FIC: Alternate Lubrication
Title: Alternate Lubrication
Author: deceptivemirror
Rating: R (for sexy times, grossness, and some crude speaking)
Genre: Wincest (I have crossed to the dark side for this)
Characters: Sam and Dean
Summary: When it comes to personal health, people really shouldn't believe everything they read.
Author's note: clearly, this has become a 'verse. Henceforth, this is the second installment of the Anti-Trope 'verse, which was preceded by (but not otherwise related to) Healing Cock of Love. You all may once again thank keep_waking_up as the enabler of these stories, as we were discussing yet another unbelievable plot device that gets used a bit too often for my (and obviously the boys') comfort.
Flickering street lights through a partially-open hotel window lit the dark room, highlighting the intertwined bodies on the bed furthest from the door. The hotel room itself faced away from the road and was tucked into the furthest corner of the L-shaped complex, affording the occupants a privacy that the frontmost rooms simply did not offer. The lighting softened the cracks in the walls and the scuffs in the doorframe, and made the poor-quality table and poorer-quality beds seem more luxurious than they actually were. Except for punctuated sounds of pleasure, the room was silent.
That state did not last for long.
“Sam?” Dean asked huskily. “You going to give it to me or not?”
Sam was nearly beyond speech, but he was capable of nodding, so he nodded. A lot. He took a deep breath. “Where's the lube?”
There was a momentary pause, and the room got silent. Then, Dean said faintly, “lube? What lube?”
Sam couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. “You know, the slippy-slide stuff that makes it possible for two guys to actually have cock-in-ass sex?” If it weren't for the arousal currently thrumming through his body and centering on his very needy dick, Sam would have rolled his eyes.
Sam rolled his eyes anyway. Some situations just called for it.
“Not like I've done this with a guy before you,” Dean muttered, sounding somewhat put-out.
“Oh, and all the girls you've fucked have magically been wet enough after five minutes of foreplay to just take you?” Sam looked pointedly at Dean's dick, which was impressive, and then up at Dean's flushed and panting face. “I don't doubt your skills in the sex department, Dean, but all the foreplay in the world isn't going to make either of us wet enough to take a cock.”
Dean looked to be actively considering something, and he looked around the room.
Sam felt himself start to deflate from his sex-high. He knew that look. No matter how turned on Sam might be, no matter how badly he wanted Dean to make him orgasm, that damn look never failed to scare him into impotence.
“Dean?” Sam asked tentatively, trying to get things back to a happy intimacy. “What are you looking for?”
“How clean's the knife under the pillow?” Dean asked Sam.
The non sequitur threw Sam for a loop, and whatever leftover arousal he had had going before the lube question had come up instantly disappeared. “What does my knife have to do with sex?” Sam demanded, trying to keep his voice from squeaking in fear.
“Well, blood could work, right?”
Sam's penis was increasingly unhappy with the turn this conversation was taking, and was currently trying to crawl inside Sam's abdominal cavity. Sam himself was fairly sure he was never going to try and have sex with Dean again until that look left his face.
“Blood,” Sam said flatly, scrambling carefully out from under Dean. He didn't fail to notice that Dean's erection hadn't flagged a bit from the talking. Despite himself, Sam was impressed; that kind of dedication took skill. “You want to put blood on your cock and then get me wet with it.”
Sam was not asking a question. He was, however, trying to determine if Dean was being serious.
“Well, it's wet, slippery, and pretty much what we've got,” Dean said with a shrug. Even though he'd lost interest in the proceedings, Sam couldn't help looking at the way that movement made the muscles in Dean's shoulders and chest ripple.
“There's saliva too,” Sam said, even though he was less than thrilled with that option. It'd involve mouths....and asses....and he really didn't like that idea much, but it was wet, slick and should hopefully do the job.
It was Dean's turn to look at Sam like something wasn't right. “Dude, have you tried using spit to slick someone up? It dries up faster than a person can slobber it out, it gets tacky when it's dry and it just doesn't work!”
“And you think blood would actually work better?” Sam asked skeptically. “It's made to clot! It's supposed to get sticky, and then it clumps up! There's also the fact that you'd have to bleed quite a bit before there was even enough blood to use!” Sam shook his head and looked at Dean like he was crazy. “Not to mention the whole thing about putting blood in my ass!”
“We're brothers,” Dean reminded him. “Not like we don't share a whole hell of a lot more tha--”
He cut himself off, looking faintly green. Sam absently noted that Dean's erection flagged a bit with that statement, but valiantly surged back into being not a moment or two later.
