An Offering of Fic
I realized today that after I joined this group I never actually posted the fics I had. So, here goes. Both are NC17.
Title: Hands On
Author: Jinni (jinni.tth@gmail.com)
Rated: NC17
Disclaimer: All things SPN belong to Kripke, et al. All things Smallville belong to DC Comics, et al.
Spoilers: For 2x04 - just one moment out of it, actually. Except, not really. Just a brief allusion to something that happened in that ep.
Notes: For my Sam/Crossovers claim at sam_slut_a_thon, Prompt: 2 - Hands. Conveniently, this will also fit my SPN/Crossovers claim at 50_smutlets, Prompt 35 - Phone.
Notes2: I don’t have a beta for my SPN stuff. All errors are mine.
Summary: He hopes that he’ll have enough time to do this, to make it good, to hear her voice and let is wash over him, through him.
~*~*~
Sam glances at the door of the motel room, waiting just enough time to be sure that Dean isn’t coming back before he turns on the television. Last time he tried to do this, he got caught. Talk about awkward. Another glance at the door and then he’s flipping on the television, turning it to what passes for a skin channel in this dump. Generic, random porn. Man on woman, rutting with moans and sighs that sound contrived no matter how much Sam wants to believe that the woman really means it when she says ‘Harder, give it to me harder, big boy.’
Doesn’t matter, he tells himself. Because he’s not intending to actually pay attention to what’s on the television. Well, not really. Its background noise, something to rest his eyes on and nothing more. He could care less what the couple on the screen are doing and, oh god, that guy really should wax his chest.
Sam grimaces and turns the television down a little, reaching for his cell phone. Out of habit, he looks to the door again, considers getting up and chaining it from the inside just in case Dean comes back early for some reason. But that would only piss Dean off and, hey, the guy went to the bar to find something warm of his own to curl up with. He’ll be out for at least an hour.
As much as he’d like to be macho and brag about his stamina, Sam has no illusions that this will take that long.
He scrolls down the stored numbers in his cell, stopping on one that makes his lips curl up in a quick smile. Dean would tease him without cease if he found out about this, which was a good enough reason in Sam’s opinion for his older brother never to find out about it.
Besides, how would he explain it?
She’s a girl I met a few months ago when we were in Kansas. Yeah, a girl, Dean. No, a real girl. No, not like that time we used the blow up doll as a decoy. Yes, I’m sure she’s real. No, she’s not a demon. God, grow up!
From there it could only go downhill, because Sam doesn’t know why he kept in contact with her or how their relationship had evolved to this, of all things. He guesses that part of it is because she understands what he does. She knows and it doesn’t freak her out. She likes to talk to him about it, when they have time to talk. Tells him about all the weird things she’s seen - some of which gives the stuff in his life a run for its proverbial money.
Sometimes he wonders if that’s as much of a normal life as he can hope to ever have.
Other times, he doesn’t question it at all. Doesn’t want to know what she’s getting out of this or why she wants to keep doing it. Doesn’t want to remind himself that he should tell her that this is wrong, can never really go anywhere.
Right now he was hoping for the latter - one of those times when he could just forget about how wrong this is and how fucked up it makes him to have a girl that he calls just to get off with.
The cell phone chirped through her number as he wedged it between his shoulder and ear, leaning back in the pillows of the bed. Lumpy and thin, they’d be hell to try to sleep on later; but he wasn’t looking for sleep right now, just something to prop him up a touch so that he could look at the television while he -
”Sam?”
“Hey, Chloe.”
She laughs. “Was starting to think you weren’t going to call anymore.”
Coming from any other girl, that line would sound like a chastising reminder that he should call more often.
But Chloe wasn’t any other girl and if she cared that he hadn’t called in a couple weeks, it was probably because she worried about him.
”You alone?” he asks, hating how cheesy it sounds.
She doesn’t mind, doesn’t care.
“Um, hold on a sec.”
There’s a muffled sound as she covers the phone with her hand, speaking to someone. Sam can’t make out the words so he turns his attention back to the television, hand strayed to the front of his jeans. He thumbs at the fly, pushing it open and then closed, then open again, not quite ready to unzip. Beneath the denim, he felt his cock stir and start to twitch, and it had nothing to do with the actors currently panting on screen.
