FIC - Kohl and Gloss
title: Kohl and Gloss
pairing: Sam/Dean
rating: NC-17 ut>
summary: PWP. Completely self-indulgent.
Exhaustion. That’s all I could think as I headed back to our month-to-month rented apartment that was so much better than any motel room. How I could be this wiped out after just spending the day in the stupid library chasing down leads on our latest case, getting dizzy watching the slides go by on the microfiche machine and coming up with nothing, and then more nothing, and then after that, yeah, nothing.
A completely wasted day that got us nowhere, I was hungry and tired and maybe a little bit pouty by the time I got to the door. And then, the second I opened the door, though a little bit of the pouty was lingering, the hungry and tired seemed to have disappeared. And not because I was provided with food and sleep.
The sight that awaited me when I flopped my messenger bag onto the floor in the hall and made my way into the living room pretty much wiped my brain clean of anything else except what I was looking at right at that moment. He was on the couch, doing what he swore he’d never do, not even in his drunkest moments when I tried to take advantage of his whiskey-addled brain. Lying there almost naked. Almost. Except for those silky lacy pink panties I’d tried to get him into once, and gotten my lip split for suggesting it. Not only that, but he’d even done what had gotten me even worse than that, a bruised cheek and an ass that I couldn’t sit on comfortably for days, the time I had shyly suggested that his gorgeous lips would be even hotter if they were a little glossy, sparkly, maybe just a bit more pink than they already were.
But there he was. Splayed out on our living room sofa, wearing the pink panties, lips shining, slightly colored and just the tiniest bit sparkling with gloss. And just to push me right over the edge of what that had already done, he’d gone a step further, as if he’d read my mind. There was smudged black kohl under his eyes, which I’d never even bothered to mention to him after the whole incident where he’d clocked me in the grill for suggesting the lip gloss. How did he even know? Did I talk in my sleep? Did he get me stupid drunk and pull it out of me one night and I didn’t remember? Or did he just maybe think of it on his own?
Honestly, I didn’t give a flying fuck, because he was there, with the lacy silky panties, and the gloss, and the eyeliner, and he was waiting for me. And obviously, I had no reason to make him wait any longer.
I launched myself onto the couch, not caring even a tiny little bit that I was probably crushing him and cutting off his ability to breathe. He had shown me, in this moment, his submission, so fuck it, he would breathe when I let him.
There was effort behind his words, because I’d cut off most of his oxygen with the weight of my body on top of him, but he managed to speak.
“You have on too many clothes.”
That situation was rectified in less than a minute, as I leaned back and stripped myself more quickly than he could take apart a sawed-off. Which, clearly, was pretty fucking fast. But not fast enough for me, because I could not wait one more second before I got back on top of him and devoured those sparkly pink glossy lips (which tasted a little like strawberry) and pushed my hands against those soft panties that strained around his hard cock like they would be torn to shreds momentarily by the strength of his erection. Not that I gave it the chance, because I tore them to shreds myself, ripping them off him after I took just a minute to feel him underneath the softness of the fabric and savor the sight of him straining against them.
I took a little bit more time then, with the shreds of those pretty pink panties still in my hand, to savor the look of my lover, my brother, my everything in the entire fucking world, lips shining and eyes darkened, eyelashes so more pronounced and goddamn hot than they usually were (which was already pretty fucking hot). After that one moment I gave myself to take in the beauty underneath me, I was lost.
His lips gave way to mine easily, the taste and feel of the gloss getting me hotter by the second, and thank (Whoever) he’d had the foresight to leave lube right there on the coffee table, because this was not a night when I was going to take my time and tease and play, this was a night when I was going to take what I wanted and was not going to be gentle and slow, working up to it. I slicked up my hand with the lube and worked him open with one finger, then two almost immediately, not willing to wait until he was properly prepared, which was not like me at all but he’d done this, he knew what would happen and he seemed perfectly happy to accept the consequences if I was judging by the blissed out moaning and keening I was hearing from his glossed and sparkling pink lips.
There was no more waiting, and I slicked myself up with enough lube that hopefully it wouldn’t be too painful when I pushed inside, but to be perfectly honest, I was pushing inside whether it was going to hurt him or not, there was no getting around that. His wailing and writhing underneath me only spurred me on, as I sank into him all the way with one fast stroke, getting control for just a moment and looking down at him for some kind of signal. Two short and quick nods of his head were all I needed before I started moving, pulling so close to all the way out before snapping back into him, and it hurt me as much as it hurt him, but at the same time it satisfied me as much as it satisfied him. His legs wound around my waist and his hands grabbed my shoulders and chest as I pounded into his ass, not holding back anything. Usually, even if I was pretending to let go completely, I was still holding back, but not tonight.
There were tears in his eyes when I shoved one of my hands between us and grabbed his cock, and only minutes before we both came at the same time, me in his ass and him over my hand and onto his belly and chest.
He had spoken one tiny little sentence since I walked into the room, and I felt no need to add to that. I shifted and held him, wiping away the kohl-black stained tears that fell down his cheeks and kissing them away.
