Weekend of Porn
Prompt: Sam/Dean, size
Dean remembers when Sam was smaller than him, the little brother, easier to protect and shield with his own body. Then the little shit hit puberty and shot up like someone had planted his overlong legs in Miracle Grow, suddenly gawky and gangly like a newborn colt, tripping over himself everywhere yet still with some inherent hunter's grace. He remembers that morning, barely a year before Sam left for Stanford, when he came down to breakfast and realized he had to look up into his brother's eyes. The universe is simply unfair sometimes.
Sam only grew more at Stanford, then filled out his height once he was back on the road with Dean, building muscle, eliminating the babyfaced look. He's finally stopped growing, thanks God, even if a little too late for his tastes. But Dean notices that Sam seems all too aware of his size, hunching down and in like he's ashamed of all the space he takes up. So Dean knows Sam's bigger, but he's never felt smaller than Sam.
Not until now.
Now, with Sam looming over him, crowding him against the wall, utilizing every inch of his body to press hotly against Dean. Mouths clash, bruising in intensity as Sam palms the back of Dean's head to align them to his pleasure. Taut thighs flex hot against his, hips crashing together as Dean's shoulders slam against the wall. Clothes are torn, ripped out of the way with impatience, and every fucking glowing acre of Sam's skin is under Dean's greedy hands. Calloused fingers explore hard muscled planes as Sam clamps one hand on Dean's ass, forcing their cocks to grind together, leaving sticky-wet trails on twitching abs.
Dean's never felt small before, and especially not in comparison to his little brother. He's not entirely sure he likes the feeling. But he loves the feeling of Sam's long fingers stretching him, reaching deep to find every place that makes him moan. He loves Sam's wide mouth taking his cock deep into his throat, swallowing him whole. And he really loves the exquisite burn as Sam's huge cock presses into him the first time, splitting him open, leaving him gasping and trembling as those hands effortlessly lift his thighs, that hard body supporting all their combined weight as his brother fucks him punishingly hard against the dingy motel wall.
Prompt: Jensen/Steve/Chris, drunk
Tequila is evil, Jensen decided rather fuzzily as he bucked his hips up against the hands holding him down. He couldn't think much beyond that, as Chris's blue eyes laughed up at him right before that teasing pretty pink mouth completely engulfed his aching cock.
"Shit, boy," Steve drawled in Jen's ear, a puff of alcohol-drenched breath his only warning before his mouth was caught in a bruising, hungry kiss, licking the last of the shot out of his mouth. Hands, there were hands, and they were everywhere. Jensen couldn't keep track of them all, except for the ones currently spearing into him. He knew exactly what those ones were doing, felt every twitch as they sunk deep and stroked over his prostate. He sobbed, caught between Chris's amazing suction on his cock and Steve's oh-so-talented fingers, his body no longer sure which way was up.
Yes, tequila is evil. Champagne-drunk makes him giddy, and whiskey-drunk makes him sloppy. But tequila-drunk makes all of them do the most unpredictable and craziest shit. Like this.
As Jensen writhed between his two friends, body tensing as both alcohol and arousal shot through his veins, he distantly decided that next time, he was buying every bottle of Cuervo he could get his hands on.
Prompt: Jensen/Jared, collar
Jensen resisted closing his eyes, not wanting to miss a second. Jared glanced up at him, fox-eyes twinkling, before that wide pink mouth opened and sucked down his cock. The groan started somewhere around Jensen's toes, bitten off at the last second because who knew who was wandering outside their trailers. Breathing heavily, his hands cradled Jared's neck, thumbs sweeping along the straining jawline while fingertips played with the stiff Roman collar. Jared licked and hummed in pleasure, shoulders and arm muscles bunching and releasing as he shifted closer, hoisting Jensen's legs over his shoulders as hands gripped his ass, taking him deeper in, willing Jen to fuck his mouth. The sight was just too pretty, Jared on his knees, and as the humming took on a melody Jensen gave in, grabbed tightly at the brushed-back hair, and thrust.
The collar looked tight, but didn't seem to impair Jared's swallowing at all. Licking up the last traces, he drifted up Jensen's sprawled body and met his mouth in a sloppy kiss, his own fingers teasing the matching collar around Jensen's neck. "Wardrobe probably didn't figure on your priest kink when they had us wear these," he whispered against kiss-swollen lips. "Shoulda guessed when you turned us into Chippendales."
Jensen just gave a fucked-out lazy grin. "What were ya humming there, Ace? Sounded familiar."
Jared matched his grin as he guided Jensen's hand down to the straining front of his pants. "Working For the Weekend." He silenced Jensen's bark of laughter with another kiss.
(umm, remember the S1 gag reel? Yeah, that image. Then someone *coughthehighwaywomancough* might've reminded me of that SNL sketch with Patrick Swayze and Chris Farley. Umm, yeah. I'm done.)
