October Snippets - Three Deans! (SPN 1/1)
Oct. 2nd, 2006 07:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
josselinOkay, today is my second day of random snippets and fics that were never good enough to post back when I wrote them.
Three Deans! (1/1, Supernatural)
So, for a while,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
wrenlet and I were totally obsessed with the idea of multiple Deans. The fic always felt stilted--mostly because of the challenge of naming the three Deans--and I never got around to revising it so I never posted. (The last line is so lame that it makes me cringe rereading.)
Three Deans!
Dean had wrapped the crystal in his t-shirt, and the zipped his jacket back up and stuck the wrapped crystal in his pocket, and they managed to evade the killer hawks and made it back to the cabin. The fire had gone out, of course, and Sam sighed and started crumpling up some newspaper to relight it. Dean collapsed behind him on the cot, groaning about how old he was and about how, in the good old days, they'd hunted *normal things*, like ghosts and demons, rather than hawk-summoning and person-splitting pink crystals.
“Dean, toss me your lighter,” Sam said, holding the newspaper torch he'd made in one hand and holding his other hand out for Dean's lighter.
Dean yawned, and stuck his hand in his pocket to fish out his lighter, and Sam had one fraction of a second to think—ohshitwait—before there was a flash of bright pink light and three Deans standing on the rug in the middle of the room.
Because Sam was a professional at this sort of thing, his first thought was obviously to wonder why now all three of the Deans were naked.
The Deans blinked, almost simultaneously, and then they all focused on Sam at the same moment, and the one on the right licked his lips and raised a questioning eyebrow at Sam, and the one of the left had the beginnings of a sneer, and the one in the middle socked the one on the left in the jaw, hard. Sneering-Dean doubled over, clutching his jaw and protesting. “What?” he demanded.
The Dean in the middle was glaring at him. “I know what you were thinking,” he said knowingly, and Sam was distracted from Sneering-Dean taking a swing back at the Dean in the middle because lip-licking Dean had wrapped a hand around his own cock and was jerking off, slowly, looking Sam directly in the eye.
Sneering-Dean and the middle Dean went down on the rug in a tackle of wrestling grips, and the third Dean took advantage of their distraction to push Sam back a few steps and down onto the other cot.
“Are...” Sam swallowed as this Dean began unbuckling his belt, “Are you okay?” he tried.
Dean just grinned, full of wicked joy, and he leaned in and licked Sam's jaw. “Fantastic,” he hissed into Sam's ear. “And horny.”
“We should--” Sam's noble intentions were cut off by Horny-Dean pulling Sam's shirt up over his head, and Sam shivered, because it was *cold*, and he hadn't even been able to light the fire yet, but now Dean's chest was pressed up against his back, and Dean wasn't shivering at all, he was hot, and he obligingly wrapped his arms around Sam's torso even as Sam twisted to try to kiss again.
They stopped kissing when Dean was getting frustrated trying to get Sam's jeans off, and Sam let Horny-Dean fumble with the button, because the other two Deans were practically fucking on the floor, and that was just a little bit distracting. The Sneering-Dean had the other Dean pinned on the floor, but as Sam watched Sneering-Dean was watching back, and swallowing heavily and loosening his hold slightly.
The other Dean took advantage of Sneering-Dean's moment of weakness, twisting up and knocking Sneering-Dean over and pinning him, sitting on his hips and grasping his wrists. Sneering-Dean glared up, eyes heated. They gasped and pushed at each other for a few minutes, and then the middle Dean bit Sneering-Dean on the shoulder, hard. Sneering-Dean shouted a protest, and tried to buck the other Dean off of him unsuccessfully. The middle Dean grabbed Sneering-Dean's hair, and slammed his back to the floor, and then they were kissing.
Sneering-Dean broke the kiss by turning his head violently to the side. “Why does *he* get to do him?” Sneering-Dean spat angrily, nodding his head over toward the cot where Horny-Dean had successfully removed Sam's pants and was curled around his back again, jacking Sam slowly under a blanket and mouthing the back of his neck with warm lips.
“You don't get him, ever,” the middle Dean said, bearing his teeth down at the Angry-Dean and keeping his hands pinned against the floor.
“Who're you—his protector?” Angry-Dean sneered. “That's not *fair*.”
“Sorry,” Protective-Dean said, but he didn't sound sorry, at all. Angry-Dean was beginning to undulate under Protective-Dean, and Protective-Dean eyed him warily, but didn't protest.
