Enough with the wank.
Dec. 31st, 2006 01:56 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
apocalypsosNan's got a point. If everybody is talking about wank, that means nobody is writing any smut. UNACCEPTABLE.
Damn it, that needs rectifying.
Title: Love In An Elevator (And All Other Enclosed Spaces)
Author: Troll Princess
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: R
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Author's note: Rock Star! Dean 'verse
*****
Love In An Elevator (And All Other Enclosed Spaces)
*****
Dean likes to think of it as a contest.
Not that any of them talk about it, but if they did he'd totally win. Mike's thing is that he has this awful habit of making an ass out of himself on national television, which is why they've taken to assigning him an anecdote to talk about in every interview and that's it. "Hey, Mike, tell them that shit about the time you handed Lindsay Lohan a garbage bag full of underwear backstage at the MTV Video Awards." You know, like that.
Tyler trashes hotel rooms. He's old-school.
And Ian ... well, Ian's mysterious. You'd think that wouldn't win him a contest about which one of the band members is the most fucked-up, but you'd be amazed. He swims through interviews like he's dodging exploding buoys or something, teasing and dancing with innuendo with a dangerously mischievous twinkle in his eye. The urban legends they've come up with about Ian are getting fucking ridiculous. Sam read something once about Ian having to go to an emergency to have Tom Cruise's entire forearm removed from his ass. He's still trying to figure out whether that's better or worse than a gerbil.
Dean, meanwhile, has his lips wrapped around his brother's cock.
He so wins.
Sam's breath comes out shredded and ragged as he grips blindly at the wall, and he can't feel his knees anymore and he'd be a hell of a lot more comfortable if his ears weren't ringing from the concert and they weren't in a fucking closet. He wants to moan, wants to groan and say Dean's name like a prayer and make a dozen other noises he'll be embarrassed about later, but Mike's laughter and Ian's mindless guitar strumming can be heard through the door, and --
"Fuck, Dean," Sam whispers hoarsely.
It's as quiet as he can manage with precious wet heat around his cock and Dean's hands on his hips and balls, but suddenly it's not there anymore and Sam feels as if the earth's dropped out from underneath his feet.
"You keep talking," Dean whispers back, "and you're the one who'll be explaining this to the guys."
Sam makes this choked sound as he tries to catch his breath and says, "That's fair."
And he can tell Dean wants to laugh at that, maybe even takes it as a fucking challenge, but if it means Dean will just get back to blowing his brains out Sam won't complain.
The next thing Sam knows Dean's back to sucking along the length of him, his fingertips drifting unconsciously over the still-healing scar high on Sam's hip. A poltergeist, a fence post, thirteen stitches. Shit, it doesn't matter, not now, not with Dean's other hand slipping back to tease him, making Sam wonder if he's really that fucking crazy. Really going to do it, actually going to fuck Samm senseless in the closet of some dressing room backstage in Albuquerque with his buddies in the band ten feet away through a flimsy excuse for a door.
It wouldn't be the first time, Sam realizes, and nearly sinks to the floor as he comes and comes hard, his hand clamped over his mouth to muffle the sound.
It must work, because Mike's still telling some dumb joke about a dead frog on a string and Tyler's still laughing like he's going to die from it. Ian hasn't stopped absently playing Aerosmith. The groupies are still milling around just outside the door, and Sam can hear all of it like it's happening right next to him, and from the sound of things none of them heard a goddamn thing from inside the closet. Sam wonders briefly if maybe they entered another dimension when they ducked inside before everybody showed up, Dean flipping the lock on the door and shutting them off from reality.
"Stop thinking so damn hard," Dean says, and mouths along the skin right below Sam's ear as he practically holds Sam up with his thigh between Sam's legs.
"Dude, if you think I'm thinking clearly with your hand still down my pants, you're crazy."
Dean chuckles, a low rumble in his chest that has Sam pressing up against him in desperation. "You know, we can't leave this closet anytime soon."
Sam grins in the darkness. "That an invitation?"
"Hey, we've got to kill time somehow," Dean whispers in his ear, and tugs at Sam's jeans.
*****
Now that I've gotten that out of the way, I'm off to go work on Dexter femslash. Er, hi. :)
EDIT: Oh, for crying out loud, mow I remember why I hate this computer -- because it's insanely annoying about which webpages it'll let me access. *headdesk*
Damn it, that needs rectifying.
Title: Love In An Elevator (And All Other Enclosed Spaces)
Author: Troll Princess
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: R
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Author's note: Rock Star! Dean 'verse
Love In An Elevator (And All Other Enclosed Spaces)
*****
Dean likes to think of it as a contest.
Not that any of them talk about it, but if they did he'd totally win. Mike's thing is that he has this awful habit of making an ass out of himself on national television, which is why they've taken to assigning him an anecdote to talk about in every interview and that's it. "Hey, Mike, tell them that shit about the time you handed Lindsay Lohan a garbage bag full of underwear backstage at the MTV Video Awards." You know, like that.
