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Uh, so. A while back, Sazz wrote this comment fic that involved car sex and whatever, and it had this line in it, and I was all, "I should write that!" and then I wrote like three paragraphs and stuck it in a folder because college was eating my soul, and then today I made sandwiches for eight hours and it fried my brain and I decided that clearly the world needed this one. Obviously, all my ridiculous deangirl fic is for sazzlette.
So, Sam/girl!Dean, probably the same verse as All Quiet and Heat. I think this verse is affectionately titled, "WAYS IN WHICH SAM KNOCKS DEAN OUT."
This one is slightly less snuggling and slightly more oral sex. W/e! It's all good.
Handled, Sam/Dean, hard R, 1720.
Dean's comfortable upper limit for one day is sixteen hours driving, so by eighteen, she's pretty miserable, and when they stop to stretch their legs at twenty, Sam watches her from up against the car and takes the keys out of her hands when she comes back.
"We're stopping at the next motel," he says, in the sort of tone that Dean wouldn't argue with if even she didn't agree with him.
It takes almost another half an hour, and by the time Sam gets the room key and stops for ice, she's already starting to stiffen up. She's stupid enough to let him see her wince when she slides out of the passenger seat, aching, but he doesn't start bitching about it, just kisses the back of her neck and pushes her away from the trunk with a steady hand spread out against her back.
"Go get in the shower," he says. "I'll get the bags."
Ordinarily, Dean would argue, but she's too goddamned tired, and by some stroke of actual luck - the first all week - the shower actually has a steady supply of hot water that doesn't cut in and out. Dean's staring at the shampoo bottle and trying to work up the energy to wash her hair when Sam slips in behind her. She jumps, mostly out of habit, because she's still not used to him just doing that, and he laughs and wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her back against him. Dean knows seven different ways to make somebody let go of her, and if it was anybody else, she would, mostly because she's really not in the fucking mood to be manhandled, but Sam's not trying anything, not after anything. He's just holding her up.
"Hi," Sam says, still laughing, and reaches for the shampoo to pass it over.
He turns the shower head down until it's right against the back of her neck, hot water all the way down her back, and soaps up his hands, spreading them out over her stomach. Not that she'd admit it, but Dean likes the way he touches her, broad-palmed and steady, face up against the curve of her shoulder. Sam strokes a hand down her side and slides the other up over her breast, fingertips just the right kind of rough.
He backs off just when Dean's starting to wake up. She'd be pissed, but he slides his hands up to her shoulders and manages to push half the tension out of her back with one press of his palms. Sam doesn't throw his weight around, but - even though Dean can still totally fucking take him - he's strong enough to knock her over, no questions asked, and once in a while, he uses it.
"Hold still," Sam says, and presses her up against the wall to dig the heels of his hands into her lower back.
By the time he stops screwing around and just rubs the tension out of her shoulders, Dean's almost half asleep again. She's not even awake enough to bitch about it when Sam pushes her out of the shower and leans out long enough to hand her a towel.
"I'll be out in a minute," he says, ducking back in, and Dean hauls the blankets off the second queen and turns the heat up. She's tired, the kind of exhausted that means getting to sleep isn't going to be easy, and it's fucking irritating, stupid enough that she almost snaps at Sam when he slides into bed behind her, still warm and dripping water, and nuzzles across her shoulder.
"You're wet," Dean says, pointedly, and Sam makes a low noise and wraps a palm around her shoulder to push her down against the bed.
"Jesus, I'm driving tomorrow," he says, amused instead of pissed off, and Dean's about to tell him where he can shove that idea when he leans over and kisses her, warm and distracting.
Sam licks along her bottom lip, then into her mouth, rubbing his thumb back and forth over the curve of her neck for a minute before he fits his palm against her jaw and tilts her face up to deepen the kiss. It's the kind of making out that gets to her, this way of playing dirty Sam usually only pulls in the backseat of her car, heavy on top of her, and Dean can't even fucking say anything about it because Sam's in too close.
"Let it go," Sam murmurs, running his fingers back through her hair, nuzzling down her throat, because he's an asshole. "You're just tired."
