PixCT: 08.19
It's that time again...
Fic
Slash (Dean/Sam)
Adult
~1060
- - - - -
A combination of fic, pic, and cock, and that's really all there is to it.
All About Cock Thursday
So Far
September 07-September 08
September 08-September 09
Dru Cock Thursday
Pix Cock Thursday
Dru August CTs
Pix August CTs
- - - - -
Today
DruCT: 08.19
My fic:
Slash (Wincest: Dean/Sam) oneshot
Adult rating
~1060 words
- - - - -
Dru’s Pic Pick
The shadows splattered onto Sam’s face, the light and dark speckling his skin where he stared off into the trees. His hands were curved over the thick stone railing of the bridge, and the wind moved softly through the trees, shushing and whispering against the leaves. Beyond here, there were the voices of people, honks of cars, and the sounds of a city seeming so much farther than just out of the park. He bowed his head, looking down at his hands, and his hair tumbled down over his face.
Farther away still, Dean stood on the other side of the park. Dean didn’t make any move to go to Sam. He remained seated on the picnic table, the one that was hidden behind the towering oak trees. It was just enough hidden that Sam wouldn’t be able to see Dean without coming closer, enough that Dean could see Sam through the infinite branches.
Dean sighed, looked down at his feet, and scuffed his toe through the dirt.
“You should go to him.”
Dean looked up slowly to where Castiel was coming out of a cluster of trees. Castiel walked towards Dean and sat down beside him.
“You should go to him,” Castiel said again, same even tone to his voice.
“And that would solve, what, exactly?”
“The longing. The emptiness you have inside you.”
Dean snorted. “Yeah, like you would know anything about that. Reading my thoughts now or something?”
“I see farther than I have before. Farther into you than I have before.”
“Yeah? Because why? Heaven patted you on the head and gave you golden wings again?”
Castiel smiled. “I would argue against the physics of carrying such an alloy for wings, but I sense that you are using sarcasm once again, Dean.”
Dean rolled his eyes. He didn’t want to be dealing with this right now. It was a little over two weeks since he had left Lisa. It had been a long time coming, of course. He loved Lisa-still did-and Ben-definitely still did-but it wasn’t any secret between them that that wasn’t where he belonged. So, after staying up all night, Dean was waiting at the table when Lisa came downstairs for breakfast. They talked. And talked. And at last, Lisa rose to her feet, kissed him on the forehead, and wished him the best. The door would always be open. There would always be a bed available. He could come back at any time. No hard feelings. No ill will.
And he left.
He looked for every sign of Sam he could find. Every electrical storm. Every mention of cattle deaths. Anything that seemed like Hell was brewing or demons were walking again. He chased it, and he found nothing.
Now, here, in this park, he had at last found Sam. Sam, who was standing halfway across the park with his back to Dean.
“Do you think he’s the same Sam who left?” Dean asked.
Castiel sighed. Quiet. Contemplative. “I think he is your brother.”
Dean rolled his eyes. “You and your words of wisdom,” he muttered.
What he really wanted to know was if Sam looked different. If the demons down in the Pit had ripped his skin or gouged his eyes. Sam was, after all, supposed to be their “leader,” as Azazel had said so long ago. Perhaps the demons in Hell hadn’t forgotten that much.
He wanted to know if Sam was still the same inside his head. The angels had talked about possession and how it would ruin a man. Lucifer wasn’t just any old angel either. He was an archangel. One of the best and the brightest and worst all at once. It was likely that his time in Sam’s head had scrambled Sam’s brains right on up, and all Sam now was a walking corpse with no emotions and memory.
He wanted to know if Sam would still recognize him. Scrambled brains or not, time in Hell or not, Dean wanted to know how much “Sam” was really left. If Sam would greet him with opened arms and pull him in, and Dean could breathe in the scent of Sam’s coat and his skin, and all the times they had shared together would pass through them, from the time when Dean taught Sam how to color and how to share, and when Sam taught Dean how to protect and how to grow, and when they taught each other how to love-not just with their cocks and bodies-but with their heads and hearts.
“You should go to him,” Castiel said.
“Yeah, that’s what you keep saying, and somehow? I don’t know if I’m buying it.”
“What’s the worst that could happen?”
Dean looked over at Castiel, met his eyes. Couldn’t explain how the knowing would be worse than the not knowing. It was enough right here to know that Sam was still alive. He didn’t know if he could handle knowing that Sam wasn’t Sam anymore.
“If you know, then you can begin closure,” Castiel said, as if reading Dean’s thoughts. “You’ve lived for so long now without it. You should begin to heal, whoever that man is over there.”
Dean shook his head. “He’s my brother.”
“Then all the more reason you should go to him.” Castiel raised a hand, two fingers upright. “Would you like some assistance? Perhaps…”
“No, no, that’s really okay, Cas. Remember that whole discussion we had about transporting me? Not happening. I’m going, okay, sheesh, I’m going.”
Dean rose to his feet and walked away from the picnic table. When he glanced over his shoulder, he was not surprised to see that Castiel was gone.
He crossed the park, his heart banging wildly, as he swallowed down his fear. He couldn’t decide what would be worse: Having Lucifer still inside Sam and ready to continue mauling Dean, or having nothing inside Sam but a blank shell of a man that once was.
At last, he reached the end of the bridge, stood by the large, fat pillar with its engravings swirling round and round. Sam still hadn’t looked up. Was still staring out into the trees.
Dean cleared his throat. “Sam,” he said.
Sam looked up. He stared at Dean for a long moment, expressionless. Then, something softened, and he smiled, and he said, “Dean. It’s you.”
