I don't know about you guys, but I cannot stop thinking about Batcave fic. Bathrobe and fancy aged liquor and possible bubble bath and stacks of books and secret doors etc!
Please prompt and write/art. I want to make more batcave stick figure art and stuff.
( Read more... )
Please prompt and write/art. I want to make more batcave stick figure art and stuff.
( Read more... )
Dean scrubs his face into the pillow and tries not to notice how damn cold his back got when Sam left, even though he's wearing a t-shirt and pajama pants. The problem with fires -- if they're not tended to regularly and kept up -- is they can't combat the cold.
Dean doesn't doze -- he can't -- until his brother returns, shivering and shoving quickly back under the blanket, his giant limbs nothing but overly-huge slabs of ice, and his nipples prominent peaks that Dean can feel even through his shirt.
"Shit," Dean hisses, as Sam tucks his frozen feet between Dean's calves, his pajamas way too thin to protect him from the chill. "You've gotta be fucking kidding me."
Sam's nose is jammed at the top of Dean's spine and his frigid fingers dig into Dean's belly. "Bathroom's too far away. My fucking dick nearly froze off."
Dean grits his teeth. "That's a shame -- s'the only part of you I can even remotely tolerate."
Dean's awake enough to feel Sam pretty much deflate behind him and pull back -- only marginally, but Dean's able to recognize his joke was taken way too seriously.
Despite the fatigue and his gummy, middle-of-the-night reflexes, Dean rolls over and tucks Sam's nose against his own clavicle, even though it's fucking cold and really, really dark and whispers, "Except for your brain. That's pretty awesome."
Sam doesn't move at all.
Dean drags his hand down the back of Sam's head. "And your hair. No matter how many times I tell you it needs cut, don't ever do it, okay?"
Sam's lungs seem frozen.
"And your ass," Dean wraps a leg around Sam's hips and taps Sam's left buttcheek with the heel of his foot, bunching up Sam's boxers. "That's mine, no matter what."
Dean swears he hears his brother huff a laugh.
"And your fucking shoulders," Dean whispers against Sam's temple, spurred on by Sam's reaction and the safety of the darkness around them. "Can carry the weight of the world, can't they, Sammy?"
Sam grabs the back of Dean's t-shirt in his fist. Hard.
"Scars," Dean says, voice raw, fully awake, fingers trailing down the middle of Sam's bare spine, where a knifeblade changed everything so long ago. "They prove you're here, right?"
Dean thinks Sam nods, but he's not completely sure.
"And your heart," Dean murmurs. "So big. Always has been. Makes me proud you're my brother."
Dean can feel Sam's kiss, light and quick, a chaste sensation of lips along his neck.
"Your feet, though, they're just fucking weird. Too big, man," Dean murmurs. "And smell? Jesus, you should be the focus group for Odor Eaters. Seriously."
Sam's laughing now. Dean can tell. Quiet puffs of air against his chest and Sam says, "Okay, stop."
"You good?" Dean asks. "Hmmm? Done taking my stupid joke seriously?"
Sam nods, nose rubbing Dean's collarbone.
Dean settles back down, still twisted up around Sam. "Warming up?"
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Sam jolts his hips forward and Dean's just open enough with his leg around his brother to feel the rub between his pajamas and Sam's boxers and it tugs a streak of fire up Dean's spine, his ass clenches tight and he wants it, whatever Sam's willing to give, instantly.
"Fuck," Dean draws it out, bucks up a little closer to Sam's groin.
"You read my mind," Sam murmurs, sucking what's going to be a vivid hickey onto Dean's neck.
Middle of the night sex is the fucking greatest. It's dark and quiet and warm and heated under the blankets and Dean's still a little muzzy from sleep and that makes it even better because there's a comfort here -- an innate knowledge that it's Sam and it's fine and everything's okay -- that provides the whole give-and-take a feeling of safety and security and secrecy that's really awesome.
Dean tilts his chin up, loves the drag and pull of Sam's mouth, learned a long time ago that somehow the skin over his pulse points is directly connected to his dick, makes it fatten up fast.
He grunts as his blood rushes south, holds on to the back of Sam's head, keeping him in place, and hooks his knee even higher on Sam's side so he can rub his cock against Sam's abs.
Sam growls and rolls them, pins Dean on his back, slots between his legs, let's go of Dean's neck with an obscene slurping sound and locks their mouths together.
