fic post:Supernatural ficlet
2/20/07 01:50 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roxyTitle:untitled
Fandom: SpN
Pairing: Dean/OMC
Rating:nc-17
Summary: Dean meets a kindred spirit—sort of.
A/N: this is a x-over of sorts with the Anita Blake universe—wait, come back!
Eta:sorry, everybody! forgot the cut!
They were in a bar somewhere outside of Reno, the kind of place where everyone knows everyone else—and strangers aren’t all that welcome. But--they’d been driving for a long time, and Dean really needed to get the hell out of the car and breathe someone else’s air for a change. Sam agreed pretty fast—he was as eager as Dean to feel a little space around himself. Stretch long legs and get some of the road dust out of his throat.
The music was pretty much what Dean had expected, the beers were as mediocre as he’d expected and the wood walls and floor breathed out the stink of a million million cigarettes and liquor, fresh and recycled--about what he’d expected.
What he didn’t expect was good old Ted, a real great guy, friendly as hell. Ted, who grinned a whole lot, and sat real close sipping a beer and looking really interested when he asked about what they did and where they was from, assured them it was a pretty good old town, Reno. He was up this way on vacation—just taking a few days to cut loose. Dean ventured that ranch work must be damn hard work, and Ted smiled. Reckon it is he said, but when it was time to let loose, well—he liked to work hard at that. He grinned, and all around him guys grinned back, girls mentally tossed their panties and Dean had to salute the guy—he was pretty fucking good. Sam held back, kicked back on the sidelines and kind of watched and for some reason, it made Dean a little mad, him keeping back like that…he was always doing that, keeping that little bit back…Ted was good people, he was just what he seemed, and Sam needed to relax a little.
Good old Ted asked if they’d like to step out to the truck real quick, he had a little something the bar didn’t carry out there. It was his own special blend, and if they had a mind, he’d enjoy their company. Dean said sure why not, and Sam just kind of glowered and looked sour. Fuck, Sammy, lighten up.
Ted headed out to the lot, and Dean and Sam stood in the little vestibule, blocking traffic, pissing people off, Dean arguing with Sam in a low ‘I’m not arguing with you voice’ and Sam slowly softening… “Okay, Dean, okay. He’s all right, I guess, but… why don’t you go ahead, I’ll see to a room and maybe meet up with you.”
Dean sauntered out to the lot, anticipation of some thing better made him grin all the way to the big shiny truck back of the lot—a truck from money, but not for show. Even Dean could see that it was a working truck, a real cowboy’s truck. Cool.
Ted sat in the open door of his truck, legs spread wide, elbows cocked on his knees—waiting. His weathered Stetson was tilted back and blonde hair, sweat dampened and twisted into spikes stuck out under the brim. He was thin, but looked hard, built. Dean was willing to bet hard all around. The smile that had been on his face all evening was gone, and the hunter showed—eyes flat and calculating as a hawk’s peered out of the face of a statue…interesting. Scary as fuck—but human. Dean figured he’d take a chance.
He caught sight of Dean and quick as a wink the mask slid down, good old Ted—and now Dean wanted to know why. If there was one thing they knew, him and Sam, it was masks. He had to admit though--if Ted hadn’t let it drop for that instant Dean would never have known.
Ted leaned back, hey, where’s your buddy?
Said he’d meet us, but, I doubt it…
Ted hesitated and asked, hey boy, do you want to go for a ride? Dean felt a little spark light inside, a flip low in his gut and wondered what else good old Ted liked.
They drove out of town, on a road that stretched forever, sand and scrub stretched away for miles on either side of the road. The sky wasn’t as dark as it had been that night Sam and he had camped in the desert, but it was wide enough. Dean was surprised they pulled up at a house at the edge of a development; he’d expected it fast and furious in the truck.
Disappointed that Ted was just Ted after all, and maybe he’d been mistaken about the whole mask thing…until Ted had him open, had him grinding his teeth, gasping into his hands. Good old Ted had him in his nice little suburban bed, licking him open, and spreading him wide, and pretty much making him lose his mind. His tongue was drilling into him like—like nothing he’d ever felt or even knew he wanted to feel. Fingers scissored into him, twisting, pushing and Dean was beyond thought—moaning and groaning, cursing and begging for more and deeper and hotter--Ted laughed. Haven't you ever done this before?
