Porn Challenge!
The lovely oxoniensis has a really fun Porn Challenge going. Here's my entry. It is for barely_bean, who asked for Sam/Dean in a confessional and pretty much always gets what she wants. :)
Title: Holy Ground
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Incest, heresy
Summary: Sam is all Dean has to hold on to.
Holy Ground
by Lenore
Dean hates few things more than being chased through a cemetery, the choppy ground, the possibility always in the back of his head that the dead might rise up and join the fight against him. Stranger things have happened.
"Come on!" he shouts to Sam, leading him toward the church.
They dart inside, greeted by the scent of candle wax, the cloy of flowers and incense, a relief. The demon that's after them stinks of sulfur and decomposing flesh, and if Dean weren't so concerned about dying, he'd surely be throwing up. They jam into a confessional and listen, barely daring to breathe. It's a myth that holy ground repels all evil. If a demon is strong enough, the Lord's house will simply slow it down a little.
Dean sits on the bench, his legs folded up, starting to cramp. Sam looms over him, hands braced against the wall to keep his balance. Dean thinks randomly about the one semester he spent in Catholic school. They'd study math and spelling in the mornings, but in the afternoons, the bibles would come out and they'd talk about sin and hell and redemption. Dean had always been so confused. Hell, he knew, happened on earth everyday, and the only kind of salvation he could imagine was an end, not a beginning.
In the close space, Dean can feel every rise and fall of Sam's chest, can smell the damp of sweat-soaked clothes. Their eyes collide in the dark, and the look that passes between them is fraught with wordless heresy.
The first lumbering footfall out in the sanctuary makes Dean jump, and he automatically grabs for his brother's arm. He's been holding on to Sammy all his life, and if they're going to die, that's how he wants to go. They listen and wait. The confessional fills with the stench of fear and a coiled energy, both of them ready to fight.
There's the familiar thud-drag as the demon moves in their direction, and Dean's fingers curve tighter into his brother's arm. Maybe if he throws himself at the thing, Sam can get away.
But then the steps just…stop. He and Sam remain perfectly motionless, ears straining. After an eternity of silence, the thud-drag slowly recedes, more labored now, as if the demon's power is being drained at last. They wait for the sound to disappear entirely, and then wait some more just to be safe.
Finally, Sam lets out his breath. His mouth twists into the shape of words, and Dean takes hold of his hips to stop him. Sam looks down at him, all big eyes, and Dean looks up, for once not even trying to hide the longing. The air between them sparks to life, and Dean starts to sweat. Maybe he wouldn't do this if he believed those things the nuns had taught him, that hell is a place apart and sins are inevitably punished and the good go to paradise. But…
He uses both hands to rip Sam's jeans open.
"God," Sam gasps.
His cock rises urgently under Dean's stroking fingers, and Dean leans in, won't waste another moment. Because they could have died, and he's pretty sure this is the only taste of heaven he's ever going to get.
Sam's cock is hot on his tongue, and Dean can't get enough, messy, desperate, the wet sounds of pleasure profane in the holy stillness.
Sam's fingers scrape against Dean's scalp, his hips thrust forward, and he begs, "Please!"
Dean runs his hands over Sam's back and relaxes his throat, and lets Sam take what he needs. When Sam is about to come, he tries to pull away, but Dean won't let him.
"Dean!" Sam warns, but it's too late.
Hot salt rushes down Dean's throat, just the way he wanted it.
Sam is kind of shaky afterwards, and Dean takes care of him, tucks his cock into his underwear, pulls his shirt down to cover the ruined jeans.
"We should go," he says quietly.
He gets up, puts his hand on the door, and Sam pulls him back around. When their lips meet, Dean feels the shock of it more than he did the sex. Sam's mouth opens, so softly, and he moans at the taste of himself on Dean's tongue. He licks at the inside of Dean's lip, and Dean tightens his arms around him. The idea of communion makes sense at long last.