Prompt: Jensen/Jared/Jeff, tired
Harsh, ragged breaths echo through the room, trying to replenish oxygen to overworked muscles. Skin slides against skin, sweat-slick and come-sticky, as they gradually collapse into a tangled pile on the bed. Jensen somehow finds himself in the middle, as happens all too often with them. Jeff is heavy against his back, hand curled possessively over the bruises on his hip as humid breath wafts over the sweat-drenched hair at his nape. Jared lies half-sprawled in front of him, legs tangled with his and Jeff's, forearm a scorching line along Jensen's chest. Jensen blinks slowly at him, watching the red sex-flush slowly receding from his neck and chest as kiss-plump lips suck in more sultry air. He has a brief flash of those lips wrapped around his cock while Jeff takes him from behind, but stifles it quickly when his over-sensitive cock gives a tentative and painful twitch. Mustering his strength, his hand creeps down to entwine with Jared's, fingers sticky with drying lube and come. He drags it back up to his lips, kissing gently at the knuckles with little kitten-licks, tasting the flavor of all three of them combined on salty skin. Jared turns to him, ocean-dark eyes barely open but glinting with lust and exhaustion. Jensen knows exactly how he feels; the desire to go again, but while the spirit is willing, the flesh is just too damn tired. He gives Jared a tiny smile, feeling Jeff drift off to sleep behind him, and closes his own eyes, knowing without looking that Jared will follow.
Prompt: Sam/Dean, face-first
It's quiet back here in the reference stacks; what with Google and search engines, nobody bothers with the paper copies anymore unless they really, really have to. And never in the middle of the summer. Which is why Sam finds it the perfect place to do research for their next case, at the air conditioned library in a secluded corral tucked back behind the thick muting stacks of musty paper.
Dean also thinks it's perfect, but not for research. No one comes back here, not even the librarian if she can help it, and everyone else is far enough away it's not likely they'll be heard. Still, Sam tries desperately to stifle himself, fist in his mouth, as Dean sucks his cock down, getting it nice and wet before releasing him. He shucks his jeans and clambers into Sam's lab, shoving the roller chair against the desk for support. Sam's forearms bulge as he braces himself, mouth open and panting as Dean fingers himself open and sinks down on his cock. It's awkward, doing it face-first like this, but worth it to watch as Sam's face screws up then relaxes, eyes glittering darkly while he watches Dean ride him with fluid movements, Dean's cock blood-red and burning his palm, pre-come slicking over calluses. Sam's hips stutter, jerk up sharply, and Dean swallows his loud groan in a smothering kiss as he follows, paints them both with white streaks.
Prompt: Jared/Jensen, toys
Jared never thought he'd be so damn grateful for Sam's baggy jeans. Right now, they're the only things saving him from pure humiliation. Well, that and the rubber cock ring. He bites down hard on his lip as the vibrations intensify again, making it really, really damn hard -- oh, don't think hard, not now -- to remember his lines. He shoots a quick glare over at Jensen, who is ignoring him, wrapped up in Dean's lines as he drives the Impala. The only indication that he knows what's happening is the taut denim over his crotch and his left hand hidden in his jacket pocket. After a long moment the vibrations diminish, and Jared has to scramble to remember his lines.
He should've known better. People look at Jensen and see a nice guy pretty boy, all down-home Texas charm with freckles and green eyes. But Jared can attest, he's evil. Son of Satan evil, and a way better actor than anybody knows. Diabolically clever too -- c'mon, when Jared mentioned he'd be willing to try some toys, he never suspected Jensen would give him that grin, that sinfully illegal come hither twist of lips, then pull this out. A vibrating thong. And with a little persuasion got Jared to wear it. On set. All day.
By the time they make it through the scene 20 minutes later, Jared's so hard he has some trouble getting out of the Impala. The vibrations stop, and Jared looks over to see Jensen talking with Lou about the next stunt, and hurries out of range. They've got a short break, and he has to calm down before he cracks and mauls Jensen in front of everyone.
Right as he reaches his trailer, the thong starts vibrating again, snug against the base of his balls, and the pleasure hits so intensely he nearly doubles over. He can't stifle the groan that wrenches out of him, and stumbles up the steps to slam through the door. He's barely got his jeans open when Jensen comes in, calm as you please, locks the door, then pounces.
"Jen," he gasps sometime later, trying to reorganize scattered brain cells that drained out through his dick. "Dunno if I can take this all day. You and that damn remote."
Jensen just grins, lips wine-red and swollen, as he tucks Jared back in and zips up his jeans. "Poor baby," he purrs, then presses a small plastic item into Jared's hand. Jared stares at it, confused; it's not the remote Jensen showed him this morning.
"What's this?"
"Remote control," Jensen states the obvious, eyes twinkling with lust/evil, "to the buttplug I'm wearing."
