Goodbye, Hello, Supernatural, NC-17
Nov. 27th, 2006 07:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
phantismaFandom: Supernatural
Title: Goodbye, Hello
Characters/Pairing: Sam/Dean/Impala
Word Count: 1333
Rating: NC-17
Summary: In the wake of the accident, much of the Impala is no longer fit for use…Sam and Dean say goodbye to the old bits…and hello to the new….For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
pyroblaze18, who requested: Dean and Sam! and NC-17 slash! And as for the prompt, anything you want. Just not too angsty. As kinky as you want it though. ;) Include fire and the Impala... Happy Holidays my dear…hope you like it!
A/N & Warnings: There is incest here, Sam/Dean incest…and Car!Porn…oh yes, indeedy….
Her leather seats were her hands that had cradled them when they were too young to fully appreciate them, before they learned all the sounds of the seats and doors and engine and what they meant…when they could still lay on the wide bench seat side by side, cuddled up under blankets, safe in the embrace of a love that grew out of family and blood and tender hands.
Those seats had held all three Winchesters over the years, sleeping when the money was tight, fucking when the motel room was too full of other Winchesters, bleeding when a hunt went bad or a bar room brawl erupted. The leather had been blessed with holy water, with Latin incantations, with blood and sweat and come.
They had cradled them, held them through the impact, when they were too broken to realize how she had saved them. Through the blood and gasoline, through the desperation and agony, the smell of her leather soaked into them, whispering her love while she held them and they waited for salvation.
Dean can’t just let them go. He sits perched on the new hood and looks at their broken frames, at the frayed leather. They would never hold them again. These seats are beyond repair and he already had replacements…but this was family.
He slides off the hood and pulls the knife out of his boot. His feet crunch on the gravel. He squats beside the back seat, his free hand running over the leather reverently.
“Dean?”
He doesn’t look up, just sets his hand against a spot in the center of the bench. “Remember that werewolf in Virginia? You bled all over the place.” He pats the spot under his hand. “You came here the first time I fucked you,” he says, his voice soft, reverent.
“Jesus Dean.” Sam’s feet bring him closer. Dean can feel Sam behind him. Sam’s hand is hot on his back. “What are you doing, Dean?”
Dean stabs the knife into the leather and cuts out a square before he stood. “Saying goodbye. Wanna help?” Dean ducks around him and goes to the tool bench, coming back with a can of lighter fluid and a book of matches.
“Dean?”
Dean doesn’t say anything, just spills lighter fluid over the two bench seats and watches it soak in. “Do you remember, Sammy? You were sixteen…it was right here in Bobby’s yard.”
Sam steps closer, his eyes caught on the torn leather. “Yeah, Dean. I remember.”
“You were such a tease that summer…laying around without your shirt on…I came out to work on the transmission and you were all laid out over the hood, touching yourself.”
Sam’s breath hitches as he remembers. They had fooled around, but never taken that final step…and Sam had spent the better part of three days teasing and tormenting Dean to goad him past his adamant stand against it. “I wanted you to touch me.” Sam says.
“You begged me…you wanted me to be your first…you wanted me…and I couldn’t believe you.”
Sam watches him light one match and use it to light the whole pack, watches him toss the burning bundle onto the seat. Flames lick at the leather and he feels Dean’s hand slide over his. Dean moves around behind him, his hand slinking over Sam’s hips, down to cup his cock. “Dean…”
“Trust me…you said, remember…trust me Dean…I want this.” Dean’s hand is in his jeans now, moving to bring his cock to life.
Sam moves, adjusts his stance so Dean has more room, undoes the button on his jeans so that Dean’s next stroke exposes him. “I remember surprising you with the tube of KY in my pocket.” Sam says. “And the way you watched me as I stuck my own fingers up inside myself…the look on your face…and how hard you got.”
Dean’s face is nuzzling the back of Sam’s neck, feather-light kisses as his hand makes long slow passes over Sam’s cock and both of them stare at the flames. Most of the back seat is burning now, all but that piece in Dean’s hand.
“You moaned when I pulled your hand away.” Dean whispers. Sam leans back into him feeling the heat of the flames echoing the heat growing in his stomach. “You wanted it so bad.”
“I was afraid you wouldn’t. I wanted to do it in the car…because…God, Dean…” He gasps as Dean switches hands, folds that square of leather over his cock and uses it to stroke him. “Fuck…the car…”
Dean nods against him. “Yeah…I knew…thought the sight of you on the seat was gonna kill me, Sammy…all exposed for me, your ass and your fingers…and you begged me.”
“Please Dean…” Sam’s legs tremble and Dean rubs the soft, worn leather over the tip of his cock, then back down. “Please…Dean…want it…” Sam wasn’t sure right at that moment if it was just reliving that moment or if he was begging for now…for this…but he doesn’t think it matters just now.
