PixCT: 03.11
It's that time again...
Fic
Slash (Dean/Sam)
Adult
Preseries
~380 words
- - - - -
A combination of fic, pic, and cock, and that's really all there is to it.
All About Cock Thursday
So Far
September 07-September 08
September 08-September 09
DruCT: 09.17
DruCT: 09.24
DruCT: 10.01
DruCT: 10.08
DruCT: 10.15
DruCT: 10.22
DruCT: 10.29
DruCT: 11.05
DruCT: 11.12
DruCT: 11.19
DruCT: 01.21
PixCT: 01.21
DruCT: 01.28
PixCT: 01.28
DruCT: 02.04
PixCT: 02.04
DruCT: 02.11
PixCT: 02.11
DruCT: 02.18
PixCT: 02.18
DruCT: 02.25
PixCT: 02.25
DruCT: 03.04
PixCT: 03.04
- - - - -
Today
DruCT: 03.11
My fic:
Slash (Wincest: Dean/Sam) oneshot
Adult rating
Preseries
~380 words
- - - - -
Dru's Pic Pick
She was a witch, and she lived alone. Dad knew better than to trust a witch, even one as nice-normal-as she. Yet, even if he didn't completely trust her, he went to her now and again-when they were in the area-for help with this case or that.
She was a witch, and she weaved.
"I see you brought those boys of yours," she said on the afternoon when Sam and Dean waited by the doorway while Dad approached her on the other side of the room.
"They're helping me out," he explained.
She murmured and continued weaving, her fingers moving swiftly over the threads. In a basket by her feet, spools of thread spilled out, infinite colors and types mixing together.
"Awful close, those boys," she said.
Dean looked over to Sam, who was about the same height now, and they both wondered what she would say.
"What're you saying?" Dad asked, barely glancing back at Sam and Dean.
She smiled. "Same lifeline." She paused in her weaving, picked up a spool of white thread and tossed it to Dad, who caught it easily. "Same thread. Could even call it similar destinies, even."
Next to Dean, Sam smiled as if he couldn't help himself. Dean didn't-couldn't-smile because he was too worried of what she might reveal. Yes, they were close, he and Sam. Dean didn't know what she meant by same lifeline, but he could hope she didn't know much more than that. That she didn't know how he and Sam could talk to each other without saying a word, only sharing glances and smiles. That she didn't know all the moments they spent with hands and lips on one another's cocks. That she didn't know how it seemed to physically hurt when they were separated.
"Don't worry, Dean," she suddenly said. She looked past Dad, looked to Dean on the other side of her house. "It'll be all right in the end. Just because a thread unravels doesn't mean it didn't start as the same thread."
Dean stared at her, stayed silent. He didn't understand what she meant. He hoped that he never would. Something about her words made him uncomfortable.
"Take care of those boys, John," she said. She turned her attention back to her weaving. "Looks like it's going to be a bumpy ride for you."
End
Fic
- - - - -
A combination of fic, pic, and cock, and that's really all there is to it.
All About Cock Thursday
So Far
September 07-September 08
September 08-September 09
DruCT: 09.17
DruCT: 09.24
DruCT: 10.01
DruCT: 10.08
DruCT: 10.15
DruCT: 10.22
DruCT: 10.29
DruCT: 11.05
DruCT: 11.12
DruCT: 11.19
DruCT: 01.21
PixCT: 01.21
DruCT: 01.28
PixCT: 01.28
DruCT: 02.04
PixCT: 02.04
DruCT: 02.11
PixCT: 02.11
DruCT: 02.18
PixCT: 02.18
DruCT: 02.25
PixCT: 02.25
DruCT: 03.04
PixCT: 03.04
- - - - -
Today
DruCT: 03.11
My fic:
Slash (Wincest: Dean/Sam) oneshot
Adult rating
Preseries
~380 words
- - - - -
Dru's Pic Pick
She was a witch, and she lived alone. Dad knew better than to trust a witch, even one as nice-normal-as she. Yet, even if he didn't completely trust her, he went to her now and again-when they were in the area-for help with this case or that.
She was a witch, and she weaved.
"I see you brought those boys of yours," she said on the afternoon when Sam and Dean waited by the doorway while Dad approached her on the other side of the room.
"They're helping me out," he explained.
She murmured and continued weaving, her fingers moving swiftly over the threads. In a basket by her feet, spools of thread spilled out, infinite colors and types mixing together.
"Awful close, those boys," she said.
Dean looked over to Sam, who was about the same height now, and they both wondered what she would say.
"What're you saying?" Dad asked, barely glancing back at Sam and Dean.
She smiled. "Same lifeline." She paused in her weaving, picked up a spool of white thread and tossed it to Dad, who caught it easily. "Same thread. Could even call it similar destinies, even."
Next to Dean, Sam smiled as if he couldn't help himself. Dean didn't-couldn't-smile because he was too worried of what she might reveal. Yes, they were close, he and Sam. Dean didn't know what she meant by same lifeline, but he could hope she didn't know much more than that. That she didn't know how he and Sam could talk to each other without saying a word, only sharing glances and smiles. That she didn't know all the moments they spent with hands and lips on one another's cocks. That she didn't know how it seemed to physically hurt when they were separated.
"Don't worry, Dean," she suddenly said. She looked past Dad, looked to Dean on the other side of her house. "It'll be all right in the end. Just because a thread unravels doesn't mean it didn't start as the same thread."
Dean stared at her, stayed silent. He didn't understand what she meant. He hoped that he never would. Something about her words made him uncomfortable.
"Take care of those boys, John," she said. She turned her attention back to her weaving. "Looks like it's going to be a bumpy ride for you."
End