Dean remembers when Sam was smaller than him, the little brother, easier to protect and shield with his own body. Then the little shit hit puberty and shot up like someone had planted his overlong legs in Miracle Grow, suddenly gawky and gangly like a newborn colt, tripping over himself everywhere yet still with some inherent hunter's grace. He remembers that morning, barely a year before Sam left for Stanford, when he came down to breakfast and realized he had to look up into his brother's eyes. The universe is simply unfair sometimes.
Sam only grew more at Stanford, then filled out his height once he was back on the road with Dean, building muscle, eliminating the babyfaced look. He's finally stopped growing, thanks God, even if a little too late for his tastes. But Dean notices that Sam seems all too aware of his size, hunching down and in like he's ashamed of all the space he takes up. So Dean knows Sam's bigger, but he's never felt smaller than Sam.
Not until now.
Now, with Sam looming over him, crowding him against the wall, utilizing every inch of his body to press hotly against Dean. Mouths clash, bruising in intensity as Sam palms the back of Dean's head to align them to his pleasure. Taut thighs flex hot against his, hips crashing together as Dean's shoulders slam against the wall. Clothes are torn, ripped out of the way with impatience, and every fucking glowing acre of Sam's skin is under Dean's greedy hands. Calloused fingers explore hard muscled planes as Sam clamps one hand on Dean's ass, forcing their cocks to grind together, leaving sticky-wet trails on twitching abs.
Dean's never felt small before, and especially not in comparison to his little brother. He's not entirely sure he likes the feeling. But he loves the feeling of Sam's long fingers stretching him, reaching deep to find every place that makes him moan. He loves Sam's wide mouth taking his cock deep into his throat, swallowing him whole. And he really loves the exquisite burn as Sam's huge cock presses into him the first time, splitting him open, leaving him gasping and trembling as those hands effortlessly lift his thighs, that hard body supporting all their combined weight as his brother fucks him punishingly hard against the dingy motel wall.
Prompt: Jensen/Steve/Chris, drunk
Tequila is evil, Jensen decided rather fuzzily as he bucked his hips up against the hands holding him down. He couldn't think much beyond that, as Chris's blue eyes laughed up at him right before that teasing pretty pink mouth completely engulfed his aching cock.
"Shit, boy," Steve drawled in Jen's ear, a puff of alcohol-drenched breath his only warning before his mouth was caught in a bruising, hungry kiss, licking the last of the shot out of his mouth. Hands, there were hands, and they were everywhere. Jensen couldn't keep track of them all, except for the ones currently spearing into him. He knew exactly what those ones were doing, felt every twitch as they sunk deep and stroked over his prostate. He sobbed, caught between Chris's amazing suction on his cock and Steve's oh-so-talented fingers, his body no longer sure which way was up.
Yes, tequila is evil. Champagne-drunk makes him giddy, and whiskey-drunk makes him sloppy. But tequila-drunk makes all of them do the most unpredictable and craziest shit. Like this.
As Jensen writhed between his two friends, body tensing as both alcohol and arousal shot through his veins, he distantly decided that next time, he was buying every bottle of Cuervo he could get his hands on.
Prompt: Jensen/Jared, collar
Jensen resisted closing his eyes, not wanting to miss a second. Jared glanced up at him, fox-eyes twinkling, before that wide pink mouth opened and sucked down his cock. The groan started somewhere around Jensen's toes, bitten off at the last second because who knew who was wandering outside their trailers. Breathing heavily, his hands cradled Jared's neck, thumbs sweeping along the straining jawline while fingertips played with the stiff Roman collar. Jared licked and hummed in pleasure, shoulders and arm muscles bunching and releasing as he shifted closer, hoisting Jensen's legs over his shoulders as hands gripped his ass, taking him deeper in, willing Jen to fuck his mouth. The sight was just too pretty, Jared on his knees, and as the humming took on a melody Jensen gave in, grabbed tightly at the brushed-back hair, and thrust.
The collar looked tight, but didn't seem to impair Jared's swallowing at all. Licking up the last traces, he drifted up Jensen's sprawled body and met his mouth in a sloppy kiss, his own fingers teasing the matching collar around Jensen's neck. "Wardrobe probably didn't figure on your priest kink when they had us wear these," he whispered against kiss-swollen lips. "Shoulda guessed when you turned us into Chippendales."
Jensen just gave a fucked-out lazy grin. "What were ya humming there, Ace? Sounded familiar."
Jared matched his grin as he guided Jensen's hand down to the straining front of his pants. "Working For the Weekend." He silenced Jensen's bark of laughter with another kiss.
(umm, remember the S1 gag reel? Yeah, that image. Then someone *coughthehighwaywomancough* might've reminded me of that SNL sketch with Patrick Swayze and Chris Farley. Umm, yeah. I'm done.)
