#followed immediately by firm and vicious denial

[theladypirate]

More early Kimallura bc I couldn’t sleep last night. For @hawkeabelas and all Kimallura fans. Uh…. warning, there’s some gore in the beginning and canon typical violence throughout.

Drake grunted as he went down, a splash of red on the orc’s scimitar. Behind him, Kima cursed and redirected her attack at the one standing menacingly over her friend. She swung her maul and connected with his skull, which made a satisfying wet ‘thunk’ noise as she caved in the left side. Blood and brain smattered her armor. She glanced around taking stock.

To her right about 30 feet, Ghenn was slumped over against a tree having managed to land the killing blow to the raider that had poisoned him before succumbing. Breathing, but only just. Dohla had managed to tuck herself into a crevasse in the rocky hillside, shielding herself from anymore ranged attacks, but she was hurt bad, bleeding freely and barely conscious. Sirus’s right leg was bent at a painful looking angle, probably broken. He was trying to drag himself over to his pack for a healing potion. Or a bomb. If he was mad enough it could go either way. He was still about 15 feet away and moving slowly. Allura was…

Too close, she was too close to the rest of them, there were 4 orcs still in play and they were too close.

Getting closer. 

Kima cursed again and broke into a run. She could make it, she thought, if she was fast enough. Dammit Bahamut, please let her be fast enough.

“Allie, look out!”

The nearest orc brought his spiked greatmaul down in a wicked arc, making contact with…. Kima’s armored midsection, as she threw herself into Allura, knocking her out of the way. The impact combined with her own forward motion sent her sprawling sideways and landing hard 10 feet away against one of the boulders strewn throughout the gully. Her vision went white and for a horrible moment she couldn’t breathe. 

“Kima!”

Allura’s voice sounded muffled, coming somewhere behind the ringing in Kima’s ears. Her chest felt too tight and she gasped weakly, greedily. She needed air, and she wasn’t getting enough. Her sight was tinged with gray, but returning slowly. In front of her she saw Allura, eyes wide in horrified shock as she looked at Kima’s prone form.

‘I’m sorry,’ Kima thought. ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough.’ She couldn’t speak the words, so she thought them.

Allura turned towards the approaching orcs, and squared her shoulders. She reached out a hand and Kima’s vision went white again as lightning leapt from Allura’s outstretched fingers and danced between the three closest orcs. Smoke rose from their bodies as they stumbled, but did not fall. The closest orc, a female with a split ear and jagged lower tusks had blood coming out of her nose and ears. The farthest orc, this one also female, with blood red stripes painted down her face and a wide, ugly scar down one cheek, the one who had avoided electrocution, let out a guttural howl and aimed her crossbow at Allura. 

“Fuggin’ SCAGS!” 

There was a moment’s pause at the ragged and unexpected shout as the bolt went wide. In the seconds that followed a metallic clink sounded somewhere in the midst of the orcs, followed by thunderous boom as Sirus’s alchemical bomb exploded to brilliant effect. The three electrocuted orcs were blown to bits in the most literal sense; pieces of them were scattered over a 20 foot radius. The last orc was knocked back and her piecemeal leather armor was charred and barely hanging on, but she managed to keep her feet. 

Allura advanced on her raising her hand again, a single lightning bolt shot out and struck the orc in the chest, finally knocking her down. 

Dead. 

Silence, except for Kima’s labored breathing and Allura’s ragged inhale as she turned on heel and ran for Kima. 

She kneeled beside the injured halfling, worry close to panic etched into the way her brow furrowed and eyes took in her injured friend.

 “All…ie… can’t…. can’t breathe” Kima wheezed.

Allura looked down at Kima’s chestplate, gasped, then nodded and began working at the clasps on her armor, which only confused her until Allura had managed to get one side undone and the pressure from the slightly concave middle section released and Kima gasped reflexively. Her vision wavered again and she felt her eyes well up from the sheer relief of being able to breathe again.

“Kima? What’s wrong? Where does it hurt? I have… You need a potion, I have one somewhere just hang on!”

Kima had the strangest urge to reach up and brush her cheek, to try to soothe the worry away. Her arms felt like lead though, and she was pretty sure she’d just smear blood on Allura’s face. 

Must’ve hit my head, she thought.  