Anticipation, Sam had found, was almost as sweet as the climax sometimes. Like right now, while he waits for Chloe to get somewhere more private, with every passing second making his cock a little harder, his body tingle with the beginnings of arousal.
He moves his hand up from his jeans, fingertips skimming over the waist. Pushing up his t-shirt, his fingers graze over bare skin, right below his belly button. He sucks in a breath, nails scratching at the skin, leaving little pink lines that will fade all too quickly.
“Getting started without me?”
Sam laughs. “Maybe.”
“God,” Chloe moans, voice whispery. They’ve never done this face-to-face - though he’d like to whenever he gets back that way - but he can picture her just the same. Eyes half-shut, cheeks pinked, lips red and wet. When she speaks again, it’s to breathe his name like sin dripping from her lips. “Sam…”
“Where are you?”
”Office at the Talon, so we have to be quick. The last thing I want is to explain this to Lois.”
Sam understands. He looks at the clock on the nightstand, estimating when Dean left compared to what time it is now. He hopes that he’ll have enough time to do this, to make it good, to hear her voice and let it wash over him, through him.
”I’ve missed you,” he tells her, fingers curling against his stomach. On the screen a second woman has been added to the mix and her fake breasts are bouncing. In his mind, Sam replaces her with Chloe, himself with the actor that’s fucking her.
”You’re sweet,” Chloe’s laugh is husky. “Are you touching yourself for me?”
“Not yet.”
“Do it,” she orders, her breath hitching. “Take one of those big hands of yours and wrap those long fingers around yourself.” She stutters over the word and Sam is reminded that she’s pretty innocent, despite her willingness - sometimes eagerness - to do this with him. He thinks that he might cum all over himself like a fucking teen if she ever says cock or dick, instead of the flowery hints and allusions she uses when talking to him. Girl can face down a meteor mutant, but ask her to talk dirty and she backs down quicker than if she had a gun pointed at her head.
He does as she asks; unzipping his fly and pushing pants and boxers both down in one movement, off his hips, to lay against his lower legs. He’s hard and she’s whimpering into the phone as he takes himself in one hand. The first touch of fingers against his hot, heated flesh is almost too much, and Sam bites down on his lip.
“God, you sound so sexy when you make that noise,” Chloe breathes. “Are you doing it?”
”Yeah.” He flexes his fingers around his cock and gives it an experimental tug, gauging just how far off he really is with that one, hard up-down stroke. Not far at all, it seems. “Are you -“
Chloe whimpers, cutting him off. “I wish I was there to touch you. Put my hand on you. My mouth.”
Sam groans, jerking himself roughly with one hand while the other skims up his stomach, across his chest. He pauses at his nipple, pinching it hard between two fingers, then the other. That touch of pain makes him groan again. He rolls one of the hard peaks between his fingers, hard to soft, then hard again, varying the speed and pressure. His tongue darts out, licking his lips. A quick flick, then back in his mouth.
Over the phone, he can hear Chloe working herself higher and higher, her moans getting more and more breathy, whispery. She’s the opposite of the few girls he’s been with. Whereas they got louder as they came closer, Chloe just got quieter and quieter. He’s pretty sure that he didn’t have a whisper-kink before he started this fucked up relationship with her, but that’s okay.
”I love listening to you,” Chloe whispers. “Knowing that talking to me like this turns you on? That’s what gets to me every time. God” The word tumbles out of her mouth on the tail end of a moan and Sam shudders in his grasp. Not quite there, but so close.
”Fuck, Chloe,” he growls, wrist jerking harder, faster. A flick of thumb over the head, nail teasing the slit, then back down, smearing pre-cum up and down his length with each and every twist. His hips buck up, ramming his cock into his fist. “Next time we’re near you -“
“You’re gonna what?” she asks, breath catching, hitching, stopping for one moment as she sighs and whimpers. “Tell me?”
Sam’s eyes flutter closed, the action on the television forgotten. What he’s doing right here? Much hotter. Much sexier.
”I’m,” he pauses, trying to get his mouth to move, to make sounds other than those breathless gasps that are coming from between his lips. “I’m gonna fuck you everywhere that you’ve ever been when we did this.” It’s a threat and a promise.