Dean grunted, no, yes--no and pushed back against his fingers, until Ted’s palm was flat against his ass, and hitting—something—sending electric shocks through him, until his head was swimming and his ass was begging to be filled. Ted leaned closer, his lips against his ear. I’m going to fuck you, boy. Dean nodded, oh hell yeah, he better. He sat, and stretched his legs out, and let Dean take charge--let him slide down onto his cock.
Dean bit his lip. He waited for it to hurt and it didn’t, it felt weird, rough, deep, and Ted moved slow. Watched his cock slide in an out of him and Dean fucked himself as hard as he could, this was…
Ever think about him like this? Words whispered in his ear and Dean groaned, louder and louder, grabbed Ted’s shoulders and pistoned up and down on him—Thought so—I could see it—saw something else too, he gasped, and licked wetly up the center of his hand, grabbed Dean’s cock and pumped until he screamed, until he shot hot and hard between them, and good old Ted’s eyes rolled back, and he shuddered—Dean could feel his cock lift and shift inside of him, and caught that Ted hadn’t expected to enjoy it this much. Hell, yeah.
When Ted dropped him off in the bar’s parking lot the next morning, Dean was sore and cocky and leaned in for a kiss... Ted kissed him back, surprising Dean. It was a slow, serious thorough…assault of a kiss that started at his lips and ended up frying his brain and filling his cock. The look was different; it was the flat measuring look of the night before. The voice—Dean shivered, “I hope you boys know what you’re dealing with. Here. If you ever need help with the job.” He slipped Dean a number. “No one will answer—but I’ll know.”
Dean grinned, “Okay Ted, now you don’t sound at all like a cattle rancher at all.”
Ted laughed. “Did I say I was? Tell your brother—to be careful.”
He was gone, the truck kicking up a long roll of dust, sending it sweeping over Dean. He turned the card over in his hand—it was blank, nothing but a number on it. Thought about tossing it, and tucked it in a pocket. Never know, he thought. We need all the friends we can get. Dean was opening the motel room door before he remembered that he’d never said he and Sam were brothers, and kind of thinking on it, he wasn’t real sure if he’d been warning Sam, or *warning* Sam…he crushed the card in his pocket and hoped that he didn’t run into good old Ted anytime too soon.
Fuck, this was a strange trip.
Fandom: SpN
Pairing: Dean/OMC
Rating:nc-17
Summary: Dean meets a kindred spirit—sort of.
A/N: this is a x-over of sorts with the Anita Blake universe—wait, come back!
Eta:sorry, everybody! forgot the cut!
They were in a bar somewhere outside of Reno, the kind of place where everyone knows everyone else—and strangers aren’t all that welcome. But--they’d been driving for a long time, and Dean really needed to get the hell out of the car and breathe someone else’s air for a change. Sam agreed pretty fast—he was as eager as Dean to feel a little space around himself. Stretch long legs and get some of the road dust out of his throat.
The music was pretty much what Dean had expected, the beers were as mediocre as he’d expected and the wood walls and floor breathed out the stink of a million million cigarettes and liquor, fresh and recycled--about what he’d expected.
What he didn’t expect was good old Ted, a real great guy, friendly as hell. Ted, who grinned a whole lot, and sat real close sipping a beer and looking really interested when he asked about what they did and where they was from, assured them it was a pretty good old town, Reno. He was up this way on vacation—just taking a few days to cut loose. Dean ventured that ranch work must be damn hard work, and Ted smiled. Reckon it is he said, but when it was time to let loose, well—he liked to work hard at that. He grinned, and all around him guys grinned back, girls mentally tossed their panties and Dean had to salute the guy—he was pretty fucking good. Sam held back, kicked back on the sidelines and kind of watched and for some reason, it made Dean a little mad, him keeping back like that…he was always doing that, keeping that little bit back…Ted was good people, he was just what he seemed, and Sam needed to relax a little.
