Santorum will pry my porn from my cold dead hands REPOST 2
Updates are being slow and short because I’m working double shifts, had food poisoning this week, and am also trying to write the second half of my novel. I’ll try and write a few whenever I get the time. (also, just saw the Avengers - absolutely wicked).
Stop being such a pussy.
Dean’s hand hovers over the mouse.
You can do this. This is fine. It’s research.
Still, he can’t quite bring himself to do it.
How do you even find gay porn?
He jumps into action, trying to surprise himself with it, opening the browser and typing the random words - gay, cock, porn - into Google.
Yahtzee.
That was easy.
He clicks on the first link. He’s not picking out a mail order wife, he just has to see how the hell they make gay porn. What it looks like, and what the guys actually do.
Well, he knows what they do (each other, springs to mind) but there has to be more to it than just the butt thing. Blow jobs obviously, but…other stuff? Like, what did they look at if not boobs? Dean had no idea - hence the need for research.
He clicks the first link on the page, and waits while the little white circle dissolves into pixelated almost-porn.
He clicks pause.
Can’t do it. Just can’t do it.
Man up! For the love of fuck, just watch the video.
But…there’ll be penises -multiple cocks, and not a chick anywhere. What if…
What?…No, seriously, what? You afraid a little gay porn is gonna make you start chasing after dudes?
…well…yeah.
CLICK THE BUTTON AND STOP BEING SO STUPID!
When Dean’s brain shouts at him - he listens. It’s the reason he bought snow tires, the reason he stopped smoking when he was sixteen. And it’s the reason he clicks the start button on his very first gay porn video.
Ten seconds later, he wishes he’d started at the bottom, so to speak. Because, the link he clicked on? Kinda hardcore. Or, maybe it’s not, and all gay porn is like this, he thinks, as he peers at the shadowy background. Maybe it was only straight-guy porn that bothered with the little costumes and the shitty dialogue, with the brightly lit beds and the tanning and waxing.
The video he’s watching is kinda dark, and he can hear bedsprings shrieking in complaint, not surprising, given that there are two big guys on the bed, and…they’re going at it, not just fucking hard, like Dean’s used to seeing in porn, but, they’re really putting everything into it, the guy on his back is rocking his hips up, frantically jerking his cock with on hand, his other arm slung tightly around the shoulders of the dude on top of him. The guy on top is built like a tank, thick and muscled and with arms that look like really strong thighs. He’s all dark hair and stubble, and his ass is perfectly round.
Dean mentally slaps himself. Do NOT look at the ass. Keep it neutral. Keep it reasearchy.
But the guy on top is big, in every way. The size of the cock that he’s pummelling the other guy with makes Dean wince. That cannot feel good. It’s just can’t. That thing is huge, and it’s right in the guy’s…how could that be a good thing?
But, clearly bottom-guy thinks it is a good thing, judging from the way his face is all creased up and sweating, and the way his feet, where they’re resting on tank-guys ass are all curled up. He sounds like he’s half sobbing, half panting, half moaning (Dean had never been good with fractions) and, after a few more seconds of brutal fucking, his whole body jumps like he’s been electrocuted.
Dean watches in frozen horror/utter fascination as the guy on the bottom jerks himself off frantically, begging the dude on top of him to keep going, even as his body tenses and he lets out some of the most wrecked orgasm sounds Dean has ever heard, even in porn.
Only when bottom-guy yells, and coats his chest in two thick ropes of come, does Dean come back to himself and close the tab.
He feels a little shaky, like he’s downed a bucket of espresso and a dozen ounces of cocaine.
He also doesn’t quite know what to do with his hands.
And he’s very aware of his own dick, (still completely soft- naturally, Dean hadn’t expected anything else) but, throbbing a little, like it knows that porn is nearby.
An IM pops up. Castiel (.com). Dean has a sudden, paranoid idea that Castiel knows exactly what he’s been looking at.
Castiel: Are you busy?
Dean: No. Why?
Castiel: I wanted to ask if you’d taken those pictures to your‘guy’ yet?
Dean had actually almost forgotten, the pictures had been by his bed for a week before he’d thought to send them off to Gabriel (of‘, ‘Grab yourself something sweet…’). The pictures were good though, Dean had looked through them a couple of (dozen) times just to see if he actually had something worth selling. And Castiel was…extremely photogenic. Not just kind of pale and glowy and pretty, but…he looked a little dark too, something in his eyes, in the whiteness of his teeth. Something…wolfish about him.