“You’ll put your hands on me?” she asks. “I love your hands. Your fingers. They’re so… so… Oh, fuck me.” She groans.
“You have a hand fetish,” he teases, but there’s no bite behind it. Not when he’s soclosehecantasteit and she’s making these whining noises in the back of her throat, so low and soft that he knows he’s lucky to be hearing them at all.
“Can’t help it… you’ve got… nice hands. Wonder what your cock is like.”
And, just like he’s always thought, the sound of that word from her blessedly sweet lips makes him cum. Sam cries out, bucking into his hand, fingers tightening then releasing as he rides through the orgasm. Thick strings of cum shoot up and over his half-bare stomach and he knows in the back of his head that he got his t-shirt, too. He shudder and jerks, mind blanking to everything except the throb of his orgasm and Chloe’s whispered cries as she finds her own release.
When it’s over, he laughs softly, teasingly. “You like my hands.”
Chloe’s laugh is just as soft. It’s warm and playful and all the things that he doesn’t have a right to expect from her, yet enjoys just the same. “I do.” He can hear the slide of her tongue over her lips. “And, correct me if I’m wrong, but you got off on hearing me say that little something.”
Sam laughs. Even now, she won’t say it. He pulls his pants back up, not bothering to button the jeans.
”Maybe.”
“I’ll have to remember th-,“ she stops, cursing, “Got to go.”
When Sam says goodbye, it’s to a phone that’s already gone dead in his hand. If it wasn’t for the post-orgasmic lethargy creeping through his body, he might have been disappointed that they didn’t get to talk.
As it is, he’s too sated to care.
It’s the sound of the door opening that finally jars him back to moving, and then it’s only a fumble for the television remote.
He doesn’t turn it off quick enough.
Dean looks at the now-black screen of the television, then at Sam, who tries to look innocent and unaffected. It doesn’t work. Dean’s caught him.
Again.
Talk about awkward.
“Dude - this is getting to be a habit,” Dean frowns. “Since when are you a porn addict?”
Oh, if only he knew.
END
Title: Like Kisses for Coffee
Author: Jinni (jinni.tth@gmail.com)
Rated: NC17
Disclaimer: All things SPN belong to Eric Kripke, et al. All things Smallville belong to DC Comics, et al.
Prompt: 13 - Kitchen
Claim: SPN Crossovers - at 50_smutlets
Pairing: Dean/Chloe
Summary: He looks her up every time he’s near her hometown.
~*~*~
He looks her up every time he’s near her hometown. Smallville, land of the weird, just not the kind of weird that he and his family are into. Things in this town are just plain out of this world freaky. Oh, he helped out once, but once was enough and he wasn’t even needed then because there’s this other guy…
… but that’s getting completely off track…
Chloe’s one of those girls that he can’t get out of his mind, out of his system. She’s blonde hair, attitude, and snark, wrapped in a package so pretty that it makes him hard just thinking about her. Or maybe it’s that mouth of hers that gets him hard. Not what she can do with it, but what she says. Chloe can be a real bitch when she sets her mind to it, a complete sweetheart at other times, but she’s always a smartass.
Dean loves a smartass.
She’s in the apartment over the Talon when he rolls into town. Lois quirks a smile his way, points up, and he laughs a little before introducing her to Sam. They can keep each other company while he reacquaints himself with a certain spitfire.
He picks the lock on the door because he wants to surprise her, knowing he could have just asked Lois for the key, but damn its more fun this way and its not like he gets many chances to practice that particular skill. Except he does, so really there’s no excuse other than the one that starts out more fun this way.
She’s in the kitchen, back to him, when he lets himself in. Humming to herself, hovering over the coffee machine. Why she’s doing that instead of just going downstairs and getting a cup there, he doesn’t know and doesn’t plan on asking. It’s her fault that jus the smell of certain coffees - in certain combinations, with cream and sugar and sometimes a hint of cinnamon or something else fancy - is enough to get him hard. Sammy doesn’t know about those trips he makes sometimes to Starbucks just to let the smell wash over him, sip something that reminds him of her and the good times they’ve had together.
”Hey, beautiful.”
She shrieks and jumps, hand flying to the drawer near her hip. Knife drawer, he’d bet. But the second she sees that its just him, she relaxes. And then hits him.
Repeatedly.
