PWP! WOOT!
Title: Wax on, Wax off
Author: mgbutterfly
Rating: NC-17 - It's PWP people \o/
Pairings: Dean/Sam... Impala
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own these boys or their car, but Holy God in Heaven... if I did, the naughty, naughty things we'd do... so, this is just for fun. I have no money, nor do I make any from this.
Summary: Uh, Sam, Dean, Impala.... sex. Do you really need anymore than that? Okay: Dean took the buffing cloth, a soft white cotton rag, and started rubbing the wax away in tight, slow circles.
Beta: by the illustrious barkeep of course.
Author's Notes: barkeep wrote THIS for me. If you haven't read it... GO! GO NOW! Run, don't walk. It's hot. Hell, it's hotter than hot. Dude. Just. dude. Then we were IMing one night and she said something like: "I want Impala!porn." So, I wrote this for her. It in no way compares to the hottness of her Knife!Fic, but she needed something porny, so I did what I could. And yes, I am totally her bitch.
Dean stood next to the Impala with the waxing rag in his hand. He had long ago abandoned his shirt in the noonday sun and his jeans were still a little damp from his earlier “mishap” with the hose. The charm around his neck hung warm on his bare chest. Ten more minutes for the dry wax to sit before he’d have to start the job of buffing it off. Enough time to sit back and enjoy a nice cold beer.
He walked back into the cabin where he and Sam were staying and grabbed a beer from the fridge. Walking back out onto the porch he took a moment to stretch his arms over his head before taking a seat on the old oak bench.
Sam, who had been doing research for their next hunt, decided the sight of his brother in damp jeans and no shirt was pretty good impetus to grab a beer and join Dean outside. And besides, it was a lovely day, no need to waste it inside when there was such interesting scenery outside.
The two men sat side by side in silence, enjoying the warm southern spring. The sun was hot and the shade was just the right kind of cool. Sam looked over at his brother and felt a smile touch his lips as he watched Dean tip up his bottle and down the last of his beer; relishing the rare sight of a completely relaxed Dean. Sam's eyes traced the smooth lines of Dean's lips and jaw, watched his Adam's apple bob as Dean swallowed the last of his beer. It was all Sam could do not to reach over and pull Dean into brain melting kiss.
Dean set his empty beer bottle down next to the bench and rose to walk back to his baby. Time to make her shine.
As he passed Sam, he paused and grinned down at him with something almost predatory. That smile that always made Sam ache with want. Dean knew it too, the bastard.
Dean took the buffing cloth, a soft white cotton rag, and started rubbing the wax away in tight, slow circles. As he worked, revealing the shining slick black of the Impala, the warm sun worked to reveal a sweaty shimmer to Dean’s almost golden skin. He moved slowly and meticulously, starting at the hood of the car and working his way back along the driver’s side, the side furthest away from Sam sitting on the porch. His face was set in sheer concentration or adoration, or possibly both.
Sam watched from the porch as Dean made his way around the car. He was mesmerized by the sight of sweat trickling down Dean’s chest and back, shimmering in the sun. Light-headed with want, Sam desired nothing more than to run his hands over Dean’s wet body and just take him against the car. Instead, he got up and went inside to grab another beer, and a little something else.
Dean saw his brother disappear into the cabin and gave a self-satisfied smirk, knowing he was getting to Sam. When Sam reappeared a minute later with a fresh beer in hand, Dean made certain to studiously ignore him while angling his body to the porch to give Sam the best show.
Dean, his muscles tensing and flexing under his sweat slicked skin, moved a little slower along the side of the Impala. He reached over the roof to finish up the final places there, making the sun shine even brighter in the gleam of the Impala’s newly polished top. He exaggerated his movements until Sam could see the subtle flickers of every group of muscles sliding under taut flesh.
With the roof done, Dean dipped down to start on the passenger door. He kept his movements slow and deliberate, bending down and working the circles around the handle, under the window, below the mirror. Sam watched, biting his bottom lip between teeth longing to nip at Dean’s body. He pulled his shirt off, tossing it on the bench and stood to lean against the porch rail. He took a long swig off his beer then let his arm hang loosely by his side.
Sam’s pants were growing tighter as he watched Dean move like a cat along the side of the car to the hood. He watched as Dean’s hands caressed the hood in an easy circular motion. Much like the way Dean traced circles on Sam’s lower back during the lazy minutes after a nice long fuck. He watched as Dean’s hands erased the last of the milky white wax off the hood, straightened and tossed the white rag onto the ground.
