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SPN: The End of the World Again
Fandom: Supernatural
Main characters: Sam, Dean
Referenced characters: N/a
Pairings: Sam/Dean
Contains: Angst, incest
Rating: PG
Summary: So maybe it doesn't matter now.
Note: Only seen S1 at this point.
It's the end of the world, so maybe it doesn't matter. Dean doesn't really believe that, and the end of the world comes round way too freaking often for his liking, but each one might be the last, the real one, the big one, so maybe this time it really won't matter. Sam tasted like beer, last time, both of them drunk and stupid, pushing and tugging. This time he tastes like blood, and Dean worries, but he knows that there's nothing he can do, and the end of the world might come before he can get Sam patched up anyway, and it might even be his own blood and not Sam's at all, so he just kisses him deeper, harder, drowning. Sam's strong enough, anyway, his fingers biting into Dean's shoulders, leaving crescent shaped marks where his fingernails dig in. Dean likes it. It's something real, and it's just sharp enough along with the good that it means the world hasn't ended yet.
Dean kisses Sam harder than ever, fervent, barely allowing breath, until all they can do is pant, mouths still pressed together and swapping heated, unsatisfying air. Dean could die like this, will die like this if he can, stealing every single one of Sam's breaths until they stop. He thinks Sam feels the same. He is dizzy, giddy, and it might be the breathlessness or it might be bloodloss, but he's going to die like this anyway. Sam is touching him now, not just digging his nails in but touching him, all over, shoving clothes aside, buttons tearing off, elastic stretching, cracking against Dean's skin. He can hardly hear it, hardly feel it; the roaring in his head which will surely drown out even the trump of doom.
All he can feel is Sam. Sam's skin, Sam's hands, Sam's hard and ragged breaths, Sam's heart pounding against his own chest as if their hearts will burst out and join and they'll finally become one. And that's all he wants, from now until the end.
Sam tastes like blood. Sam tastes like the end of the world.
Main characters: Sam, Dean
Referenced characters: N/a
Pairings: Sam/Dean
Contains: Angst, incest
Rating: PG
Summary: So maybe it doesn't matter now.
Note: Only seen S1 at this point.
It's the end of the world, so maybe it doesn't matter. Dean doesn't really believe that, and the end of the world comes round way too freaking often for his liking, but each one might be the last, the real one, the big one, so maybe this time it really won't matter. Sam tasted like beer, last time, both of them drunk and stupid, pushing and tugging. This time he tastes like blood, and Dean worries, but he knows that there's nothing he can do, and the end of the world might come before he can get Sam patched up anyway, and it might even be his own blood and not Sam's at all, so he just kisses him deeper, harder, drowning. Sam's strong enough, anyway, his fingers biting into Dean's shoulders, leaving crescent shaped marks where his fingernails dig in. Dean likes it. It's something real, and it's just sharp enough along with the good that it means the world hasn't ended yet.
Dean kisses Sam harder than ever, fervent, barely allowing breath, until all they can do is pant, mouths still pressed together and swapping heated, unsatisfying air. Dean could die like this, will die like this if he can, stealing every single one of Sam's breaths until they stop. He thinks Sam feels the same. He is dizzy, giddy, and it might be the breathlessness or it might be bloodloss, but he's going to die like this anyway. Sam is touching him now, not just digging his nails in but touching him, all over, shoving clothes aside, buttons tearing off, elastic stretching, cracking against Dean's skin. He can hardly hear it, hardly feel it; the roaring in his head which will surely drown out even the trump of doom.
All he can feel is Sam. Sam's skin, Sam's hands, Sam's hard and ragged breaths, Sam's heart pounding against his own chest as if their hearts will burst out and join and they'll finally become one. And that's all he wants, from now until the end.
Sam tastes like blood. Sam tastes like the end of the world.