”Don’t do that!” she hisses, swatting his arm again. Hard. Man, she’s gotten stronger since the last time he saw her.
”Sorry,” he says and he’s not sorry at all and she knows it. With one step he’s taken away the distance between the two of them, pressing her back against the kitchen counter, the coffee machine percolating along with merry little gurgles and drips. He dips his head, but Chloe turns hers. There’s a little smile on her lips.
”Dean, it’s been a while, you know. I’m sort of seeing someone now. A photographer at the paper.”
His eyebrow goes up and he turns his head just enough so that when he leans in and whispers “Does it matter?”, its right at her ear and she shivers.
The look in her eyes when he pulls back is all the answer he needs, but still he doesn’t feel right until she shakes her head and mutters a ‘Not really’.
She tastes like coffee and sugar, which tells him this batch isn’t her first fix of the day. He licks the inside of her mouth with his tongue, tasting her with first strokes while she shoves her hands between the two of them, already working his jeans open. He always did like that about her, she knew when to hurry up and get things done. With Sam waiting downstairs for him - with Lois, for God’s sake - he didn’t have nearly as much time as he would have liked.
Without his prompting, she sets herself on the edge of the counter behind her, spreading her legs. It’s only then that he realizes she’s wearing a skirt and - hotdamn - that’s so fucking perfect that he forgets to breathe for a second, his lips stilling on her mouth. She fumbles behind him, hand sliding into his rear pocket, taking out his wallet. She’s so familiar with this - with him - that she doesn’t even have to look to pull out the little thin foil from the back pocket.
She presses it into his hand and goes back to work on his pants, sliding her hand past the parted denim and - oh good, that feels good - puts her hand on his cock. Warm skin meets steel and Dean sucks in a tight breath, pulling back from her mouth to rip at the condom wrapper with his teeth. He tugs out the little piece of latex, yielding willing to Chloe’s mouth when she grabs his lower lip with her teeth. She’s breathing hard and her eyes are glazed and dark.
This is how he loves Chloe - worked up and hot just for him. The first time they’d done this, she’d only been with one other man. If he had to lay bets, Dean would guess that she’s still only been with him and that guy that took her virginity - fucking prick that didn’t even call her - because he doesn’t think that Chloe rushes into sex so this new boyfriend of hers? He doubts that guy’s even seen a pair of her underwear, much less gotten inside of them.
Dean sort of likes the fact that Chloe is so free spirited with him, so passionate. He likes the fact that -
“God,” he cries out, the condom just barely on before Chloe has grabbed him, shifted her hips forward and pushed the head of his cock into the slick depths of her body. He shudders and nearly cums right then and there like a fucking teenager. Chloe laughs against his mouth and its enough to bring him back from the edge. Ain’t no way in hell he’s gonna embarrass himself with this girl.
It’s still over way too quickly. Him thrusting into her a few full times, his hand between them, thumb flicking over her clit. With a keening noise she cums and arches back, away from his mouth. The cry that comes from her mouth is loud enough that he wonders if anyone downstairs heard it before he’s coming, too, her name on his lips, a cry to God and ‘Fuck, yes’ in the air. He shudders and spills into the condom, Chloe’s body clenching around him.
Even when they only get five minutes, they’re still good together, he thinks as he pulls out of her. He stands between her legs for a long moment, his forehead against hers, their heavy breathing synchronized. Her eyes are half-shut and she’s looking up at him through her lashes. When she drops a kiss on his lips and pats his upper arm, he gets the point. They’re treading on dangerous ground here, this post-coital cuddling.
”So - see you next time you’re nearby?” she asks as he fastens his jeans, back turned to him pouring herself a mug of coffee. There’s something in her tone, a sadness that he understands but doesn’t want to put name to.
He asked her once to come with him.
She said no.
There’s nothing else to be said about it. Nothing else to be asked.
He nods, then remembers she’s not looking. “Yeah. See you then.”
Her murmured goodbye follows him out of the apartment and he takes the stairs down, back into the Talon. Sees Sammy sitting there, still chatting up Lois. She flashes him a questioning look and he shrugs. Her cousin is staying here, as usual. Lois’s lips press together, disappointment clear. It’s not her decision to make, though. She points him out to Sam and goes back to her customers.
“That was quick,” Sam comments as they walk out of the building.