Dean stood with his back to Sam for a long moment, enjoying the new gleam of his car and the anticipation he could practically feel radiating off of Sam. Turning, he reclined against the hood, hands spread out to either side, legs crossed in front him, and faced his brother who was still leaning against the porch rail, watching him. He gave Sam his best I know you want this smirk, and watched as Sam set his now empty beer bottle down and walked, no, swaggered, over to stand in front of him.
Sam spread his legs wide to either side of Dean’s and grabbed his hips to pull him in closer. He held Dean there for a minute, watching his eyes go dark with want, with need. Sam leaned in and with the very tip of his tongue, licked a thin stripe up the right side of Dean’s neck. Dean’s eyes fluttered closed at the sensation and his hands came off the car to grip Sam’s biceps.
Dean uncrossed his legs and stood up straighter, still leaning against the polished black metal. Sam nipped at Dean’s jaw line and moaned at the taste of salt on his lips. Dean turned his face to meet Sam’s and their lips came together in a slow, wet, ohgodwantyounow kiss.
Sam’s hands smoothed around Dean’s belly to find button and zipper and started to pull them open and down; at the same time Dean’s hands started to slide down Sam’s arms with the same destination in mind. It was a mess of long fingers and needy pulling but, finally, they each reached a hand into the other’s pants and pulled out their cocks.
Dean sucked in a breath when he felt Sam’s hand start to move on his oh, so swollen dick. He started to stroke slowly along Sam’s length until Sam reached down and stopped his movements.
“Not like this. Turn around, Dean. I want to fuck you. I want to fuck you on the Impala,” Sam’s words were breathy and shot straight down Dean's spine.
Dean gave Sam a positively evil grin and pulled his hand away to twist around, exposing his shimmering back to Sam. Sam reached in his pocket and pulled out a bottle of lube. Dean heard the cap click open and thought tricky little fucker, so that’s what he'd been doing inside.
Sam rested his left hand in the middle of Dean’s back, between his shoulder blades. He knelt down, kissing Dean’s back along the way, to set the bottle of lube on the ground and pull Dean’s jeans to below his knees. Sliding his left hand down Dean’s back and over his ass, he picked the bottle of lube back up and squirted a generous amount into his hand.
Sam spread the lube out onto his fingers and palm as he rose up, marking his progress with little bites and kisses up Dean's leg, ass and back. Dean had his hands braced on the Impala’s hood and when Sam placed one hand on his waist and set the other to working him open, it was a good thing he had something to hold onto.
Sam worked one finger into Dean, stretching and sliding, making Dean bite back a moan. He kissed Dean along the back of his neck and across his shoulders, let his fingers lightly trace the freckles that peppered his brother's back.
Dean couldn’t hold back the little noise he made when Sam slipped another finger inside him, slowly, easing his way in. Sam worked his fingers in and out, stretching and crooking and hitting Dean’s sweet spot on every other slide.
Finally, Dean turned his head to the side to get a look at Sam and when he spoke, his voice was gravelly and barely more than a sigh. “Sam. Oh, god. Just do it. Need you. Need you now.”
Sam smiled against his back and slicked his dick up with what was left on his hands. He lined himself up and Dean spread his legs a little wider, jutting his hips out at just enough of an angle that Sam could sink inside him with grace and ease.
Sam moved slowly, pulling Dean back, his hands curled just above his hips. Dean leaned his head back against Sam’s chest and sighed at the pain/pleasure seeping through his body. Sam’s movement stopped once he’d buried himself all the way inside Dean. They stand there for a moment, in the warm southern sun, and soak up each others heat, each others want, each others need.
“Fuck, Sam. Move. Just.... god. Move,” came Dean’s voice, interrupting the moment of reverie.
Sam puffed heated breath against the nape of Dean’s neck and started his tortuous movement in and out of Dean. He reached his right hand around in front of Dean, his knuckles bumping the warm metal of the car, and wrapped his still slick hand over his cock. Dean reached back with his left hand and held onto Sam’s hip, helping him set a pace, slow and easy. Sam tended to rush things, did everything with intensity and a hint of desperation. Sometimes, Dean liked to draw it out, liked to feel all his muscles and bones go liquid and languid with need. He liked to pretend like they had all the time in the world.
They moved together, Sam’s hand stroking Dean’s cock with the same smooth rhythm he was using with his hips.
Dean’s neck was exposed, and Sam bit just below and behind his ear, making Dean grip Sam’s hips harder. They’ll both be bruised tomorrow. They’ll both have each other etched into their skin for days.
