Ficlets: 'Appetizer' (Sam/Dean; PG-13) & 'Too Long Since' (Jared/Jensen; R)
First: new Jensen interview. His porn star name is Pudgy Midway. ...YOU GUYS. *hand gestures* freaking FANDOM. It's a good interview as there's new info and not the same type of "oh, do you both get along?" (answer: No, we hate each other, that's why Jensen lets Jared hump him with his leg) or "so, you've got long hours, huh?" (answer: what, we're the main actors on a TV show? No, we only work twice a week! For three hours! One hour spent 'preparing' in the trailer. Union rules.)
I have ficlet-ed recently. Kinks are fun -- I think I'll be signing up for spn_holidays soon, once I can figure out requests that aren't entirely full of kinks.
For arabella_hope Appetizer
Sam/Dean (PG-13) -- set post-AHBL
(Original thread here)
Dean likes pot pie more than he should-more than humanly possible, says Sam, staring and scrunching his face at Dean wolfing down one-and he’s got his reasons. You got pie. You got meat. And they’re both together, “there’s nothing wrong with that,” Dean responds.
Sam would agree any other time; Sam’s always been a picky eater, yeah, but you don’t get that freakishly tall and thicker after two years outta college by sticking to vegetables and frappé-whatever-the-fuck-cappuccino coffee shit. It’s just that he doesn’t take as much joy in it as Dean does, which huh, his loss.
Dinners, the whole nine yards, that? They’re few and far in between and there’s too many times he’s microwaving, or junk food, or diners but man, pot pie. That stirs something deep in his gut, all warm, makes him feel good, silly as it is. Like a family meal, that stereotype of ‘grandma’s apple pie’ (goes hand in hand with the white picket fence and dream of a life he could never own).
There’s a whole bunch of flavors playing on his tongue with each bite. The taste never gets old, got one year and only so much to eat, to savor, only so many times he’s here, good, with his brother.
He tells Sam as much-only without the touchy feely junk-but Sam’s kicking him under the table after glancing left and right around the diner, “Yeah, I don’t see how your explanation will be good enough when you’re acting so freakin’ noisy about it.”
Dean pushes the empty plate away and rubs his belly. “That was good.”
“I’m so glad,” Sam mutters. “Can we go?”
“I’m still hungry,” Dean says, and Sam’s eyebrows go up to his hairline-but he say a word when Dean’s licking a trail down his belly, later, says he’s in the mood for something else to eat, eyes half-lidded, bites his tongue when he slips down between Sam’s legs.
The pot pie? Now that’s just an appetizer before the main course.
For kashmir1 Too Long Since
Jared/Jensen (R) - future!fic
(Original thread here)
“Been fucking days,” Jared had said, breathless, words spilling out, caught halfway in his throat when he shoves his mouth against Jensen’s, grinds his hips against him. Doesn’t mind they’re in the hallway with picture frames of them grinning like loons at parties and get togethers over the years.
That the setting is this, with laundry peeking out of the bathroom hamper and the living room is a mess with dog toys and scattered junk, and clothes, and video games because Jared’s got a short attention span.
Jensen grunts, shifts his weight from one foot to the other, thigh going between Jared’s legs. He’s tired, dark circles under his eyes and cigarettes on his breath. And he doesn’t push Jared away, too tired to offer a response that doesn’t involve his mouth and his hands tugging at the waistband of Jared’s boxers, fingers, hands snug around the slightly softer angles of Jared’s hips.
Jared’ll push Jensen’s jacket off and give him shit about working long hours, hypocritical as it might be-took the summer off, Jensen didn’t, slow burn of a drama movie that’s exhausting but worth it-‘cause they’re getting older now, and-
“Fuck, Jared, give me-wait, wait-” he says, when they’re stumbling, bedroom light catches on Jensen’s face, light in his eyes and a shine on graying temples. They fumble, and they trip, but they’re at the bed soon enough, take longer than Jared remembers to strip off clothing, aches and pains they’re getting used to.
Jared’s talking against the skin and bend of Jensen’s throat, his shoulder and chest, tells him what he’s done for the day, for vacation, tells him how he’s gonna fuck him, like this, like that, make up for lost time. Different ways, too, and he’s kinda resisting the urge to fuck Jensen right this second, getting lidded eyes in return, that look on Jensen’s face after nearly twenty years that Jared nearly fucking loses control over, the hell.
They can’t quite find the perfect rhythm, fumbling, aching, needy. Can’t try this or that right now, but it works, tonight, it’s all right.
Jensen falls into a dead sleep after, leg intertwined with Jared’s, Jared’s hand around his waist, squeezing. Their schedules still suck hard sometimes, but even if Jensen happens to snore and maybe drool a little, he’s here, and Jared’s okay with that.