“Wasn’t much to talk about.”
END
Title: Hands On
Author: Jinni (jinni.tth@gmail.com)
Rated: NC17
Disclaimer: All things SPN belong to Kripke, et al. All things Smallville belong to DC Comics, et al.
Spoilers: For 2x04 - just one moment out of it, actually. Except, not really. Just a brief allusion to something that happened in that ep.
Notes: For my Sam/Crossovers claim at sam_slut_a_thon, Prompt: 2 - Hands. Conveniently, this will also fit my SPN/Crossovers claim at 50_smutlets, Prompt 35 - Phone.
Notes2: I don’t have a beta for my SPN stuff. All errors are mine.
Summary: He hopes that he’ll have enough time to do this, to make it good, to hear her voice and let is wash over him, through him.
~*~*~
Sam glances at the door of the motel room, waiting just enough time to be sure that Dean isn’t coming back before he turns on the television. Last time he tried to do this, he got caught. Talk about awkward. Another glance at the door and then he’s flipping on the television, turning it to what passes for a skin channel in this dump. Generic, random porn. Man on woman, rutting with moans and sighs that sound contrived no matter how much Sam wants to believe that the woman really means it when she says ‘Harder, give it to me harder, big boy.’
Doesn’t matter, he tells himself. Because he’s not intending to actually pay attention to what’s on the television. Well, not really. Its background noise, something to rest his eyes on and nothing more. He could care less what the couple on the screen are doing and, oh god, that guy really should wax his chest.
Sam grimaces and turns the television down a little, reaching for his cell phone. Out of habit, he looks to the door again, considers getting up and chaining it from the inside just in case Dean comes back early for some reason. But that would only piss Dean off and, hey, the guy went to the bar to find something warm of his own to curl up with. He’ll be out for at least an hour.
As much as he’d like to be macho and brag about his stamina, Sam has no illusions that this will take that long.
He scrolls down the stored numbers in his cell, stopping on one that makes his lips curl up in a quick smile. Dean would tease him without cease if he found out about this, which was a good enough reason in Sam’s opinion for his older brother never to find out about it.
Besides, how would he explain it?
She’s a girl I met a few months ago when we were in Kansas. Yeah, a girl, Dean. No, a real girl. No, not like that time we used the blow up doll as a decoy. Yes, I’m sure she’s real. No, she’s not a demon. God, grow up!
From there it could only go downhill, because Sam doesn’t know why he kept in contact with her or how their relationship had evolved to this, of all things. He guesses that part of it is because she understands what he does. She knows and it doesn’t freak her out. She likes to talk to him about it, when they have time to talk. Tells him about all the weird things she’s seen - some of which gives the stuff in his life a run for its proverbial money.
Sometimes he wonders if that’s as much of a normal life as he can hope to ever have.
Other times, he doesn’t question it at all. Doesn’t want to know what she’s getting out of this or why she wants to keep doing it. Doesn’t want to remind himself that he should tell her that this is wrong, can never really go anywhere.
Right now he was hoping for the latter - one of those times when he could just forget about how wrong this is and how fucked up it makes him to have a girl that he calls just to get off with.
The cell phone chirped through her number as he wedged it between his shoulder and ear, leaning back in the pillows of the bed. Lumpy and thin, they’d be hell to try to sleep on later; but he wasn’t looking for sleep right now, just something to prop him up a touch so that he could look at the television while he -
”Sam?”
“Hey, Chloe.”
She laughs. “Was starting to think you weren’t going to call anymore.”
Coming from any other girl, that line would sound like a chastising reminder that he should call more often.
But Chloe wasn’t any other girl and if she cared that he hadn’t called in a couple weeks, it was probably because she worried about him.
”You alone?” he asks, hating how cheesy it sounds.
She doesn’t mind, doesn’t care.
“Um, hold on a sec.”
There’s a muffled sound as she covers the phone with her hand, speaking to someone. Sam can’t make out the words so he turns his attention back to the television, hand strayed to the front of his jeans. He thumbs at the fly, pushing it open and then closed, then open again, not quite ready to unzip. Beneath the denim, he felt his cock stir and start to twitch, and it had nothing to do with the actors currently panting on screen.
