Tenth birthday bash - Day 8 - One Shot! - A Very Knotty Problem
A Very Knotty (or Thorny) Problem
for Candygramme 😘
Pairing: Wincest
Rating: PG-13 I think? (Hope!)
Wordcount: 755
Warnings: Werewolf!Sam, Werecat!Dean, fuck or… stay cursed, non-graphic sexual references, silly fluff
When the Winchester boys are cursed by a witch, it's not having sex that's the problem. It's the species-specific genital physiology.
Sam bumped his fist against Dean's spread fingers. "Always with the scissors, Dean!" he smirked.
Dean grinned back. "You sure you wanted to win this time, Sammy?" he asked.
Sam stared, his face a picture of chagrin. "Best of three?" he hedged.
"Yeah, go on then," Dean muttered. They threw again.
"Now you're just deliberately losing," Dean snapped.
"Dude," Sam hissed. "Barbs; are you kidding me? That does not sound like fun."
"Yeah, like taking your gigantor knot is gonna be a walk in the park," Dean groused.
"Well, one of us has got to take one for the team," Sam reminded him. "Witch was pretty specific."
"Unusually specific," Dean agreed. "Graphically; I thought she was gonna start whipping out diagrams!"
"Do I need to draw you a diagram for how this'll go if we don't make with the counterspell?" Sam deadpanned.
"Best of five..?" Dean whined. "They can't be all that bad," he reasoned. "Not like it'd do any good to tear up your mate's insides."
"Dean, have you heard cats mating?" Sam asked, forcefully. "At least dogs enjoy sex."
"Why couldn't she have made me the werewolf?" Dean complained. "You're big enough just going in, let alone when that... thing... starts to inflate. I won't be able to sit down for a week."
"Maybe she took pity on me," Sam mused, "because I couldn't have handled all the pussy jokes you'd have made."
Dean laughed, giving a glimpse of delicately pointed incisors.
"Okay, dog boy, you may have a point," he said. "So c'mon; best of five, or d'you wanna wrestle for it?"
Sam looked him up and down appraisingly. "Might be fairer than carrying on with the rock-paper-scissors," he said, "because you know there's no way you'll beat me at that. So if you think you have a chance getting physical, bring it on, cat girl!"
"Oh, you are so going down..!" Dean practically yowled as he launched himself into the fray.
One thing led to another, wrestling morphing into something more intimate as clothes were shed, and the brothers forgot what they'd been fighting for in the first place.
Turned out, a barbed penis wasn't nearly as bad as it sounded, only a little surprising on withdrawal; and Dean soothed the sting by letting Sam knot him in return.
They kissed lazily as they lay tied together on crumpled sheets.
“There, that’s not so bad, is it?” Sam asked, stroking his hand through Dean’s sweat-dampened hair.
Dean stretched, winced, and wrapped his legs more firmly around Sam’s waist.
“Yeah, I might be able to sit down again in a coupla days,” he admitted, nipping at Sam’s neck. “But it was so worth it.”
“Dean…” Sam asked, after a short, satisfied pause. “Are you purring?”
Dean’s eyes widened, his pupils contracting to slits. “Damn it, that was supposed to reverse the curse!” he snarled.
Once they were able to get up, they went after the witch again.
“Oh, I’m sorry, wasn’t I clear enough?” she cackled. “You’re going to have to do that every night until the full moon. You have just under three weeks; enjoy yourselves, boys!”
Sam and Dean turned as one to look at each other, and shrugged.
“We will,” Dean promised, his eyes softening as he looked fondly at his big (very well endowed) little brother.
“But you won’t,” Sam added just as softly, his eyes never leaving Dean’s face as he took out the gun from inside his jacket and levelled it at the witch.
“Witch killing bullets,” he explained, and Dean finished for him as he mirrored Sam’s actions, “We came prepared this time.”
The witch dissolved into an amorphous puddle of green slime as both bullets hit her, right in the chest. Sam howled and Dean hissed in savage victory.
“You think we have to wait until tonight?” Dean asked thoughtfully, curling his hand into Sam’s collar to drag him down for a bruising kiss.
“I think we should put in some practice,” Sam replied, after a somewhat breathless interval. “We don’t want to get it wrong and be stuck this way forever.”
“Nope,” Dean concurred, nuzzling at the hollow of Sam’s throat. “I’m just aiming to be stuck to you for twenty minutes or so.”
They went back to their motel, and the landlord never could work out the source of all the animal noises that drifted through the walls over the next few weeks.
