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apocalypsosSomewhere between the addictive new fandom and the boredom of being stuck inside this winter, I've now written more fic in sixty-eight days than I wrote all of last year. Heh. :)
Title: You Let Me Complicate You
Author: Troll Princess
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Sam/Dean/OFC
Spoilers for: "Shadows"
Warnings: Wincest, questionable consent (I hesitate to say non-con, but ... well. Hmm.)
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, I just like playing with them.
Summary: Dazed and confused, and maybe they've screwed up this job beyond the telling of it.
Author's note: This is a wee bit dark, even for me. (And can you tell I was listening to a remix of "Closer"?)
*****
You Let Me Complicate You
*****
Pressed against the back of her is what Dean registers most of all, the rhythmic writhing of her body against him as she tilts her head back until the curve of her matches the way he wraps around her. The music throbs at the right level to make his skin hum and tingle like it's about to leap right off, and there's a hand on his hip that might be hers and might be Sam's but he'll be damned if he can tell the difference anymore.
Harder than he's ever been in his life but Sam's got him beat by half, and Dean doesn't even want to think about how he knows that with her between them.
Moving with him is what he registers after that, through a haze that's nothing like a half-dozen beers and more like going insane and being really fucking giddy about it. Hips swaying to hypnotize him, the scent of her bare skin all cherries and spice to charm him into submission. Sam's pressing close to her to trail his tongue along her neck but Dean's so close it keeps flickering along his skin, too, and Dean leans forward at the rasp of it like he's begging for more.
Everybody watching is what he barely notices, because they're in a trendy nightclub Dean wouldn't look twice at unless there was a job involved and nothing in here's anywhere near as fascinating as the twist and flicker of the girl between them. If she were made of fire, it would explain a lot, the faint searing burn her lips leave behind as they tease the flesh along his jawline, the dizzying glaze in Sam's eyes like he's inhaled too much smoke.
Can't stop doing this is what Dean realizes, can't stop inhaling the scent of her like a fucking drug or skimming his hands along her sides. Sam's hands are on her breasts, and when Dean's fingertips brush against his by accident, they both shiver in response.
Dean's hand slips around her waist in this perfect grip as her hips slide and tease against his, and somewhere in front of her Sam's doing these fucking obscene things to her and that fits, too.
Weren't we hunting a succubus? is Dean's last clear thought, but then the fog in his head goes brilliant and black all at once and he doesn't know what he's thinking anymore.
*****
Sweat and honey is what Dean tastes in the air, and maybe there's something more to it than that but Dean can't be sure. The girl hums under her breath as his hands play over her and it's like an aphrodisiac set to music.
Silk against his skin is what Dean thinks it is, but then her breath ghosts across his chest and there's the soft brush of velvet over him, under him. He's supposed to feel guilty about something, supposed to be stopping this but can't, not with her tongue darting an intoxicating trail along his skin and a large familiar hand brushing along his thigh.
Sam's fingers on his cock is what Dean knows it is, and the girl's laughter swims through his brain like nerve gas.
*****
Fuck fuck fuck is what plays in Dean's head in a constant loop, because everything's wired wrong and his nerve endings burn to the point of agony, except it's not from a gunshot wound or a jagged tear in his flesh but the addictive sensation of Sam pushing into him.
Not even there anymore is what Dean figures out the next time his mind's not too drunk with lust to see straight, the girl long gone or on the other side of the room or somewhere else that's definitely not here. If she were here, it wouldn't be the two of them alone, Sam's tongue teasing him as he thrusts into Dean, and there's the passing thought that she's got to be somewhere in the room if they're still doing this.
But then Sam moves with this weird, perfect flick of his hips, and if Dean was thinking before, he sure isn't doing any of it now.
*****
That one time in Fort Lauderdale is what Dean remembers when he wakes up, that time when Sam was off at college and it was just Dean and Dad, and because he's an idiot he was the only one dumb enough to fall for it. Waking up the next morning with barely enough energy to stand, Dad pouring orange juice down his throat and berating him for being too trusting of anything with a short enough skirt.
A good thing he'd been alone, with Dad on the job with him, and he doesn't even want to contemplate that with his lips pressed against Sam's skin like this.
A pair of hollow legs is how Dean thinks Sam does it, how he weighs so goddamn much with only a few inches on Dean. He's got to be storing extra weight somewhere, because his body's pressing down on Dean, not enough to smother but just enough to bother. There's pushing him off and there's savoring the presence, the proof that Sam's there and not leaving anytime soon, and Dean can't decide between either one of them without serious deliberation.
Didn't say no is what Dean can't get away from, because succubi work on hypnosis and hypnosis can't make you do anything you'd never do in real life.
Title: You Let Me Complicate You
Author: Troll Princess
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Sam/Dean/OFC
Spoilers for: "Shadows"
Warnings: Wincest, questionable consent (I hesitate to say non-con, but ... well. Hmm.)
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, I just like playing with them.
Summary: Dazed and confused, and maybe they've screwed up this job beyond the telling of it.
Author's note: This is a wee bit dark, even for me. (And can you tell I was listening to a remix of "Closer"?)
You Let Me Complicate You
*****
Pressed against the back of her is what Dean registers most of all, the rhythmic writhing of her body against him as she tilts her head back until the curve of her matches the way he wraps around her. The music throbs at the right level to make his skin hum and tingle like it's about to leap right off, and there's a hand on his hip that might be hers and might be Sam's but he'll be damned if he can tell the difference anymore.
Harder than he's ever been in his life but Sam's got him beat by half, and Dean doesn't even want to think about how he knows that with her between them.