Anticipation, Sam had found, was almost as sweet as the climax sometimes. Like right now, while he waits for Chloe to get somewhere more private, with every passing second making his cock a little harder, his body tingle with the beginnings of arousal.
He moves his hand up from his jeans, fingertips skimming over the waist. Pushing up his t-shirt, his fingers graze over bare skin, right below his belly button. He sucks in a breath, nails scratching at the skin, leaving little pink lines that will fade all too quickly.
“Getting started without me?”
Sam laughs. “Maybe.”
“God,” Chloe moans, voice whispery. They’ve never done this face-to-face - though he’d like to whenever he gets back that way - but he can picture her just the same. Eyes half-shut, cheeks pinked, lips red and wet. When she speaks again, it’s to breathe his name like sin dripping from her lips. “Sam…”
“Where are you?”
”Office at the Talon, so we have to be quick. The last thing I want is to explain this to Lois.”
Sam understands. He looks at the clock on the nightstand, estimating when Dean left compared to what time it is now. He hopes that he’ll have enough time to do this, to make it good, to hear her voice and let it wash over him, through him.
”I’ve missed you,” he tells her, fingers curling against his stomach. On the screen a second woman has been added to the mix and her fake breasts are bouncing. In his mind, Sam replaces her with Chloe, himself with the actor that’s fucking her.
”You’re sweet,” Chloe’s laugh is husky. “Are you touching yourself for me?”
“Not yet.”
“Do it,” she orders, her breath hitching. “Take one of those big hands of yours and wrap those long fingers around yourself.” She stutters over the word and Sam is reminded that she’s pretty innocent, despite her willingness - sometimes eagerness - to do this with him. He thinks that he might cum all over himself like a fucking teen if she ever says cock or dick, instead of the flowery hints and allusions she uses when talking to him. Girl can face down a meteor mutant, but ask her to talk dirty and she backs down quicker than if she had a gun pointed at her head.
He does as she asks; unzipping his fly and pushing pants and boxers both down in one movement, off his hips, to lay against his lower legs. He’s hard and she’s whimpering into the phone as he takes himself in one hand. The first touch of fingers against his hot, heated flesh is almost too much, and Sam bites down on his lip.
“God, you sound so sexy when you make that noise,” Chloe breathes. “Are you doing it?”
”Yeah.” He flexes his fingers around his cock and gives it an experimental tug, gauging just how far off he really is with that one, hard up-down stroke. Not far at all, it seems. “Are you -“
Chloe whimpers, cutting him off. “I wish I was there to touch you. Put my hand on you. My mouth.”
Sam groans, jerking himself roughly with one hand while the other skims up his stomach, across his chest. He pauses at his nipple, pinching it hard between two fingers, then the other. That touch of pain makes him groan again. He rolls one of the hard peaks between his fingers, hard to soft, then hard again, varying the speed and pressure. His tongue darts out, licking his lips. A quick flick, then back in his mouth.
Over the phone, he can hear Chloe working herself higher and higher, her moans getting more and more breathy, whispery. She’s the opposite of the few girls he’s been with. Whereas they got louder as they came closer, Chloe just got quieter and quieter. He’s pretty sure that he didn’t have a whisper-kink before he started this fucked up relationship with her, but that’s okay.
”I love listening to you,” Chloe whispers. “Knowing that talking to me like this turns you on? That’s what gets to me every time. God” The word tumbles out of her mouth on the tail end of a moan and Sam shudders in his grasp. Not quite there, but so close.
”Fuck, Chloe,” he growls, wrist jerking harder, faster. A flick of thumb over the head, nail teasing the slit, then back down, smearing pre-cum up and down his length with each and every twist. His hips buck up, ramming his cock into his fist. “Next time we’re near you -“
“You’re gonna what?” she asks, breath catching, hitching, stopping for one moment as she sighs and whimpers. “Tell me?”
Sam’s eyes flutter closed, the action on the television forgotten. What he’s doing right here? Much hotter. Much sexier.
”I’m,” he pauses, trying to get his mouth to move, to make sounds other than those breathless gasps that are coming from between his lips. “I’m gonna fuck you everywhere that you’ve ever been when we did this.” It’s a threat and a promise.
“You’ll put your hands on me?” she asks. “I love your hands. Your fingers. They’re so… so… Oh, fuck me.” She groans.