“Damn weirdos,” he muttered to himself, “watching National Geographic. Why can’t they cable porn like everybody else?”
for Candygramme 😘
Pairing: Wincest
Rating: PG-13 I think? (Hope!)
Wordcount: 755
Warnings: Werewolf!Sam, Werecat!Dean, fuck or… stay cursed, non-graphic sexual references, silly fluff
When the Winchester boys are cursed by a witch, it's not having sex that's the problem. It's the species-specific genital physiology.
Sam bumped his fist against Dean's spread fingers. "Always with the scissors, Dean!" he smirked.
Dean grinned back. "You sure you wanted to win this time, Sammy?" he asked.
Sam stared, his face a picture of chagrin. "Best of three?" he hedged.
"Yeah, go on then," Dean muttered. They threw again.
"Now you're just deliberately losing," Dean snapped.
"Dude," Sam hissed. "Barbs; are you kidding me? That does not sound like fun."
"Yeah, like taking your gigantor knot is gonna be a walk in the park," Dean groused.
"Well, one of us has got to take one for the team," Sam reminded him. "Witch was pretty specific."
"Unusually specific," Dean agreed. "Graphically; I thought she was gonna start whipping out diagrams!"
"Do I need to draw you a diagram for how this'll go if we don't make with the counterspell?" Sam deadpanned.
"Best of five..?" Dean whined. "They can't be all that bad," he reasoned. "Not like it'd do any good to tear up your mate's insides."
"Dean, have you heard cats mating?" Sam asked, forcefully. "At least dogs enjoy sex."
"Why couldn't she have made me the werewolf?" Dean complained. "You're big enough just going in, let alone when that... thing... starts to inflate. I won't be able to sit down for a week."
"Maybe she took pity on me," Sam mused, "because I couldn't have handled all the pussy jokes you'd have made."
Dean laughed, giving a glimpse of delicately pointed incisors.
"Okay, dog boy, you may have a point," he said. "So c'mon; best of five, or d'you wanna wrestle for it?"
Sam looked him up and down appraisingly. "Might be fairer than carrying on with the rock-paper-scissors," he said, "because you know there's no way you'll beat me at that. So if you think you have a chance getting physical, bring it on, cat girl!"
"Oh, you are so going down..!" Dean practically yowled as he launched himself into the fray.
One thing led to another, wrestling morphing into something more intimate as clothes were shed, and the brothers forgot what they'd been fighting for in the first place.
Turned out, a barbed penis wasn't nearly as bad as it sounded, only a little surprising on withdrawal; and Dean soothed the sting by letting Sam knot him in return.
They kissed lazily as they lay tied together on crumpled sheets.
“There, that’s not so bad, is it?” Sam asked, stroking his hand through Dean’s sweat-dampened hair.
Dean stretched, winced, and wrapped his legs more firmly around Sam’s waist.
“Yeah, I might be able to sit down again in a coupla days,” he admitted, nipping at Sam’s neck. “But it was so worth it.”
“Dean…” Sam asked, after a short, satisfied pause. “Are you purring?”
Dean’s eyes widened, his pupils contracting to slits. “Damn it, that was supposed to reverse the curse!” he snarled.
Once they were able to get up, they went after the witch again.
“Oh, I’m sorry, wasn’t I clear enough?” she cackled. “You’re going to have to do that every night until the full moon. You have just under three weeks; enjoy yourselves, boys!”
Sam and Dean turned as one to look at each other, and shrugged.
“We will,” Dean promised, his eyes softening as he looked fondly at his big (very well endowed) little brother.
“But you won’t,” Sam added just as softly, his eyes never leaving Dean’s face as he took out the gun from inside his jacket and levelled it at the witch.
“Witch killing bullets,” he explained, and Dean finished for him as he mirrored Sam’s actions, “We came prepared this time.”
The witch dissolved into an amorphous puddle of green slime as both bullets hit her, right in the chest. Sam howled and Dean hissed in savage victory.
“You think we have to wait until tonight?” Dean asked thoughtfully, curling his hand into Sam’s collar to drag him down for a bruising kiss.
“I think we should put in some practice,” Sam replied, after a somewhat breathless interval. “We don’t want to get it wrong and be stuck this way forever.”
“Nope,” Dean concurred, nuzzling at the hollow of Sam’s throat. “I’m just aiming to be stuck to you for twenty minutes or so.”
They went back to their motel, and the landlord never could work out the source of all the animal noises that drifted through the walls over the next few weeks.
“Damn weirdos,” he muttered to himself, “watching National Geographic. Why can’t they cable porn like everybody else?”