fic: Something Like That
Title: Something Like That
Author: Malcolm St James
Pairing: Dean/Sam
Rating: R, for not-very-explicit sexytime
Summary: Dean decides to seize the day. Or something like that. Beta’d by the fab kuromatic. Originally posted at spnflashfic.
“Carp deem,” Dean slurred, and fell over. Sam made a grab and they ended up - somehow, goddammit - spread out on the bed. Dean, hunting skills apparently intact despite the alcohol that had to be eating away at his already-limited brain cells, managed to get the upper hand: he was on top, and his hands were everywhere.
“Carpe diem,” Sam said, trying not to let his voice change octaves as Dean’s hand found something particularly interesting, “means seize the day. So I have no idea what you think you’re doing.”
“Well obviously,” Dean rolled his eyes, “I’m seizing the gay.” He snickered. “Get it? Get it Sam? Cuz I’m grabbing you. I’m implying that you’re not straight.”
“Oh my god, you’re so wasted,” Sam told the ceiling. He absolutely did not twitch his hips.
“’M not. I’m buzzed,” Dean said, with the earnestness that only the truly drunk can muster. “And besides, you liiike me. I can tell.” His hand wiggled around some more, and Sam certainly didn’t whimper.
“Yeah, I do like you,” Sam clamped his thighs shut and tried to squirm away. Against all odds, Dean managed to turn that to his advantage too, and slid down until he was breathing warm beer fumes all over Sam’s dick.
“So what’s the problem?” Dean murmured, lips moving on Sam’s crotch.
“Dean, stop it,” Sam said, trying to be firm and forceful. But his cock was high off the fumes and waving drunkenly. Sam could almost hear it shouting, carpe me, Dean, carpe me!
Dean could hear it too, apparently, and finger-walked his way up Sam’s tense thighs. “You don’t mean that, Sammy,” he said, and blew a raspberry on Sam’s stomach. This degraded into a drunken tickle fight, which was a grossly unfair way for Dean to shove his way between Sam’s legs.
Sam stared resolutely at the ceiling and ignored the way that his brother was snuffling around his cock, making decidedly happy noises. He gave his dick up as a traitor and concentrated on not allowing any other body part in on the action.
Except, okay. Dean wasn’t playing fair, and Sam had to exile his nipples when he started rubbing at them. Well, obviously they didn’t go anywhere, but the point remained. Which is to say his nipples remained pointy, and Sam let out a frustrated - not lusty, dammit - groan.
“Dean, this is wrong, and we’ve got to stop,” Sam said, except it came out as “Dean, just fuck me already.” His mouth was a lost cause, then. The bastard.
“Mm, you’re so,” Dean said, magically reappearing at head level. “And I just. I’m gonna. Shemonschtickly.”
Or something along those lines, and Sam would’ve laughed at him and called him a moron but they were apparently kissing now and Sam needed a moment to catch up. But he couldn’t, not when Dean was jerking at him and thrusting against his hip and his hand - traitor! - was smoothing along Dean’s flank, cupping his ass and pulling him closer and that’s when Sam gave up.
“Fuck it,” he told Dean’s clavicle, and curled his leg around Dean’s and started humping for real.
An indefinite amount of time later, Sam’s sweat was cooling in the air conditioning, and Dean’s come was drying itchy on his leg.
“That was awesome,” Dean stated, scratching idly at his balls.
“You’re sick in the head,” Sam muttered, and yawned. His toes were really fucking cold.
“Y’know,” Dean breathed, “I think this counts as carpe diem, even in its strictest meaning.”
Sam wasn’t sure when Dean had stopped slurring. “Huh?”
Dean chuckled and patted Sam on the stomach. “I seized the day. And the gay.”
“How’re you coherent,” Sam asked, rolling onto his side. “You were drunk off your ass five minutes ago.”
“Give me some credit, Sammy, it was a lot longer than five minutes.” Dean stretched luxuriously. “And also, it was a clever ploy.”
“Um,” Sam paused a minute to regroup. “A clever ploy?”
“To get you into bed, dumbass,” Dean said. “I was at the bar, deciding which chick I wanted to bang, and then I thought, I know, I’ll go home and bang Sam. And I did.”
“Uh,” Sam said. Dean pulled the sheets up over them both and pulled Sam around until he was the big spoon, staring at the back of Dean’s big dumb head.
“Carpe diem, Sammy,” Dean murmured, and farted.
