For kashmir1, who wanted it
Apparently it's "Winchesters eat pussy" week on my journal. 200 words of shameless het oral. Sam/girl.
Exposed
*****
She’s melting. Sliding down the sheets, even though her feet are planted firm, toes curling. Lusty magnetism making her shimmy down in the direction of his face.
She’s sure she looks awful-face red and contorted. But she forgets-doesn’t care-because what he’s doing down there makes personal aesthetics moot. When she looks down, Sam’s silhouetted between the V-frame of her knees, looking peaceful as he laps at the open space between her legs. Dark, boy-soft curls and the hard lines of his neck-muscular, substantial. Concentrating wrinkles between his eyes as he stares up-looking.
So exposed-she feels so exposed.
Long, curling fingers, flexible tongue, and he won’t stop, doesn’t stop, even when she’s not sure if she can take it anymore. Too good. Too much.
“Sam!” It’s the first word she’s gotten out in forever. Not a moan. Or-god help her-a grunt.
He lifts his head, slick mouth smiling.
“You can go again, can’t you?” Sam says softly, painting wet, messy streaks on her exhausted inner thighs.
She blinks.
“Y-yeah,” she breathes.
“Good,” he says, and flicks her clit with the tip of his tongue. “I love watching you.”
He’s an over-achiever, that Sam Winchester.
*****
Exposed
*****
She’s melting. Sliding down the sheets, even though her feet are planted firm, toes curling. Lusty magnetism making her shimmy down in the direction of his face.
She’s sure she looks awful-face red and contorted. But she forgets-doesn’t care-because what he’s doing down there makes personal aesthetics moot. When she looks down, Sam’s silhouetted between the V-frame of her knees, looking peaceful as he laps at the open space between her legs. Dark, boy-soft curls and the hard lines of his neck-muscular, substantial. Concentrating wrinkles between his eyes as he stares up-looking.
So exposed-she feels so exposed.
Long, curling fingers, flexible tongue, and he won’t stop, doesn’t stop, even when she’s not sure if she can take it anymore. Too good. Too much.
“Sam!” It’s the first word she’s gotten out in forever. Not a moan. Or-god help her-a grunt.
He lifts his head, slick mouth smiling.
“You can go again, can’t you?” Sam says softly, painting wet, messy streaks on her exhausted inner thighs.
She blinks.
“Y-yeah,” she breathes.
“Good,” he says, and flicks her clit with the tip of his tongue. “I love watching you.”
He’s an over-achiever, that Sam Winchester.
*****