Interesting trick. When Sam wasn't trying to set aside the weirdness of this entire situation, he would have to remember to ask for pointers in staying erect no matter the subject.
“Right,” Sam said, coughing awkwardly. “So, no blood, and no spit. Those won't work.”
“Jizz?” Dean asked hopefully. “If you got me off, or I got you--” He looked down at that point and apparently realized that Sam's dick wasn't in the game anymore, then sighed. “Okay, if you got me off, you could use that on my ass.”
“Dean,” Sam said wearily, leaning back against the cheap bed-frame and dry-scrubbing his face with his hands, "does your jizz stay wet for long after it comes out of you?”
Dean thought for a moment, then scowled, let himself fall back onto his haunches, then sat on the bed. A muffled, frustrated grunt came out of him before he stood up and went for his jeans.
“Dean?” Sam asked, scooting closer to the edge of the bed. “Where are you going?”
Sam was oddly pleased to see that Dean's erection had finally gone away, but his soft cock looked strange against the unzipped denim of Dean's pants.
“The damn drugstore to get lube,” Dean answered, tucking himself in and zipping up. “So much for adding some spontaneity to our sex life, huh?”
Dean sounded so disgruntled that Sam couldn't help but smile a bit, even though he was also disappointed with the situation. Had things worked out properly with proper lubrication, they might finally have gone all the way tonight.
“Spontaneity's fine, Dean,” Sam assured him, getting up to give Dean a hug, feeling oddly chaste despite their earlier activity. “I just don't think that spontaneous lube substitutes should be part of it.”
Dean chuckled a bit against Sam's collarbone, wrapping his arms around Sam's waist. “Wouldn't be the best way to make the acquaintance of the local ER docs, would it?”
It was Sam's turn to laugh. “Not even a bit.” Releasing Dean, he gave him a gentle shove toward the door. “Now go get the fun stuff, jerk.”
“Back soon, bitch,” Dean said jauntily as he grabbed his t-shirt from the other bed and tugged it on.
As Dean exited the room, Sam thought he heard him mutter something about this being the last time he trusted something he read on the Internet, but he wasn't sure.
Last time Sam would trust something on the Internet too. Whoever said that saliva would be an awesome lube clearly hadn't tried it themselves. That did beg the question, though, of whoever had actually tried blood.
Sam shivered and got under the covers. People on the Internet were scary.
Author: deceptivemirror
Rating: R (for sexy times, grossness, and some crude speaking)
Genre: Wincest (I have crossed to the dark side for this)
Characters: Sam and Dean
Summary: When it comes to personal health, people really shouldn't believe everything they read.
Author's note: clearly, this has become a 'verse. Henceforth, this is the second installment of the Anti-Trope 'verse, which was preceded by (but not otherwise related to) Healing Cock of Love. You all may once again thank keep_waking_up as the enabler of these stories, as we were discussing yet another unbelievable plot device that gets used a bit too often for my (and obviously the boys') comfort.
Flickering street lights through a partially-open hotel window lit the dark room, highlighting the intertwined bodies on the bed furthest from the door. The hotel room itself faced away from the road and was tucked into the furthest corner of the L-shaped complex, affording the occupants a privacy that the frontmost rooms simply did not offer. The lighting softened the cracks in the walls and the scuffs in the doorframe, and made the poor-quality table and poorer-quality beds seem more luxurious than they actually were. Except for punctuated sounds of pleasure, the room was silent.
That state did not last for long.
“Sam?” Dean asked huskily. “You going to give it to me or not?”
Sam was nearly beyond speech, but he was capable of nodding, so he nodded. A lot. He took a deep breath. “Where's the lube?”
There was a momentary pause, and the room got silent. Then, Dean said faintly, “lube? What lube?”
Sam couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. “You know, the slippy-slide stuff that makes it possible for two guys to actually have cock-in-ass sex?” If it weren't for the arousal currently thrumming through his body and centering on his very needy dick, Sam would have rolled his eyes.
Sam rolled his eyes anyway. Some situations just called for it.
“Not like I've done this with a guy before you,” Dean muttered, sounding somewhat put-out.
“Oh, and all the girls you've fucked have magically been wet enough after five minutes of foreplay to just take you?” Sam looked pointedly at Dean's dick, which was impressive, and then up at Dean's flushed and panting face. “I don't doubt your skills in the sex department, Dean, but all the foreplay in the world isn't going to make either of us wet enough to take a cock.”
Dean looked to be actively considering something, and he looked around the room.
Sam felt himself start to deflate from his sex-high. He knew that look. No matter how turned on Sam might be, no matter how badly he wanted Dean to make him orgasm, that damn look never failed to scare him into impotence.