“You have a hand fetish,” he teases, but there’s no bite behind it. Not when he’s soclosehecantasteit and she’s making these whining noises in the back of her throat, so low and soft that he knows he’s lucky to be hearing them at all.
“Can’t help it… you’ve got… nice hands. Wonder what your cock is like.”
And, just like he’s always thought, the sound of that word from her blessedly sweet lips makes him cum. Sam cries out, bucking into his hand, fingers tightening then releasing as he rides through the orgasm. Thick strings of cum shoot up and over his half-bare stomach and he knows in the back of his head that he got his t-shirt, too. He shudder and jerks, mind blanking to everything except the throb of his orgasm and Chloe’s whispered cries as she finds her own release.
When it’s over, he laughs softly, teasingly. “You like my hands.”
Chloe’s laugh is just as soft. It’s warm and playful and all the things that he doesn’t have a right to expect from her, yet enjoys just the same. “I do.” He can hear the slide of her tongue over her lips. “And, correct me if I’m wrong, but you got off on hearing me say that little something.”
Sam laughs. Even now, she won’t say it. He pulls his pants back up, not bothering to button the jeans.
”Maybe.”
“I’ll have to remember th-,“ she stops, cursing, “Got to go.”
When Sam says goodbye, it’s to a phone that’s already gone dead in his hand. If it wasn’t for the post-orgasmic lethargy creeping through his body, he might have been disappointed that they didn’t get to talk.
As it is, he’s too sated to care.
It’s the sound of the door opening that finally jars him back to moving, and then it’s only a fumble for the television remote.
He doesn’t turn it off quick enough.
Dean looks at the now-black screen of the television, then at Sam, who tries to look innocent and unaffected. It doesn’t work. Dean’s caught him.
Again.
Talk about awkward.
“Dude - this is getting to be a habit,” Dean frowns. “Since when are you a porn addict?”
Oh, if only he knew.
END
Title: Like Kisses for Coffee
Author: Jinni (jinni.tth@gmail.com)
Rated: NC17
Disclaimer: All things SPN belong to Eric Kripke, et al. All things Smallville belong to DC Comics, et al.
Prompt: 13 - Kitchen
Claim: SPN Crossovers - at 50_smutlets
Pairing: Dean/Chloe
Summary: He looks her up every time he’s near her hometown.
~*~*~
He looks her up every time he’s near her hometown. Smallville, land of the weird, just not the kind of weird that he and his family are into. Things in this town are just plain out of this world freaky. Oh, he helped out once, but once was enough and he wasn’t even needed then because there’s this other guy…
… but that’s getting completely off track…
Chloe’s one of those girls that he can’t get out of his mind, out of his system. She’s blonde hair, attitude, and snark, wrapped in a package so pretty that it makes him hard just thinking about her. Or maybe it’s that mouth of hers that gets him hard. Not what she can do with it, but what she says. Chloe can be a real bitch when she sets her mind to it, a complete sweetheart at other times, but she’s always a smartass.
Dean loves a smartass.
She’s in the apartment over the Talon when he rolls into town. Lois quirks a smile his way, points up, and he laughs a little before introducing her to Sam. They can keep each other company while he reacquaints himself with a certain spitfire.
He picks the lock on the door because he wants to surprise her, knowing he could have just asked Lois for the key, but damn its more fun this way and its not like he gets many chances to practice that particular skill. Except he does, so really there’s no excuse other than the one that starts out more fun this way.
She’s in the kitchen, back to him, when he lets himself in. Humming to herself, hovering over the coffee machine. Why she’s doing that instead of just going downstairs and getting a cup there, he doesn’t know and doesn’t plan on asking. It’s her fault that jus the smell of certain coffees - in certain combinations, with cream and sugar and sometimes a hint of cinnamon or something else fancy - is enough to get him hard. Sammy doesn’t know about those trips he makes sometimes to Starbucks just to let the smell wash over him, sip something that reminds him of her and the good times they’ve had together.
”Hey, beautiful.”
She shrieks and jumps, hand flying to the drawer near her hip. Knife drawer, he’d bet. But the second she sees that its just him, she relaxes. And then hits him.
Repeatedly.
”Don’t do that!” she hisses, swatting his arm again. Hard. Man, she’s gotten stronger since the last time he saw her.
