*cough*
So I think the Winchester boys are uncut. *hands*
Hence, 260 words of random Sam/Jess BJ porn. NC17, because, uh. Bittersweet because it's them.
*****
Well, she knows he’s not Jewish, Jess thinks as she swirls her tongue around the head of Sam’s cock, gripping the shaft in the palm of her hand and pushing down skin-exposing him.
She looks up and detaches her mouth, polishing spit circles with her thumb, firm. Still close enough to breath him in, musky boy-sweat tropical sweet because he wants her. Sam’s biting his lip, neck muscles straining. Jeans around his ankles on a school night before an 8 AM class.
On her knees for him in the living room in her laundry day underwear and an old Tee. Sometimes Jess needs this-these times when his body (at least) has no secrets. He’s a sweetheart, but he’s a guy, and for good or ill very few people are dishonest with their eyes when they’re coming in your mouth.
Sam’s too gentlemanly to ask for this though.
[Except when he’s drunk, when he’s wet breath in her ear asking humbly, “Baby, will you suck me?”]
Sam has scars attached to flimsy excuses peppering the rest of his skin, but this, this is perfect. Untouched, uncut, weighty in her hand.
Perfect: the sounds he makes, the grateful kisses after, the way he reciprocates with his own mouth, his hands, his cock when it’s up again.
He’s also probably not Catholic-they snip too, maybe? She’s not sure. Hippies don’t, not in northern California anyway. But he does speak Latin in a way that good Protestant boys don’t tend to, even with his muddied twang.
He’s a mystery, her Sam.
*****
Note: My conviction that Sam and Dean are uncircumcised comes from personal fanon in which Mary was kind of a mild flower-child. And yes, yes this was just an excuse to talk about Sam Winchester's foreskin. *g*
Hence, 260 words of random Sam/Jess BJ porn. NC17, because, uh. Bittersweet because it's them.
*****
Well, she knows he’s not Jewish, Jess thinks as she swirls her tongue around the head of Sam’s cock, gripping the shaft in the palm of her hand and pushing down skin-exposing him.
She looks up and detaches her mouth, polishing spit circles with her thumb, firm. Still close enough to breath him in, musky boy-sweat tropical sweet because he wants her. Sam’s biting his lip, neck muscles straining. Jeans around his ankles on a school night before an 8 AM class.
On her knees for him in the living room in her laundry day underwear and an old Tee. Sometimes Jess needs this-these times when his body (at least) has no secrets. He’s a sweetheart, but he’s a guy, and for good or ill very few people are dishonest with their eyes when they’re coming in your mouth.
Sam’s too gentlemanly to ask for this though.
[Except when he’s drunk, when he’s wet breath in her ear asking humbly, “Baby, will you suck me?”]
Sam has scars attached to flimsy excuses peppering the rest of his skin, but this, this is perfect. Untouched, uncut, weighty in her hand.
Perfect: the sounds he makes, the grateful kisses after, the way he reciprocates with his own mouth, his hands, his cock when it’s up again.
He’s also probably not Catholic-they snip too, maybe? She’s not sure. Hippies don’t, not in northern California anyway. But he does speak Latin in a way that good Protestant boys don’t tend to, even with his muddied twang.
He’s a mystery, her Sam.
*****
Note: My conviction that Sam and Dean are uncircumcised comes from personal fanon in which Mary was kind of a mild flower-child. And yes, yes this was just an excuse to talk about Sam Winchester's foreskin. *g*