End
Fic
- - - - -
A combination of fic, pic, and cock, and that's really all there is to it.
All About Cock Thursday
So Far
September 07-September 08
September 08-September 09
Dru Cock Thursday
Pix Cock Thursday
Dru August CTs
Pix August CTs
- - - - -
Today
DruCT: 08.19
My fic:
Slash (Wincest: Dean/Sam) oneshot
Adult rating
~1060 words
- - - - -
Dru’s Pic Pick
The shadows splattered onto Sam’s face, the light and dark speckling his skin where he stared off into the trees. His hands were curved over the thick stone railing of the bridge, and the wind moved softly through the trees, shushing and whispering against the leaves. Beyond here, there were the voices of people, honks of cars, and the sounds of a city seeming so much farther than just out of the park. He bowed his head, looking down at his hands, and his hair tumbled down over his face.
Farther away still, Dean stood on the other side of the park. Dean didn’t make any move to go to Sam. He remained seated on the picnic table, the one that was hidden behind the towering oak trees. It was just enough hidden that Sam wouldn’t be able to see Dean without coming closer, enough that Dean could see Sam through the infinite branches.
Dean sighed, looked down at his feet, and scuffed his toe through the dirt.
“You should go to him.”
Dean looked up slowly to where Castiel was coming out of a cluster of trees. Castiel walked towards Dean and sat down beside him.
“You should go to him,” Castiel said again, same even tone to his voice.
“And that would solve, what, exactly?”
“The longing. The emptiness you have inside you.”
Dean snorted. “Yeah, like you would know anything about that. Reading my thoughts now or something?”
“I see farther than I have before. Farther into you than I have before.”
“Yeah? Because why? Heaven patted you on the head and gave you golden wings again?”
Castiel smiled. “I would argue against the physics of carrying such an alloy for wings, but I sense that you are using sarcasm once again, Dean.”
Dean rolled his eyes. He didn’t want to be dealing with this right now. It was a little over two weeks since he had left Lisa. It had been a long time coming, of course. He loved Lisa-still did-and Ben-definitely still did-but it wasn’t any secret between them that that wasn’t where he belonged. So, after staying up all night, Dean was waiting at the table when Lisa came downstairs for breakfast. They talked. And talked. And at last, Lisa rose to her feet, kissed him on the forehead, and wished him the best. The door would always be open. There would always be a bed available. He could come back at any time. No hard feelings. No ill will.
And he left.
He looked for every sign of Sam he could find. Every electrical storm. Every mention of cattle deaths. Anything that seemed like Hell was brewing or demons were walking again. He chased it, and he found nothing.
Now, here, in this park, he had at last found Sam. Sam, who was standing halfway across the park with his back to Dean.
“Do you think he’s the same Sam who left?” Dean asked.
Castiel sighed. Quiet. Contemplative. “I think he is your brother.”
Dean rolled his eyes. “You and your words of wisdom,” he muttered.
What he really wanted to know was if Sam looked different. If the demons down in the Pit had ripped his skin or gouged his eyes. Sam was, after all, supposed to be their “leader,” as Azazel had said so long ago. Perhaps the demons in Hell hadn’t forgotten that much.
He wanted to know if Sam was still the same inside his head. The angels had talked about possession and how it would ruin a man. Lucifer wasn’t just any old angel either. He was an archangel. One of the best and the brightest and worst all at once. It was likely that his time in Sam’s head had scrambled Sam’s brains right on up, and all Sam now was a walking corpse with no emotions and memory.
He wanted to know if Sam would still recognize him. Scrambled brains or not, time in Hell or not, Dean wanted to know how much “Sam” was really left. If Sam would greet him with opened arms and pull him in, and Dean could breathe in the scent of Sam’s coat and his skin, and all the times they had shared together would pass through them, from the time when Dean taught Sam how to color and how to share, and when Sam taught Dean how to protect and how to grow, and when they taught each other how to love-not just with their cocks and bodies-but with their heads and hearts.
“You should go to him,” Castiel said.
“Yeah, that’s what you keep saying, and somehow? I don’t know if I’m buying it.”
“What’s the worst that could happen?”
Dean looked over at Castiel, met his eyes. Couldn’t explain how the knowing would be worse than the not knowing. It was enough right here to know that Sam was still alive. He didn’t know if he could handle knowing that Sam wasn’t Sam anymore.
“If you know, then you can begin closure,” Castiel said, as if reading Dean’s thoughts. “You’ve lived for so long now without it. You should begin to heal, whoever that man is over there.”
Dean shook his head. “He’s my brother.”
“Then all the more reason you should go to him.” Castiel raised a hand, two fingers upright. “Would you like some assistance? Perhaps…”
“No, no, that’s really okay, Cas. Remember that whole discussion we had about transporting me? Not happening. I’m going, okay, sheesh, I’m going.”
Dean rose to his feet and walked away from the picnic table. When he glanced over his shoulder, he was not surprised to see that Castiel was gone.
He crossed the park, his heart banging wildly, as he swallowed down his fear. He couldn’t decide what would be worse: Having Lucifer still inside Sam and ready to continue mauling Dean, or having nothing inside Sam but a blank shell of a man that once was.
At last, he reached the end of the bridge, stood by the large, fat pillar with its engravings swirling round and round. Sam still hadn’t looked up. Was still staring out into the trees.
Dean cleared his throat. “Sam,” he said.
Sam looked up. He stared at Dean for a long moment, expressionless. Then, something softened, and he smiled, and he said, “Dean. It’s you.”
End