the victor and the vanquished [spn][comment fic]
I thought I'd claim a couple comment fics I've written in the past month since I've been neglecting this journal. Here's the first:
Title: the victor and the vanquished
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Ruby, (barely) implied Sam/Dean
Word Count: 350
Rating: R
Summary: No one knows patience like she does.
Notes: Written for Porn Battle XI. This is not particularly graphic, but it's easily the most graphic thing I've ever written.
It takes patience. All of it takes patience. And no one knows patience like she does.
She works him over slowly, like she's handling molten glass, blowing it into shape. He has to feel safe around her for this to work. He has to trust her. So she lets him grab her, lets him manhandle her and slam her against walls and lets him save her when he needs to. She didn't just pick any old body out there, after all; she's small to give him security. (As if small could somehow stop her from reaching out and breaking him, snapping him cleanly in two. As if he could have held her against that wall without her permission.) She chooses her words carefully too, and her tone. In spite of the mask he's got on now, like he's channeling his brother, all strength and coldness and anger, Sam is starving for affection. He melts under gentle touches and a soothing voice. It would be a little sickening if it wasn't so perfect (if a part of her didn't like it). All she has to do is coax, kindly, sweetly, gently, and he does whatever she wants.
By the time the matter of the blood comes around, he's little more than a submissive puppy fooled into thinking he's calling the shots. He'll do anything for the blood, which means he'll do anything for her. On the days when there's little to do, she ties him up and plays with him, uses her mouth and fingers and anything she can get her hands on, until he's a pathetic mess of sobs and whimpers. Sometimes she talks and toys and teases, makes him scream his brother's name and then slices open her wrist right over his mouth. She lets the blood pour in as fast as he needs, till he's gurgling wetly, till her essence drowns the parts of Dean that have stuck past his death, like leeches on Sam's soul. Then she starts in on him again.
The second time around the only name he screams is hers.
Title: the victor and the vanquished
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Ruby, (barely) implied Sam/Dean
Word Count: 350
Rating: R
Summary: No one knows patience like she does.
Notes: Written for Porn Battle XI. This is not particularly graphic, but it's easily the most graphic thing I've ever written.
It takes patience. All of it takes patience. And no one knows patience like she does.
She works him over slowly, like she's handling molten glass, blowing it into shape. He has to feel safe around her for this to work. He has to trust her. So she lets him grab her, lets him manhandle her and slam her against walls and lets him save her when he needs to. She didn't just pick any old body out there, after all; she's small to give him security. (As if small could somehow stop her from reaching out and breaking him, snapping him cleanly in two. As if he could have held her against that wall without her permission.) She chooses her words carefully too, and her tone. In spite of the mask he's got on now, like he's channeling his brother, all strength and coldness and anger, Sam is starving for affection. He melts under gentle touches and a soothing voice. It would be a little sickening if it wasn't so perfect (if a part of her didn't like it). All she has to do is coax, kindly, sweetly, gently, and he does whatever she wants.
By the time the matter of the blood comes around, he's little more than a submissive puppy fooled into thinking he's calling the shots. He'll do anything for the blood, which means he'll do anything for her. On the days when there's little to do, she ties him up and plays with him, uses her mouth and fingers and anything she can get her hands on, until he's a pathetic mess of sobs and whimpers. Sometimes she talks and toys and teases, makes him scream his brother's name and then slices open her wrist right over his mouth. She lets the blood pour in as fast as he needs, till he's gurgling wetly, till her essence drowns the parts of Dean that have stuck past his death, like leeches on Sam's soul. Then she starts in on him again.
The second time around the only name he screams is hers.