Two SPN/RPS Ficlets
Title: Whammy
Fandom: Supernatural/CWRPS
Pairing: Sam/Jensen
Rating: NC-17.
Warning: Can be interpreted as a nice little appearance by Evil!Sam. That, however, is up to the reader.
Word Count: ~700
AN: Written for the Porn Battle, with the prompt 'telepathy'. In the same universe as This ficlet
It’s a bit of a cruel joke that Sam’s boyfriend looks so much like his dead brother, even though Jensen acts nothing like Dean. He’s shy, and downright withdrawn at times, even when he’s wrapped around Sam’s hips. And, strangely enough, he believes every word Sam tells him as it’s whispered into the skin of his back, of his thighs and legs and fingers. Jensen’s a sucker for a good story, and caused Sam to finally quit that job waiting tables in Verona.
Sam’s figured that he has to tell Jensen what’s been happening to him, now that he’s getting new powers every day, now that he’s falling deeper into lust and love and growing attached to Jensen and the fact that he isn’t Dean. Jensen eats like a bird. Jensen moans his name like he’s going down a waterslide. Jensen helps him research cases like he's facinated. Even when Sam feels like he’s slowly sinking into his destiny, Jensen’s there, coaxing him back up. Jensen’s amazing with making Sam feel safe, and one night asks for something that Sam knows he might not be prepared to give; an experiment, a night without touching to see how far Sam’s new powers can be taken.
Sam walks back into Jensen’s apartment after one of his hunts, hunched over and bruised, wounded. Jensen cleans away the blood and does his best to dress the cuts and scrapes along Sam’s skin. When he’s done, his warm hands coax Sam awake, he bends down with lips that part so a tongue can swipe across Sam's bottom lip, not worrying about the rough contact of skin to skin. Sam pulls away.
“I…” he swallows, grimacing at the gash on his neck.
“Sam?” Jensen whispers to him.
“I held it down with my head tonight. With my powers, Jen. I just thought about what I wanted and it happened and…”
Jensen’s shirt buttons ease open, one by one and his lips plump and flush with blood. “Sam,” he warns, and Sam can hear the fear in his voice. Sam thinks of Jensen’s nipples and suddenly Jensen’s moaning like they’re aching, throbbing like torture.
“Fuck, Jen. I don’t know how to stop it,” Sam says, voice low, looking away as he sits further back in the chair.
“Sam, you’re scaring me,” Jensen declares.
“Or if I’d want to control it if I could,” Sam continues. Jensen licks his lips, and without warning his jeans undo themselves, the button and the zipper, and a soft, slow teasing glide down off his hips, dragging his underwear for the ride. He’s limp, but Sam thinks about him hard and suddenly Jensen’s cock is beginning to fill. A puppet on Sam’s string.
Jensen bites his lip, cock beginning to rise up. Sam thinks of imaginary fingers stroking, a tongue brushing against the head and Jensen’s crying out like a livewire as it happens to him.
“Sam, stop it with the wha-“ Jensen’s sentence is cut off by Sam’s thoughts of sliding three fingers into him and crooking them against his prostate. Jensen writhes, fully hard, as his legs push open and he sits on his knees, back arched wantonly.
'I could keep you like this, you know,' Sam thinks to say to Jensen, low and intense. 'Make it so good you wouldn’t even be able to think anymore, make you itch for my attention even when I’m gone.'
“Fuck,” Jensen gasps as if he’s heard it, and pushes away. There’s blunt intrusion and he arches back, bending over to invisible hands that rake over his body and hold him open. “Sam. Oh god Sam.”
Sam smiles evilly from his chair. “Gonna fuck you just like this, watch you come.”
“Please,” Jensen sobs, pressing his lips together as he sinks to the floor. Sam thinks about fucking Jensen harder and expanding inside him to graph every nook and cranny and Jensen’s whole body reacts. “Oh god. Sam, it’s so big. Fuck me like that, fuck me so hard. I’m so- oh god, make me come. Please, Sam?”
He gets pulled over to the floor in front of Sam’s feet, mouth open as he moans and curls his fingers into the rug, opening his thighs as he arches and comes, crying out wordlessly. Sam withdraws, closes his mind off and watches as Jensen’s body sinks back to the floor helplessly. Jensen pants, sprawled out.
“Fuck! Do you really have to use this much whammy?” Jensen moans.
“It wouldn’t be fun without it,” Sam smiles, and opens his mind again to make Jensen spread open again as Sam opens up his jeans.
Title: Cut me up.
