THURSDAY - ANGST
Today's theme we're going to roll out that big ball of ANGST
So bring on the tissues, UST, STDs, death, crying, cheating, sad fics :
If you write Death, please please please put a warning!!!It doesn't matter what fandom or pairing you choose, so long as the prompt (song lyrics, one word, a picture, whatever) is something that gives the reader that ( Read more... )
So bring on the tissues, UST, STDs, death, crying, cheating, sad fics :
If you write Death, please please please put a warning!!!It doesn't matter what fandom or pairing you choose, so long as the prompt (song lyrics, one word, a picture, whatever) is something that gives the reader that ( Read more... )
Sam's not coming back any time soon, and he doesn't give a shit if he ruins Sam's delicate sensibilities. It's hot as Hell in the room, the heater broken, and Dean just wants to sleep and not think about the latest bullshit running rampant through their lives.
He pads back into the room, and stares at Sam's empty bed, the covers pulled back, and makes a split second decision. He lays down on Sam's bed, pushing the covers back.
All he can smell is Sam.
He flushes, his heart beat racing a little bit as he stretches out, surrounded by the smell of him. He turns on his stomach, pushing his face into the pillow, breathing deep. He starts to harden, panting as he pushes against the sheets. It's not enough friction, but just the smell of Sam is enough to get him going. He rolls over onto his back, rubbing his hands down his chest, one hand twisting his nipple, the other brushing against his stomach. He arches off the bed, his hand teasing at his groin and brushing his dick. He pants, rubbing precome down his dick. He spits into his hand, wetting his cock as he strokes himself. He twists his neck, pressing his face into the pillow and breathing in Sam's scent. Thinks of Sam with Ruby, Sam with that Doctor, his giant hands on her back, pushing her against the wall. He thinks of Sam's back, tan and lean. He tugs harder, panting into Sam's pillow, that familiar tug in his stomach. He lets go of his cock, rolling his balls in his hand.
Dean comes all over his stomach, his face pressed into Sam's pillow. He rubs his come into his skin, thinking of Sam coming all over him, painting his body with come and marking him.
Dean sighs, stares at the ceiling, and thinks of Sam, feeling guilty and wrong but it's nothing new.
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