Sam whispered, “So fucking hot, Dean. Love to take you like this. You’re mine. Mine,” against Dean’s neck, then bit a little harder in that just right spot.
Dean’s body tensed with the promise of release, then he came in hot spurts over Sam’s hand. His body clenching around Sam inside him, sending Sam into his own white hot orgasm. Sam stroked Dean through his climax and Dean moved with Sam through his. It’s give and take, mine and yours, fierce and gentle.
Sam, blind from the sun, or from the sex, or maybe both, slumped against Dean’s sweat slick back, his own body coated in a sheen of sweat now. Dean’s head had gone slack against Sam’s shoulder. They were in an awkward position and after a moment Dean said, “Dude. Get off me. I’m getting a crick in my neck.”
Sam’s laugh was throaty and fucked out as he pushed away from Dean, his right hand coated in come. Standing up fully, he pulled his pants back up around his hips and stepped back to admire Dean as he did the same.
Once Dean had his pants up, he stepped back from the car, his back still to Sam, and let out an exasperated sigh. “Damn it, Sammy. Look what you did to my car. I just waxed her.”
“I did? Dude, that’s your jiz, not mine. And most of it’s on my hand anyway. I’ll get a rag, wipe it off. Will that make you feel better?” The last words were uttered with a bit of condescension to them.
“Wipe it off? I don’t think so, Sammy-boy. Looks like you’re gonna have to wash and wax her again,” Dean leaned over and picked up one of the rags he’d used to soap the car up earlier. The hose was still on and he raised it in a threatening manner, with the trigger nozzle pointed at his little brother.
“Seriously? Re-wash and wax because of a little spot o’ spunk. Dean, no way,” and when Sam rolled his eyes you could practically hear it.
“No, Sam, not just because of a little spot o’ spunk,” Dean walked toward Sam to hand him the supplies and pressed himself up against his brother’s tall, sweaty, fuckably hard body, and whispered breathlessly against Sam's ear, “Because I want to watch.”
The gleam in Dean’s eyes was pure mischief, and the only thing Sam could do was take the offered cloth and hose and make his way to the Impala.
If Dean thought he had been torturing Sam earlier with his slow, deadly movements... he wasn’t gonna know what hit him when Sam was done.
Author: mgbutterfly
Rating: NC-17 - It's PWP people \o/
Pairings: Dean/Sam... Impala
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own these boys or their car, but Holy God in Heaven... if I did, the naughty, naughty things we'd do... so, this is just for fun. I have no money, nor do I make any from this.
Summary: Uh, Sam, Dean, Impala.... sex. Do you really need anymore than that? Okay: Dean took the buffing cloth, a soft white cotton rag, and started rubbing the wax away in tight, slow circles.
Beta: by the illustrious barkeep of course.
Author's Notes: barkeep wrote THIS for me. If you haven't read it... GO! GO NOW! Run, don't walk. It's hot. Hell, it's hotter than hot. Dude. Just. dude. Then we were IMing one night and she said something like: "I want Impala!porn." So, I wrote this for her. It in no way compares to the hottness of her Knife!Fic, but she needed something porny, so I did what I could. And yes, I am totally her bitch.
Dean stood next to the Impala with the waxing rag in his hand. He had long ago abandoned his shirt in the noonday sun and his jeans were still a little damp from his earlier “mishap” with the hose. The charm around his neck hung warm on his bare chest. Ten more minutes for the dry wax to sit before he’d have to start the job of buffing it off. Enough time to sit back and enjoy a nice cold beer.
He walked back into the cabin where he and Sam were staying and grabbed a beer from the fridge. Walking back out onto the porch he took a moment to stretch his arms over his head before taking a seat on the old oak bench.
Sam, who had been doing research for their next hunt, decided the sight of his brother in damp jeans and no shirt was pretty good impetus to grab a beer and join Dean outside. And besides, it was a lovely day, no need to waste it inside when there was such interesting scenery outside.
The two men sat side by side in silence, enjoying the warm southern spring. The sun was hot and the shade was just the right kind of cool. Sam looked over at his brother and felt a smile touch his lips as he watched Dean tip up his bottle and down the last of his beer; relishing the rare sight of a completely relaxed Dean. Sam's eyes traced the smooth lines of Dean's lips and jaw, watched his Adam's apple bob as Dean swallowed the last of his beer. It was all Sam could do not to reach over and pull Dean into brain melting kiss.