“You *owe* me, bitch,” Angry-Dean said, and he managed to jerk one of his wrists out of Protective-Dean's grasp, but he only used it to jack himself off.
Protective-Dean smirked back at him. “How do you want it?”
Angry-Dean spat on his palm again, and began jacking Protective-Dean, and Angry-Dean hissed, “You know how I want it.”
Protective-Dean let go of Angry-Dean's other hand, too, and told Angry-Dean to roll over. When he did, on his knees with his palms on the rug, then Protective-Dean shoved him, forward, with weight on his back, pushing him down to the floor with a grunt.
“Do it,” Angry-Dean said impatiently, but Protective-Dean was smug, stretching his arms along Angry-Dean's arms and sliding his dick along the crease of Angry-Dean's ass teasingly. The longer Protective-Dean drew it out, the more irritated Angry-Dean was. “C'mon!”
Sam was still watching wide-eyed from the cot, huffing little breaths of air when Horny-Dean's fingers wandered a bit. Protective-Dean looked up suddenly, and made eye contact with Sam. It was familiar, somehow—the look that they shared there—it was a look that Sam had seen from Dean before. But Sam's eyes were drawn to Angry-Dean, too, who wasn't as familiar looking. Angry-Dean had scars on his skin that Sam didn't recognize, marks where Protective-Dean remained flawless, welts where Horny-Dean had fingernail scratches. Angry-Dean looked like he'd been beaten, maybe with a belt. Protective-Dean had a scar on his chest that looked like an old stab wound.
Angry-Dean's expression wasn't as familiar. It was something that Sam only ever saw out of the corner of his eye, but here, laid out in front of him, it was intriguing. Protective-Dean was still blocking his view, his arched body over Angry-Dean's and shielding Sam's view. It was symbolic, Sam supposed, Dean shielding the brunt of his anger from Sam, but there was something in the fierceness of Angry-Dean's passion that was strangely compelling.
Angry-Dean tried to elbow Protective-Dena in the stomach, viciously, and Protective-Dean broke eye contact with Sam as he blocked the hit and shifted his weight, getting a knee in the middle of Angry-Dean's back and clasping both of his hands slowly around Angry-Dean's throat. Angry-Dean stopped struggling and froze.
That seemed to be the signal that Protective-Dean was waiting for, and he let go of Angry-Dean's throat cautiously, holding his hands close and ready to replace them if Angry-Dean tried to move again. Angry-Dean just swallowed, heavily.
Sam whimpered a little bit on the cot, and Horny-Dean stroked his chest soothingly.
Protective-Dean ran his hands down along the sides of Angry-Dean's back, tracing along some of the worst of the scars with his fingers. Now that Angry-Dean was finally still, Protective-Dean positioned himself, and rocked into Angry-Dean hard, pushing him against the floor. Angry-Dean stayed frozen for the first two thrusts, and then that must have been a cue, because after that it was somehow okay for him to push back.
“You don't get him,” Protective-Dean was muttering and biting out between thrusts. “You won't ever get him.” He bit Angry-Dean right at the nape of his neck, and Angry-Dean grimaced but didn't say anything. “I'll always be stronger than you,” Protective-Dean continued, “And you know it, and that's half of what makes you what you are anyway.” Angry-Dean half-sobbed and his fingers scrabbled helplessly at the edge of the rug.
“You are so. Fucking. Impotent.” Protective-Dean's voice was harsh, and the words were incongruous said at the same moment as Angry-Dean was climaxing, biting his lower lip and groaning.
Angry-Dean just stayed on the floor, breathing so hard it was verging on half-sobs. He just lay there and took it, eyes closed tightly, eyelashes against his cheek, mouth open, breathing and trying to wet his lips, and waiting for Protective-Dean to finish. There was a moment, then, when Protective-Dean's face twisted in climax, of utter peace in Angry-Dean's expression, and then he was gone. No shimmer, no flash this time, just, one second he looked like he saw nirvana, and then the next second he was part of Protective-Dean. Sam could feel Protective-Dean's essence and it felt stronger, with all of Angry-Dean's passion but none of his scars.
Horny-Dean was squirming against Sam's back with more urgency now that they weren't distracted by the show on the floor, and the teasing finger that had kept venturing into the crack of his ass had more purpose now, and more pressure. Sam gasped, and let his head roll back to rest on Horny-Dean's shoulder. Sam watched through half-lidded eyes as Protective-Dean pushed himself off the floor and walked over to join them on the cot.
