Ficlet (Sam/Dean in the Impala)
I imagine I am way way behind on the feedbackmeme though I have scrabbled around trying to find everyone who I fangirl and let them know, even if when I try to get into words exactly what it is that really pleases me about different people's writing I end up sounding kind of demented.
Many many thanks to you all cormallen, mickeym, memphis86, estei, jasmasson, shay_renoylds, ninhursag, delphinapterus, lazy_daze, jenadamson, aynslee, rivers_bend, ignited, maygra, cathybites, nomelon, smilla02, esohpe, pheebs1, thenyxie, sloane_m, faunaana, concernedlily, topaz_eyes, sinoftheday, thehighwaywoman, katjad, nu_breed, oriundus, hansbekhart, jamesinboots, cellia, esorlehcar, sanyin, a_phoenixdragon, merihn, blincolin, fools_game, tvm, veronamay, sadelyrate, prettyfreckles, black_regalia, such_heights, dontyouwaitup, neecoal, innie_darling and sirryluv, you all have no idea the high I've been floating on after all the lovely things you've said. I always feel useless at properly expressing just how grateful I am. But please accept my inept flailing about with words as just how much I love you all. ♥
While I tried to bully myself into actually starting to write my Big Bang (which is all planned and even possibly has a title - though I am unable to finally choose between 'Zombie Skin is the Latest Thing' and 'Undead. Again') I wrote some very tiny Sam/Dean porn.
Sam/Dean, nc-17, 600ish words, probably not weecest but not far off
Sam loses his virginity on the night of Junior Prom on the backseat of the Impala. Classy, he knows - ask him if he cares.
The first time Sam has sex it's with Dean, after Alison Hartley decides she wants to go to Junior Prom with Sean Farrell instead and Sam's sitting in the Impala in his tux, feeling angry and bitter that she'd want Sean instead of him, and blinking back hot fat tears because he's scared that maybe no one's ever gonna want him because he's as much of a freak and a weirdo as they say.
And somehow Dean, caught up in a strange combination of frantic and gentle, moves from kissing the tears off of his face to dragging Sam on top of him in the back seat of the car.
It's awkward - Sam still mostly dressed, head banging the car ceiling as he tries to fit his body to Dean's and Dean spread out in nothing but a faded green band t-shirt, one leg hooked over Sam's shoulder - but they make it work because they both want it enough.
With sweet, filthy endearments interspersed throughout, Dean helps guide Sam's spit-slick cock into his ass, barely fingered open. He goes still as Sam pushes inside and even dazed and desperate, Sam stops and tries to find his voice, stuttering out concern. But then Dean shakes his head, smiles and cants his hips up to Sam and Sam's cock slips in deeper.
They move in a sinuous pulse of bodies, Sam driving hard into the wet clinging heat of Dean's ass and Dean twisting and rising to meet each thrust. There's no stillness, no break in the rhythm. Dean's got one hand above his head, flexing uselessly over the leather as his eyes slip half-hooded with want. His other hand catches Sam's collar and tugs him down over him.
Their mouths come together, slick and hungry, in the first kiss that Sam ever really believes.
Sam braces himself on his forearm by Dean's head while he rolls his hips, madly hoping to find some way to fuck Dean harder, to push the sensation even further. He tilts his face to the side, mouthing over the sweat-damp line of Dean's cheek. Needy moans glide into guttural swearing and back again as Dean grips the cheeks of Sam's ass, tries to haul him closer, clenching fiercely as if he can drag Sam deeper. His shoulders are practically coming off the seat as he arches upwards.
Too lost in coming, it takes Sam a second to work out what Dean's hand is doing as it moves between them, skimming Sam's taut belly over and over. He realises when Dean's come splatters his skin, hears Dean gasping like it hurts him to feel this good.
Afterwards, the evening air is sticky and full of the sound of their torn breathing. Sam suspects his rented suit is ruined but is too mindlessly happy about having his cheek resting against Dean's shuddering chest to worry about where he's going to find the money to pay for it. Dean's t-shirt is soft and damp with sweat and Sam smoothes his fingertips over it with blank affection.
There's an awkward ache in his hip from the position he's jammed his frame in to and he starts to register the throb of it as he comes down.
Alison's probably getting banged right now but she'll never ever have anything like this.
Sam sits up on his haunches and looks at his brother. Dean's skin shines with sweat and his hair is in wet, messy spikes. He smiles and Sam mirrors it back at him.
The corsage Sam bought for Alison was made of rosebuds, petals curled neat and tight. Far too good for Alison, Sam decides. He picks it up from the front seat and works at it until it comes to pieces in his hands, conscious of Dean's eyes on him all the time. He scatters it out of the lowered Impala window and each flower falls like a pale pink kiss that Sam's glad he didn't give Alison.