Tyler trashes hotel rooms. He's old-school.
And Ian ... well, Ian's mysterious. You'd think that wouldn't win him a contest about which one of the band members is the most fucked-up, but you'd be amazed. He swims through interviews like he's dodging exploding buoys or something, teasing and dancing with innuendo with a dangerously mischievous twinkle in his eye. The urban legends they've come up with about Ian are getting fucking ridiculous. Sam read something once about Ian having to go to an emergency to have Tom Cruise's entire forearm removed from his ass. He's still trying to figure out whether that's better or worse than a gerbil.
Dean, meanwhile, has his lips wrapped around his brother's cock.
He so wins.
Sam's breath comes out shredded and ragged as he grips blindly at the wall, and he can't feel his knees anymore and he'd be a hell of a lot more comfortable if his ears weren't ringing from the concert and they weren't in a fucking closet. He wants to moan, wants to groan and say Dean's name like a prayer and make a dozen other noises he'll be embarrassed about later, but Mike's laughter and Ian's mindless guitar strumming can be heard through the door, and --
"Fuck, Dean," Sam whispers hoarsely.
It's as quiet as he can manage with precious wet heat around his cock and Dean's hands on his hips and balls, but suddenly it's not there anymore and Sam feels as if the earth's dropped out from underneath his feet.
"You keep talking," Dean whispers back, "and you're the one who'll be explaining this to the guys."
Sam makes this choked sound as he tries to catch his breath and says, "That's fair."
And he can tell Dean wants to laugh at that, maybe even takes it as a fucking challenge, but if it means Dean will just get back to blowing his brains out Sam won't complain.
The next thing Sam knows Dean's back to sucking along the length of him, his fingertips drifting unconsciously over the still-healing scar high on Sam's hip. A poltergeist, a fence post, thirteen stitches. Shit, it doesn't matter, not now, not with Dean's other hand slipping back to tease him, making Sam wonder if he's really that fucking crazy. Really going to do it, actually going to fuck Samm senseless in the closet of some dressing room backstage in Albuquerque with his buddies in the band ten feet away through a flimsy excuse for a door.
It wouldn't be the first time, Sam realizes, and nearly sinks to the floor as he comes and comes hard, his hand clamped over his mouth to muffle the sound.
It must work, because Mike's still telling some dumb joke about a dead frog on a string and Tyler's still laughing like he's going to die from it. Ian hasn't stopped absently playing Aerosmith. The groupies are still milling around just outside the door, and Sam can hear all of it like it's happening right next to him, and from the sound of things none of them heard a goddamn thing from inside the closet. Sam wonders briefly if maybe they entered another dimension when they ducked inside before everybody showed up, Dean flipping the lock on the door and shutting them off from reality.
"Stop thinking so damn hard," Dean says, and mouths along the skin right below Sam's ear as he practically holds Sam up with his thigh between Sam's legs.
"Dude, if you think I'm thinking clearly with your hand still down my pants, you're crazy."
Dean chuckles, a low rumble in his chest that has Sam pressing up against him in desperation. "You know, we can't leave this closet anytime soon."
Sam grins in the darkness. "That an invitation?"
"Hey, we've got to kill time somehow," Dean whispers in his ear, and tugs at Sam's jeans.
*****
Now that I've gotten that out of the way, I'm off to go work on Dexter femslash. Er, hi. :)
EDIT: Oh, for crying out loud, mow I remember why I hate this computer -- because it's insanely annoying about which webpages it'll let me access. *headdesk*
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-12-31 07:35 am (UTC)Hear, hear!
And yay! \o/ Rock Star Dean! *has a soft spot for this 'verse!* This was great! Thank you!
no subject
Date: 2006-12-31 07:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-31 09:08 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-31 09:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-31 09:46 am (UTC)Who are you femslashing in Dexter? Rita and Deb?
no subject
Date: 2006-12-31 01:48 pm (UTC)And thanks for the answering 'blow'. Heh.
Happy New Year,
DC
no subject
Date: 2006-12-31 02:30 pm (UTC)*spins in circles* So much love. Thank you!
no subject
Date: 2006-12-31 04:59 pm (UTC)And heeeee.
Yis, Dean wins!
Although......Tom Cruise's forearm...
*shudder*
:)
no subject
Date: 2006-12-31 05:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-31 06:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-31 06:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-01 12:31 am (UTC)But seriously? HOT.
no subject
Date: 2007-01-01 01:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-01 09:24 am (UTC)Dean, meanwhile, has his lips wrapped around his brother's cock.
Clearly, he totally wins. And heee, stuck in a closet! :D ♥!
no subject
Date: 2007-01-01 03:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-02 04:28 am (UTC)I love this verse, a RIDICULOUS amount. ♥
no subject
Date: 2007-01-02 06:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-10 06:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-17 02:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-28 10:07 pm (UTC)Oh, and yes, even as a rockstar, Dean still wins the most fucked-up award. :P
no subject
Date: 2009-05-27 08:18 pm (UTC)THIS WAS HOT! Off to read more...