Trufax #1: Dean/Food™. *pets 3x01* ...eeeee!
Trufax #2: If I wrote Jared/Jensen more, I'd write future!fic/Older!J2 ALL THE TIME. *loves it like BURNING*
I have ficlet-ed recently. Kinks are fun -- I think I'll be signing up for spn_holidays soon, once I can figure out requests that aren't entirely full of kinks.
For arabella_hope Appetizer
Sam/Dean (PG-13) -- set post-AHBL
(Original thread here)
Dean likes pot pie more than he should-more than humanly possible, says Sam, staring and scrunching his face at Dean wolfing down one-and he’s got his reasons. You got pie. You got meat. And they’re both together, “there’s nothing wrong with that,” Dean responds.
Sam would agree any other time; Sam’s always been a picky eater, yeah, but you don’t get that freakishly tall and thicker after two years outta college by sticking to vegetables and frappé-whatever-the-fuck-cappuccino coffee shit. It’s just that he doesn’t take as much joy in it as Dean does, which huh, his loss.
Dinners, the whole nine yards, that? They’re few and far in between and there’s too many times he’s microwaving, or junk food, or diners but man, pot pie. That stirs something deep in his gut, all warm, makes him feel good, silly as it is. Like a family meal, that stereotype of ‘grandma’s apple pie’ (goes hand in hand with the white picket fence and dream of a life he could never own).
There’s a whole bunch of flavors playing on his tongue with each bite. The taste never gets old, got one year and only so much to eat, to savor, only so many times he’s here, good, with his brother.
He tells Sam as much-only without the touchy feely junk-but Sam’s kicking him under the table after glancing left and right around the diner, “Yeah, I don’t see how your explanation will be good enough when you’re acting so freakin’ noisy about it.”
Dean pushes the empty plate away and rubs his belly. “That was good.”
“I’m so glad,” Sam mutters. “Can we go?”
“I’m still hungry,” Dean says, and Sam’s eyebrows go up to his hairline-but he say a word when Dean’s licking a trail down his belly, later, says he’s in the mood for something else to eat, eyes half-lidded, bites his tongue when he slips down between Sam’s legs.
The pot pie? Now that’s just an appetizer before the main course.
For kashmir1 Too Long Since
Jared/Jensen (R) - future!fic
(Original thread here)
“Been fucking days,” Jared had said, breathless, words spilling out, caught halfway in his throat when he shoves his mouth against Jensen’s, grinds his hips against him. Doesn’t mind they’re in the hallway with picture frames of them grinning like loons at parties and get togethers over the years.
That the setting is this, with laundry peeking out of the bathroom hamper and the living room is a mess with dog toys and scattered junk, and clothes, and video games because Jared’s got a short attention span.
Jensen grunts, shifts his weight from one foot to the other, thigh going between Jared’s legs. He’s tired, dark circles under his eyes and cigarettes on his breath. And he doesn’t push Jared away, too tired to offer a response that doesn’t involve his mouth and his hands tugging at the waistband of Jared’s boxers, fingers, hands snug around the slightly softer angles of Jared’s hips.
Jared’ll push Jensen’s jacket off and give him shit about working long hours, hypocritical as it might be-took the summer off, Jensen didn’t, slow burn of a drama movie that’s exhausting but worth it-‘cause they’re getting older now, and-
“Fuck, Jared, give me-wait, wait-” he says, when they’re stumbling, bedroom light catches on Jensen’s face, light in his eyes and a shine on graying temples. They fumble, and they trip, but they’re at the bed soon enough, take longer than Jared remembers to strip off clothing, aches and pains they’re getting used to.
Jared’s talking against the skin and bend of Jensen’s throat, his shoulder and chest, tells him what he’s done for the day, for vacation, tells him how he’s gonna fuck him, like this, like that, make up for lost time. Different ways, too, and he’s kinda resisting the urge to fuck Jensen right this second, getting lidded eyes in return, that look on Jensen’s face after nearly twenty years that Jared nearly fucking loses control over, the hell.
They can’t quite find the perfect rhythm, fumbling, aching, needy. Can’t try this or that right now, but it works, tonight, it’s all right.
Jensen falls into a dead sleep after, leg intertwined with Jared’s, Jared’s hand around his waist, squeezing. Their schedules still suck hard sometimes, but even if Jensen happens to snore and maybe drool a little, he’s here, and Jared’s okay with that.
Trufax #1: Dean/Food™. *pets 3x01* ...eeeee!
Trufax #2: If I wrote Jared/Jensen more, I'd write future!fic/Older!J2 ALL THE TIME. *loves it like BURNING*