obstinatrix (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
obstinatrix) wrote2012-05-02 12:04 am
obstinatrix) wrote2012-05-02 12:04 am
Entry tags:
thingies! (and fic, sorta)
1. My ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
spn_j2_bigbang is submitted! \o/
2. Um. So, basically I told![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rrrowr that I wouldn't write double penetration and that it was one of few things I couldn't bring myself to attempt. But then rrrowr continued to be a fan of DP and I continued to be a fan of rrrowr, so I wrote this. Because I dislike there being things I can't bring myself to attempt.
fic: triskelion (dean/sam/castiel, nc-17) ~ 900 words
They don’t often do it like this.
It takes patience, Sam’s elbows hooked under Cas’s knees to hold him open for Dean’s tongue and the first press of his fingers, one, two. Sam pushing closer once Cas is writhing, working in another two fingers of his own alongside Dean’s, and then an agony of laboured breaths as they fuck him wetly open together. Cas keening, head thrashing back and forth on the pillow, and he’s begging to be fucked after three fingers but the Winchesters are big men, and if he wants them both, he’ll have to wait for it.
It takes patience for the two of them to fuck him at once, anchoring hands on each other’s asses as they grind and rock together into the tight clutch of Cas’s body, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t amazing. When they're like this, Cas sweat-slick and pinioned between them and clamped like a vice around their dicks, Dean can barely breathe with how good it is, his whole chest gone tight like he’s breathing fire. Cas is gorgeous, blood-hot and strung out and wrecked, with his head thrown back onto Sam’s strong shoulder and his hips thrust forward so Dean can feel the spurs of them. Dean knows he’s barely better off himself, Cas stretched so fucking tight around them, Sam sliding smooth and hot against Dean’s dick like a second skin, occasional catch and drag of the head against Dean’s shaft making him hiss through his teeth. Jesus fuck. Dean feels crazy with it, the flexion of Sam’s muscles under his palm and the way Cas’s dick smears against Dean’s stomach in little sticky trails; he groans low in his throat and hears Sam echo it, feels Sam’s hand clutch at his skull to pull him forward. Cheek to Cas’s temple, he moans, lets his mouth fall open, and Sam is there to take advantage, tongue fucking in right deep to the back of Dean’s mouth. Dean’s hips jerk in response, and between them Cas is stuttering, his cries bled together into one long, inchoate sound of utter abandon.
This being, Dean thinks — this is an angel, an angel they’ve got between them. An angel shoving his hips back and forth between two brothers, trying to ride both of their dicks at once; an angel fucked full as he can get with cock and still keening for more, still hungry, still desperate. The thought sparks a new heat in Dean’s gut and he grabs for Cas’s dick, pumps it until he feels Cas’s body twist raggedly, mouth rubbing wet against Dean’s jaw.
“Jesus Christ,” Sam gets out, and Dean echoes the sentiment with a rough sound of his own, pulling back to lick at Cas’s throat, the stretch of tendon in it. Cas is shivering now, not going to last much longer as Dean and Sam take their turns to fill him, grinding up against each other and over the bump of his prostate, and
” — fuck,” Dean gets out, “fuck —”
then Dean’s thumb is riding the leaking slit of Cas’s cock and it’s jumping in his hand, echoing the fierce clench of his body around them as it seizes. A beat, and then Cas is coming in thick slow pulses, spurt after spurt over Dean's knuckles, over Cas's own chest, spatters of it like hot wax in the hollow of his clavicle. Fuck, fuck, fuck, but it’s like Cas’s orgasm is routed directly into Dean’s neurosystem, forcing his own up and out and ricocheting through him like electricity, like the last of Cas’s power and glory. Against him, Sam is shivering too, clutching at Dean’s head, at his backside, but Cas is still groaning between them, the sounds he makes so soft and pretty, so fucking wanton that Dean can’t pull back; doesn’t want to lose a second of this moment.
“Oh,” Cas manages, after a long, shuddering second, and Dean can still feel the shocks fizzing hotly through his blood as his hand slows on Cas’s wet dick, as his cock slows its motion in and out of Cas’s body. Behind Cas, Sam is slowing, too; sparing him a glance, Dean sees the black-blown eyes and knows Sam’s as drunk on this as Dean is, on Cas between them, taking everyfuckingthing they can give him and still aching for more, like there’s a space inside of him that only they can hope to fill.
God. God.
They don’t do this often. Rushing it would only spell trouble, and sometimes they want to rush, to grind and churn their hips against each other’s, to lick and suck and bite until they’re nothing but a boneless tangle on the bed, breathing, forgetting. When they do this, it’s slow, and deep; it’s a rush like a drug, and it isn’t done to forget. This, Dean thinks, as his fingers drift shakily from Sam’s shoulder to Cas’s, is all about remembering, trusting who they are. And sometimes that’s far harder than just fucking, but when they’re lying like this afterwards, Dean remembers the value of it. He tucks his face into Cas’s neck and breathes.
