fic: talk nerdy to me
rating: r
character(s): sam wesson & dean smith
summary: mr smith gives sam wesson a call from his office. a very belated gift for agenttrojie.
wordcount: 578
warnings: inappropriate use of computer-part terminology?
a/n: i don't know what happened???? IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE SEMI-SERIOUS AND NOW IT'S JUST RIDICULOUS. crossposted to supernaturalfic and samdean_otp
talk nerdy to me
"Sandover Bridge & Iron, Incorporated. IT Department. This is Sam Wesson. How can I help you today?"
"Hey, baby," Dean says, pitching his voice low, "I've got a big issue with my unit here. You wouldn't happen to know where I could get some relief, would you?"
Sam laughs; doesn't think Dean's serious. "Hello, Mr. Smith. What seems to be the problem?"
Dean unzips his pants and lets the zipper catch on purpose; knows Sam knows because he can hear the way Sam stiffens; straightens up in his crappy office-issue mesh-backed chair, sharp intake of breath imperceptible to anyone not listening for it.
"My hands-free function doesn't seem to be working properly," Dean says mildly, giving his dick a lazy stroke. "In fact, I'd have to say my hands are pretty damn full."
"Have you, uh," comes the delayed response, and Dean grins, Sam's so fucking easy, "have you tried turning it on and off?"
"Oh, I've tried," Dean says, and rips a packet of lube with his teeth before coating his fingers with it. "It's pretty turned on."
"Yeah?" Sam swallows. Dean shoves two fingers up his ass without preamble, and it burns before he relaxes his body, his asshole swallowing his fingers like a mouth.
Dean imagines it's Sam, daydreams Sam's long lithe fingers stretching him so good from the inside, and sighs. "Yeah, Sam. I'm lying here with my hard, leaking dick in my hand and two fingers up my ass, pretending they're yours, just waiting for you to come and pound me through my desk."
Sam's breath cuts off. When Dean hears Sam start fumbling at his zipper, he lets go of his dick and licks a stripe up his palm before going back down for another long hard stroke, letting himself moan this time. "It's not enough, Sam; wanna get fucked so bad by that gorgeous cock of yours, want you to bend me over and partition my hard drive-"
Sam chokes at that, and the sounds of fabric stop. "You-you what-"
"You heard me," Dean says, "I've seen your cock, seen it motherfucking diamond hard. Ain't no silicon on that motherboard, that's for sure; could slice ten wires with that shit."
"Dean-Mr. Smith-"
"I'm ready," Dean growls, fucks into his fist and lets his hips rise off his desk, "you're so hard and so hot and I want you in me, I've got another finger up there, now, three fingers in but it's still not good enough, want you to come up here and fuck me so hard you cross my wires and short-circuit my CPU."
Sam is still reeling, entirely out of his depth. "Dean, I-"
Dean loves it. Sam's so fucking smart and sure but Dean's so hot for him like this, when Sam's utterly flummoxed, and Dean closes his eyes as the shaft of his dick slip-slides through the tight circle of his hand and keeps talking, "I got three terabytes of space in my ass waiting for your ten-terabyte cock, big boy."
On the other end of the line, Sam's voice is flustered and strangled as he says "I…I'm not sure if you-if I should-fuck-Dean-" and that's good enough for Dean, apparently, because he feels his balls tighten and his dick thicken and then he's coming in messy pulses across his new calendar and faux-leather organizer.
"Mm. I'm gonna have to take that out of your paycheck, Wesson."
character(s): sam wesson & dean smith
summary: mr smith gives sam wesson a call from his office. a very belated gift for agenttrojie.
wordcount: 578
warnings: inappropriate use of computer-part terminology?
a/n: i don't know what happened???? IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE SEMI-SERIOUS AND NOW IT'S JUST RIDICULOUS. crossposted to supernaturalfic and samdean_otp
talk nerdy to me
"Sandover Bridge & Iron, Incorporated. IT Department. This is Sam Wesson. How can I help you today?"
"Hey, baby," Dean says, pitching his voice low, "I've got a big issue with my unit here. You wouldn't happen to know where I could get some relief, would you?"
Sam laughs; doesn't think Dean's serious. "Hello, Mr. Smith. What seems to be the problem?"
Dean unzips his pants and lets the zipper catch on purpose; knows Sam knows because he can hear the way Sam stiffens; straightens up in his crappy office-issue mesh-backed chair, sharp intake of breath imperceptible to anyone not listening for it.
"My hands-free function doesn't seem to be working properly," Dean says mildly, giving his dick a lazy stroke. "In fact, I'd have to say my hands are pretty damn full."
"Have you, uh," comes the delayed response, and Dean grins, Sam's so fucking easy, "have you tried turning it on and off?"
"Oh, I've tried," Dean says, and rips a packet of lube with his teeth before coating his fingers with it. "It's pretty turned on."
"Yeah?" Sam swallows. Dean shoves two fingers up his ass without preamble, and it burns before he relaxes his body, his asshole swallowing his fingers like a mouth.
Dean imagines it's Sam, daydreams Sam's long lithe fingers stretching him so good from the inside, and sighs. "Yeah, Sam. I'm lying here with my hard, leaking dick in my hand and two fingers up my ass, pretending they're yours, just waiting for you to come and pound me through my desk."
Sam's breath cuts off. When Dean hears Sam start fumbling at his zipper, he lets go of his dick and licks a stripe up his palm before going back down for another long hard stroke, letting himself moan this time. "It's not enough, Sam; wanna get fucked so bad by that gorgeous cock of yours, want you to bend me over and partition my hard drive-"
Sam chokes at that, and the sounds of fabric stop. "You-you what-"
"You heard me," Dean says, "I've seen your cock, seen it motherfucking diamond hard. Ain't no silicon on that motherboard, that's for sure; could slice ten wires with that shit."
"Dean-Mr. Smith-"
"I'm ready," Dean growls, fucks into his fist and lets his hips rise off his desk, "you're so hard and so hot and I want you in me, I've got another finger up there, now, three fingers in but it's still not good enough, want you to come up here and fuck me so hard you cross my wires and short-circuit my CPU."
Sam is still reeling, entirely out of his depth. "Dean, I-"
Dean loves it. Sam's so fucking smart and sure but Dean's so hot for him like this, when Sam's utterly flummoxed, and Dean closes his eyes as the shaft of his dick slip-slides through the tight circle of his hand and keeps talking, "I got three terabytes of space in my ass waiting for your ten-terabyte cock, big boy."
On the other end of the line, Sam's voice is flustered and strangled as he says "I…I'm not sure if you-if I should-fuck-Dean-" and that's good enough for Dean, apparently, because he feels his balls tighten and his dick thicken and then he's coming in messy pulses across his new calendar and faux-leather organizer.
"Mm. I'm gonna have to take that out of your paycheck, Wesson."