Dean set his empty beer bottle down next to the bench and rose to walk back to his baby. Time to make her shine.
As he passed Sam, he paused and grinned down at him with something almost predatory. That smile that always made Sam ache with want. Dean knew it too, the bastard.
Dean took the buffing cloth, a soft white cotton rag, and started rubbing the wax away in tight, slow circles. As he worked, revealing the shining slick black of the Impala, the warm sun worked to reveal a sweaty shimmer to Dean’s almost golden skin. He moved slowly and meticulously, starting at the hood of the car and working his way back along the driver’s side, the side furthest away from Sam sitting on the porch. His face was set in sheer concentration or adoration, or possibly both.
Sam watched from the porch as Dean made his way around the car. He was mesmerized by the sight of sweat trickling down Dean’s chest and back, shimmering in the sun. Light-headed with want, Sam desired nothing more than to run his hands over Dean’s wet body and just take him against the car. Instead, he got up and went inside to grab another beer, and a little something else.
Dean saw his brother disappear into the cabin and gave a self-satisfied smirk, knowing he was getting to Sam. When Sam reappeared a minute later with a fresh beer in hand, Dean made certain to studiously ignore him while angling his body to the porch to give Sam the best show.
Dean, his muscles tensing and flexing under his sweat slicked skin, moved a little slower along the side of the Impala. He reached over the roof to finish up the final places there, making the sun shine even brighter in the gleam of the Impala’s newly polished top. He exaggerated his movements until Sam could see the subtle flickers of every group of muscles sliding under taut flesh.
With the roof done, Dean dipped down to start on the passenger door. He kept his movements slow and deliberate, bending down and working the circles around the handle, under the window, below the mirror. Sam watched, biting his bottom lip between teeth longing to nip at Dean’s body. He pulled his shirt off, tossing it on the bench and stood to lean against the porch rail. He took a long swig off his beer then let his arm hang loosely by his side.
Sam’s pants were growing tighter as he watched Dean move like a cat along the side of the car to the hood. He watched as Dean’s hands caressed the hood in an easy circular motion. Much like the way Dean traced circles on Sam’s lower back during the lazy minutes after a nice long fuck. He watched as Dean’s hands erased the last of the milky white wax off the hood, straightened and tossed the white rag onto the ground.
Dean stood with his back to Sam for a long moment, enjoying the new gleam of his car and the anticipation he could practically feel radiating off of Sam. Turning, he reclined against the hood, hands spread out to either side, legs crossed in front him, and faced his brother who was still leaning against the porch rail, watching him. He gave Sam his best I know you want this smirk, and watched as Sam set his now empty beer bottle down and walked, no, swaggered, over to stand in front of him.
Sam spread his legs wide to either side of Dean’s and grabbed his hips to pull him in closer. He held Dean there for a minute, watching his eyes go dark with want, with need. Sam leaned in and with the very tip of his tongue, licked a thin stripe up the right side of Dean’s neck. Dean’s eyes fluttered closed at the sensation and his hands came off the car to grip Sam’s biceps.
Dean uncrossed his legs and stood up straighter, still leaning against the polished black metal. Sam nipped at Dean’s jaw line and moaned at the taste of salt on his lips. Dean turned his face to meet Sam’s and their lips came together in a slow, wet, ohgodwantyounow kiss.
Sam’s hands smoothed around Dean’s belly to find button and zipper and started to pull them open and down; at the same time Dean’s hands started to slide down Sam’s arms with the same destination in mind. It was a mess of long fingers and needy pulling but, finally, they each reached a hand into the other’s pants and pulled out their cocks.
Dean sucked in a breath when he felt Sam’s hand start to move on his oh, so swollen dick. He started to stroke slowly along Sam’s length until Sam reached down and stopped his movements.
“Not like this. Turn around, Dean. I want to fuck you. I want to fuck you on the Impala,” Sam’s words were breathy and shot straight down Dean's spine.
Dean gave Sam a positively evil grin and pulled his hand away to twist around, exposing his shimmering back to Sam. Sam reached in his pocket and pulled out a bottle of lube. Dean heard the cap click open and thought tricky little fucker, so that’s what he'd been doing inside.
Sam rested his left hand in the middle of Dean’s back, between his shoulder blades. He knelt down, kissing Dean’s back along the way, to set the bottle of lube on the ground and pull Dean’s jeans to below his knees. Sliding his left hand down Dean’s back and over his ass, he picked the bottle of lube back up and squirted a generous amount into his hand.