Author: Malcolm St James
Pairing: Dean/Sam
Rating: R, for not-very-explicit sexytime
Summary: Dean decides to seize the day. Or something like that. Beta’d by the fab kuromatic. Originally posted at spnflashfic.
“Carp deem,” Dean slurred, and fell over. Sam made a grab and they ended up - somehow, goddammit - spread out on the bed. Dean, hunting skills apparently intact despite the alcohol that had to be eating away at his already-limited brain cells, managed to get the upper hand: he was on top, and his hands were everywhere.
“Carpe diem,” Sam said, trying not to let his voice change octaves as Dean’s hand found something particularly interesting, “means seize the day. So I have no idea what you think you’re doing.”
“Well obviously,” Dean rolled his eyes, “I’m seizing the gay.” He snickered. “Get it? Get it Sam? Cuz I’m grabbing you. I’m implying that you’re not straight.”
“Oh my god, you’re so wasted,” Sam told the ceiling. He absolutely did not twitch his hips.
“’M not. I’m buzzed,” Dean said, with the earnestness that only the truly drunk can muster. “And besides, you liiike me. I can tell.” His hand wiggled around some more, and Sam certainly didn’t whimper.
“Yeah, I do like you,” Sam clamped his thighs shut and tried to squirm away. Against all odds, Dean managed to turn that to his advantage too, and slid down until he was breathing warm beer fumes all over Sam’s dick.
“So what’s the problem?” Dean murmured, lips moving on Sam’s crotch.
“Dean, stop it,” Sam said, trying to be firm and forceful. But his cock was high off the fumes and waving drunkenly. Sam could almost hear it shouting, carpe me, Dean, carpe me!
Dean could hear it too, apparently, and finger-walked his way up Sam’s tense thighs. “You don’t mean that, Sammy,” he said, and blew a raspberry on Sam’s stomach. This degraded into a drunken tickle fight, which was a grossly unfair way for Dean to shove his way between Sam’s legs.
Sam stared resolutely at the ceiling and ignored the way that his brother was snuffling around his cock, making decidedly happy noises. He gave his dick up as a traitor and concentrated on not allowing any other body part in on the action.
Except, okay. Dean wasn’t playing fair, and Sam had to exile his nipples when he started rubbing at them. Well, obviously they didn’t go anywhere, but the point remained. Which is to say his nipples remained pointy, and Sam let out a frustrated - not lusty, dammit - groan.
“Dean, this is wrong, and we’ve got to stop,” Sam said, except it came out as “Dean, just fuck me already.” His mouth was a lost cause, then. The bastard.
“Mm, you’re so,” Dean said, magically reappearing at head level. “And I just. I’m gonna. Shemonschtickly.”
Or something along those lines, and Sam would’ve laughed at him and called him a moron but they were apparently kissing now and Sam needed a moment to catch up. But he couldn’t, not when Dean was jerking at him and thrusting against his hip and his hand - traitor! - was smoothing along Dean’s flank, cupping his ass and pulling him closer and that’s when Sam gave up.
“Fuck it,” he told Dean’s clavicle, and curled his leg around Dean’s and started humping for real.
An indefinite amount of time later, Sam’s sweat was cooling in the air conditioning, and Dean’s come was drying itchy on his leg.
“That was awesome,” Dean stated, scratching idly at his balls.
“You’re sick in the head,” Sam muttered, and yawned. His toes were really fucking cold.
“Y’know,” Dean breathed, “I think this counts as carpe diem, even in its strictest meaning.”
Sam wasn’t sure when Dean had stopped slurring. “Huh?”
Dean chuckled and patted Sam on the stomach. “I seized the day. And the gay.”
“How’re you coherent,” Sam asked, rolling onto his side. “You were drunk off your ass five minutes ago.”
“Give me some credit, Sammy, it was a lot longer than five minutes.” Dean stretched luxuriously. “And also, it was a clever ploy.”
“Um,” Sam paused a minute to regroup. “A clever ploy?”
“To get you into bed, dumbass,” Dean said. “I was at the bar, deciding which chick I wanted to bang, and then I thought, I know, I’ll go home and bang Sam. And I did.”
“Uh,” Sam said. Dean pulled the sheets up over them both and pulled Sam around until he was the big spoon, staring at the back of Dean’s big dumb head.
“Carpe diem, Sammy,” Dean murmured, and farted.