Dean has never been that into fashion, but he's so fucking grateful for drawstrings at the moment, he could almost cry. It takes just a couple of yanks for Sam to rid him of his pajama bottoms without losing the kiss and Dean gets a blast of chilly air when Sam tosses them into the corner of the room.
Having Dean naked must spur Sam on because he breaks away to find the lube and Dean seriously considers wearing a vial of the damn stuff around his fucking wrist because he hates that the good parts get interrupted for the prep.
Sam's back soon enough and he's not really delicate in the application -- he's got three fingers slicked up and buried inside Dean in an equal number of minutes and Dean sees so many stars he's sure for a second the bunker has a skylight.
"Jesus…fuck," he chokes, the stretch is unreal, hot, amazing and exactly like he wants it.
He can feel Sam hesitate, almost pull back and Dean growls, "You're good, Sammy, just fuck me."
Sam doesn't need any more encouragement and Dean's not certain when the whole thing got this heated, but his ass is really, really empty and he thinks if he doesn't feel Sam's massive cock splitting him open in the next minute, he might actually die.
Thankfully, somehow, Sam must be on the same page because he doesn't waste a second yanking his boxers down and lubing his dick before sliding balls deep in one wet, forceful thrust.
Dean's throat closes up around a drawn-out moan. Fuck, the penetration is stunning -- he's so full he's almost suffocating.
Sam sounds slightly distorted when he whispers, "Dean…"
Dean tells him, "go," and things get a little blurry.
It's a lot of friction and rubbing and grinding and Dean's t-shirt rides up and he's drowning because he's got his nose buried in Sam's hair and his dick is scraping Sam's stomach and he can't control -- pretty much anything.
"Dean, God," Sam gasps, words muffled against Dean's shoulder. "Fuck...I fucking love you...so damn much..." Sam's voice dies out and he jerks hard against Dean, clutches Dean's hips in strong hands, definitely leaving bruises, and Sam shatters -- there's really no other word for it -- he's quivering and shaking and saying, "oh, shit, oh God...m'sorry. S-sorry Dean," even as he's coming, dick emptying inside Dean and it's all -- all of it -- way too much, Dean can barely process it -- the only thing he knows is the powerful sensation of his own orgasm rippling up from the base of his spine on a burst of pleasure so intense, his chin quivers with the force.
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Dean knows the panicked apology is because of the confession that slipped out -- sex talk shouldn't be held against anyone -- but hearing the words from his brother set off such a glorious spark in Dean's stomach, such an exceptionally good feeling, that there's no way it can be wrong. And there's no way Sam should lament saying it.
Dean can tell Sam's trying to rectify it -- probably because he thinks Dean doesn't want to hear it or God forbid doesn't return it -- but Sam clearly won't take it back because he's struggling with his words, not saying never mind or forget it or that's not what I meant or any of that other crap Sam uses when he let's something slip that's not really true.
Dean's got his fingers wound into Sam's hair without even thinking about it and through the fullness of Sam's softening cock still inside him and the resounding contractions still slowly spasming his hole, he manages to whisper, "Sammy, Sammy, it's okay. Stop. It's mutual," he makes sure his mouth is next to his brother's ear when he says, "Listen. It's mutual. You hear me? Huh? Mutual."
Sam lifts his head with an oddly suspicious sniff and his jaw trembles as he asks, "Yeah?"
Dean nods, but Sam keeps going, "M'sorry, Dean. It just…kinda came out…I've been trying not to…I didn't…you don't…"
"Hey," Dean interrupts, hears what his brother's actually saying and doesn't like the thought of Sam keeping something from him, even this. "Stop. It's okay," he takes a breath, feels the truth of what he's about to allow well up inside, knows that there's a part of him that wants it, "you can say it, Sammy."
"For real?" Sam whispers, just as his cock slips out of Dean and they both inhale pointedly.
"Yeah," Dean huffs, stretches a little, gets comfortable under his brother. "For real."
Sam's entire countenance changes in the blink of an eye -- worry and concern bleed into wonder and pure delight. He grins, a refreshingly ornery expression laced with outright glee. "Can I say it whenever I want?"
And even in the dark, Dean can tell that this is Sammy from so many years ago. Dean almost forgot Sam capable of such open adoration and genuine excitement and joy.
Dean pinches Sam's arm just to be an ass. "Within reason."
Sam smirks -- that, Dean notices pretty damn clearly. "At the end of phone calls?"
Dean's breathes, "Sam…"
"In Valentine cards?"
Dean chuckles.
"Oh, what if we're in the grocery store and leave each other for a different aisle?"