Sometimes it wasn’t so bad to be the little brother.
pairing: Sam/Dean
rating: NC-17 ut>
summary: PWP. Completely self-indulgent.
Exhaustion. That’s all I could think as I headed back to our month-to-month rented apartment that was so much better than any motel room. How I could be this wiped out after just spending the day in the stupid library chasing down leads on our latest case, getting dizzy watching the slides go by on the microfiche machine and coming up with nothing, and then more nothing, and then after that, yeah, nothing.
A completely wasted day that got us nowhere, I was hungry and tired and maybe a little bit pouty by the time I got to the door. And then, the second I opened the door, though a little bit of the pouty was lingering, the hungry and tired seemed to have disappeared. And not because I was provided with food and sleep.
The sight that awaited me when I flopped my messenger bag onto the floor in the hall and made my way into the living room pretty much wiped my brain clean of anything else except what I was looking at right at that moment. He was on the couch, doing what he swore he’d never do, not even in his drunkest moments when I tried to take advantage of his whiskey-addled brain. Lying there almost naked. Almost. Except for those silky lacy pink panties I’d tried to get him into once, and gotten my lip split for suggesting it. Not only that, but he’d even done what had gotten me even worse than that, a bruised cheek and an ass that I couldn’t sit on comfortably for days, the time I had shyly suggested that his gorgeous lips would be even hotter if they were a little glossy, sparkly, maybe just a bit more pink than they already were.
But there he was. Splayed out on our living room sofa, wearing the pink panties, lips shining, slightly colored and just the tiniest bit sparkling with gloss. And just to push me right over the edge of what that had already done, he’d gone a step further, as if he’d read my mind. There was smudged black kohl under his eyes, which I’d never even bothered to mention to him after the whole incident where he’d clocked me in the grill for suggesting the lip gloss. How did he even know? Did I talk in my sleep? Did he get me stupid drunk and pull it out of me one night and I didn’t remember? Or did he just maybe think of it on his own?
Honestly, I didn’t give a flying fuck, because he was there, with the lacy silky panties, and the gloss, and the eyeliner, and he was waiting for me. And obviously, I had no reason to make him wait any longer.
I launched myself onto the couch, not caring even a tiny little bit that I was probably crushing him and cutting off his ability to breathe. He had shown me, in this moment, his submission, so fuck it, he would breathe when I let him.
There was effort behind his words, because I’d cut off most of his oxygen with the weight of my body on top of him, but he managed to speak.
“You have on too many clothes.”
That situation was rectified in less than a minute, as I leaned back and stripped myself more quickly than he could take apart a sawed-off. Which, clearly, was pretty fucking fast. But not fast enough for me, because I could not wait one more second before I got back on top of him and devoured those sparkly pink glossy lips (which tasted a little like strawberry) and pushed my hands against those soft panties that strained around his hard cock like they would be torn to shreds momentarily by the strength of his erection. Not that I gave it the chance, because I tore them to shreds myself, ripping them off him after I took just a minute to feel him underneath the softness of the fabric and savor the sight of him straining against them.
I took a little bit more time then, with the shreds of those pretty pink panties still in my hand, to savor the look of my lover, my brother, my everything in the entire fucking world, lips shining and eyes darkened, eyelashes so more pronounced and goddamn hot than they usually were (which was already pretty fucking hot). After that one moment I gave myself to take in the beauty underneath me, I was lost.
His lips gave way to mine easily, the taste and feel of the gloss getting me hotter by the second, and thank (Whoever) he’d had the foresight to leave lube right there on the coffee table, because this was not a night when I was going to take my time and tease and play, this was a night when I was going to take what I wanted and was not going to be gentle and slow, working up to it. I slicked up my hand with the lube and worked him open with one finger, then two almost immediately, not willing to wait until he was properly prepared, which was not like me at all but he’d done this, he knew what would happen and he seemed perfectly happy to accept the consequences if I was judging by the blissed out moaning and keening I was hearing from his glossed and sparkling pink lips.
There was no more waiting, and I slicked myself up with enough lube that hopefully it wouldn’t be too painful when I pushed inside, but to be perfectly honest, I was pushing inside whether it was going to hurt him or not, there was no getting around that. His wailing and writhing underneath me only spurred me on, as I sank into him all the way with one fast stroke, getting control for just a moment and looking down at him for some kind of signal. Two short and quick nods of his head were all I needed before I started moving, pulling so close to all the way out before snapping back into him, and it hurt me as much as it hurt him, but at the same time it satisfied me as much as it satisfied him. His legs wound around my waist and his hands grabbed my shoulders and chest as I pounded into his ass, not holding back anything. Usually, even if I was pretending to let go completely, I was still holding back, but not tonight.
There were tears in his eyes when I shoved one of my hands between us and grabbed his cock, and only minutes before we both came at the same time, me in his ass and him over my hand and onto his belly and chest.
He had spoken one tiny little sentence since I walked into the room, and I felt no need to add to that. I shifted and held him, wiping away the kohl-black stained tears that fell down his cheeks and kissing them away.
Sometimes it wasn’t so bad to be the little brother.