Sam spread the lube out onto his fingers and palm as he rose up, marking his progress with little bites and kisses up Dean's leg, ass and back. Dean had his hands braced on the Impala’s hood and when Sam placed one hand on his waist and set the other to working him open, it was a good thing he had something to hold onto.
Sam worked one finger into Dean, stretching and sliding, making Dean bite back a moan. He kissed Dean along the back of his neck and across his shoulders, let his fingers lightly trace the freckles that peppered his brother's back.
Dean couldn’t hold back the little noise he made when Sam slipped another finger inside him, slowly, easing his way in. Sam worked his fingers in and out, stretching and crooking and hitting Dean’s sweet spot on every other slide.
Finally, Dean turned his head to the side to get a look at Sam and when he spoke, his voice was gravelly and barely more than a sigh. “Sam. Oh, god. Just do it. Need you. Need you now.”
Sam smiled against his back and slicked his dick up with what was left on his hands. He lined himself up and Dean spread his legs a little wider, jutting his hips out at just enough of an angle that Sam could sink inside him with grace and ease.
Sam moved slowly, pulling Dean back, his hands curled just above his hips. Dean leaned his head back against Sam’s chest and sighed at the pain/pleasure seeping through his body. Sam’s movement stopped once he’d buried himself all the way inside Dean. They stand there for a moment, in the warm southern sun, and soak up each others heat, each others want, each others need.
“Fuck, Sam. Move. Just.... god. Move,” came Dean’s voice, interrupting the moment of reverie.
Sam puffed heated breath against the nape of Dean’s neck and started his tortuous movement in and out of Dean. He reached his right hand around in front of Dean, his knuckles bumping the warm metal of the car, and wrapped his still slick hand over his cock. Dean reached back with his left hand and held onto Sam’s hip, helping him set a pace, slow and easy. Sam tended to rush things, did everything with intensity and a hint of desperation. Sometimes, Dean liked to draw it out, liked to feel all his muscles and bones go liquid and languid with need. He liked to pretend like they had all the time in the world.
They moved together, Sam’s hand stroking Dean’s cock with the same smooth rhythm he was using with his hips.
Dean’s neck was exposed, and Sam bit just below and behind his ear, making Dean grip Sam’s hips harder. They’ll both be bruised tomorrow. They’ll both have each other etched into their skin for days.
Sam whispered, “So fucking hot, Dean. Love to take you like this. You’re mine. Mine,” against Dean’s neck, then bit a little harder in that just right spot.
Dean’s body tensed with the promise of release, then he came in hot spurts over Sam’s hand. His body clenching around Sam inside him, sending Sam into his own white hot orgasm. Sam stroked Dean through his climax and Dean moved with Sam through his. It’s give and take, mine and yours, fierce and gentle.
Sam, blind from the sun, or from the sex, or maybe both, slumped against Dean’s sweat slick back, his own body coated in a sheen of sweat now. Dean’s head had gone slack against Sam’s shoulder. They were in an awkward position and after a moment Dean said, “Dude. Get off me. I’m getting a crick in my neck.”
Sam’s laugh was throaty and fucked out as he pushed away from Dean, his right hand coated in come. Standing up fully, he pulled his pants back up around his hips and stepped back to admire Dean as he did the same.
Once Dean had his pants up, he stepped back from the car, his back still to Sam, and let out an exasperated sigh. “Damn it, Sammy. Look what you did to my car. I just waxed her.”
“I did? Dude, that’s your jiz, not mine. And most of it’s on my hand anyway. I’ll get a rag, wipe it off. Will that make you feel better?” The last words were uttered with a bit of condescension to them.
“Wipe it off? I don’t think so, Sammy-boy. Looks like you’re gonna have to wash and wax her again,” Dean leaned over and picked up one of the rags he’d used to soap the car up earlier. The hose was still on and he raised it in a threatening manner, with the trigger nozzle pointed at his little brother.
“Seriously? Re-wash and wax because of a little spot o’ spunk. Dean, no way,” and when Sam rolled his eyes you could practically hear it.
“No, Sam, not just because of a little spot o’ spunk,” Dean walked toward Sam to hand him the supplies and pressed himself up against his brother’s tall, sweaty, fuckably hard body, and whispered breathlessly against Sam's ear, “Because I want to watch.”
The gleam in Dean’s eyes was pure mischief, and the only thing Sam could do was take the offered cloth and hose and make his way to the Impala.
If Dean thought he had been torturing Sam earlier with his slow, deadly movements... he wasn’t gonna know what hit him when Sam was done.