“You were so tight, so hot…it felt so fucking good, Sammy…the way you sweat, arched your back into me…the fucking filthy things you said…”
Sam sinks deeper against Dean, nearly all of his weight against Dean now as kisses turn to nibbles, to bites, to Dean’s teeth against his neck. “Just…more Dean…Please…please….”
Dean’s free hand is in his hair now, pulling his head to the side to expose the long corded neck that he licked and bit as he pulled his leather clad fist up Sam’s cock. “You came so hard with my cock up your ass Sammy…it was so hot…so fucking hot.” Dean’s mouth closes over the curve where that cord disappears into shoulder muscle and Sam jerks his hips forward, his come shoot in an arc into the flames as the front seat’s leather melts. They rock together for a few minutes, then slowly Sam regains his feet, clears his throat. He takes a few deep breaths and turns to Dean.
Sam’s lips are bitten and red and swollen. Dean’s pupils are blown wide, making his eyes dark. The seats are nearly gone, little left but the metal frames. Sam kisses his brother, his hand curling around the back of his neck as he walks him backward, nearly blindly. He gets them there though, drops Dean heavily onto the black leather of what will be the new back seat of the Impala and before Dean can move, he’s kneeling over him, his cock out and Sam’s licking a trail up the underside.
“Sam?”
Sam closes his mouth over Dean before he hums, “Hmmm?”
“What are you doing?”
Sam grinned, taking the piece of leather from Dean’s hands and pressing it against the back of the seat. “Saying hello…wanna help?”
He doesn’t wait for an answer, just returns to his task. There are no memories, no talking, there’s only Dean’s cock and Sam’s mouth and sucking and licking, kisses and tiny touches of tongue and then Dean’s thrusting up and Sam is pushing down and then there’s a moment of stillness and Dean’s, “Fuck!” and Sam pulls away to let Dean come, watching it spill onto the leather.
They’re both panting as Sam’s big thumb rubs into the patch of leather. It’s a full three shades lighter than the new leather under it…and it bears blood and sweat and come from three Winchester men…something the new seats will never have.
They struggle to their feet and stand awkward and quiet for a moment before Sam eyes the seats. “Want a hand?”
“Among other things.” Dean says with a lecherous grin before he nods and they work together to pick up the bench and move it toward where the Impala waits her new hands.
They may not have ever held them as children, or carried their father, broken and bleeding to an ER, may not have witnessed their first fumblings toward this thing they had…may not have kept them safe night after night…but she would show them how.
Dean stroked a hand over the floor boards and smiled…his baby would take care of them for a long time to come.
Title: Goodbye, Hello
Characters/Pairing: Sam/Dean/Impala
Word Count: 1333
Rating: NC-17
Summary: In the wake of the accident, much of the Impala is no longer fit for use…Sam and Dean say goodbye to the old bits…and hello to the new….For
pyroblaze18, who requested: Dean and Sam! and NC-17 slash! And as for the prompt, anything you want. Just not too angsty. As kinky as you want it though. ;) Include fire and the Impala... Happy Holidays my dear…hope you like it!A/N & Warnings: There is incest here, Sam/Dean incest…and Car!Porn…oh yes, indeedy….
Her leather seats were her hands that had cradled them when they were too young to fully appreciate them, before they learned all the sounds of the seats and doors and engine and what they meant…when they could still lay on the wide bench seat side by side, cuddled up under blankets, safe in the embrace of a love that grew out of family and blood and tender hands.
Those seats had held all three Winchesters over the years, sleeping when the money was tight, fucking when the motel room was too full of other Winchesters, bleeding when a hunt went bad or a bar room brawl erupted. The leather had been blessed with holy water, with Latin incantations, with blood and sweat and come.
They had cradled them, held them through the impact, when they were too broken to realize how she had saved them. Through the blood and gasoline, through the desperation and agony, the smell of her leather soaked into them, whispering her love while she held them and they waited for salvation.
Dean can’t just let them go. He sits perched on the new hood and looks at their broken frames, at the frayed leather. They would never hold them again. These seats are beyond repair and he already had replacements…but this was family.
He slides off the hood and pulls the knife out of his boot. His feet crunch on the gravel. He squats beside the back seat, his free hand running over the leather reverently.
“Dean?”
He doesn’t look up, just sets his hand against a spot in the center of the bench. “Remember that werewolf in Virginia? You bled all over the place.” He pats the spot under his hand. “You came here the first time I fucked you,” he says, his voice soft, reverent.
“Jesus Dean.” Sam’s feet bring him closer. Dean can feel Sam behind him. Sam’s hand is hot on his back. “What are you doing, Dean?”
Dean stabs the knife into the leather and cuts out a square before he stood. “Saying goodbye. Wanna help?” Dean ducks around him and goes to the tool bench, coming back with a can of lighter fluid and a book of matches.
“Dean?”
