goofy grin, and she shakes her hands free to grab his face and kiss him again, loud and wet. "With marmalade, please."
He grumbles, but climbs off the bed, yanking his boxers on one-handed as he pads out into the hall. There are reddish trails down his back from her nails, a day-old mark on his shoulder from her teeth. She shifts out of the cooling wet spot, tucks his pillow under her head and runs her hand absently between her legs, feeling her slickness and his. The sun creeps out from behind a cloud, slicing brightly between the blinds, and she turns her face to it, touches her belly and thinks about the coming spring, about green things pushing up through the snow.
SPN RPF
Jared/Sandy; R
1,020 words
A/N: for mcee, who has the plague. Again. Thanks to femmenerd for beta.
Jared's almost always the first one up, to feed and walk the dogs before he and Sandy start their morning battle for hot water, space at the bathroom sink, the last cup of coffee. But sometimes Sandy will wake up first, long before the alarm and for no apparent reason--just suddenly and fully awake. She rolls over (carefully, quietly) and Jared's still asleep, lips parted, feet tangled in the kicked-off blankets. She touches her thumb to the arch of Jared's eyebrow as it furrows, to the damp corner of his mouth.
Jared almost smiles, and Sandy edges closer to find the puzzle-piece way they fit like this, with Jared on his back and Sandy pressed along his side, her head tucked under his chin. She breathes him in, tickling her nose along the scratchy underside of his jaw. Jared stirs, finally, his fingers curling loosely over Sandy's arm.
"I was dreamin'," he drawls, and Sandy grins, resting her hand on Jared's chest. His heartbeat skips, then settles. She props herself up on her elbow, watching Jared's face. His eyes are closed; he might be asleep still, or again.
"What about?" she murmurs, nuzzling his throat again, mouthing along his jaw to his ear. He shivers, and she closes her teeth gently over the lobe. Her hand slides down to his stomach, sleep-warm and trembling under her palm. "Tell me."
"There was..." Jared pauses, clears his throat and tries again, but his voice is still hoarse and thick with sleep, rumbling through him and into her. "We were at a party, somewhere, and..." He trails off, and she can tell he's struggling to remember, can feel it in the way his shoulders tense, the way he holds his breath a moment before exhaling. "Nah, it's gone."
"Doesn't matter." She touches Jared's mouth again, the swell of his bottom lip; his stubble catches in the whorls of her fingers, splayed across his cheek. She closes her eyes and nudges up for a clinging press of lips, the tip of Jared's tongue against her thumb as the kiss deepens. "This is better, anyway."
He hums in agreement, gets his arms around her to haul her up and over him until she's straddling his waist, his cock nestled warmly against her ass. She sits up, shaking her hair back off her shoulders as he runs his hands lightly down her arms, up her thighs. She thinks she loves him best like this, in the mornings when he's so pliant and unguarded, his touch hungry but quietly reverent. Her cunt pulses when his hands come up to shape her tits, and she rocks her hips, smearing his belly with her wetness.
She raises up a little, slicks her hand through her cunt and fists his cock, stroking him once, twice with her wet fingers before sinking down onto him, hissing air through her teeth. She's always a little surprised by it, even now--how thick he is, how big. She feels stretched, full, as he pushes up into her, just past the point of comfort. But the edge of pain is good, making her eyes flutter closed and her mouth fall open. Her back arches and her head lolls back, forcing her tits into his hands.
He sits up clumsily, their shaky rhythm fallen apart, his cock slipping out of her unexpectedly. She whimpers, throbs around the emptiness and reaches for him again, rubbing the head of his cock against her clit. He bats her away, splaying his hands on her hips. When he pushes in again the angle's different, sweeter. His hips flex and she feels the distant gathering of her orgasm, deep in her belly and high in her chest, where it's getting hard to breathe. She slides her hands into his hair, tangled and damp, and his mouth drags hotly down her throat, across her collarbone, his rough cheek shaking an unexpected giggle out of her.
She cups his face in her hands, brings his mouth up to hers. "You tickle," she grins into the kiss, and feels his answering smile against hers. His breathless chuckle trails off into a grunt as he hitches up into her, his hands curving over her ass.
His cock's hitting just right, rubbing over and against that bitterly tender spot she can never seem to reach on her own; she clenches around him in hard little pulses, cunt and thighs and the curl of her fingers against his skin, urging him on with weak, throaty cries.
She's still coming down, shivering aftershock-soft when he comes into her, his shoulders bunching as he stiffens, spilling deep. He presses his face to her neck, his breath a ragged current against her skin, his cock going soft inside her. She sighs when he eases out, cards her fingers through his hair to see the flush across the tops of his cheeks, the dark flutter of his lashes.
"Goddamn," he murmurs, palming her shoulder blades; then softer, against her mouth: "Love you, baby."
She kisses it back to him, scratching her nails up his back the way he likes. "Coffee?" she asks, and he hums, nods. "Mmm, and you should make me some toast, too, while you're up." She laughs, squealing when he rolls her over and pins her to the mattress, her wrists engulfed in his hands. Her whole body thrums at his goofy grin, and she shakes her hands free to grab his face and kiss him again, loud and wet. "With marmalade, please."
He grumbles, but climbs off the bed, yanking his boxers on one-handed as he pads out into the hall. There are reddish trails down his back from her nails, a day-old mark on his shoulder from her teeth. She shifts out of the cooling wet spot, tucks his pillow under her head and runs her hand absently between her legs, feeling her slickness and his. The sun creeps out from behind a cloud, slicing brightly between the blinds, and she turns her face to it, touches her belly and thinks about the coming spring, about green things pushing up through the snow.