Many many thanks to you all cormallen, mickeym, memphis86, estei, jasmasson, shay_renoylds, ninhursag, delphinapterus, lazy_daze, jenadamson, aynslee, rivers_bend, ignited, maygra, cathybites, nomelon, smilla02, esohpe, pheebs1, thenyxie, sloane_m, faunaana, concernedlily, topaz_eyes, sinoftheday, thehighwaywoman, katjad, nu_breed, oriundus, hansbekhart, jamesinboots, cellia, esorlehcar, sanyin, a_phoenixdragon, merihn, blincolin, fools_game, tvm, veronamay, sadelyrate, prettyfreckles, black_regalia, such_heights, dontyouwaitup, neecoal, innie_darling and sirryluv, you all have no idea the high I've been floating on after all the lovely things you've said. I always feel useless at properly expressing just how grateful I am. But please accept my inept flailing about with words as just how much I love you all. ♥
While I tried to bully myself into actually starting to write my Big Bang (which is all planned and even possibly has a title - though I am unable to finally choose between 'Zombie Skin is the Latest Thing' and 'Undead. Again') I wrote some very tiny Sam/Dean porn.
Sam/Dean, nc-17, 600ish words, probably not weecest but not far off
Sam loses his virginity on the night of Junior Prom on the backseat of the Impala. Classy, he knows - ask him if he cares.
The first time Sam has sex it's with Dean, after Alison Hartley decides she wants to go to Junior Prom with Sean Farrell instead and Sam's sitting in the Impala in his tux, feeling angry and bitter that she'd want Sean instead of him, and blinking back hot fat tears because he's scared that maybe no one's ever gonna want him because he's as much of a freak and a weirdo as they say.
And somehow Dean, caught up in a strange combination of frantic and gentle, moves from kissing the tears off of his face to dragging Sam on top of him in the back seat of the car.
It's awkward - Sam still mostly dressed, head banging the car ceiling as he tries to fit his body to Dean's and Dean spread out in nothing but a faded green band t-shirt, one leg hooked over Sam's shoulder - but they make it work because they both want it enough.
With sweet, filthy endearments interspersed throughout, Dean helps guide Sam's spit-slick cock into his ass, barely fingered open. He goes still as Sam pushes inside and even dazed and desperate, Sam stops and tries to find his voice, stuttering out concern. But then Dean shakes his head, smiles and cants his hips up to Sam and Sam's cock slips in deeper.
They move in a sinuous pulse of bodies, Sam driving hard into the wet clinging heat of Dean's ass and Dean twisting and rising to meet each thrust. There's no stillness, no break in the rhythm. Dean's got one hand above his head, flexing uselessly over the leather as his eyes slip half-hooded with want. His other hand catches Sam's collar and tugs him down over him.
Their mouths come together, slick and hungry, in the first kiss that Sam ever really believes.
Sam braces himself on his forearm by Dean's head while he rolls his hips, madly hoping to find some way to fuck Dean harder, to push the sensation even further. He tilts his face to the side, mouthing over the sweat-damp line of Dean's cheek. Needy moans glide into guttural swearing and back again as Dean grips the cheeks of Sam's ass, tries to haul him closer, clenching fiercely as if he can drag Sam deeper. His shoulders are practically coming off the seat as he arches upwards.
Too lost in coming, it takes Sam a second to work out what Dean's hand is doing as it moves between them, skimming Sam's taut belly over and over. He realises when Dean's come splatters his skin, hears Dean gasping like it hurts him to feel this good.
Afterwards, the evening air is sticky and full of the sound of their torn breathing. Sam suspects his rented suit is ruined but is too mindlessly happy about having his cheek resting against Dean's shuddering chest to worry about where he's going to find the money to pay for it. Dean's t-shirt is soft and damp with sweat and Sam smoothes his fingertips over it with blank affection.
There's an awkward ache in his hip from the position he's jammed his frame in to and he starts to register the throb of it as he comes down.
Alison's probably getting banged right now but she'll never ever have anything like this.
Sam sits up on his haunches and looks at his brother. Dean's skin shines with sweat and his hair is in wet, messy spikes. He smiles and Sam mirrors it back at him.
The corsage Sam bought for Alison was made of rosebuds, petals curled neat and tight. Far too good for Alison, Sam decides. He picks it up from the front seat and works at it until it comes to pieces in his hands, conscious of Dean's eyes on him all the time. He scatters it out of the lowered Impala window and each flower falls like a pale pink kiss that Sam's glad he didn't give Alison.