December, Supernatural, Gen
Fandom: Supernatural
Title: December
Characters/Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Table: #1
Prompt: 002 Back Alley
Summary: Set pre-series, it's close to Christmas, and Dean doesn't want Sam to think he doesn't care.
Warnings: Wincest...I mean, come on...look at the prompt! How could I ignore the chance for Alley!Porn?
This is my second ficlet for my Supernatural claim on 100_situations. Clicky for table
He hesitates, because the alley is dark, twisted, and in a part of San Francisco where you just don’t wander down alleys unarmed…and because he left Jess at the club to follow…well, he doesn’t know exactly. He knows better than to hunt unknown, half seen, vague impressions of something in dark alleys without any firepower.
But it doesn’t stop him. His heart thumps in his chest as he risks a glance over his shoulder toward the club before stepping over a homeless man sleeping in the cold dark alley. He wishes he had brought his coat because it’s December in San Francisco and the winds were howling through the buildings.
He shoves his hands in his pockets to keep them warm and maneuvers around boxes of rotting vegetables from the Chinese grocery and the broken bottles of cheap beer from some teenager’s party, his eyes scanning the alley for a sign, something to tell him he wasn’t imagining things.
He freezes as a movement catches his eye and he squints into the shadows, half expecting some monster to come crashing through the decaying trash piled alongside crumbling buildings and fire escapes. But nothing comes.
He shakes his head and turns. Enough of this, he wants to go back to the overcrowded club and dance off the stress of the semester and forget that its almost Christmas and he hasn’t heard from Dean or their father in months.
And it happens so fast he can’t react, his body shoved against the filthy wall, and all he can see is shadow and dark behind him. His feet kicked apart as a raspy sound of inhaled breath rakes across his ear. He struggles against the weight pressed against him, tries to get a grip, but his hands are batted away and caught, held behind his head.
He hears a voice…his name…or something…and there’s a hand down his pants, and he leans into it without thinking. There’s a strong scent of urine and vomit and wet masonry and the feeling of a familiar body behind his…and he can’t tell if it is or isn’t…but it almost doesn’t matter, because it’s almost Christmas, and Dean should be there.
He closes his eyes and bites his lip as his jeans fall off his hips. He groans as he feels a finger penetrate him…while a hand pulses around his cock, coaxing it to life…and teeth, nipping at his shoulder through the button down dress shirt Jess had bought him for his birthday…
He stops himself from calling out his name, moans instead, as the finger leaves him and is replaced. The grunting from behind echoes the thrusting, punctuating a stolen pleasure in a back alley. He thinks of Jess, waiting for him…but the pull of skin over skin is stronger and he tries to push back into the thrust, as it burns into him.
“Fuck.” He is close to coming, and his breathing quickens, his heart racing as if trying to beat his balls to the explosion. He tries to pull his hand away, to grab that hand around his cock, but he is held tight, the pounding pace speeding up and he groans as he comes, warm fluid decorating the wall in front of him and the belly of his shirt.
“Miss you, Sammy.” Harsh and dark it hisses in his ear as there one final thrust pushes him forward and cum fills him. He sags against the wall, trying to catch his breath. Hands release him and he shakily pulls up his pants, turning, but he is alone in the alley again.
“I miss you too Dean,” he says into the dark. “Merry Christmas.” He brushes at the globs of cum on his shirt as he pickes his way through the alley. He stops at the beer bottles, and finding one with a little liquid left, pours it over his shirt, making sure there was more beer than cum.
When he gets back to the club, it only takes a minute to find Jess. “I spilled beer all over me. Can we go?”
She smiles and kisses him, and he slips an arm around her, leading her out into the late San Francisco night. He glances into the alley as they pass, then let’s her distract him with her lips on his cheek as they head for their car.
Out of the dark, he steps, leaning on the front of the grocery to watch them walk away.
