SPN/CW RPF FREE-FOR-ALL DIRTY PORN MEME!
Further to my previous post: you advertise for a graphic, and you get several at once. ;) I probably shouldn't post this now, since I have to go to bed imminently, but...porn. So, without further ado, welcome to the
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He Don't Play Nice
Dean hadn’t been in the bar ten minutes and he was already itching to leave. The witness he’d interviewed earlier in the afternoon had a cute friend that had chased him out to the Impala, having an obvious thing for a guy in a suit. So easy. She’d told him the name of a club just off campus, told him she’d meet him there later that night and he’d agreed. Now he wasn’t so sure it was a good idea. It was larger than he was used to, less of a dive, with a heart-beat-altering base-line and suspended dancer’s cages, for god’s sake.
He’d rolled into town a day ago to check up on Sam but hadn’t managed to track him down yet, not that Dean had looked very hard. Sam seemed to have a sixth sense toward Dean being on campus, so he’d kept his distance and figured he’d wait until Monday, when the mass of students were back in classes and the chance of stumbling across Sam unexpectedly was less likely. The one good thing about this club was that it was the polar opposite of Sam’s tastes, which tended to lean toward intimate coffee shops and tragic emo singers with guitars.
Dean had just decided to give his ‘date’-Maisie? Melissa?-another few minutes when the music abruptly kicked over to a sexed-up, hip-swaying rhythm, complete with dirty guitar riffs. He heard a cheer go up behind him so he swiveled on his bar stool to get a look at the commotion.
A single dancer was strutting his way across a makeshift stage that extended out into the bar. It was obvious that the crowd was familiar with the man, cheering and already throwing money to the ground in front of him. Dean could only see that he was tall, with a shock of wavy dark hair that spilled out from underneath a worn cowboy hat that obscured his face. By now the dancer had reached a pole that Dean had failed to notice, and was using it as a means to steady himself as he rocked back and forth to the raucous beat.
But I know a girl, who can put on a show…
…the dollar decides how far you can go…
With a flirty head tip to the audience and a wide, white-toothed grin as a wink wink to the gender switch, the man turned and shook his ass at the audience, bending at the waist to show off the mile-long legs as he rose slowly and looked back over his shoulder.
Not one to immediately write off the idea of an attractive guy, Dean caught himself leaning forward, watching with an eagerness that nevertheless surprised him. He shifted around a little on his bar stool and tried to discreetly re-adjust himself, allowing his legs to fall open slightly to find relief.
By now the song had reached its chorus and the dancer was sidling up to the pole, and it was clear the crowd was ready and eager for what came next, if the deafening cheering was anything to go by.
She wraps those hands around that pole
she licks those lips and off she goes
she takes it off nice and slow
cause’ that’s PORN-STAR-DA-NCING…’
Mimicking the song, the dancer wrapped both hands up high around the pole and set himself to spinning in front of the crowd, the muscles of his forearms straining against his rolled-up sleeves. Once he placed his feet back on the ground, he let go with one hand to lean back, hips thrusting obscenely against the metal bar. He snapped his hips over and over to the music, even threw one knee up to ride his inseam against the pole, much to the crowd’s delight. The man on stage looked to be in the throes of complete ecstasy, tipping his head back to expose the lower half of his face from beneath the cowboy hat, mouth open and panting in rhythm with the throbbing beat of the song.
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The man, hips ever-rocking to the insane music, slid his ruined shirt from his wrists and began to rub his hands across his torso, then down toward the top of his jeans. Dean held his breath as the man popped first one, then all of the buttons in a row. With one hand steadying himself against the pole, the man reached down past the dark vee of his jeans and grabbed a hold of himself, massive paw obscuring the view. Dean imagined he could see the head of the man’s cock peeking over the edges of the unbuttoned jeans, but the lighting was for shit on stage so he had to make do with his imagination to fill in the details.
The song was reaching its climax and the man on stage appeared to be close behind, hips now snapping up in an irregular beat totally unrelated to the throbbing rhythm pouring from the speakers.
Dean had long given up the fight and had been grinding the heel of his hand against the front of his jeans shamelessly. He found himself snapping his hips to the same irregular beat as the dancer on stage and wondered if he himself could actually come in his jeans while in a room full of people. Stopping seemed harder to imagine than finishing at this point, and as if on cue, the dancer tipped his head back, mouth wide before folding over on himself right on stage. As he jerked forward, the cowboy hat slipped from his head and Dean had a moment of shock to realize that the dancer climaxing on a fucking stage was none other than his brother.
“Sam?”
He gasped out the name and then helplessly shot all over the inside of his jeans, swiveling back to fold against the front of the bar.
Even before the aftershocks had died down, Dean scrambled to right himself so he could get the hell out of there. This was a mistake. A huge, need to repress and never think of it again mistake and he just needed to get the fuck away, now.
As he fled toward the door, he accidentally crashed into a cocktail waitress with a tray full of drinks and he winced as the glasses splashed and crashed to the floor. He desperately pulled out a small wad of cash and threw it on her tray as he continued his flight outward, but the commotion was enough to draw the curious gazes of the patrons around him. The man on stage saw the movement out of his corner of his eye, and drew in a shocked breath to whisper, “Dean?”
END
(A/N: The song referenced is Pornstar Dancing by My Darkest Days. Look it up on Vimeo. UNF)
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loved the images.
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I've spent a loooot of week-ends in gay-bars & while the dancers usually wear boas & heels, I realized I could write from experience, sort of. ;)
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This was just great. Not a writer just a reader... You surely Jest...... ♥♥♥♥
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THANK YOU for your encouragement, luv--if you could only see my happy, dopey grin... :D I just had to *try*, y'know? Thank you! \o/
AND YOU HAVE EARLY!SAMMY IN A COWBOY HAT, OMgDIES! *thud*
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Great job bb! Welcome to the writer club ;)
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