Protective-Dean cupped Sam's jaw in his hand, and ran a gentle finger over Sam's lips, reddened where Horny-Dean had nipped at them. Protective-Dean frowned a little bit at Horny-Dean, who was smirking back over Sam's shoulder, Sam could *feel* it.
Sam was suddenly scared that Protective-Dean was going to take issue with Horny-Dean, too, stop him from touching him. Because that would be so fucking like Dean, that would be like every fucking time he and Dean were together, all Sam's fear of saying the wrong thing, looking at Dean the wrong way, trying to keep Dean from having the wrong fucking thought. Horny-Dean is still wrapped around Sam, and Sam puts his own arms over where Horny-Dean's arms are clamped around his chest, trying to hold this other piece of Dean to him, and trying to say that this was okay to Protective-Dean with his eyes.
It didn't seem to work. Protective-Dean shook his head stubbornly, and pulled Sam's arm away and let it fall limply at Sam's side. He pulled the other Dean's arm away, too, forced him to loosen his grip. No, no, no, no, no, Sam thought, about to protest, but then Protective-Dean lightly pushed Sam back to rest in the other Dean's arms.
“Like this,” Protective-Dean said to the Dean over Sam's shoulder, and then demonstrated, trailing the softest touch of lips down Sam's chest, feathering fingers gently over his ribs. Protective-Dean moved back up, too, and touched Sam's face lightly, and brushed their lips together, and it was loving and almost wasn't even sexual, it was so pure.
Sam reached out, and pulled Protective-Dean into a deeper kiss, which suddenly was sexual, and as he did it, he fell back slightly on to the cot. The other Dean wasn't behind him anymore, but was in front him, too, and they were still kissing. It was more than it had ever been before, and when Dean finally slid inside him, when they fucked, it was everything. Dean wasn't holding back any longer, it was sex, and love at the same time, a little bit rough and gentle and hot all at the same time.
After, they pulled the sleeping bag up over their heads and tried to put off going to light the fire. “Are you okay?” Sam asked again, and his voice was lower now than it had been earlier in the evening.
There was a breath before Dean answered, and that was how Sam always knew to get ready for one of Dean's bullshit lines. “I feel like I just came three times,” Dean marveled. “Damn.”
Sam whapped Dean's stomach with his hand, and Dean retaliated by knuckling the ticklish spot under Sam's ribs.
Outside the cabin, their laughter echoed in the mountains, two voices, strong and pure.
Three Deans! (1/1, Supernatural)
So, for a while,
wrenlet and I were totally obsessed with the idea of multiple Deans. The fic always felt stilted--mostly because of the challenge of naming the three Deans--and I never got around to revising it so I never posted. (The last line is so lame that it makes me cringe rereading.)Three Deans!
Dean had wrapped the crystal in his t-shirt, and the zipped his jacket back up and stuck the wrapped crystal in his pocket, and they managed to evade the killer hawks and made it back to the cabin. The fire had gone out, of course, and Sam sighed and started crumpling up some newspaper to relight it. Dean collapsed behind him on the cot, groaning about how old he was and about how, in the good old days, they'd hunted *normal things*, like ghosts and demons, rather than hawk-summoning and person-splitting pink crystals.
“Dean, toss me your lighter,” Sam said, holding the newspaper torch he'd made in one hand and holding his other hand out for Dean's lighter.
Dean yawned, and stuck his hand in his pocket to fish out his lighter, and Sam had one fraction of a second to think—ohshitwait—before there was a flash of bright pink light and three Deans standing on the rug in the middle of the room.
Because Sam was a professional at this sort of thing, his first thought was obviously to wonder why now all three of the Deans were naked.
The Deans blinked, almost simultaneously, and then they all focused on Sam at the same moment, and the one on the right licked his lips and raised a questioning eyebrow at Sam, and the one of the left had the beginnings of a sneer, and the one in the middle socked the one on the left in the jaw, hard. Sneering-Dean doubled over, clutching his jaw and protesting. “What?” he demanded.
The Dean in the middle was glaring at him. “I know what you were thinking,” he said knowingly, and Sam was distracted from Sneering-Dean taking a swing back at the Dean in the middle because lip-licking Dean had wrapped a hand around his own cock and was jerking off, slowly, looking Sam directly in the eye.
Sneering-Dean and the middle Dean went down on the rug in a tackle of wrestling grips, and the third Dean took advantage of their distraction to push Sam back a few steps and down onto the other cot.
“Are...” Sam swallowed as this Dean began unbuckling his belt, “Are you okay?” he tried.