“You’re head?”  Allura’s frown deepened and her gently probing fingers moved to search for any wounds there. Kima blinked. She hadn’t realized she’d said it too. 

“’s fine, just hurts like a bitch” she managed, wincing as she pulled herself up into a sitting position against Allura’s protest. She blinked again as Allura insistently cupped Kima’s hands around a greater healing potion. 

Kima drank it, but kept staring at Allura. 

“…I thought you said you studied the school of abjuration?” she said, with just a touch of bewilderment.

Allura straightened and clasped her hands in front of her, somehow managing to look elegant despite one of her braids having come mostly undone, and her robe being rather singed, and being covered in orc viscera.

“I do. However I make it a habit to carry more, shall we say, effectively destructive scrolls, in case of an emergency.” 

‘That is incredibly fucking hot’ Kima thought, then coughed and clapped her hand over her mouth, nearly dropping the potion. At Allura’s concerned look, she drained the whole thing quickly, her face turning bright red. Apparently she hadn’t said THAT out loud, thank Bahamut. 

“Right. Ah, we should, get everyone up and… yeah get everyone up. Good plan. Let’s go right now immediately.” Kima said as she clambered painfully to her feet. Allura was still looking at her like she was considering making her lie down and rest. 

Kima’s fingers itched with the urge to reach out to Allura again. She made a fist and forced herself to look away instead. Gods preserve her, Kima had a feeling this was going to be a long journey.

[lovestrucked-again]

Delirium IV

Summary: After being kidnapped and claimed by the notorious mafia leader, he offers you a 7 day period where you’ll be given the option after of staying or leaving. Until then, you’re stuck, whether you like it or not.

Pairing: Mafia leader X female reader Word count: 3k

Genre & Warning: HEAVY SMUT, fingering, Explicit content, mafia gang, possessive, toxic, yandere like personality, public scenes, humiliation, multiple orgasms, rough, orgasm denial, begging, orgasm control, use of safe systems, praise, teasing, use of sex objects, dildo, vagina balls and straps, BDSM: handcuffs, blindfolds, chains, nipple clamps, dildo sucking. pain kink? 

Please don’t read this if you’re uncomfortable. A very obvious statement but this series is purely fictional, it is unacceptable in real life and should not be taken lightly.

A/N: This is one of the heaviest and dirtiest and chains and clamps are involved and you know what, it is a breathy mess. Be warned.  Prev | Next

Day 2

The return trip home goes much faster, your skill of walking without needing to stop every so often increasing, learning how to avoid the sharp metal raking into your thighs. Even so, by the time you finally catch sight of the apartment building you had left from, the sun was settling low in the sky.

Taeyong walks with his hand still tightly intertwined with yours; making small talk with you about favourite movies, songs, anything really. There’s no way you can verbally respond though, your efforts and focus being on keeping your walls clenched around the silver balls still inserted deep into your vagina. You make it into the safety of the elevator when you finally let out a deep sigh, leaning against the walls in silence as Taeyong stands beside you, the smug expression still on his face. “You did well baby.”

You turn to look at him, sending him a vicious glare that clearly says shut up. “Thanks, but I would’ve been better if I didn't have this,” you point to your legs, quickly pulling your skirt up for him to see the outline of the straps buckled around your thighs, “stabbing at me every time I walk.”

“But wasn't it worth it?” he asks, taking your hand in his, “you came so hard around my fingers.”

The elevator lifts smoothly to the top floor, announcing its arrival with a short musical chime. He steps out, dragging you along with him. The key yielding to his door unlocks and as you step into the suite, he grabs you by your shoulders, throwing you roughly against the wall.

His mouth, hungry and eager, finds yours. His tongue pushes its way past your lips, demanding. His hand closes over your breast through the thin material of your shirt and you shudder, moan, and cling tighter to his body. He takes your wrists firmly in his hands, pinning them around over your head as his tongue forces itself deeper. You quiver against his hold, shuddering as you feel wetness trickling down your thigh.

When he finally breaks the kiss, you can feel your face was flush with need, your hips which were previously grinding against his being a major contributor – despite the pain of the sharp teeth digging into you. Taeyong smiles, pleased.