Dean's fine, actually, since she's pulled longer days than this, but Sam nudges his nose along her cheek and spreads a hand out against the small of her back, settling in close. It's stupid, the kind of thing she doesn't actually like, but something starts to unwind in the pit of her stomach anyway, and fighting Sam when he wants to cuddle is fucking useless.
"Hey, sweetheart," he murmurs, leaning in to kiss her again, stretching out on top of her. Sam's heavy, the sort of weight Dean can't get out from under, and she's always hated that move, but with Sam, it's okay. With him, it makes her stomach turn over, but Dean's pretty sure that she doesn't have to admit that to him.
"Hey, how about you get off me," Dean says, pushing her weight up into him, and Sam makes that goddamned noise again, somewhere between turned on and entertained.
"Let it go, Dean," he murmurs, and licks beneath her collarbone, down to the hollow of her throat. He moves, enough that she could push him off if she wanted to, and kisses down, nudging his cheek against the curve of her breast. "I'm not going to say anything."
Dean wants to be pissed at him, it's easier, but Sam's good at getting under her skin and it's late. "Maybe," she says, finally, mostly because Sam's nuzzling over her skin in a way that she can feel up and down her spine, that's - not that she's telling him - getting her wet, and when he stops fucking around and drags his tongue over her nipple, she can feel it all over.
"Maybe you should let me knock you out instead," Sam says, licking in slow, wet circles until she can't keep her hips on the bed, pressing up against his stomach.
Dean knows girls who get flushed and all stupidly out of breath when they're this turned on, and she's never been one of those, but Sam makes her warm all over, almost aching for it, and the low, unsatisfied feeling in the pit of her stomach almost makes up for how much of a fucking tease Sam can be.
"Come on," Dean says, too warm and almost embarrassed, because Sam's got a way of seeing her when she's like this, a way of noticing things she's still not sure that she wants him to know.
"Hey," Sam says, again, soft and affectionate, and leans up to kiss her before he slides down.
Sam settles his hands against the inside of her knees, biting across her hipbone, and runs them up her thighs until there's enough room for him. Sometimes, it's still weird - Dean's had a lot of sex, guys in bars and frat boys in dorm rooms and more motel rooms than she can keep track of, but this is personal, the kind of thing most one night stands don't bother with, and it's stupid, that Sam will pick this over half the other things she's offered, that he likes the lights on and the sheets down, that it used to be something she kept track of and now she asks for, if she's drunk enough.
"Shh," Sam says, like he knows she's thinking too hard, and Dean doesn't even fight him on it, mostly because he slides two fingers into her and presses up just right, pulling back a little before he nudges them in deeper. It's intense, good, and Sam makes another soft noise when she lifts her hips into it, pushing into the pressure.
"God, Sammy," Dean manages, and he leans in and licks across her. It's fast enough to let her adjust, slow enough to make her hips jerk. Sam's messy, thorough, and he doesn't tease, just spreads her thighs a little further with his free hand and presses his tongue into her, licking around his fingers. He sucks a mark onto the inside of her thigh, holding her hips down against the bed, and fucks her with his fingers until she can't breathe. Dean can feel her muscles getting tight, starting to close around his fingertips, tense, and Sam pulls back until he's barely inside her, rubbing with the pad of his middle finger, then closes his lips over her clit, flicking his tongue against her, soft breath and almost suction.
Dean comes in slow waves, her whole body going warm, and Sam draws it out, doesn't let her come down until she can't breathe. He backs off and buries his face just beneath her navel, thrusting down against the sheets, and Dean slides her fingers through his hair as he comes, watching his back tense and then relax, until they're both breathing again, warm and sated. Sam doesn't bother to move for a couple minutes, just kissing along the line of her hip, breathing close, but he gets up eventually. Sam brings a warm washcloth back to bed so Dean can clean up, then moves all the goddamned blankets over, to the bed that's closer to the heater and clean. Dean's too tired to fight it when Sam gets an arm beneath her shoulders and the other beneath her knees and lifts her into the other bed, just wraps her arms around his neck and doesn't bother to let go as Sam hits the lights and wraps himself around her. He's warm.