***
3. In other news, this picture, omg. *bites fists* SASSY. That is all. Oh, and JARED'S FACE. ♥
4. There should be more weecest with dickslapping.
spn_j2_bigbang is submitted! \o/ 2. Um. So, basically I told
rrrowr that I wouldn't write double penetration and that it was one of few things I couldn't bring myself to attempt. But then rrrowr continued to be a fan of DP and I continued to be a fan of rrrowr, so I wrote this. Because I dislike there being things I can't bring myself to attempt. fic: triskelion (dean/sam/castiel, nc-17) ~ 900 words
They don’t often do it like this.
It takes patience, Sam’s elbows hooked under Cas’s knees to hold him open for Dean’s tongue and the first press of his fingers, one, two. Sam pushing closer once Cas is writhing, working in another two fingers of his own alongside Dean’s, and then an agony of laboured breaths as they fuck him wetly open together. Cas keening, head thrashing back and forth on the pillow, and he’s begging to be fucked after three fingers but the Winchesters are big men, and if he wants them both, he’ll have to wait for it.
It takes patience for the two of them to fuck him at once, anchoring hands on each other’s asses as they grind and rock together into the tight clutch of Cas’s body, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t amazing. When they're like this, Cas sweat-slick and pinioned between them and clamped like a vice around their dicks, Dean can barely breathe with how good it is, his whole chest gone tight like he’s breathing fire. Cas is gorgeous, blood-hot and strung out and wrecked, with his head thrown back onto Sam’s strong shoulder and his hips thrust forward so Dean can feel the spurs of them. Dean knows he’s barely better off himself, Cas stretched so fucking tight around them, Sam sliding smooth and hot against Dean’s dick like a second skin, occasional catch and drag of the head against Dean’s shaft making him hiss through his teeth. Jesus fuck. Dean feels crazy with it, the flexion of Sam’s muscles under his palm and the way Cas’s dick smears against Dean’s stomach in little sticky trails; he groans low in his throat and hears Sam echo it, feels Sam’s hand clutch at his skull to pull him forward. Cheek to Cas’s temple, he moans, lets his mouth fall open, and Sam is there to take advantage, tongue fucking in right deep to the back of Dean’s mouth. Dean’s hips jerk in response, and between them Cas is stuttering, his cries bled together into one long, inchoate sound of utter abandon.
This being, Dean thinks — this is an angel, an angel they’ve got between them. An angel shoving his hips back and forth between two brothers, trying to ride both of their dicks at once; an angel fucked full as he can get with cock and still keening for more, still hungry, still desperate. The thought sparks a new heat in Dean’s gut and he grabs for Cas’s dick, pumps it until he feels Cas’s body twist raggedly, mouth rubbing wet against Dean’s jaw.
“Jesus Christ,” Sam gets out, and Dean echoes the sentiment with a rough sound of his own, pulling back to lick at Cas’s throat, the stretch of tendon in it. Cas is shivering now, not going to last much longer as Dean and Sam take their turns to fill him, grinding up against each other and over the bump of his prostate, and
” — fuck,” Dean gets out, “fuck —”
then Dean’s thumb is riding the leaking slit of Cas’s cock and it’s jumping in his hand, echoing the fierce clench of his body around them as it seizes. A beat, and then Cas is coming in thick slow pulses, spurt after spurt over Dean's knuckles, over Cas's own chest, spatters of it like hot wax in the hollow of his clavicle. Fuck, fuck, fuck, but it’s like Cas’s orgasm is routed directly into Dean’s neurosystem, forcing his own up and out and ricocheting through him like electricity, like the last of Cas’s power and glory. Against him, Sam is shivering too, clutching at Dean’s head, at his backside, but Cas is still groaning between them, the sounds he makes so soft and pretty, so fucking wanton that Dean can’t pull back; doesn’t want to lose a second of this moment.
“Oh,” Cas manages, after a long, shuddering second, and Dean can still feel the shocks fizzing hotly through his blood as his hand slows on Cas’s wet dick, as his cock slows its motion in and out of Cas’s body. Behind Cas, Sam is slowing, too; sparing him a glance, Dean sees the black-blown eyes and knows Sam’s as drunk on this as Dean is, on Cas between them, taking everyfuckingthing they can give him and still aching for more, like there’s a space inside of him that only they can hope to fill.
God. God.
They don’t do this often. Rushing it would only spell trouble, and sometimes they want to rush, to grind and churn their hips against each other’s, to lick and suck and bite until they’re nothing but a boneless tangle on the bed, breathing, forgetting. When they do this, it’s slow, and deep; it’s a rush like a drug, and it isn’t done to forget. This, Dean thinks, as his fingers drift shakily from Sam’s shoulder to Cas’s, is all about remembering, trusting who they are. And sometimes that’s far harder than just fucking, but when they’re lying like this afterwards, Dean remembers the value of it. He tucks his face into Cas’s neck and breathes.
***
3. In other news, this picture, omg. *bites fists* SASSY. That is all. Oh, and JARED'S FACE. ♥
4. There should be more weecest with dickslapping.
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