Company Ink; Pineapple Express[Dean/Saul]
Originally for
jacksbonnylass- she wanted Dean/Saul, I gave her Dean/Saul. XD Blame the Josie.
Title//Company Ink
Rating//R, methinks
Warning//PWP; scenes of a sexual nature
There were only a couple of flaws to smoking pot, Dean liked to think. He usually overlooked them like the harmless flaws in a best friend- it was just who they were. Besides, marijuana made everything better, he philosophized. Music, jobs, food, movies, sex. Sex. That was what he was leading up to now, if he'd read the signals right. God, he hoped he had read the signals right.
His hangouts with Saul always started out the same- the traditional lighting of the joint. Fulfilling this part to the T, they had proceeded to lounge on Saul's couch, mute his two televisions, and turn on his Sirius radio (which he was ridiculously fond of). This one started out just the same.
"Hey man, this is the last of Pineapple Express- I feel like I'm murdering a panda bear or something." Saul explained before coughing loudly. "And like, the last panda bear too."
Dean eyed the joint before inhaling from it deeply. "I know what you mean."
Saul smiled lazily, his glazed eyes glistening. "Dude, this is the stuff that made us BFFLs."
Dean chuckled at the childish acronym. "I know. Kinda crazy, huh?"
Saul nodded sagely. "Indeed."
They sat in silence, letting the drugs take effect. After a while, Saul leaned over, resting his head on Dean's shoulder. Dean gave him a wary look.
"What are you doing?"
"You're like, the awesomest thing that's ever happened to me." Saul told him. "Like, company ink, man. Company ink."
Dean had little to no idea what exactly Saul was going on about. However, his drug-addled brain did compute that Saul's face was inches from his own, and that his body was reacting so not the way it should be, with his heart rate accelerating, and the room temperature rising.
He felt he was the least responsible party in what occurred next, even though he was the one to initiate it.
Saul was practically telling him to do it, with his partly hooded eyes, his smile that basically said 'go ahead man, it's your move'. Dean was pretty sure they had developed telepathy unconsciously. He slammed his eyes shut as he pressed his lips again Saul's grin, marvelling when Saul actually kissed back.
"Mhmph," was all Dean could say when Saul planted his hands on either side of his head, deepening the kiss. It was shocking how this had transpired so quickly. Dean's eyes snapped open when he felt Saul's tongue slide across his lower lip, jaw slackening due mostly to surprise. What the fuck? Why was Saul good at this? He felt Saul's tongue slip languidly into his mouth. Dean realized he wasn't really contributing anything as his own tongue danced alongside Saul's, his hands resting in his lap. Saul soon fixed this as he slung a leg across Dean's lap, righting himself so he was seated there and moving his hands up into Dean's curly brown hair. Dean's hands moved to Saul's waist, but didn't remain there as Dean ran his hands up the dealer's chest, the soft fabric of his worn t-shirt cool. Saul pulled away, Dean leaning forward to keep the kiss going until he could go no further.
"What're you...?" He started to ask, before he saw Saul's hand reach for the hem of his own shirt, lifting it over his head and almost falling off Dean into the coffee table in the process had Dean not steadied him, gripping his waist.
"Thanks, man," Saul grinned down at Dean. Dean swallowed. How was he so gay for this man?
"You should take off your shirt too. That way, it'll be even." Saul reached for the buttons on the other's shirt- Dean had just gotten off work- clumsily fumbling with them. After he finally managed to get Dean's shirt off, removing his undershirt was a breeze.
"Damn man, so many little buttons." He mumbled before attaching his mouth to Dean's neck, fingers lingering down the other's torso before reaching his belt buckle.
He-hey now," came Dean's weak protest, though, really, it was just as effective as a 'go ahead', his own hands reaching for the button on Saul's dark denim jeans. He felt more than heard Saul's smirk against his neck, the stoner's breath puffing out his nose in a short burst. Dean knew he was about to say something else, but anything that even vaguely resembled thought dissipated as lithe fingers wrapped around his cock.
"Jesus," he breathed, head rolling back to rest on the back of the couch. Saul found a steady rhythm as Dean found his mouth again, sloppy kisses turning sloppier as he reached into Saul's jeans and began to return to favour.
"I love you, man," Saul murmured against his lips, and the small sane part of Dean's brain had to wonder how Saul could throw around seriously cheesy lines seriously and seriously serious lines like they were nothing.
Dean was close, and he assumed, by the increase in intermittent breathy moans, Saul was too. He felt like he should mention this, but by then he was already there, coming with a groan into Saul's fist, his hand speeding up so Saul could join him in the ecstasy that was overtaking his body. It worked, and Saul came with a short cry, resting his forehead on Dean's shoulder.
Regaining his breath, Saul managed to come up with a, "that was awesome", lifting his head and grabbing his t-shirt, wiping his hands with it and offering it to Dean to do the same. Saul picked himself up off of Dean, standing on slightly unstable legs and doing up his jeans as he wandered into his room with the dirty t-shirt and came out with a clean one moments later.
Dean also stood, throwing on the abandoned shirt he had worn underneath his work shirt, hastily doing up his pants and belt, and feeling extremely awkward.
Ever oblivious, Saul just grinned, lit up another joint that he had procured from god knows where, and said, "that was fun. Do you want pancakes or something?"
Dean frowned in confusion. "What? Pancakes? Saul, it's like, 6.30 in the evening."