Dean doesn’t say anything, just spills lighter fluid over the two bench seats and watches it soak in. “Do you remember, Sammy? You were sixteen…it was right here in Bobby’s yard.”
Sam steps closer, his eyes caught on the torn leather. “Yeah, Dean. I remember.”
“You were such a tease that summer…laying around without your shirt on…I came out to work on the transmission and you were all laid out over the hood, touching yourself.”
Sam’s breath hitches as he remembers. They had fooled around, but never taken that final step…and Sam had spent the better part of three days teasing and tormenting Dean to goad him past his adamant stand against it. “I wanted you to touch me.” Sam says.
“You begged me…you wanted me to be your first…you wanted me…and I couldn’t believe you.”
Sam watches him light one match and use it to light the whole pack, watches him toss the burning bundle onto the seat. Flames lick at the leather and he feels Dean’s hand slide over his. Dean moves around behind him, his hand slinking over Sam’s hips, down to cup his cock. “Dean…”
“Trust me…you said, remember…trust me Dean…I want this.” Dean’s hand is in his jeans now, moving to bring his cock to life.
Sam moves, adjusts his stance so Dean has more room, undoes the button on his jeans so that Dean’s next stroke exposes him. “I remember surprising you with the tube of KY in my pocket.” Sam says. “And the way you watched me as I stuck my own fingers up inside myself…the look on your face…and how hard you got.”
Dean’s face is nuzzling the back of Sam’s neck, feather-light kisses as his hand makes long slow passes over Sam’s cock and both of them stare at the flames. Most of the back seat is burning now, all but that piece in Dean’s hand.
“You moaned when I pulled your hand away.” Dean whispers. Sam leans back into him feeling the heat of the flames echoing the heat growing in his stomach. “You wanted it so bad.”
“I was afraid you wouldn’t. I wanted to do it in the car…because…God, Dean…” He gasps as Dean switches hands, folds that square of leather over his cock and uses it to stroke him. “Fuck…the car…”
Dean nods against him. “Yeah…I knew…thought the sight of you on the seat was gonna kill me, Sammy…all exposed for me, your ass and your fingers…and you begged me.”
“Please Dean…” Sam’s legs tremble and Dean rubs the soft, worn leather over the tip of his cock, then back down. “Please…Dean…want it…” Sam wasn’t sure right at that moment if it was just reliving that moment or if he was begging for now…for this…but he doesn’t think it matters just now.
“You were so tight, so hot…it felt so fucking good, Sammy…the way you sweat, arched your back into me…the fucking filthy things you said…”
Sam sinks deeper against Dean, nearly all of his weight against Dean now as kisses turn to nibbles, to bites, to Dean’s teeth against his neck. “Just…more Dean…Please…please….”
Dean’s free hand is in his hair now, pulling his head to the side to expose the long corded neck that he licked and bit as he pulled his leather clad fist up Sam’s cock. “You came so hard with my cock up your ass Sammy…it was so hot…so fucking hot.” Dean’s mouth closes over the curve where that cord disappears into shoulder muscle and Sam jerks his hips forward, his come shoot in an arc into the flames as the front seat’s leather melts. They rock together for a few minutes, then slowly Sam regains his feet, clears his throat. He takes a few deep breaths and turns to Dean.
Sam’s lips are bitten and red and swollen. Dean’s pupils are blown wide, making his eyes dark. The seats are nearly gone, little left but the metal frames. Sam kisses his brother, his hand curling around the back of his neck as he walks him backward, nearly blindly. He gets them there though, drops Dean heavily onto the black leather of what will be the new back seat of the Impala and before Dean can move, he’s kneeling over him, his cock out and Sam’s licking a trail up the underside.
“Sam?”
Sam closes his mouth over Dean before he hums, “Hmmm?”
“What are you doing?”
Sam grinned, taking the piece of leather from Dean’s hands and pressing it against the back of the seat. “Saying hello…wanna help?”
He doesn’t wait for an answer, just returns to his task. There are no memories, no talking, there’s only Dean’s cock and Sam’s mouth and sucking and licking, kisses and tiny touches of tongue and then Dean’s thrusting up and Sam is pushing down and then there’s a moment of stillness and Dean’s, “Fuck!” and Sam pulls away to let Dean come, watching it spill onto the leather.
They’re both panting as Sam’s big thumb rubs into the patch of leather. It’s a full three shades lighter than the new leather under it…and it bears blood and sweat and come from three Winchester men…something the new seats will never have.
They struggle to their feet and stand awkward and quiet for a moment before Sam eyes the seats. “Want a hand?”
“Among other things.” Dean says with a lecherous grin before he nods and they work together to pick up the bench and move it toward where the Impala waits her new hands.
They may not have ever held them as children, or carried their father, broken and bleeding to an ER, may not have witnessed their first fumblings toward this thing they had…may not have kept them safe night after night…but she would show them how.
Dean stroked a hand over the floor boards and smiled…his baby would take care of them for a long time to come.