"Now go the hell to sleep," Sam murmurs, drowsy, up against her neck, and Dean's pretty fucking sure she's gonna get revenge for it in the morning, but she's too tired right now.
"Night, Sammy," she manages, and she's out before Sam even finishes rearranging the blankets, close and warm.
So, Sam/girl!Dean, probably the same verse as All Quiet and Heat. I think this verse is affectionately titled, "WAYS IN WHICH SAM KNOCKS DEAN OUT."
This one is slightly less snuggling and slightly more oral sex. W/e! It's all good.
Handled, Sam/Dean, hard R, 1720.
Dean's comfortable upper limit for one day is sixteen hours driving, so by eighteen, she's pretty miserable, and when they stop to stretch their legs at twenty, Sam watches her from up against the car and takes the keys out of her hands when she comes back.
"We're stopping at the next motel," he says, in the sort of tone that Dean wouldn't argue with if even she didn't agree with him.
It takes almost another half an hour, and by the time Sam gets the room key and stops for ice, she's already starting to stiffen up. She's stupid enough to let him see her wince when she slides out of the passenger seat, aching, but he doesn't start bitching about it, just kisses the back of her neck and pushes her away from the trunk with a steady hand spread out against her back.
"Go get in the shower," he says. "I'll get the bags."
Ordinarily, Dean would argue, but she's too goddamned tired, and by some stroke of actual luck - the first all week - the shower actually has a steady supply of hot water that doesn't cut in and out. Dean's staring at the shampoo bottle and trying to work up the energy to wash her hair when Sam slips in behind her. She jumps, mostly out of habit, because she's still not used to him just doing that, and he laughs and wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her back against him. Dean knows seven different ways to make somebody let go of her, and if it was anybody else, she would, mostly because she's really not in the fucking mood to be manhandled, but Sam's not trying anything, not after anything. He's just holding her up.
"Hi," Sam says, still laughing, and reaches for the shampoo to pass it over.
He turns the shower head down until it's right against the back of her neck, hot water all the way down her back, and soaps up his hands, spreading them out over her stomach. Not that she'd admit it, but Dean likes the way he touches her, broad-palmed and steady, face up against the curve of her shoulder. Sam strokes a hand down her side and slides the other up over her breast, fingertips just the right kind of rough.
He backs off just when Dean's starting to wake up. She'd be pissed, but he slides his hands up to her shoulders and manages to push half the tension out of her back with one press of his palms. Sam doesn't throw his weight around, but - even though Dean can still totally fucking take him - he's strong enough to knock her over, no questions asked, and once in a while, he uses it.
"Hold still," Sam says, and presses her up against the wall to dig the heels of his hands into her lower back.
By the time he stops screwing around and just rubs the tension out of her shoulders, Dean's almost half asleep again. She's not even awake enough to bitch about it when Sam pushes her out of the shower and leans out long enough to hand her a towel.
"I'll be out in a minute," he says, ducking back in, and Dean hauls the blankets off the second queen and turns the heat up. She's tired, the kind of exhausted that means getting to sleep isn't going to be easy, and it's fucking irritating, stupid enough that she almost snaps at Sam when he slides into bed behind her, still warm and dripping water, and nuzzles across her shoulder.
"You're wet," Dean says, pointedly, and Sam makes a low noise and wraps a palm around her shoulder to push her down against the bed.
"Jesus, I'm driving tomorrow," he says, amused instead of pissed off, and Dean's about to tell him where he can shove that idea when he leans over and kisses her, warm and distracting.
Sam licks along her bottom lip, then into her mouth, rubbing his thumb back and forth over the curve of her neck for a minute before he fits his palm against her jaw and tilts her face up to deepen the kiss. It's the kind of making out that gets to her, this way of playing dirty Sam usually only pulls in the backseat of her car, heavy on top of her, and Dean can't even fucking say anything about it because Sam's in too close.
"Let it go," Sam murmurs, running his fingers back through her hair, nuzzling down her throat, because he's an asshole. "You're just tired."
Dean's fine, actually, since she's pulled longer days than this, but Sam nudges his nose along her cheek and spreads a hand out against the small of her back, settling in close. It's stupid, the kind of thing she doesn't actually like, but something starts to unwind in the pit of her stomach anyway, and fighting Sam when he wants to cuddle is fucking useless.