Fandom: Supernatural/CWRPS
Pairing: Dean/Jared
Rating: NC-17.
Warning: Knife Play, and probably impossible bondage.
Word Count: ~750
AN: Written for the Porn Battle, with the prompt 'Payback'. In the same universe as This ficlet.
“So, Jolly Green Giant, how you doin’ over there?” Dean asks, looking back to examine his handiwork. Jared’s tied tight, floating in midair between the table and the bed, all six and a half feet of him. It takes two chairs for his legs, enough rope to catch his arms and loop them to the legs of the table, all ropes leading back to the bed’s legs in one big bunch. Jared pulls at one hand, spread and tied under the table, and groans.
Dean shrugs. “I suppose this may be a little over the top. But you know, after that tickle incident, you kind of deserve it.”
Jared’s still wearing his shirt and socks. Dean bends down, ghosting his lips across Jared’s, waiting for the gasp of helplessness to fall from Jared’s mouth.
“Dean,” Jared says, and it sounds nothing like Sam’s voice, thank god, “I want this. I asked you to do this, really.”
Dean bites his lip softly, and slides a hand into his hair. “What do you want, Jared. I won’t do it if you can’t say it. You know that,” Dean says, like he always has. They've talked about this before, ever since Dean mensioned how he did professional Domination work for extra cash when Sam was in Stanford. Jared's eyes had flared up with that information, like he'd found something he'd been wondering about for years.
“I want you to be rough with me, use me, mark me, do whatever you want,” Jared says, and Dean lights up with how pained Jared looks when he says it. “Cut me up, Dean.”
“We can do that,” Dean nods, and slips away, taking his seat at the other side of the table, where his knives are laying out in plain view. He picks up a knife and a grinding stone, sharpening the knife in long strokes with cutting sounds. The table shifts, and Dean knows Jared’s antsy.
“Could do anything I wanted to right now, couldn’t I?” Dean asks out into the air between them, and hears Jared’s whimpered wordless response. Another few minutes with the knife and the grinding stone, and he picks up a duller, but more terrifying knife curved like a hook around its handle. Dean walks to Jared, and brings it down quick and precise, using it to tear away Jared’s shirt. Jared starts shifting, pulling at his ropes desperately.
“Wanna back out?” Dean asks, running the blade carefully down Jared’s inner thigh, his voice teasing and flat. “I promise I won’t be too mad.”
“I’m okay,” Jared squeaks, and Dean lets his free hand come up to run his knuckles against Jared’s cock. Jared hisses, as Dean lets the blade sweep inches away from the head of Jared’s cock, listening to the moan as Jared bucks both to and away from the knife. Dean climbs into the space between Jared’s tied hands as he hovers above his head, taking his cock out of his jeans. He tucks the knife under Jared’s chin.
“Be a good boy, suck my cock.” Dean smiles, softly, and wretches Jared’s head all the way back with his free hand, letting the knife linger on his neck. Jared’s opens up his mouth and lets Dean sink in, all the way as far as he can take it before pulling away.
“Fuck, that looks good,” Dean comments, pulling the second, sharper blade and letting it find it’s way to Jared’s nipples, digging at one before haphazardly landing on the other. Jared hisses, squirms. A nick to his belly button has Jared moaning and a cut on Jared’s thigh has him arching to take all of Dean quicker, to urge for his mouth to be fucked. Dean does as he asks, wide blade dauntingly still pressed into his throat, and handles the sharp knife so that the handle presses at Jared’s ass, slick with lube enough to let the leather sink in. Jared’s rock-hard, arching into it.
“Easy,” Dean warns, but Jared’s almost hysterical, pulling against ropes that are holding him horizontal. A quick decision to sheath the knife, and Dean’s already steady fucking him with it, pressing the knife more insistently on his neck and shoving his cock deeper into Jared’s mouth. Dean lets go of the knife and clasps down onto Jared’s cock. A quick look in the mirror by the door reveals a lewd scene, Jared helpless to rope and steel and Dean. Whispered promises of Sam letting his have his taste when he comes back make Jared whimper even more, like all he's ever aspired to be in life was a piece of meat to be ripped apart.
“Keep quiet,” Dean orders, pulling the knife handle out and stroking Jared off. Jared shakes, mouth open softly holding his breath, trembling. Jared arches his back and opens his mouth to wrap around the head of Dean’s cock, sucking softly until Dean’s coming as well, the blade forgotten as it dangles in his hand.
“Well, that was good for me,” Dean comments, cutting the ropes that tether Jared to the table. Jared falls flat on his back with a huffy ‘umph’, his legs still tied up and open. “Was it good for you?”