Dean: I sent them to Gabriel Garcia two days ago, he called this morning to let me know we should shoot something and get back to him. That ok?
There was a long, long pause.
Castiel: Gabriel?
Dean: Yeah…I’m kinda not supposed to talk about him.
Castiel: Short, blond, inappropriate, drinks like a fish, eats like a shark?
Dean:…how?
Castiel: His given name is Gabriel NOVAK.
Dean cannot believe that he’s just sent naked (oh so explicit) pictures of a perfect stranger to, another perfect stranger, only to find out that those two strangers were family. Chance, fate, whatever, it really liked to shit on him.
Dean:…oops?
Castiel: I am incapable of conveying a sigh via text. But- sigh.
Dean: Like this, *sigh*
Castiel: *FROWN*
Dean: No need to get snippy.
Castiel: My brother has seen photographic evidence of me, mid ejaculation. This is the perfect time for snippyness.
Dean: Point taken.
Castiel: Well…I hardly see how it could get more embarrassing. I haven’t seen Gabriel face to face for five years.
Dean: Long time.
Castiel: Until today I had thought he was a merchant banker.
Dean snorts, Gabriel did not, by any stretch of the imagination, look like a merchant banker. If ever there was someone who embodied every cliché about porn producers and sex aid manufacturers, it was Gabriel. The moustache alone was enough to keep Dean’s back to the wall during every meeting they’d had - all two of them.
Castiel: So, what shall we be filming?
Dean: I don’t really know. I’m trying to work out a few ideas.
Castiel: But you’re not familiar with this kind of pornography- correct?
Dean: Like I said. Working on it.
Even if it is embarrassing to tell some guy that he’s watching his first gay porn, Dean isn’t just going to sit there and be called a clueless amateur. If he’s doing this, he’s doing it right.
Castiel’s dialogue box pops up again, this time with a link.
Castiel: This might be useful.
Dean looks at the link for a long moment before he types,
Dean: Did you just send me porn?
Castiel: Yes.
Dean: Just happened to have that around on your computer?
Castiel: I’m very organised.
Dean huffs a laugh, and clicks the link.
It’s actually not a bad site, once he gets to grips with it. Mostly solitary masturbation videos, with different categories for different kinds.
Dean: Hey, what are you?
Castiel: Confused.
Dean: Haha - I mean, what are you, like, not a bear obviously but…
Castiel: I honestly don’t know.
Dean: Guess we’ll have to work it out.
Castiel: When are we filming?
Dean: Free tomorrow?
Castiel: I’m unemployed, I’m always free.
Dean: Me too. Come over around noon, bring those pillows and stuff you were talking about.
Castiel: Should I bring anything else?
Dean: Like?
Castiel: Props?
Dean blinks at the screen, trying not to work out exactly what that means. He has no idea what kind of ‘props’ guys might use on each other, or themselves. Growing up in a small town, in a pretty sheltered life, means that he classes ‘male pleasure aids’ as his hands - and nothing else. It’s not like he watches that kind of porn. Still, he can’t help being a little curious.
Dean: Like what?
Castiel: I have a few things, such as this.
A download link appears, and Dean clicks on it with the growing sense that this is the weirdest conversation he is ever likely to have.
It’s a picture, presumably from Castiel’s computer, just now taken with a webcam. There’ a blurry background of home office, and a pale blue thing that Dean realises must be Castiel’s t-shirted body. Clasped in the pale hand in front of the camera is the largest dildo Dean has ever seen. His eyes actually water. About twelve inches of clear silicone, at least three inches across.
Dean: Ouch.
Castiel: The good kind of ouch.
Dean really doubts that.
Dean: Maybe leave that for…some other time. Anything smaller- less likely to impale your lungs?
Castiel: Several plugs, a vibrating dildo, slightly smaller than I would deem worthy…
So, probably something smaller than an arm, Dean surmises.
Dean: OK, bring ‘em and we’ll see.
Castiel: I will. Could you please find a way to warm up that dismal garage?
Dean bites his lip, but manages to smile anyway.
Dean: Yes princess.