“You’re always so eager for me,” he purrs, stroking your cheek. “Turn around baby, face the wall.”

You hesitate and he tilts his head, waiting for you to follow through. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, almost afraid it’s probably audible to the whole world by the way it thumps. You turn slowly, shifting your weight carefully to face the wall. You wait, listening to the shuffling sound of fabric; your arms scrunching the material of your short skirt.

“What are you doing?” You ask, the nerves eating at your stomach.

Something slides across your eyes, obscuring your vision and your hands fly to your face, feeling the velvety smooth blindfold over your head.

“Don’t touch.” He warns, slapping your hands away softly.

Taeyong turns you around again, and you feel his breath against your skin before his lips find yours. The kiss begins softly, gently and builds very slowly. The tension spreads through you as he presses harder into you, your tongue meeting his as you fight him for dominance. You feel the heat of his hands at your sides, the firmness of his body against yours; and the giddy rush passes over you as you contract around the balls still inserted in you, nearly coming undone against the wall.

His fingers slip under your shirt towards your back, easily unclipping your bra and sliding them to the floor. You moan again, louder this time and your fingers twine through his hair. Before long, your shirt has been removed and his fingers are at your thigh. You feel him crawl towards your skirt, which is tugged down almost immediately after.

You pause in the midst of your kiss, waiting for his careful teasing touch to appear on your skin. But there’s no movement.

“What’s wrong?” He hums, moving his lips back from yours.

“N-nothing.” You choke out.

His fingers suddenly lock in front of the strap you’re wearing and the cool air touches your throbbing hardened clit as his hand slides between your legs, undoing the buckles. When his finger lightly grazes over your clit you clench around the objects, holding onto the weight with all your might. He chuckles to himself as he watches your mouth form into a hard line, your teeth gritting against each other. He presses harsher on your clit and you cry out sharply, thrusting your hips hard against his hand as the balls fall out with a plop.

The warm heavy weight tumbles out of you with a wet squishing sound; your juices pouring out along with it. Taeyong’s waiting hand manages to catch the silver balls, soaking his fingers as the musical chimes roll in his palm.

“You’re absolutely drenched princess.” He brings the balls to his lip and pulls down the blindfold; only slightly – just enough for you to stare in shock as he gently slips one through and into his mouth. His eyes are boring into yours as he sucks wildly on the ball and you watch as it rolls from side to side in his cheek. When he’s done with it, the ball slips out of his mouth with a plop, his drool now covering the shiny item. “So sweet.”

The balls drop to the floor with a loud clang and you jump, surprised by the resonating sounds it goes as it hits the hard surface. Taeyong pulls the blind up so your vision disappears again.

His fingers find your sensitive spot, stroking against your clit, coaxing the longing within you and he laughs as you whimper. The sudden metal closing around your wrists makes you jump, squeaking in surprise. You look at him in panic, squirming as he keeps his arm on your shoulder to keep you still. “What are you going to do to me?” You ask, voice small. "We’re going to have some fun." He kneels on the floor, and hard metal closes around your ankles, just above your shoes. When he moves again, the heavy clanking sound of chains fills your ears.

“What’s that for?” you gulp, the buzz within you coming to life as you listen to the series of movements.

“You’ll see.”

Something tugs on your wrists, and you gasp when you’re abruptly pulled away from the wall.

He leads you by the cuffs around your wrist, the chains dragging behind your ankles as you move with the heavy weight resisting your steps. You walk with an exaggerated caution, blind, legs wide apart and footsteps very slow. With each step you can feel your heart pounding more wildly.

Taeyong’s hand goes to your back steading you as you step forward onto something soft. “Over here, step up a little.”  

You can hear the chains clink and your feet are guided into a stance. When you stumble and nearly fall, Taeyong reaches out to steady you, his hands finding your waist swiftly. By the time you recover, he’s secured the chains around your ankles, fixed to a point on each side of you.

“Taeyong I h-havent done this before.” You stutter out, your legs spread wide apart as you stand naked except for your shoes.

The clanking around your wrists stops, “Do you want me to take these off?”

You hesitate for a moment. While you were wildly excited for something different from your previous sex encounters with other partners, you were still nervous about exploring something new. As well as that, you realised that it had only been a few days since you met him yet you had learnt so many things about your body; how you could react to his touches. “I don't know,” You confess.