“Merry Christmas to you too Sammy,” he says before he squares his shoulders and walks away in the other direction
Title: December
Characters/Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Table: #1
Prompt: 002 Back Alley
Summary: Set pre-series, it's close to Christmas, and Dean doesn't want Sam to think he doesn't care.
Warnings: Wincest...I mean, come on...look at the prompt! How could I ignore the chance for Alley!Porn?
This is my second ficlet for my Supernatural claim on 100_situations. Clicky for table
He hesitates, because the alley is dark, twisted, and in a part of San Francisco where you just don’t wander down alleys unarmed…and because he left Jess at the club to follow…well, he doesn’t know exactly. He knows better than to hunt unknown, half seen, vague impressions of something in dark alleys without any firepower.
But it doesn’t stop him. His heart thumps in his chest as he risks a glance over his shoulder toward the club before stepping over a homeless man sleeping in the cold dark alley. He wishes he had brought his coat because it’s December in San Francisco and the winds were howling through the buildings.
He shoves his hands in his pockets to keep them warm and maneuvers around boxes of rotting vegetables from the Chinese grocery and the broken bottles of cheap beer from some teenager’s party, his eyes scanning the alley for a sign, something to tell him he wasn’t imagining things.
He freezes as a movement catches his eye and he squints into the shadows, half expecting some monster to come crashing through the decaying trash piled alongside crumbling buildings and fire escapes. But nothing comes.
He shakes his head and turns. Enough of this, he wants to go back to the overcrowded club and dance off the stress of the semester and forget that its almost Christmas and he hasn’t heard from Dean or their father in months.
And it happens so fast he can’t react, his body shoved against the filthy wall, and all he can see is shadow and dark behind him. His feet kicked apart as a raspy sound of inhaled breath rakes across his ear. He struggles against the weight pressed against him, tries to get a grip, but his hands are batted away and caught, held behind his head.
He hears a voice…his name…or something…and there’s a hand down his pants, and he leans into it without thinking. There’s a strong scent of urine and vomit and wet masonry and the feeling of a familiar body behind his…and he can’t tell if it is or isn’t…but it almost doesn’t matter, because it’s almost Christmas, and Dean should be there.
He closes his eyes and bites his lip as his jeans fall off his hips. He groans as he feels a finger penetrate him…while a hand pulses around his cock, coaxing it to life…and teeth, nipping at his shoulder through the button down dress shirt Jess had bought him for his birthday…
He stops himself from calling out his name, moans instead, as the finger leaves him and is replaced. The grunting from behind echoes the thrusting, punctuating a stolen pleasure in a back alley. He thinks of Jess, waiting for him…but the pull of skin over skin is stronger and he tries to push back into the thrust, as it burns into him.
“Fuck.” He is close to coming, and his breathing quickens, his heart racing as if trying to beat his balls to the explosion. He tries to pull his hand away, to grab that hand around his cock, but he is held tight, the pounding pace speeding up and he groans as he comes, warm fluid decorating the wall in front of him and the belly of his shirt.
“Miss you, Sammy.” Harsh and dark it hisses in his ear as there one final thrust pushes him forward and cum fills him. He sags against the wall, trying to catch his breath. Hands release him and he shakily pulls up his pants, turning, but he is alone in the alley again.
“I miss you too Dean,” he says into the dark. “Merry Christmas.” He brushes at the globs of cum on his shirt as he pickes his way through the alley. He stops at the beer bottles, and finding one with a little liquid left, pours it over his shirt, making sure there was more beer than cum.
When he gets back to the club, it only takes a minute to find Jess. “I spilled beer all over me. Can we go?”
She smiles and kisses him, and he slips an arm around her, leading her out into the late San Francisco night. He glances into the alley as they pass, then let’s her distract him with her lips on his cheek as they head for their car.
Out of the dark, he steps, leaning on the front of the grocery to watch them walk away.
“Merry Christmas to you too Sammy,” he says before he squares his shoulders and walks away in the other direction