When they step outside, the light streaming in through the stained glass feels like a miracle. Dean rests his hand on the back of Sam's neck as they walk out. His brother is all he has to hold on to, and that's more than enough.
Title: Holy Ground
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Incest, heresy
Summary: Sam is all Dean has to hold on to.
Holy Ground
by Lenore
Dean hates few things more than being chased through a cemetery, the choppy ground, the possibility always in the back of his head that the dead might rise up and join the fight against him. Stranger things have happened.
"Come on!" he shouts to Sam, leading him toward the church.
They dart inside, greeted by the scent of candle wax, the cloy of flowers and incense, a relief. The demon that's after them stinks of sulfur and decomposing flesh, and if Dean weren't so concerned about dying, he'd surely be throwing up. They jam into a confessional and listen, barely daring to breathe. It's a myth that holy ground repels all evil. If a demon is strong enough, the Lord's house will simply slow it down a little.
Dean sits on the bench, his legs folded up, starting to cramp. Sam looms over him, hands braced against the wall to keep his balance. Dean thinks randomly about the one semester he spent in Catholic school. They'd study math and spelling in the mornings, but in the afternoons, the bibles would come out and they'd talk about sin and hell and redemption. Dean had always been so confused. Hell, he knew, happened on earth everyday, and the only kind of salvation he could imagine was an end, not a beginning.
In the close space, Dean can feel every rise and fall of Sam's chest, can smell the damp of sweat-soaked clothes. Their eyes collide in the dark, and the look that passes between them is fraught with wordless heresy.
The first lumbering footfall out in the sanctuary makes Dean jump, and he automatically grabs for his brother's arm. He's been holding on to Sammy all his life, and if they're going to die, that's how he wants to go. They listen and wait. The confessional fills with the stench of fear and a coiled energy, both of them ready to fight.
There's the familiar thud-drag as the demon moves in their direction, and Dean's fingers curve tighter into his brother's arm. Maybe if he throws himself at the thing, Sam can get away.
But then the steps just…stop. He and Sam remain perfectly motionless, ears straining. After an eternity of silence, the thud-drag slowly recedes, more labored now, as if the demon's power is being drained at last. They wait for the sound to disappear entirely, and then wait some more just to be safe.
Finally, Sam lets out his breath. His mouth twists into the shape of words, and Dean takes hold of his hips to stop him. Sam looks down at him, all big eyes, and Dean looks up, for once not even trying to hide the longing. The air between them sparks to life, and Dean starts to sweat. Maybe he wouldn't do this if he believed those things the nuns had taught him, that hell is a place apart and sins are inevitably punished and the good go to paradise. But…
He uses both hands to rip Sam's jeans open.
"God," Sam gasps.
His cock rises urgently under Dean's stroking fingers, and Dean leans in, won't waste another moment. Because they could have died, and he's pretty sure this is the only taste of heaven he's ever going to get.
Sam's cock is hot on his tongue, and Dean can't get enough, messy, desperate, the wet sounds of pleasure profane in the holy stillness.
Sam's fingers scrape against Dean's scalp, his hips thrust forward, and he begs, "Please!"
Dean runs his hands over Sam's back and relaxes his throat, and lets Sam take what he needs. When Sam is about to come, he tries to pull away, but Dean won't let him.
"Dean!" Sam warns, but it's too late.
Hot salt rushes down Dean's throat, just the way he wanted it.
Sam is kind of shaky afterwards, and Dean takes care of him, tucks his cock into his underwear, pulls his shirt down to cover the ruined jeans.
"We should go," he says quietly.
He gets up, puts his hand on the door, and Sam pulls him back around. When their lips meet, Dean feels the shock of it more than he did the sex. Sam's mouth opens, so softly, and he moans at the taste of himself on Dean's tongue. He licks at the inside of Dean's lip, and Dean tightens his arms around him. The idea of communion makes sense at long last.
When they step outside, the light streaming in through the stained glass feels like a miracle. Dean rests his hand on the back of Sam's neck as they walk out. His brother is all he has to hold on to, and that's more than enough.