As an illogical conversation about why pancakes would be an appropriate meal took place, the awkwardness Dean felt faded, disappearing as he took the joint from Saul's grasp and inhaled.
jacksbonnylass- she wanted Dean/Saul, I gave her Dean/Saul. XD Blame the Josie.
Title//Company Ink
Rating//R, methinks
Warning//PWP; scenes of a sexual nature
There were only a couple of flaws to smoking pot, Dean liked to think. He usually overlooked them like the harmless flaws in a best friend- it was just who they were. Besides, marijuana made everything better, he philosophized. Music, jobs, food, movies, sex. Sex. That was what he was leading up to now, if he'd read the signals right. God, he hoped he had read the signals right.
His hangouts with Saul always started out the same- the traditional lighting of the joint. Fulfilling this part to the T, they had proceeded to lounge on Saul's couch, mute his two televisions, and turn on his Sirius radio (which he was ridiculously fond of). This one started out just the same.
"Hey man, this is the last of Pineapple Express- I feel like I'm murdering a panda bear or something." Saul explained before coughing loudly. "And like, the last panda bear too."
Dean eyed the joint before inhaling from it deeply. "I know what you mean."
Saul smiled lazily, his glazed eyes glistening. "Dude, this is the stuff that made us BFFLs."
Dean chuckled at the childish acronym. "I know. Kinda crazy, huh?"
Saul nodded sagely. "Indeed."
They sat in silence, letting the drugs take effect. After a while, Saul leaned over, resting his head on Dean's shoulder. Dean gave him a wary look.
"What are you doing?"
"You're like, the awesomest thing that's ever happened to me." Saul told him. "Like, company ink, man. Company ink."
Dean had little to no idea what exactly Saul was going on about. However, his drug-addled brain did compute that Saul's face was inches from his own, and that his body was reacting so not the way it should be, with his heart rate accelerating, and the room temperature rising.
He felt he was the least responsible party in what occurred next, even though he was the one to initiate it.
Saul was practically telling him to do it, with his partly hooded eyes, his smile that basically said 'go ahead man, it's your move'. Dean was pretty sure they had developed telepathy unconsciously. He slammed his eyes shut as he pressed his lips again Saul's grin, marvelling when Saul actually kissed back.
"Mhmph," was all Dean could say when Saul planted his hands on either side of his head, deepening the kiss. It was shocking how this had transpired so quickly. Dean's eyes snapped open when he felt Saul's tongue slide across his lower lip, jaw slackening due mostly to surprise. What the fuck? Why was Saul good at this? He felt Saul's tongue slip languidly into his mouth. Dean realized he wasn't really contributing anything as his own tongue danced alongside Saul's, his hands resting in his lap. Saul soon fixed this as he slung a leg across Dean's lap, righting himself so he was seated there and moving his hands up into Dean's curly brown hair. Dean's hands moved to Saul's waist, but didn't remain there as Dean ran his hands up the dealer's chest, the soft fabric of his worn t-shirt cool. Saul pulled away, Dean leaning forward to keep the kiss going until he could go no further.
"What're you...?" He started to ask, before he saw Saul's hand reach for the hem of his own shirt, lifting it over his head and almost falling off Dean into the coffee table in the process had Dean not steadied him, gripping his waist.
"Thanks, man," Saul grinned down at Dean. Dean swallowed. How was he so gay for this man?
"You should take off your shirt too. That way, it'll be even." Saul reached for the buttons on the other's shirt- Dean had just gotten off work- clumsily fumbling with them. After he finally managed to get Dean's shirt off, removing his undershirt was a breeze.
"Damn man, so many little buttons." He mumbled before attaching his mouth to Dean's neck, fingers lingering down the other's torso before reaching his belt buckle.
He-hey now," came Dean's weak protest, though, really, it was just as effective as a 'go ahead', his own hands reaching for the button on Saul's dark denim jeans. He felt more than heard Saul's smirk against his neck, the stoner's breath puffing out his nose in a short burst. Dean knew he was about to say something else, but anything that even vaguely resembled thought dissipated as lithe fingers wrapped around his cock.
"Jesus," he breathed, head rolling back to rest on the back of the couch. Saul found a steady rhythm as Dean found his mouth again, sloppy kisses turning sloppier as he reached into Saul's jeans and began to return to favour.
"I love you, man," Saul murmured against his lips, and the small sane part of Dean's brain had to wonder how Saul could throw around seriously cheesy lines seriously and seriously serious lines like they were nothing.
Dean was close, and he assumed, by the increase in intermittent breathy moans, Saul was too. He felt like he should mention this, but by then he was already there, coming with a groan into Saul's fist, his hand speeding up so Saul could join him in the ecstasy that was overtaking his body. It worked, and Saul came with a short cry, resting his forehead on Dean's shoulder.
Regaining his breath, Saul managed to come up with a, "that was awesome", lifting his head and grabbing his t-shirt, wiping his hands with it and offering it to Dean to do the same. Saul picked himself up off of Dean, standing on slightly unstable legs and doing up his jeans as he wandered into his room with the dirty t-shirt and came out with a clean one moments later.
Dean also stood, throwing on the abandoned shirt he had worn underneath his work shirt, hastily doing up his pants and belt, and feeling extremely awkward.
Ever oblivious, Saul just grinned, lit up another joint that he had procured from god knows where, and said, "that was fun. Do you want pancakes or something?"
Dean frowned in confusion. "What? Pancakes? Saul, it's like, 6.30 in the evening."
As an illogical conversation about why pancakes would be an appropriate meal took place, the awkwardness Dean felt faded, disappearing as he took the joint from Saul's grasp and inhaled.