Almost, Supernatural, NC-17
Fandom: Supernatural
Title: Almost
Pairing: Sam/Dean, implication of Sam/Dean/OMC
Rating, NC-17
Word Count: 377
Summary: Um...I really don't know. I was struck with a need to write. I wrote while waiting for the mainframe to come back from batch cycle. It's porny...but I don't really have any idea what it is...exactly.
A/Ns & Warnings: Um...dubious consent, I think. Implied voyeurism. Denied orgasm. Could be the OMC is John...if you wanted to see it that way. I really...just...it is what it is...
With his eyes closed he can almost forget…lose himself in the soft murmur…in the warm slide of skin…almost…
The room is still…quiet…warm…he doesn’t move, other than to bite the pillow, groaning into its damp, dirty linen. His body is loose, laying long over sheets that have seen better days and he doesn’t want to dwell on what stains them…he’s not certain he could move if he had to…or that he could even want to…
And there’s something wrong with that…but he can’t think to figure out what that is.
He’s vaguely aware of breathing…a tiny thing…it stirs the hair on his arm. He’s more aware of the blanket of warmth surrounding him…covering him…moving into him…slow, like they have all the time in the world…He’s lost track of the words…soft in his ear…low and constant…but he knows the rhythm…the pattern…the lull as he lets go a little more.
There’s tenderness in this…in the way hands caress over muscles so spent they lie like liquid beneath his skin…in the please…in the leisurely slip of one body into another…in the fingers that brush his hair away from his sweaty face…in Dean rocking slowly against him, his eyes closed, his breathing only vaguely softer than his words.
Tenderness is what lulls him…brings him to almost…lets him feel the way the dirty sheets hold his cock and rub against it, rub into it…lets him drift on love you and need this…lets him almost forget that this hadn’t been a choice…that his hands are bound above him…that somewhere in the dark of the room there’s another watching…lets him feel Sammy and each gentle stroke, every pulsing pause of his brother’s touch in his deepest core…
Almost…right there…to the brink…the edge of everything…wondering if this is the time they will let him fall over it…if he can…will…wondering how long this has gone on…how much longer they’ll keep him like this…quivering with need for it…
Heat spreads through him, the air is cooler, the bed moves…if he opens his eyes he might see them…but he keeps them closed…moves against the sheets…empty…alone…wants it…he can hear them…can feel Dean as if he’s still there inside him…soft touches…hands pulling him back…away from it…soft chuckles as he moans, cries…more tears to keep the pillow wet…and he’s left at almost…almost…
Title: Almost
Pairing: Sam/Dean, implication of Sam/Dean/OMC
Rating, NC-17
Word Count: 377
Summary: Um...I really don't know. I was struck with a need to write. I wrote while waiting for the mainframe to come back from batch cycle. It's porny...but I don't really have any idea what it is...exactly.
A/Ns & Warnings: Um...dubious consent, I think. Implied voyeurism. Denied orgasm. Could be the OMC is John...if you wanted to see it that way. I really...just...it is what it is...
With his eyes closed he can almost forget…lose himself in the soft murmur…in the warm slide of skin…almost…
The room is still…quiet…warm…he doesn’t move, other than to bite the pillow, groaning into its damp, dirty linen. His body is loose, laying long over sheets that have seen better days and he doesn’t want to dwell on what stains them…he’s not certain he could move if he had to…or that he could even want to…
And there’s something wrong with that…but he can’t think to figure out what that is.
He’s vaguely aware of breathing…a tiny thing…it stirs the hair on his arm. He’s more aware of the blanket of warmth surrounding him…covering him…moving into him…slow, like they have all the time in the world…He’s lost track of the words…soft in his ear…low and constant…but he knows the rhythm…the pattern…the lull as he lets go a little more.
There’s tenderness in this…in the way hands caress over muscles so spent they lie like liquid beneath his skin…in the please…in the leisurely slip of one body into another…in the fingers that brush his hair away from his sweaty face…in Dean rocking slowly against him, his eyes closed, his breathing only vaguely softer than his words.
Tenderness is what lulls him…brings him to almost…lets him feel the way the dirty sheets hold his cock and rub against it, rub into it…lets him drift on love you and need this…lets him almost forget that this hadn’t been a choice…that his hands are bound above him…that somewhere in the dark of the room there’s another watching…lets him feel Sammy and each gentle stroke, every pulsing pause of his brother’s touch in his deepest core…
Almost…right there…to the brink…the edge of everything…wondering if this is the time they will let him fall over it…if he can…will…wondering how long this has gone on…how much longer they’ll keep him like this…quivering with need for it…
Heat spreads through him, the air is cooler, the bed moves…if he opens his eyes he might see them…but he keeps them closed…moves against the sheets…empty…alone…wants it…he can hear them…can feel Dean as if he’s still there inside him…soft touches…hands pulling him back…away from it…soft chuckles as he moans, cries…more tears to keep the pillow wet…and he’s left at almost…almost…