"Hey, sweetheart," he murmurs, leaning in to kiss her again, stretching out on top of her. Sam's heavy, the sort of weight Dean can't get out from under, and she's always hated that move, but with Sam, it's okay. With him, it makes her stomach turn over, but Dean's pretty sure that she doesn't have to admit that to him.
"Hey, how about you get off me," Dean says, pushing her weight up into him, and Sam makes that goddamned noise again, somewhere between turned on and entertained.
"Let it go, Dean," he murmurs, and licks beneath her collarbone, down to the hollow of her throat. He moves, enough that she could push him off if she wanted to, and kisses down, nudging his cheek against the curve of her breast. "I'm not going to say anything."
Dean wants to be pissed at him, it's easier, but Sam's good at getting under her skin and it's late. "Maybe," she says, finally, mostly because Sam's nuzzling over her skin in a way that she can feel up and down her spine, that's - not that she's telling him - getting her wet, and when he stops fucking around and drags his tongue over her nipple, she can feel it all over.
"Maybe you should let me knock you out instead," Sam says, licking in slow, wet circles until she can't keep her hips on the bed, pressing up against his stomach.
Dean knows girls who get flushed and all stupidly out of breath when they're this turned on, and she's never been one of those, but Sam makes her warm all over, almost aching for it, and the low, unsatisfied feeling in the pit of her stomach almost makes up for how much of a fucking tease Sam can be.
"Come on," Dean says, too warm and almost embarrassed, because Sam's got a way of seeing her when she's like this, a way of noticing things she's still not sure that she wants him to know.
"Hey," Sam says, again, soft and affectionate, and leans up to kiss her before he slides down.
Sam settles his hands against the inside of her knees, biting across her hipbone, and runs them up her thighs until there's enough room for him. Sometimes, it's still weird - Dean's had a lot of sex, guys in bars and frat boys in dorm rooms and more motel rooms than she can keep track of, but this is personal, the kind of thing most one night stands don't bother with, and it's stupid, that Sam will pick this over half the other things she's offered, that he likes the lights on and the sheets down, that it used to be something she kept track of and now she asks for, if she's drunk enough.
"Shh," Sam says, like he knows she's thinking too hard, and Dean doesn't even fight him on it, mostly because he slides two fingers into her and presses up just right, pulling back a little before he nudges them in deeper. It's intense, good, and Sam makes another soft noise when she lifts her hips into it, pushing into the pressure.
"God, Sammy," Dean manages, and he leans in and licks across her. It's fast enough to let her adjust, slow enough to make her hips jerk. Sam's messy, thorough, and he doesn't tease, just spreads her thighs a little further with his free hand and presses his tongue into her, licking around his fingers. He sucks a mark onto the inside of her thigh, holding her hips down against the bed, and fucks her with his fingers until she can't breathe. Dean can feel her muscles getting tight, starting to close around his fingertips, tense, and Sam pulls back until he's barely inside her, rubbing with the pad of his middle finger, then closes his lips over her clit, flicking his tongue against her, soft breath and almost suction.
Dean comes in slow waves, her whole body going warm, and Sam draws it out, doesn't let her come down until she can't breathe. He backs off and buries his face just beneath her navel, thrusting down against the sheets, and Dean slides her fingers through his hair as he comes, watching his back tense and then relax, until they're both breathing again, warm and sated. Sam doesn't bother to move for a couple minutes, just kissing along the line of her hip, breathing close, but he gets up eventually. Sam brings a warm washcloth back to bed so Dean can clean up, then moves all the goddamned blankets over, to the bed that's closer to the heater and clean. Dean's too tired to fight it when Sam gets an arm beneath her shoulders and the other beneath her knees and lifts her into the other bed, just wraps her arms around his neck and doesn't bother to let go as Sam hits the lights and wraps himself around her. He's warm.
"Now go the hell to sleep," Sam murmurs, drowsy, up against her neck, and Dean's pretty fucking sure she's gonna get revenge for it in the morning, but she's too tired right now.
"Night, Sammy," she manages, and she's out before Sam even finishes rearranging the blankets, close and warm.