Dean just grinned, full of wicked joy, and he leaned in and licked Sam's jaw. “Fantastic,” he hissed into Sam's ear. “And horny.”
“We should--” Sam's noble intentions were cut off by Horny-Dean pulling Sam's shirt up over his head, and Sam shivered, because it was *cold*, and he hadn't even been able to light the fire yet, but now Dean's chest was pressed up against his back, and Dean wasn't shivering at all, he was hot, and he obligingly wrapped his arms around Sam's torso even as Sam twisted to try to kiss again.
They stopped kissing when Dean was getting frustrated trying to get Sam's jeans off, and Sam let Horny-Dean fumble with the button, because the other two Deans were practically fucking on the floor, and that was just a little bit distracting. The Sneering-Dean had the other Dean pinned on the floor, but as Sam watched Sneering-Dean was watching back, and swallowing heavily and loosening his hold slightly.
The other Dean took advantage of Sneering-Dean's moment of weakness, twisting up and knocking Sneering-Dean over and pinning him, sitting on his hips and grasping his wrists. Sneering-Dean glared up, eyes heated. They gasped and pushed at each other for a few minutes, and then the middle Dean bit Sneering-Dean on the shoulder, hard. Sneering-Dean shouted a protest, and tried to buck the other Dean off of him unsuccessfully. The middle Dean grabbed Sneering-Dean's hair, and slammed his back to the floor, and then they were kissing.
Sneering-Dean broke the kiss by turning his head violently to the side. “Why does *he* get to do him?” Sneering-Dean spat angrily, nodding his head over toward the cot where Horny-Dean had successfully removed Sam's pants and was curled around his back again, jacking Sam slowly under a blanket and mouthing the back of his neck with warm lips.
“You don't get him, ever,” the middle Dean said, bearing his teeth down at the Angry-Dean and keeping his hands pinned against the floor.
“Who're you—his protector?” Angry-Dean sneered. “That's not *fair*.”
“Sorry,” Protective-Dean said, but he didn't sound sorry, at all. Angry-Dean was beginning to undulate under Protective-Dean, and Protective-Dean eyed him warily, but didn't protest.
“You *owe* me, bitch,” Angry-Dean said, and he managed to jerk one of his wrists out of Protective-Dean's grasp, but he only used it to jack himself off.
Protective-Dean smirked back at him. “How do you want it?”
Angry-Dean spat on his palm again, and began jacking Protective-Dean, and Angry-Dean hissed, “You know how I want it.”
Protective-Dean let go of Angry-Dean's other hand, too, and told Angry-Dean to roll over. When he did, on his knees with his palms on the rug, then Protective-Dean shoved him, forward, with weight on his back, pushing him down to the floor with a grunt.
“Do it,” Angry-Dean said impatiently, but Protective-Dean was smug, stretching his arms along Angry-Dean's arms and sliding his dick along the crease of Angry-Dean's ass teasingly. The longer Protective-Dean drew it out, the more irritated Angry-Dean was. “C'mon!”
Sam was still watching wide-eyed from the cot, huffing little breaths of air when Horny-Dean's fingers wandered a bit. Protective-Dean looked up suddenly, and made eye contact with Sam. It was familiar, somehow—the look that they shared there—it was a look that Sam had seen from Dean before. But Sam's eyes were drawn to Angry-Dean, too, who wasn't as familiar looking. Angry-Dean had scars on his skin that Sam didn't recognize, marks where Protective-Dean remained flawless, welts where Horny-Dean had fingernail scratches. Angry-Dean looked like he'd been beaten, maybe with a belt. Protective-Dean had a scar on his chest that looked like an old stab wound.
Angry-Dean's expression wasn't as familiar. It was something that Sam only ever saw out of the corner of his eye, but here, laid out in front of him, it was intriguing. Protective-Dean was still blocking his view, his arched body over Angry-Dean's and shielding Sam's view. It was symbolic, Sam supposed, Dean shielding the brunt of his anger from Sam, but there was something in the fierceness of Angry-Dean's passion that was strangely compelling.
Angry-Dean tried to elbow Protective-Dena in the stomach, viciously, and Protective-Dean broke eye contact with Sam as he blocked the hit and shifted his weight, getting a knee in the middle of Angry-Dean's back and clasping both of his hands slowly around Angry-Dean's throat. Angry-Dean stopped struggling and froze.
That seemed to be the signal that Protective-Dean was waiting for, and he let go of Angry-Dean's throat cautiously, holding his hands close and ready to replace them if Angry-Dean tried to move again. Angry-Dean just swallowed, heavily.