Good old Ted asked if they’d like to step out to the truck real quick, he had a little something the bar didn’t carry out there. It was his own special blend, and if they had a mind, he’d enjoy their company. Dean said sure why not, and Sam just kind of glowered and looked sour. Fuck, Sammy, lighten up.
Ted headed out to the lot, and Dean and Sam stood in the little vestibule, blocking traffic, pissing people off, Dean arguing with Sam in a low ‘I’m not arguing with you voice’ and Sam slowly softening… “Okay, Dean, okay. He’s all right, I guess, but… why don’t you go ahead, I’ll see to a room and maybe meet up with you.”
Dean sauntered out to the lot, anticipation of some thing better made him grin all the way to the big shiny truck back of the lot—a truck from money, but not for show. Even Dean could see that it was a working truck, a real cowboy’s truck. Cool.
Ted sat in the open door of his truck, legs spread wide, elbows cocked on his knees—waiting. His weathered Stetson was tilted back and blonde hair, sweat dampened and twisted into spikes stuck out under the brim. He was thin, but looked hard, built. Dean was willing to bet hard all around. The smile that had been on his face all evening was gone, and the hunter showed—eyes flat and calculating as a hawk’s peered out of the face of a statue…interesting. Scary as fuck—but human. Dean figured he’d take a chance.
He caught sight of Dean and quick as a wink the mask slid down, good old Ted—and now Dean wanted to know why. If there was one thing they knew, him and Sam, it was masks. He had to admit though--if Ted hadn’t let it drop for that instant Dean would never have known.
Ted leaned back, hey, where’s your buddy?
Said he’d meet us, but, I doubt it…
Ted hesitated and asked, hey boy, do you want to go for a ride? Dean felt a little spark light inside, a flip low in his gut and wondered what else good old Ted liked.
They drove out of town, on a road that stretched forever, sand and scrub stretched away for miles on either side of the road. The sky wasn’t as dark as it had been that night Sam and he had camped in the desert, but it was wide enough. Dean was surprised they pulled up at a house at the edge of a development; he’d expected it fast and furious in the truck.
Disappointed that Ted was just Ted after all, and maybe he’d been mistaken about the whole mask thing…until Ted had him open, had him grinding his teeth, gasping into his hands. Good old Ted had him in his nice little suburban bed, licking him open, and spreading him wide, and pretty much making him lose his mind. His tongue was drilling into him like—like nothing he’d ever felt or even knew he wanted to feel. Fingers scissored into him, twisting, pushing and Dean was beyond thought—moaning and groaning, cursing and begging for more and deeper and hotter--Ted laughed. Haven't you ever done this before?
Dean grunted, no, yes--no and pushed back against his fingers, until Ted’s palm was flat against his ass, and hitting—something—sending electric shocks through him, until his head was swimming and his ass was begging to be filled. Ted leaned closer, his lips against his ear. I’m going to fuck you, boy. Dean nodded, oh hell yeah, he better. He sat, and stretched his legs out, and let Dean take charge--let him slide down onto his cock.
Dean bit his lip. He waited for it to hurt and it didn’t, it felt weird, rough, deep, and Ted moved slow. Watched his cock slide in an out of him and Dean fucked himself as hard as he could, this was…
Ever think about him like this? Words whispered in his ear and Dean groaned, louder and louder, grabbed Ted’s shoulders and pistoned up and down on him—Thought so—I could see it—saw something else too, he gasped, and licked wetly up the center of his hand, grabbed Dean’s cock and pumped until he screamed, until he shot hot and hard between them, and good old Ted’s eyes rolled back, and he shuddered—Dean could feel his cock lift and shift inside of him, and caught that Ted hadn’t expected to enjoy it this much. Hell, yeah.
When Ted dropped him off in the bar’s parking lot the next morning, Dean was sore and cocky and leaned in for a kiss... Ted kissed him back, surprising Dean. It was a slow, serious thorough…assault of a kiss that started at his lips and ended up frying his brain and filling his cock. The look was different; it was the flat measuring look of the night before. The voice—Dean shivered, “I hope you boys know what you’re dealing with. Here. If you ever need help with the job.” He slipped Dean a number. “No one will answer—but I’ll know.”