Dean shakes his head. "You're a shit."
Sam giggles -- actually fucking giggles -- and falls a little to the side so he's not completely crushing Dean, but manages to snuggle even closer.
They're quiet for a while and Dean drifts, is damn close to unconsciousness again when Sam whispers, "No take backs."
Dean rests his lips on the crown of Sam's head. "M'not taking it back, Sammy. I figure we got a place, might as well go whole hog here."
Sam squeezes him tighter and says, "Jesus, just when I think I've got you figured out…"
"Oh I'm an enigma, baby, don't even try."
"You're lucky I love you," Sam mumbles.
"You're lucky I already agreed to no take-backs."
Sam laughs.
Dean says "sleep."
And they do.
~ end
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"I just..." Sam starts, eyes trained somewhere around Dean's waist. "...this place. It's...kind of ours, you know?"
Dean sometimes wonders if he's got the spirit of a teenage girl trapped inside him and he just doesn't know it. When Sam gets like this -- contrite, quiet, trying to make a point but clearly unsure how to accurately word it -- guilt-ridden for some perceived ill that's so not even an issue -- Dean just wants to wrap him up tight and never let go. omggggggggggggggggggggggggggggg
The fire is churning into a real furnace blast of heat from behind Sam and Dean thinks he might be a little drunk off of the feel of the blanket on top of him and his brother curled around him because he can't seem to stop touching Sam
Everything you write is so feelingsy and appropriately warm and cuddly, I can't even explain how happy and hands-over-face it makes me.
And omg Sam asking "Can we keep it?" reminds me of in Caspar, when he's like "Can I keep you?" and made me laugh out loud.
Love that you worked in "little brother" because that is canon.
with Sam everything's the good stuff.
AND ALL TEN FINGERS IN SAM'S HAIR. :)))))))))))))
His brother always has appropriated all of Dean's stuff -- his Lucky Charms, the ash trays in the Impala, his heart and his soul.
So when Sam slides out of the bed in the middle of the night, sending a blast of cold air under the covers, Dean grunts a sound with a question mark at the end.
And holy shit the compliments in the dark ;A; That was so beautiful. You're so good at creating moments of tension that the characters work apart slowly.
I cannot even handle this story. Thank you so much, it really made my night/week/life. ♥
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man, i am glad you liked this. i was afraid that this was a little too much, so your comment of flailing glee has made MY night/week/life.
so we're even.
you will never know how much you ...i don't know... it's gonna sound bizarre, but i want to say empower me with comments like this. i'm looking at what could be a pretty shitty day at work and you've managed to give me the impetus to get up and face whatever happens.
so, seriously. thank you.
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And yeah, it is super cheesy but in a perrrrrfect way. And I mean all of this very objectively, I'm not trying to win your love, you just really deserve these compliments. I'm glad it's empowering!
<3 <3 <3
Lovely boys in love <3
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now, we shall go on say yes to the dress and meet randy and he will help us find the PERFECT outfits and then take us to gay clubs in nyc and we will watch hot guys grind on each other and have plotbunnies GALORE. yesssssssssssss!!!!!!! this will happen.
i appreciate the objectivity and am very grateful for it. like shania twain says, you have, indeed, won my love, but it's because you're so FREAKIN' sweet.
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*twirls madly*
:D
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Sorry for the abuse of caps.
:)
PS... I may have been listening to "Hey Jude" during the fireside lovemaking scene... Oh, God, I am completely hopeless.
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thank you SO MUCH for you lovely comment. i was afraid this one was a little over the top, so you have no idea how happy your capslock makes me.
oh my word, and "hey jude!" *swoons*
<333333
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the image of sam in the glow of the fire...guh....
"got me all chubbed up, A six-month-old needs someone when his dad's passed out on the couch -- even if it's his four-year-old brother, Can carry the weight of the world, can't they, Sammy?" all of them had me making little sounds...and I teared up at "And your heart," Dean murmurs. "So big. Always has been. Makes me proud you're my brother.
But...
"Dean's pretty sure they're generating as much heat as the fire at this point and even though part of him wants to throw off the blankets, there's something secretive, private, hidden about having the serious stuff going on under cover. It's making his dick pound, hard." was my favorite part!!
I ♥♥♥ this and you so much!
As always, an absolute joy to read!!!
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it's really sick, but i thought of you when i wrote the chubbed up part. heh. i thought, oh man, altruisticinteg is gonna LOVE that word.
you, as always, are way too good to me.
<3333
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