Moving with him is what he registers after that, through a haze that's nothing like a half-dozen beers and more like going insane and being really fucking giddy about it. Hips swaying to hypnotize him, the scent of her bare skin all cherries and spice to charm him into submission. Sam's pressing close to her to trail his tongue along her neck but Dean's so close it keeps flickering along his skin, too, and Dean leans forward at the rasp of it like he's begging for more.
Everybody watching is what he barely notices, because they're in a trendy nightclub Dean wouldn't look twice at unless there was a job involved and nothing in here's anywhere near as fascinating as the twist and flicker of the girl between them. If she were made of fire, it would explain a lot, the faint searing burn her lips leave behind as they tease the flesh along his jawline, the dizzying glaze in Sam's eyes like he's inhaled too much smoke.
Can't stop doing this is what Dean realizes, can't stop inhaling the scent of her like a fucking drug or skimming his hands along her sides. Sam's hands are on her breasts, and when Dean's fingertips brush against his by accident, they both shiver in response.
Dean's hand slips around her waist in this perfect grip as her hips slide and tease against his, and somewhere in front of her Sam's doing these fucking obscene things to her and that fits, too.
Weren't we hunting a succubus? is Dean's last clear thought, but then the fog in his head goes brilliant and black all at once and he doesn't know what he's thinking anymore.
Sweat and honey is what Dean tastes in the air, and maybe there's something more to it than that but Dean can't be sure. The girl hums under her breath as his hands play over her and it's like an aphrodisiac set to music.
Silk against his skin is what Dean thinks it is, but then her breath ghosts across his chest and there's the soft brush of velvet over him, under him. He's supposed to feel guilty about something, supposed to be stopping this but can't, not with her tongue darting an intoxicating trail along his skin and a large familiar hand brushing along his thigh.
Sam's fingers on his cock is what Dean knows it is, and the girl's laughter swims through his brain like nerve gas.
Fuck fuck fuck is what plays in Dean's head in a constant loop, because everything's wired wrong and his nerve endings burn to the point of agony, except it's not from a gunshot wound or a jagged tear in his flesh but the addictive sensation of Sam pushing into him.
Not even there anymore is what Dean figures out the next time his mind's not too drunk with lust to see straight, the girl long gone or on the other side of the room or somewhere else that's definitely not here. If she were here, it wouldn't be the two of them alone, Sam's tongue teasing him as he thrusts into Dean, and there's the passing thought that she's got to be somewhere in the room if they're still doing this.
But then Sam moves with this weird, perfect flick of his hips, and if Dean was thinking before, he sure isn't doing any of it now.
That one time in Fort Lauderdale is what Dean remembers when he wakes up, that time when Sam was off at college and it was just Dean and Dad, and because he's an idiot he was the only one dumb enough to fall for it. Waking up the next morning with barely enough energy to stand, Dad pouring orange juice down his throat and berating him for being too trusting of anything with a short enough skirt.
A good thing he'd been alone, with Dad on the job with him, and he doesn't even want to contemplate that with his lips pressed against Sam's skin like this.
A pair of hollow legs is how Dean thinks Sam does it, how he weighs so goddamn much with only a few inches on Dean. He's got to be storing extra weight somewhere, because his body's pressing down on Dean, not enough to smother but just enough to bother. There's pushing him off and there's savoring the presence, the proof that Sam's there and not leaving anytime soon, and Dean can't decide between either one of them without serious deliberation.
Didn't say no is what Dean can't get away from, because succubi work on hypnosis and hypnosis can't make you do anything you'd never do in real life.
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no subject
Date: 2006-03-09 04:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-09 04:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-09 05:10 pm (UTC)I liked the swimming/drowning feeling Dean's got going on. Very nice.
no subject
Date: 2006-03-09 05:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-09 05:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-09 05:36 pm (UTC)This was fucking brilliant!
I'm sitting here, reading this, and it feels like that haze is dropping over ME, like i'm drowning in this thing that Dean and Sam are slipping into and I find myself thinking: I WISH i had a boyfriend because after reading this, i seriously need to get fucked.
That was me congratulating you on a fucking amazing piece - but all you're pieces are a-fucking-mazing.
no subject
Date: 2006-03-09 06:24 pm (UTC)So true, and so hot.
no subject
Date: 2006-03-09 07:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-09 07:55 pm (UTC)Thank you.
no subject
Date: 2006-03-09 11:16 pm (UTC)Which may not make any sense at all, but the guy in the room beneath me is having VERY LOUD sex, and I haven't had sleep all week, and I'm running on caffeine, and now I feel like I'm buzzing because something about this piece is just burning and staying in my mind. It doesn't seem all that "dark," from this angle -- maybe from Sam's perspective? Seems more dizzying, maybe ambigious is the word? I'm sorry I'm not too coherent.
no subject
Date: 2006-03-10 04:28 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-10 03:27 pm (UTC)But this? Was all that and more.
This line just killed me:
Didn't say no is what Dean can't get away from, because succubi work on hypnosis and hypnosis can't make you do anything you'd never do in real life.
So so so so good.
no subject
Date: 2006-03-10 09:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-14 12:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-14 04:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-05 03:55 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-05 06:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-05 07:33 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-22 06:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-06-10 05:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-29 10:52 am (UTC)Beautiful
MWA
Kk
Dean... he... ::keens::
Date: 2007-05-10 02:53 am (UTC)I especially loved how well you did the physical movements and placement. All body parts were clear to this reader and... I just really appreciate the effort I know that takes.