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Okay - so this was a Sam/Dean, but it just never felt right. I originally started to make it J2, but didn't. Maybe it could be tweaked back into submission? Or maybe it doesn't work at all. Lemme know.

WARNING: Fic contains incest, violence, gay sex and overuse of the words "fumble" and "door."


I’d like to claim I couldn’t help it.
Claim it was one of those heat of the moment things – ya know?

But I’d be lying.
I do it to make him angry.
I like him angry.

You’re shaking your head.

Well you’ve accepted having sex with my brother, so I really don’t see why it’s so much of a stretch.

I did it on purpose.
Grabbed his neck and planted one, right there with God, Hotel Patrons and even small children watching.

He shook it off Out There.

But then………..

We got back to the hotel room – The door swung shut and I was reeling from the slap he gave me.

“What the HELL was THAT Sammy??” he shouts at me as I lean against the wall panting, watching him from behind my hair.

He’s so angry he’s shaking.
He’s worried someone will find out – but really – who’s going to ever believe that two pretty southern ladies men such as we are dirty, incestuous catamites?

I can’t help but taunt him.

“I couldn’t help it…..” I say softly, leaning forward.

“Couldn’t help it?!?!?” He stalks towards me, raking fingers through his hair. He shoves me back against the wall again, aiming another slap at me.

I could dodge, but I don’t. He needs to get it out and I want him too. I like the sting.

Oh. He’s made me bite my lip. He won’t be able to control himself now……

I let the blood trickle down my chin.
He growls, lunging forward.
He licks the blood from my face and kisses me…. It’s more of an assault than a kiss really. He bites my already torn lip and reaches for the neckline of my shirt.

People think I wear the same t-shirt over and over.
Really I just have a suitcase full of them.

My shirt is ripped from neckline to waist.
It falls in shreds at our feet.

I reach towards him, staring soulfully into his fury-clouded eyes – which, of course, only makes him angrier. “ I love you Dean……” I say in a small voice.

“SHUTUP!” he shrieks, grabbing my shoulders and wrenching me around so I can’t taunt him with my glances.
He shoves me up against the door, fumbling with his clothing, which is sticking to his body from his exertions.
The wood is cool against my skin.

He twists his fingers in my hair.
I like this part.
He’s going to pull my head to the side so he can bite me again.

I gasp as his teeth sink into the flesh of my shoulder.

“Fuck you for making me love you” he snarls
“No – fuck me because you love me….” I say into the cheap paneling on the door.
“Shutup!” he orders again…..his body pressed against me, heat seeping from him into me as he fumbles with my pants.
I know better than to try to help him with that.
There’s a point to his rage where you don’t want to push him over the edge.

Sometimes I think I will someday – just to see what will happen.
But not today.

Today I want what he wants to give me.

One hand is still twisted in my hair, the other strokes down my body, wrapping around my cock. I’m so hard it hurts.

He presses himself against me.
It’s one of those days where he’s not going to bother with lube.
He’s just going to tear into me.


I can’t help but groan as he pushes inside me.
It hurts better than anything.

My forehead presses against the door as he grips my hips, pulling them back and then thrusting forward.


He pants, punctuating each word with a thrust deep inside me.

I cry out “Dean – I’m…..ahhh!” I can’t even get a sentence out – I just cum all over the door in front of me, coating his hand.

I think me spilling sets him off.
That happens sometimes.
He shoots deep inside me.
Filling me.

He leans against me for a minute, before standing up.
I turn to look at him.

He touches my face softly.
You’d think he was going to turn all tender, but he pulls me toward him, giving me one last savage kiss, holding onto my hair with sticky fingers.

Something wet trickles down my chest.
I didn’t realize he’d bitten me that hard.

He tosses the shreds of my shirt at me.
I dab at my bleeding shoulder with them.

“Get Dressed. Look Good.” He demands, pulling his pants back on and stalking outside.

I take a shower, marveling at the sting the shower makes on my wounds.

Other’s will see the bruises and think they’re from fighting.

But we’ll know better.
He and I.



( 1 enabler — Enable Us )
Nov. 3rd, 2006 08:43 pm (UTC)
Guh. I remember reading this, but forgot how damn hot it is. Hehe.
I do it to make him angry.
I like him angry.

Don't we all? Growl.
( 1 enabler — Enable Us )


J3 NaNo Fic

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