Prompt: Jensen/Jared/Jeff, tired
Harsh, ragged breaths echo through the room, trying to replenish oxygen to overworked muscles. Skin slides against skin, sweat-slick and come-sticky, as they gradually collapse into a tangled pile on the bed. Jensen somehow finds himself in the middle, as happens all too often with them. Jeff is heavy against his back, hand curled possessively over the bruises on his hip as humid breath wafts over the sweat-drenched hair at his nape. Jared lies half-sprawled in front of him, legs tangled with his and Jeff's, forearm a scorching line along Jensen's chest. Jensen blinks slowly at him, watching the red sex-flush slowly receding from his neck and chest as kiss-plump lips suck in more sultry air. He has a brief flash of those lips wrapped around his cock while Jeff takes him from behind, but stifles it quickly when his over-sensitive cock gives a tentative and painful twitch. Mustering his strength, his hand creeps down to entwine with Jared's, fingers sticky with drying lube and come. He drags it back up to his lips, kissing gently at the knuckles with little kitten-licks, tasting the flavor of all three of them combined on salty skin. Jared turns to him, ocean-dark eyes barely open but glinting with lust and exhaustion. Jensen knows exactly how he feels; the desire to go again, but while the spirit is willing, the flesh is just too damn tired. He gives Jared a tiny smile, feeling Jeff drift off to sleep behind him, and closes his own eyes, knowing without looking that Jared will follow.
Prompt: Sam/Dean, face-first
It's quiet back here in the reference stacks; what with Google and search engines, nobody bothers with the paper copies anymore unless they really, really have to. And never in the middle of the summer. Which is why Sam finds it the perfect place to do research for their next case, at the air conditioned library in a secluded corral tucked back behind the thick muting stacks of musty paper.
Dean also thinks it's perfect, but not for research. No one comes back here, not even the librarian if she can help it, and everyone else is far enough away it's not likely they'll be heard. Still, Sam tries desperately to stifle himself, fist in his mouth, as Dean sucks his cock down, getting it nice and wet before releasing him. He shucks his jeans and clambers into Sam's lab, shoving the roller chair against the desk for support. Sam's forearms bulge as he braces himself, mouth open and panting as Dean fingers himself open and sinks down on his cock. It's awkward, doing it face-first like this, but worth it to watch as Sam's face screws up then relaxes, eyes glittering darkly while he watches Dean ride him with fluid movements, Dean's cock blood-red and burning his palm, pre-come slicking over calluses. Sam's hips stutter, jerk up sharply, and Dean swallows his loud groan in a smothering kiss as he follows, paints them both with white streaks.
Prompt: Jared/Jensen, toys
Jared never thought he'd be so damn grateful for Sam's baggy jeans. Right now, they're the only things saving him from pure humiliation. Well, that and the rubber cock ring. He bites down hard on his lip as the vibrations intensify again, making it really, really damn hard -- oh, don't think hard, not now -- to remember his lines. He shoots a quick glare over at Jensen, who is ignoring him, wrapped up in Dean's lines as he drives the Impala. The only indication that he knows what's happening is the taut denim over his crotch and his left hand hidden in his jacket pocket. After a long moment the vibrations diminish, and Jared has to scramble to remember his lines.
He should've known better. People look at Jensen and see a nice guy pretty boy, all down-home Texas charm with freckles and green eyes. But Jared can attest, he's evil. Son of Satan evil, and a way better actor than anybody knows. Diabolically clever too -- c'mon, when Jared mentioned he'd be willing to try some toys, he never suspected Jensen would give him that grin, that sinfully illegal come hither twist of lips, then pull this out. A vibrating thong. And with a little persuasion got Jared to wear it. On set. All day.
By the time they make it through the scene 20 minutes later, Jared's so hard he has some trouble getting out of the Impala. The vibrations stop, and Jared looks over to see Jensen talking with Lou about the next stunt, and hurries out of range. They've got a short break, and he has to calm down before he cracks and mauls Jensen in front of everyone.
Right as he reaches his trailer, the thong starts vibrating again, snug against the base of his balls, and the pleasure hits so intensely he nearly doubles over. He can't stifle the groan that wrenches out of him, and stumbles up the steps to slam through the door. He's barely got his jeans open when Jensen comes in, calm as you please, locks the door, then pounces.
"Jen," he gasps sometime later, trying to reorganize scattered brain cells that drained out through his dick. "Dunno if I can take this all day. You and that damn remote."
Jensen just grins, lips wine-red and swollen, as he tucks Jared back in and zips up his jeans. "Poor baby," he purrs, then presses a small plastic item into Jared's hand. Jared stares at it, confused; it's not the remote Jensen showed him this morning.
"What's this?"
"Remote control," Jensen states the obvious, eyes twinkling with lust/evil, "to the buttplug I'm wearing."