Miracles/Supernatural Fic: Black and Chrome
Posted to miracles_fanfic
Crossposted to sn_crossovers
Title: Black and Chrome
Series/Universe: Imaginary Reality
Pairing/Characters: Paul/Dean, Sam
Rating:R
Spoilers: Pilot and Nightmare (Supernatural), The Ferguson Syndrome (Miracles)
Summary: Dean dreams of two of his favorite things: Paul and the Impala
Notes/Warnings: Read the disclaimer on my LJ
The sun shone down hot and orange in the Southern sky, a hint of a cool breeze swept in from the Gulf and Dean's boots scuffed against the gravely dirt as he walked back down the deserted county road he'd parked the Impala on. He came to a full halt when he turned the final curve and spotted someone leaning up against the car, foot casually placed on his hand-polished chrome bumper.
His ire flared then vanished as if it had been salted and burned when he recognized who was waiting for him there.
"Paul..."
His step quickened in anticipation and as he approached the sly smile on Paul's lips made his heart rate speed up as well. It felt like weeks since they'd seen each other. Dean knew there was something wrong with that line of thinking, but he ignored it, already reaching his hand out to touch Paul as he drew near.
"Thought you'd never show up," Paul murmured, pulling him into a languid kiss. Dean sank into Paul's arms, Paul's kiss, Paul's spell. Every time they came together Paul brought the most delicious peace with him. Dean always felt at ease, safe, able to be completely himself with no judgment.
"Got tied up," Dean muttered, his frustration coming through despite the contentedness already seeping down to his bones.
"Mmm," Paul teased, lips brushing Dean's ear. "Too bad it wasn't me doing the tying." The flush of interest that Paul's rumbling voice caused paled in comparison to when Paul peeled himself off the Impala and brought his whole body into full contact with Dean's. "I was a good boy scout," Paul continued, whispering tantalizingly. "I know lots of interesting knots."
Snappy comebacks failed Dean as Paul slid down his body, lowering himself to his knees while his nimble fingers worked Dean's jeans open.
"God, Paul..." Dean rasped out, barely able to form words as Paul's long fingers stroked him, the broad flat tongue laving him warm and wet and inviting. As he gazed down, Paul's' white shirt and khakis turned into a priest's outfit, complete with a stiff white priest's 'dog collar' - the same black outfit he wore when impersonating a priest, but in Paul's case it looked right on him, like he might actually be a priest. Oddly the sight of Paul in black priest's garb kneeling at his chrome bumper turned Dean on; blasphemy wasn't exactly new in his line of work so he wasn't horribly disturbed by it even it if did seem strange.
Paul paused long enough to gaze up at Dean, eyes bright and expression pleasant even as his words sent a little chill down Dean's spine.
"Who said it was God?"
^
The blare of a truck horn jolted Dean awake and it took the adrenaline rush a second or two to pass before he turned to face the driver's side where Sam was cursing under his breath as he gripped the steering wheel.
"Stupid idiot," Sam groused. "He was the one heading over the center line."
Dean had evidently fallen asleep with his leather jacket folded as a makeshift pillow against the car door, but at some point it had fallen into his lap and he was left with a crick in his neck and a persistent erection straining at his jeans.
"Pull over and find us a motel," Dean told him, wincing at the glare of the oncoming headlights.
Sam glanced over at him, brow furrowed. "You were the one who said you wanted to drive straight through to Missouri."
Dean shifted, trying not to give away how uncomfortable he was in his pants.
"I changed my mind." As Sam took the next exit off the interstate, where several motel signs proclaimed their neon vacancies, Dean let his road weary eyes fall closed.
If he held on to the dream just a little longer maybe, just maybe, it would pick up again when he went to bed.
Preferably with Paul in the dog collar.
^^
Crossposted to sn_crossovers
Title: Black and Chrome
Series/Universe: Imaginary Reality
Pairing/Characters: Paul/Dean, Sam
Rating:R
Spoilers: Pilot and Nightmare (Supernatural), The Ferguson Syndrome (Miracles)
Summary: Dean dreams of two of his favorite things: Paul and the Impala
Notes/Warnings: Read the disclaimer on my LJ
The sun shone down hot and orange in the Southern sky, a hint of a cool breeze swept in from the Gulf and Dean's boots scuffed against the gravely dirt as he walked back down the deserted county road he'd parked the Impala on. He came to a full halt when he turned the final curve and spotted someone leaning up against the car, foot casually placed on his hand-polished chrome bumper.
His ire flared then vanished as if it had been salted and burned when he recognized who was waiting for him there.
"Paul..."
His step quickened in anticipation and as he approached the sly smile on Paul's lips made his heart rate speed up as well. It felt like weeks since they'd seen each other. Dean knew there was something wrong with that line of thinking, but he ignored it, already reaching his hand out to touch Paul as he drew near.
"Thought you'd never show up," Paul murmured, pulling him into a languid kiss. Dean sank into Paul's arms, Paul's kiss, Paul's spell. Every time they came together Paul brought the most delicious peace with him. Dean always felt at ease, safe, able to be completely himself with no judgment.
"Got tied up," Dean muttered, his frustration coming through despite the contentedness already seeping down to his bones.
"Mmm," Paul teased, lips brushing Dean's ear. "Too bad it wasn't me doing the tying." The flush of interest that Paul's rumbling voice caused paled in comparison to when Paul peeled himself off the Impala and brought his whole body into full contact with Dean's. "I was a good boy scout," Paul continued, whispering tantalizingly. "I know lots of interesting knots."
Snappy comebacks failed Dean as Paul slid down his body, lowering himself to his knees while his nimble fingers worked Dean's jeans open.
"God, Paul..." Dean rasped out, barely able to form words as Paul's long fingers stroked him, the broad flat tongue laving him warm and wet and inviting. As he gazed down, Paul's' white shirt and khakis turned into a priest's outfit, complete with a stiff white priest's 'dog collar' - the same black outfit he wore when impersonating a priest, but in Paul's case it looked right on him, like he might actually be a priest. Oddly the sight of Paul in black priest's garb kneeling at his chrome bumper turned Dean on; blasphemy wasn't exactly new in his line of work so he wasn't horribly disturbed by it even it if did seem strange.
Paul paused long enough to gaze up at Dean, eyes bright and expression pleasant even as his words sent a little chill down Dean's spine.
"Who said it was God?"
^
The blare of a truck horn jolted Dean awake and it took the adrenaline rush a second or two to pass before he turned to face the driver's side where Sam was cursing under his breath as he gripped the steering wheel.
"Stupid idiot," Sam groused. "He was the one heading over the center line."
Dean had evidently fallen asleep with his leather jacket folded as a makeshift pillow against the car door, but at some point it had fallen into his lap and he was left with a crick in his neck and a persistent erection straining at his jeans.
"Pull over and find us a motel," Dean told him, wincing at the glare of the oncoming headlights.
Sam glanced over at him, brow furrowed. "You were the one who said you wanted to drive straight through to Missouri."
Dean shifted, trying not to give away how uncomfortable he was in his pants.
"I changed my mind." As Sam took the next exit off the interstate, where several motel signs proclaimed their neon vacancies, Dean let his road weary eyes fall closed.
If he held on to the dream just a little longer maybe, just maybe, it would pick up again when he went to bed.
Preferably with Paul in the dog collar.
^^