“Dean?” Sam asked tentatively, trying to get things back to a happy intimacy. “What are you looking for?”
“How clean's the knife under the pillow?” Dean asked Sam.
The non sequitur threw Sam for a loop, and whatever leftover arousal he had had going before the lube question had come up instantly disappeared. “What does my knife have to do with sex?” Sam demanded, trying to keep his voice from squeaking in fear.
“Well, blood could work, right?”
Sam's penis was increasingly unhappy with the turn this conversation was taking, and was currently trying to crawl inside Sam's abdominal cavity. Sam himself was fairly sure he was never going to try and have sex with Dean again until that look left his face.
“Blood,” Sam said flatly, scrambling carefully out from under Dean. He didn't fail to notice that Dean's erection hadn't flagged a bit from the talking. Despite himself, Sam was impressed; that kind of dedication took skill. “You want to put blood on your cock and then get me wet with it.”
Sam was not asking a question. He was, however, trying to determine if Dean was being serious.
“Well, it's wet, slippery, and pretty much what we've got,” Dean said with a shrug. Even though he'd lost interest in the proceedings, Sam couldn't help looking at the way that movement made the muscles in Dean's shoulders and chest ripple.
“There's saliva too,” Sam said, even though he was less than thrilled with that option. It'd involve mouths....and asses....and he really didn't like that idea much, but it was wet, slick and should hopefully do the job.
It was Dean's turn to look at Sam like something wasn't right. “Dude, have you tried using spit to slick someone up? It dries up faster than a person can slobber it out, it gets tacky when it's dry and it just doesn't work!”
“And you think blood would actually work better?” Sam asked skeptically. “It's made to clot! It's supposed to get sticky, and then it clumps up! There's also the fact that you'd have to bleed quite a bit before there was even enough blood to use!” Sam shook his head and looked at Dean like he was crazy. “Not to mention the whole thing about putting blood in my ass!”
“We're brothers,” Dean reminded him. “Not like we don't share a whole hell of a lot more tha--”
He cut himself off, looking faintly green. Sam absently noted that Dean's erection flagged a bit with that statement, but valiantly surged back into being not a moment or two later.
Interesting trick. When Sam wasn't trying to set aside the weirdness of this entire situation, he would have to remember to ask for pointers in staying erect no matter the subject.
“Right,” Sam said, coughing awkwardly. “So, no blood, and no spit. Those won't work.”
“Jizz?” Dean asked hopefully. “If you got me off, or I got you--” He looked down at that point and apparently realized that Sam's dick wasn't in the game anymore, then sighed. “Okay, if you got me off, you could use that on my ass.”
“Dean,” Sam said wearily, leaning back against the cheap bed-frame and dry-scrubbing his face with his hands, "does your jizz stay wet for long after it comes out of you?”
Dean thought for a moment, then scowled, let himself fall back onto his haunches, then sat on the bed. A muffled, frustrated grunt came out of him before he stood up and went for his jeans.
“Dean?” Sam asked, scooting closer to the edge of the bed. “Where are you going?”
Sam was oddly pleased to see that Dean's erection had finally gone away, but his soft cock looked strange against the unzipped denim of Dean's pants.
“The damn drugstore to get lube,” Dean answered, tucking himself in and zipping up. “So much for adding some spontaneity to our sex life, huh?”
Dean sounded so disgruntled that Sam couldn't help but smile a bit, even though he was also disappointed with the situation. Had things worked out properly with proper lubrication, they might finally have gone all the way tonight.
“Spontaneity's fine, Dean,” Sam assured him, getting up to give Dean a hug, feeling oddly chaste despite their earlier activity. “I just don't think that spontaneous lube substitutes should be part of it.”
Dean chuckled a bit against Sam's collarbone, wrapping his arms around Sam's waist. “Wouldn't be the best way to make the acquaintance of the local ER docs, would it?”
It was Sam's turn to laugh. “Not even a bit.” Releasing Dean, he gave him a gentle shove toward the door. “Now go get the fun stuff, jerk.”
“Back soon, bitch,” Dean said jauntily as he grabbed his t-shirt from the other bed and tugged it on.
As Dean exited the room, Sam thought he heard him mutter something about this being the last time he trusted something he read on the Internet, but he wasn't sure.
Last time Sam would trust something on the Internet too. Whoever said that saliva would be an awesome lube clearly hadn't tried it themselves. That did beg the question, though, of whoever had actually tried blood.
Sam shivered and got under the covers. People on the Internet were scary.