Sam whimpered a little bit on the cot, and Horny-Dean stroked his chest soothingly.
Protective-Dean ran his hands down along the sides of Angry-Dean's back, tracing along some of the worst of the scars with his fingers. Now that Angry-Dean was finally still, Protective-Dean positioned himself, and rocked into Angry-Dean hard, pushing him against the floor. Angry-Dean stayed frozen for the first two thrusts, and then that must have been a cue, because after that it was somehow okay for him to push back.
“You don't get him,” Protective-Dean was muttering and biting out between thrusts. “You won't ever get him.” He bit Angry-Dean right at the nape of his neck, and Angry-Dean grimaced but didn't say anything. “I'll always be stronger than you,” Protective-Dean continued, “And you know it, and that's half of what makes you what you are anyway.” Angry-Dean half-sobbed and his fingers scrabbled helplessly at the edge of the rug.
“You are so. Fucking. Impotent.” Protective-Dean's voice was harsh, and the words were incongruous said at the same moment as Angry-Dean was climaxing, biting his lower lip and groaning.
Angry-Dean just stayed on the floor, breathing so hard it was verging on half-sobs. He just lay there and took it, eyes closed tightly, eyelashes against his cheek, mouth open, breathing and trying to wet his lips, and waiting for Protective-Dean to finish. There was a moment, then, when Protective-Dean's face twisted in climax, of utter peace in Angry-Dean's expression, and then he was gone. No shimmer, no flash this time, just, one second he looked like he saw nirvana, and then the next second he was part of Protective-Dean. Sam could feel Protective-Dean's essence and it felt stronger, with all of Angry-Dean's passion but none of his scars.
Horny-Dean was squirming against Sam's back with more urgency now that they weren't distracted by the show on the floor, and the teasing finger that had kept venturing into the crack of his ass had more purpose now, and more pressure. Sam gasped, and let his head roll back to rest on Horny-Dean's shoulder. Sam watched through half-lidded eyes as Protective-Dean pushed himself off the floor and walked over to join them on the cot.
Protective-Dean cupped Sam's jaw in his hand, and ran a gentle finger over Sam's lips, reddened where Horny-Dean had nipped at them. Protective-Dean frowned a little bit at Horny-Dean, who was smirking back over Sam's shoulder, Sam could *feel* it.
Sam was suddenly scared that Protective-Dean was going to take issue with Horny-Dean, too, stop him from touching him. Because that would be so fucking like Dean, that would be like every fucking time he and Dean were together, all Sam's fear of saying the wrong thing, looking at Dean the wrong way, trying to keep Dean from having the wrong fucking thought. Horny-Dean is still wrapped around Sam, and Sam puts his own arms over where Horny-Dean's arms are clamped around his chest, trying to hold this other piece of Dean to him, and trying to say that this was okay to Protective-Dean with his eyes.
It didn't seem to work. Protective-Dean shook his head stubbornly, and pulled Sam's arm away and let it fall limply at Sam's side. He pulled the other Dean's arm away, too, forced him to loosen his grip. No, no, no, no, no, Sam thought, about to protest, but then Protective-Dean lightly pushed Sam back to rest in the other Dean's arms.
“Like this,” Protective-Dean said to the Dean over Sam's shoulder, and then demonstrated, trailing the softest touch of lips down Sam's chest, feathering fingers gently over his ribs. Protective-Dean moved back up, too, and touched Sam's face lightly, and brushed their lips together, and it was loving and almost wasn't even sexual, it was so pure.
Sam reached out, and pulled Protective-Dean into a deeper kiss, which suddenly was sexual, and as he did it, he fell back slightly on to the cot. The other Dean wasn't behind him anymore, but was in front him, too, and they were still kissing. It was more than it had ever been before, and when Dean finally slid inside him, when they fucked, it was everything. Dean wasn't holding back any longer, it was sex, and love at the same time, a little bit rough and gentle and hot all at the same time.
After, they pulled the sleeping bag up over their heads and tried to put off going to light the fire. “Are you okay?” Sam asked again, and his voice was lower now than it had been earlier in the evening.
There was a breath before Dean answered, and that was how Sam always knew to get ready for one of Dean's bullshit lines. “I feel like I just came three times,” Dean marveled. “Damn.”
Sam whapped Dean's stomach with his hand, and Dean retaliated by knuckling the ticklish spot under Sam's ribs.
Outside the cabin, their laughter echoed in the mountains, two voices, strong and pure.
