PixCT: 09-25
It's that time again...
Fic:
Slash (Dean/Sam)
Adult
Midseries
~640 words
- - - - -
A combination of fic, pic, and cock, and that's really all there is to it.
All About Cock Thursday
So Far
Sept 07 - Sept 08
DruCT: 09-18
PixCT: 09-18
- - - - -
Today
DruCT: 09-25
My fic:
Slash (Wincest: Dean/Sam) oneshot
Adult rating
Midseries
~640 words
- - - - -
Dru's Pic Pick
"You know what kind of place this is?"
Sam rolled his eyes and sighed, his back to Dean.
"No, Dean," he replied. "What kind of place is this?" He was irritated, to state the obvious. Three hundred and eighty-six miles they'd been cramped in the car together while Dean had told Sam every stupid, sick, and downright asinine joke he knew just to hear the sound of his own voice, Sam assumed. Dean would have kept going, would have crossed over the state line had Sam not placed his hand on the door handle and said, "Either we get a room or I jump out right now and take the handle with me."
Dean stopped at the next exit.
The only place to stay in the town was a nicely kept bed and breakfast where the lady at the front desk told them that the apple pie would be done in "just a few more minutes" if they were hungry, and Dean eyed her over with his eyes landing on her chest, said that, yup, he was definitely hungry.
"You don't know what kind of place this is?" Dean repeated now, dropping his bags onto the table in the middle of the room.
"Just tell me and put me out of my misery," Sam groaned. He walked over to the sliding glass door. At least they had a nice view. A patio that overlooked a forest. Now if Dean got on his nerves, he could leap off the deck and run away into the forest.
"This is a sex kind of place."
Sam whipped around to see Dean smirking, arms crossed and leaning back on his heels.
"How do you figure that?" Sam sputtered. "This is a family place, in case you hadn't seen all their happy ‘We heart families!’ signs."
Dean raised a single index finger and pointed to the ceiling. Baffled, Sam looked at the ceiling. Normal enough. Support beams, funny looking light fixture, nice wood finish.
"Yeah, so?" he said, confused.
"The antlers."
"What about the antlers?"
Dean shook his head, mock disappointment. "Dude. You fail so hard at this game."
"What do antlers have to do with sex?"
"Chicks take off their bras to toss them on antlers like that. Guarantee it. Bring any girl in here and say, 'Hey, baby, bet'cha can't get your bra up there, and she'll do it, and well..." Dean lingered off but his leer stayed right where it was. "Once the bra goes, you know the rest of the clothing ain't far behind."
"You're disgusting. How you manage to get laid still shocks me," Sam grumbled, moving to one of the side bedrooms.
"Ever heard the phrase 'swinging from the chandlier'?" Dean called.
Sam stopped, back to Dean. "What?"
"It's a phrase I've, well, I've seen in some ladies' magazines when they want to talk about the best sex they've ever had. They call it 'swinging from the chandlier' type sex. Mind-blowing, y'know?"
"Get to the point."
"Just thought we should do some of that for ourselves. Not that either of us could swing from that thing. Looks too weak to support either one of us. But. Y'know. Wouldn't mind laying you down on this table, pushing you down on your back and fucking you so you can see that goddamned chandlier over my shoulder and think that, hey, you don't have to be swinging from a chandlier to have good sex. Hm?"
Sam's cock perked awake at the mental image of Dean naked above him, pendant swinging from his neck as he pounded into him, white knuckles on the edges of the table just to hold on while Dean fucked him...
Sam turned around. "Get your ass over here," he growled and pulled off his shirt.
Dean smiled. "See? It's a place made for sex. I was right after all."
End
Fic:
- - - - -
A combination of fic, pic, and cock, and that's really all there is to it.
All About Cock Thursday
So Far
- - - - -
Today
Slash (Wincest: Dean/Sam) oneshot
Adult rating
Midseries
~640 words
- - - - -
Dru's Pic Pick
"You know what kind of place this is?"
Sam rolled his eyes and sighed, his back to Dean.
"No, Dean," he replied. "What kind of place is this?" He was irritated, to state the obvious. Three hundred and eighty-six miles they'd been cramped in the car together while Dean had told Sam every stupid, sick, and downright asinine joke he knew just to hear the sound of his own voice, Sam assumed. Dean would have kept going, would have crossed over the state line had Sam not placed his hand on the door handle and said, "Either we get a room or I jump out right now and take the handle with me."
Dean stopped at the next exit.
The only place to stay in the town was a nicely kept bed and breakfast where the lady at the front desk told them that the apple pie would be done in "just a few more minutes" if they were hungry, and Dean eyed her over with his eyes landing on her chest, said that, yup, he was definitely hungry.
"You don't know what kind of place this is?" Dean repeated now, dropping his bags onto the table in the middle of the room.
"Just tell me and put me out of my misery," Sam groaned. He walked over to the sliding glass door. At least they had a nice view. A patio that overlooked a forest. Now if Dean got on his nerves, he could leap off the deck and run away into the forest.
"This is a sex kind of place."
Sam whipped around to see Dean smirking, arms crossed and leaning back on his heels.
"How do you figure that?" Sam sputtered. "This is a family place, in case you hadn't seen all their happy ‘We heart families!’ signs."
Dean raised a single index finger and pointed to the ceiling. Baffled, Sam looked at the ceiling. Normal enough. Support beams, funny looking light fixture, nice wood finish.
"Yeah, so?" he said, confused.
"The antlers."
"What about the antlers?"
Dean shook his head, mock disappointment. "Dude. You fail so hard at this game."
"What do antlers have to do with sex?"
"Chicks take off their bras to toss them on antlers like that. Guarantee it. Bring any girl in here and say, 'Hey, baby, bet'cha can't get your bra up there, and she'll do it, and well..." Dean lingered off but his leer stayed right where it was. "Once the bra goes, you know the rest of the clothing ain't far behind."
"You're disgusting. How you manage to get laid still shocks me," Sam grumbled, moving to one of the side bedrooms.
"Ever heard the phrase 'swinging from the chandlier'?" Dean called.
Sam stopped, back to Dean. "What?"
"It's a phrase I've, well, I've seen in some ladies' magazines when they want to talk about the best sex they've ever had. They call it 'swinging from the chandlier' type sex. Mind-blowing, y'know?"
"Get to the point."
"Just thought we should do some of that for ourselves. Not that either of us could swing from that thing. Looks too weak to support either one of us. But. Y'know. Wouldn't mind laying you down on this table, pushing you down on your back and fucking you so you can see that goddamned chandlier over my shoulder and think that, hey, you don't have to be swinging from a chandlier to have good sex. Hm?"
Sam's cock perked awake at the mental image of Dean naked above him, pendant swinging from his neck as he pounded into him, white knuckles on the edges of the table just to hold on while Dean fucked him...
Sam turned around. "Get your ass over here," he growled and pulled off his shirt.
Dean smiled. "See? It's a place made for sex. I was right after all."
End