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Um...I drabbled.
Drabbles
Rating: Adult
Disclaimer: Yeah, I wish I owned them. This is totally fiction.
If there was one thing Jensen loved about having Jeff on set, it was his voice. That, and how he made Jared laugh. Though it wasn’t hard to make Jared laugh. Bellybutton lint could crack the boy up. So yeah, that voice.
Not the John Winchester voice. Jeff’s voice, that unrestrained laugh. Or better, how it went low and dark, when those long fingers were in Jensen. Or the filthy words would slide out in that velvet whiskey drawl while Jeff fucked him slow. Or best of all, that rumble of sound when Jeff pulled him close in the night.
It wasn’t that Dean didn’t love blades. There was just something about his guns. The smooth feel of the grip against his palm, the weight of it. And the recoil, the way it moved in his hand like a lover writhing.
He loved the noise, the report announcing each pull of the trigger. Or the cool steel of the barrel, how it felt when he dragged it along his skin. Or the way his hand curled around the barrel as he touched himself, the sight stroking the underside of his cock until he cried out, arching against the skin-warmed metal.
Why yes, I do have the good crack today , why do you ask?
Rating: Adult
Disclaimer: Yeah, I wish I owned them. This is totally fiction.
If there was one thing Jensen loved about having Jeff on set, it was his voice. That, and how he made Jared laugh. Though it wasn’t hard to make Jared laugh. Bellybutton lint could crack the boy up. So yeah, that voice.
Not the John Winchester voice. Jeff’s voice, that unrestrained laugh. Or better, how it went low and dark, when those long fingers were in Jensen. Or the filthy words would slide out in that velvet whiskey drawl while Jeff fucked him slow. Or best of all, that rumble of sound when Jeff pulled him close in the night.
It wasn’t that Dean didn’t love blades. There was just something about his guns. The smooth feel of the grip against his palm, the weight of it. And the recoil, the way it moved in his hand like a lover writhing.
He loved the noise, the report announcing each pull of the trigger. Or the cool steel of the barrel, how it felt when he dragged it along his skin. Or the way his hand curled around the barrel as he touched himself, the sight stroking the underside of his cock until he cried out, arching against the skin-warmed metal.
Why yes, I do have the good crack today , why do you ask?