”Sorry,” he says and he’s not sorry at all and she knows it. With one step he’s taken away the distance between the two of them, pressing her back against the kitchen counter, the coffee machine percolating along with merry little gurgles and drips. He dips his head, but Chloe turns hers. There’s a little smile on her lips.
”Dean, it’s been a while, you know. I’m sort of seeing someone now. A photographer at the paper.”
His eyebrow goes up and he turns his head just enough so that when he leans in and whispers “Does it matter?”, its right at her ear and she shivers.
The look in her eyes when he pulls back is all the answer he needs, but still he doesn’t feel right until she shakes her head and mutters a ‘Not really’.
She tastes like coffee and sugar, which tells him this batch isn’t her first fix of the day. He licks the inside of her mouth with his tongue, tasting her with first strokes while she shoves her hands between the two of them, already working his jeans open. He always did like that about her, she knew when to hurry up and get things done. With Sam waiting downstairs for him - with Lois, for God’s sake - he didn’t have nearly as much time as he would have liked.
Without his prompting, she sets herself on the edge of the counter behind her, spreading her legs. It’s only then that he realizes she’s wearing a skirt and - hotdamn - that’s so fucking perfect that he forgets to breathe for a second, his lips stilling on her mouth. She fumbles behind him, hand sliding into his rear pocket, taking out his wallet. She’s so familiar with this - with him - that she doesn’t even have to look to pull out the little thin foil from the back pocket.
She presses it into his hand and goes back to work on his pants, sliding her hand past the parted denim and - oh good, that feels good - puts her hand on his cock. Warm skin meets steel and Dean sucks in a tight breath, pulling back from her mouth to rip at the condom wrapper with his teeth. He tugs out the little piece of latex, yielding willing to Chloe’s mouth when she grabs his lower lip with her teeth. She’s breathing hard and her eyes are glazed and dark.
This is how he loves Chloe - worked up and hot just for him. The first time they’d done this, she’d only been with one other man. If he had to lay bets, Dean would guess that she’s still only been with him and that guy that took her virginity - fucking prick that didn’t even call her - because he doesn’t think that Chloe rushes into sex so this new boyfriend of hers? He doubts that guy’s even seen a pair of her underwear, much less gotten inside of them.
Dean sort of likes the fact that Chloe is so free spirited with him, so passionate. He likes the fact that -
“God,” he cries out, the condom just barely on before Chloe has grabbed him, shifted her hips forward and pushed the head of his cock into the slick depths of her body. He shudders and nearly cums right then and there like a fucking teenager. Chloe laughs against his mouth and its enough to bring him back from the edge. Ain’t no way in hell he’s gonna embarrass himself with this girl.
It’s still over way too quickly. Him thrusting into her a few full times, his hand between them, thumb flicking over her clit. With a keening noise she cums and arches back, away from his mouth. The cry that comes from her mouth is loud enough that he wonders if anyone downstairs heard it before he’s coming, too, her name on his lips, a cry to God and ‘Fuck, yes’ in the air. He shudders and spills into the condom, Chloe’s body clenching around him.
Even when they only get five minutes, they’re still good together, he thinks as he pulls out of her. He stands between her legs for a long moment, his forehead against hers, their heavy breathing synchronized. Her eyes are half-shut and she’s looking up at him through her lashes. When she drops a kiss on his lips and pats his upper arm, he gets the point. They’re treading on dangerous ground here, this post-coital cuddling.
”So - see you next time you’re nearby?” she asks as he fastens his jeans, back turned to him pouring herself a mug of coffee. There’s something in her tone, a sadness that he understands but doesn’t want to put name to.
He asked her once to come with him.
She said no.
There’s nothing else to be said about it. Nothing else to be asked.
He nods, then remembers she’s not looking. “Yeah. See you then.”
Her murmured goodbye follows him out of the apartment and he takes the stairs down, back into the Talon. Sees Sammy sitting there, still chatting up Lois. She flashes him a questioning look and he shrugs. Her cousin is staying here, as usual. Lois’s lips press together, disappointment clear. It’s not her decision to make, though. She points him out to Sam and goes back to her customers.
“That was quick,” Sam comments as they walk out of the building.
“Wasn’t much to talk about.”
END