Fandom: Supernatural/CWRPS
Pairing: Sam/Jensen
Rating: NC-17.
Warning: Can be interpreted as a nice little appearance by Evil!Sam. That, however, is up to the reader.
Word Count: ~700
AN: Written for the Porn Battle, with the prompt 'telepathy'. In the same universe as This ficlet
It’s a bit of a cruel joke that Sam’s boyfriend looks so much like his dead brother, even though Jensen acts nothing like Dean. He’s shy, and downright withdrawn at times, even when he’s wrapped around Sam’s hips. And, strangely enough, he believes every word Sam tells him as it’s whispered into the skin of his back, of his thighs and legs and fingers. Jensen’s a sucker for a good story, and caused Sam to finally quit that job waiting tables in Verona.
Sam’s figured that he has to tell Jensen what’s been happening to him, now that he’s getting new powers every day, now that he’s falling deeper into lust and love and growing attached to Jensen and the fact that he isn’t Dean. Jensen eats like a bird. Jensen moans his name like he’s going down a waterslide. Jensen helps him research cases like he's facinated. Even when Sam feels like he’s slowly sinking into his destiny, Jensen’s there, coaxing him back up. Jensen’s amazing with making Sam feel safe, and one night asks for something that Sam knows he might not be prepared to give; an experiment, a night without touching to see how far Sam’s new powers can be taken.
Sam walks back into Jensen’s apartment after one of his hunts, hunched over and bruised, wounded. Jensen cleans away the blood and does his best to dress the cuts and scrapes along Sam’s skin. When he’s done, his warm hands coax Sam awake, he bends down with lips that part so a tongue can swipe across Sam's bottom lip, not worrying about the rough contact of skin to skin. Sam pulls away.
“I…” he swallows, grimacing at the gash on his neck.
“Sam?” Jensen whispers to him.
“I held it down with my head tonight. With my powers, Jen. I just thought about what I wanted and it happened and…”
Jensen’s shirt buttons ease open, one by one and his lips plump and flush with blood. “Sam,” he warns, and Sam can hear the fear in his voice. Sam thinks of Jensen’s nipples and suddenly Jensen’s moaning like they’re aching, throbbing like torture.
“Fuck, Jen. I don’t know how to stop it,” Sam says, voice low, looking away as he sits further back in the chair.
“Sam, you’re scaring me,” Jensen declares.
“Or if I’d want to control it if I could,” Sam continues. Jensen licks his lips, and without warning his jeans undo themselves, the button and the zipper, and a soft, slow teasing glide down off his hips, dragging his underwear for the ride. He’s limp, but Sam thinks about him hard and suddenly Jensen’s cock is beginning to fill. A puppet on Sam’s string.
Jensen bites his lip, cock beginning to rise up. Sam thinks of imaginary fingers stroking, a tongue brushing against the head and Jensen’s crying out like a livewire as it happens to him.
“Sam, stop it with the wha-“ Jensen’s sentence is cut off by Sam’s thoughts of sliding three fingers into him and crooking them against his prostate. Jensen writhes, fully hard, as his legs push open and he sits on his knees, back arched wantonly.
'I could keep you like this, you know,' Sam thinks to say to Jensen, low and intense. 'Make it so good you wouldn’t even be able to think anymore, make you itch for my attention even when I’m gone.'
“Fuck,” Jensen gasps as if he’s heard it, and pushes away. There’s blunt intrusion and he arches back, bending over to invisible hands that rake over his body and hold him open. “Sam. Oh god Sam.”
Sam smiles evilly from his chair. “Gonna fuck you just like this, watch you come.”
“Please,” Jensen sobs, pressing his lips together as he sinks to the floor. Sam thinks about fucking Jensen harder and expanding inside him to graph every nook and cranny and Jensen’s whole body reacts. “Oh god. Sam, it’s so big. Fuck me like that, fuck me so hard. I’m so- oh god, make me come. Please, Sam?”
He gets pulled over to the floor in front of Sam’s feet, mouth open as he moans and curls his fingers into the rug, opening his thighs as he arches and comes, crying out wordlessly. Sam withdraws, closes his mind off and watches as Jensen’s body sinks back to the floor helplessly. Jensen pants, sprawled out.
“Fuck! Do you really have to use this much whammy?” Jensen moans.
“It wouldn’t be fun without it,” Sam smiles, and opens his mind again to make Jensen spread open again as Sam opens up his jeans.
Title: Cut me up.
Fandom: Supernatural/CWRPS
Pairing: Dean/Jared
Rating: NC-17.
