PixCT: 10.21
It's that time again...
Fic
Slash (Dean/Sam)
Adult
Preseries
~525
- - - - -
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 September CTs
Pix September CTs
- - - - -
Today
DruCT: 10.21
My fic:
Slash (Wincest: Dean/Sam) oneshot
Adult rating
Preseries
~525 words
- - - - -
Pix’s Pic Pick
Slightly past three in the morning and Sam was the only one in the laundry room. Not that he had wanted the rest of the dorm milling about while he hurriedly shoved his bloody clothes into the washer followed by the crisp plinking of quarters and at last, the soft slosh of the water filling up the machine. No, clothes like this? Bloody and torn? Yeah, it would just raise too many questions, and Sam had enough on his plate for his first year at college without other people wondering what the hell he did in his free time.
In his defense, it wasn’t like he had wanted to have that run in with the black dog. All Sam had wanted to do was get home from class, sleep, eat and do homework. And not necessarily in that order. But, nope, what had he encountered? Black dog. Of course. And, of course, he couldn’t have just turned and walked the other way. Had to try to and get it off the campus. Which, judging by the looks of his clothes, anyone could figure that task had been easier said than done.
So. Yes. Here he was, washing clothes at three in the morning and trying not to nod off, but sleep was so close, and sitting on the floor, his back against the washer, was just comfortable enough…
“Sleeping on the job?”
Sam snapped awake, head nearly crashing into the washer behind him when he looked up towards the voice. Dean’s voice. Dean standing in the doorway, hands in that big leather jacket of his-Dad’s-and boots muddy and blue jeans stained with grass and dirt and. Oh God. Oh Dean.
“Dean? What…you’re here?” Sam rose to his feet, slightly unsteady, wondering if he was dreaming. He hadn’t seen Dean in months. Last time had been when they were saying good-bye, bitterness and anger and sorrow working their way between the two of them. “How did you…?”
Dean shrugged, looking everywhere but right at Sam. “Heard about that black dog. You must’ve got to it before me.”
“Yeah, well, I mean…”
“…it’s harder to quit than you thought?” Dean finished. This time, they met eyes. God, it’d been so long.
Sam swallowed. Couldn’t say anything. Finally, at last, words spilling forth, he said, “I’ve missed you.”
Dean smiled, tight-lipped. “Yeah, right back at ‘cha.”
And it wasn’t anything more said, but then they were crashing into one another, Sam’s fists in Dean’s jacket collar and Dean’s hands any and everywhere on Sam in that moment. Dean fell against the wall, Sam pushing against him, and their mouths met, furious and hot, and Sam couldn’t-ever-get enough of this. Of Dean. Of Dean being with him. Of the feel of Dean-lips cock teeth tongue skin-beneath him. Of the taste and the smell of Dean. Just. Dean was with him. Here.
Sam buried his face in Dean’s neck. Wanted to say so much more than this. Wanted to have so much more than this. But, the very simple fact that Dean was there at all was more than enough for that moment.
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 September CTs
Pix September CTs
- - - - -
Today
DruCT: 10.21
My fic:
Slash (Wincest: Dean/Sam) oneshot
Adult rating
Preseries
~525 words
- - - - -
Pix’s Pic Pick
Slightly past three in the morning and Sam was the only one in the laundry room. Not that he had wanted the rest of the dorm milling about while he hurriedly shoved his bloody clothes into the washer followed by the crisp plinking of quarters and at last, the soft slosh of the water filling up the machine. No, clothes like this? Bloody and torn? Yeah, it would just raise too many questions, and Sam had enough on his plate for his first year at college without other people wondering what the hell he did in his free time.
In his defense, it wasn’t like he had wanted to have that run in with the black dog. All Sam had wanted to do was get home from class, sleep, eat and do homework. And not necessarily in that order. But, nope, what had he encountered? Black dog. Of course. And, of course, he couldn’t have just turned and walked the other way. Had to try to and get it off the campus. Which, judging by the looks of his clothes, anyone could figure that task had been easier said than done.
So. Yes. Here he was, washing clothes at three in the morning and trying not to nod off, but sleep was so close, and sitting on the floor, his back against the washer, was just comfortable enough…
“Sleeping on the job?”
Sam snapped awake, head nearly crashing into the washer behind him when he looked up towards the voice. Dean’s voice. Dean standing in the doorway, hands in that big leather jacket of his-Dad’s-and boots muddy and blue jeans stained with grass and dirt and. Oh God. Oh Dean.
“Dean? What…you’re here?” Sam rose to his feet, slightly unsteady, wondering if he was dreaming. He hadn’t seen Dean in months. Last time had been when they were saying good-bye, bitterness and anger and sorrow working their way between the two of them. “How did you…?”
Dean shrugged, looking everywhere but right at Sam. “Heard about that black dog. You must’ve got to it before me.”
“Yeah, well, I mean…”
“…it’s harder to quit than you thought?” Dean finished. This time, they met eyes. God, it’d been so long.
Sam swallowed. Couldn’t say anything. Finally, at last, words spilling forth, he said, “I’ve missed you.”
Dean smiled, tight-lipped. “Yeah, right back at ‘cha.”
And it wasn’t anything more said, but then they were crashing into one another, Sam’s fists in Dean’s jacket collar and Dean’s hands any and everywhere on Sam in that moment. Dean fell against the wall, Sam pushing against him, and their mouths met, furious and hot, and Sam couldn’t-ever-get enough of this. Of Dean. Of Dean being with him. Of the feel of Dean-lips cock teeth tongue skin-beneath him. Of the taste and the smell of Dean. Just. Dean was with him. Here.
Sam buried his face in Dean’s neck. Wanted to say so much more than this. Wanted to have so much more than this. But, the very simple fact that Dean was there at all was more than enough for that moment.
End