Dean grinned, “Okay Ted, now you don’t sound at all like a cattle rancher at all.”
Ted laughed. “Did I say I was? Tell your brother—to be careful.”
He was gone, the truck kicking up a long roll of dust, sending it sweeping over Dean. He turned the card over in his hand—it was blank, nothing but a number on it. Thought about tossing it, and tucked it in a pocket. Never know, he thought. We need all the friends we can get. Dean was opening the motel room door before he remembered that he’d never said he and Sam were brothers, and kind of thinking on it, he wasn’t real sure if he’d been warning Sam, or *warning* Sam…he crushed the card in his pocket and hoped that he didn’t run into good old Ted anytime too soon.
Fuck, this was a strange trip.
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(no subject)
2/20/07 07:56 am (UTC)I have also been thinking about the prevalence of the Shawn/Lassiter pairing in Psych slash every time I see a commercial for the show. I don't understand it and it makes me angry.
(no subject)
2/20/07 03:28 pm (UTC)There is so much love between Gus and Shawn. What is wrong with everyone? I love the show, but hate the fic and have dropped out of the community I joined. I honestly think what's going on there is racism, though I'm sure they'd fight to the death before admitting to it.
(no subject)
2/20/07 10:55 am (UTC)I wish that whatever happened to Laurell K. Hamilton along about book 4 hadn't happened. She had all sorts of cool things she could have done in the 'verse she was originally building, and she seems not to give a darn about any of them anymore.
(no subject)
2/20/07 03:30 pm (UTC)Those books were so much fun at first, and then they just got--weird, in a bad way.
(no subject)
2/20/07 11:37 am (UTC)(no subject)
2/20/07 11:38 am (UTC)(no subject)
2/20/07 03:30 pm (UTC)(no subject)
2/20/07 03:31 pm (UTC)have I told you how much I like having you here? *BIGGRIN*
(no subject)
2/20/07 03:53 pm (UTC)(this is me. i'll leave it up for a while till you see it and then yank it down. at the diner a while ago, as i ate pancakes for mardi gras, i found out that the seniors' special i always get is not for anyone under 52. they never asked me for my driver's license, not even a few years ago when i started ordering it! apparently i do look my age. *g*)
(no subject)
2/20/07 04:11 pm (UTC)*GASP*!!! You're right! Fool that I am, I could be ordering the senior special--who's going ot check? *duh*
I get the senior coffee at work. No one asks. *sigh* Now that I'm 53, it would be a compliment. *g*
Remember how offended we'd get to be carded, back in our twenties? lol!
(no subject)
2/21/07 03:55 am (UTC)You are so cute.
My late mother let her hair go completely gray in her mid 40s. I could, but don't. Anyway, they started offering her the senior citizen discounts when she was 45 or 46, and she gladly accepted. So did my dad. They didn't give a shit how old people thought they were, they wanted the discount!
(no subject)
2/21/07 04:02 am (UTC)Wise folks, your parents were. *nodnod*
(no subject)
2/20/07 07:16 pm (UTC)*bounce*
*waves*
Hi hi hi!!
Yis, still love it. Dean! Slutty! Fun!
:)
The smile that had been on his face all evening was gone, and the hunter showed—eyes flat and calculating as a hawk’s peered out of the face of a statue…interesting. Scary as fuck—but human. Dean figured he’d take a chance.
He caught sight of Dean and quick as a wink the mask slid down, good old Ted—and now Dean wanted to know why. If there was one thing they knew, him and Sam, it was masks. He had to admit though--if Ted hadn’t let it drop for that instant Dean would never have known.
Love that.
(no subject)
2/20/07 07:30 pm (UTC)(no subject)
2/20/07 10:06 pm (UTC)But also 'cause it's goooood.
:)
(no subject)
2/20/07 07:57 pm (UTC)(no subject)
2/21/07 03:01 am (UTC)I done good! :)