Warning: Knife Play, and probably impossible bondage.
Word Count: ~750
AN: Written for the Porn Battle, with the prompt 'Payback'. In the same universe as This ficlet.
“So, Jolly Green Giant, how you doin’ over there?” Dean asks, looking back to examine his handiwork. Jared’s tied tight, floating in midair between the table and the bed, all six and a half feet of him. It takes two chairs for his legs, enough rope to catch his arms and loop them to the legs of the table, all ropes leading back to the bed’s legs in one big bunch. Jared pulls at one hand, spread and tied under the table, and groans.
Dean shrugs. “I suppose this may be a little over the top. But you know, after that tickle incident, you kind of deserve it.”
Jared’s still wearing his shirt and socks. Dean bends down, ghosting his lips across Jared’s, waiting for the gasp of helplessness to fall from Jared’s mouth.
“Dean,” Jared says, and it sounds nothing like Sam’s voice, thank god, “I want this. I asked you to do this, really.”
Dean bites his lip softly, and slides a hand into his hair. “What do you want, Jared. I won’t do it if you can’t say it. You know that,” Dean says, like he always has. They've talked about this before, ever since Dean mensioned how he did professional Domination work for extra cash when Sam was in Stanford. Jared's eyes had flared up with that information, like he'd found something he'd been wondering about for years.
“I want you to be rough with me, use me, mark me, do whatever you want,” Jared says, and Dean lights up with how pained Jared looks when he says it. “Cut me up, Dean.”
“We can do that,” Dean nods, and slips away, taking his seat at the other side of the table, where his knives are laying out in plain view. He picks up a knife and a grinding stone, sharpening the knife in long strokes with cutting sounds. The table shifts, and Dean knows Jared’s antsy.
“Could do anything I wanted to right now, couldn’t I?” Dean asks out into the air between them, and hears Jared’s whimpered wordless response. Another few minutes with the knife and the grinding stone, and he picks up a duller, but more terrifying knife curved like a hook around its handle. Dean walks to Jared, and brings it down quick and precise, using it to tear away Jared’s shirt. Jared starts shifting, pulling at his ropes desperately.
“Wanna back out?” Dean asks, running the blade carefully down Jared’s inner thigh, his voice teasing and flat. “I promise I won’t be too mad.”
“I’m okay,” Jared squeaks, and Dean lets his free hand come up to run his knuckles against Jared’s cock. Jared hisses, as Dean lets the blade sweep inches away from the head of Jared’s cock, listening to the moan as Jared bucks both to and away from the knife. Dean climbs into the space between Jared’s tied hands as he hovers above his head, taking his cock out of his jeans. He tucks the knife under Jared’s chin.
“Be a good boy, suck my cock.” Dean smiles, softly, and wretches Jared’s head all the way back with his free hand, letting the knife linger on his neck. Jared’s opens up his mouth and lets Dean sink in, all the way as far as he can take it before pulling away.
“Fuck, that looks good,” Dean comments, pulling the second, sharper blade and letting it find it’s way to Jared’s nipples, digging at one before haphazardly landing on the other. Jared hisses, squirms. A nick to his belly button has Jared moaning and a cut on Jared’s thigh has him arching to take all of Dean quicker, to urge for his mouth to be fucked. Dean does as he asks, wide blade dauntingly still pressed into his throat, and handles the sharp knife so that the handle presses at Jared’s ass, slick with lube enough to let the leather sink in. Jared’s rock-hard, arching into it.
“Easy,” Dean warns, but Jared’s almost hysterical, pulling against ropes that are holding him horizontal. A quick decision to sheath the knife, and Dean’s already steady fucking him with it, pressing the knife more insistently on his neck and shoving his cock deeper into Jared’s mouth. Dean lets go of the knife and clasps down onto Jared’s cock. A quick look in the mirror by the door reveals a lewd scene, Jared helpless to rope and steel and Dean. Whispered promises of Sam letting his have his taste when he comes back make Jared whimper even more, like all he's ever aspired to be in life was a piece of meat to be ripped apart.
“Keep quiet,” Dean orders, pulling the knife handle out and stroking Jared off. Jared shakes, mouth open softly holding his breath, trembling. Jared arches his back and opens his mouth to wrap around the head of Dean’s cock, sucking softly until Dean’s coming as well, the blade forgotten as it dangles in his hand.
“Well, that was good for me,” Dean comments, cutting the ropes that tether Jared to the table. Jared falls flat on his back with a huffy ‘umph’, his legs still tied up and open. “Was it good for you?”