“It’s up to you baby,” he whispers, rubbing soothing circles onto your arm.

“I want to try,” you mumble, “but i-im a little scared.”

“Why don't we make a system; you know how traffic lights work right?” he chuckles.

“Yeah,” you reply.

“Say the colour when you need to.” You nod, feeling a little more relieved with the idea. He takes your hands and slides the cuff up, planting a soft kiss on your wrist before he chains them, lifting your arms over your head. You let out a whimper as the chains tighten, your body being stretched taut. You were being chained upright, standing spread-eagle, arms bound far overhead so you’re almost forced to stand on your tippy toes.

Your breathing becomes ragged as you wait for what comes next. With every breath, your breasts bob and sway. You jump when Taeyong’s hands suddenly come from behind, caressing your body, roaming over the curves of your breasts.

“Your nipples are so hard princess; you must like this.” He whispers into your ear.

The hair on your neck stands as you fumble out for a reply, “I-”

“It’s okay, I know what you like.”

You squeeze your eyes shut despite the darkness already as you feel something bite down hard on your nipples. Tight clamps grip around you and you jerk your body against the chains instantly, screaming.

You feel the painful tugging, realising that Taeyong had to be attaching a chain or cord to the clamps. The sound of the chain rattling comes first before the clamps tighten and pull your nipples, dragging your breasts up towards the ceiling as you yelp and rise to your tippy toes in an attempt to ease the pain.

“I know you wanted it hard.” He murmurs, pausing for a moment, bringing his lips to your earlobe, swiping it with his tongue as he pulls on the chain dragging at your nipples.

Something large and thick shoves itself deep into your sex and you shriek at the sudden intrusion as it goes further and further into you, until it bottoms out within you. You can hardly breathe, your mouth gasping for air as you fight against the sensations roaming throughout your body. You attempt to move your hips but the dildo remains within you, forcing your hips still. You struggle against the chains, unable to raise yourself or move.

With each breath, the tiny rocking in your body makes your breasts bob and sway in small motions, forcing the clamps to close harsher on your nipples. The dildo impaling you forces you to stand on your tippy toes and you’re afraid to lower yourself any lower – fearing you’d send it too deep into yourself.

You shake at the manacles digging into your wrist before Taeyong finally removes the blindfold; your vision coming back in a blurry haze. Your eyes fly straight to the intruding object, noticing it’s connected to a platform directly below your entrance and you blink a couple of times, making sure it’s real and not your mind playing with you.

The next thing that comes into sight is Taeyong standing directly in front of your chained up body. The sunlight from behind him shining straight through the window and glowing on to your skin. His features are soft and his dark brown eyes stare back at you, a grin plastered on his face.

“Is that better?” He asks. You want to nod and reply but your attention is drawn to the view behind him.

“I-Is that a clear window?” You stutter out, noticing the perfect vision you had of the city streets in the floor to ceiling picture window. The illumination of the sun was fading, turning into a dusty hue, but the city street spread out below was still crowded with people.

“Why?”

“What if somebody looks up?”

“Then they’ll be blessed with the sight of a beautiful woman chained in the window fucking herself,” he states, turning around to look below.

You hang there for a few minutes, fighting not to move, controlling your deep breaths as you panic. The people on the streets seem so far and you can’t make out any facial features from the distance when they turn; you can only hope the distance was far enough to be unnoticed. Don’t look up, don’t look up, don’t look up.

The muscles in your legs begin to quiver from the strain of trying to keep yourself up on your tiptoes and you panic, feeling your walls widen as the dildo slides deeper into you.

“Relax baby, it’s okay.” Taeyong coos, watching as it circles into you slowly.

You cry out in pain as you feel yourself give out, using the little remaining strength you have left to lower yourself as gently as you can, settling onto the dildo. The cord attached to the clamps of your nipples tightens as your body falls – dragging your breasts upwards. Your full weight lands onto the dildo quickly and you jump back quickly with an unbearable bruising pain, lifting yourself onto your tiptoes after gaining a moment of breath.

Not long after, your strength dies again, much quicker than before. Your muscles fail and you lower yourself again onto the length. You let out a few heavy breaths, rocking your hips to move yourself from pressing into the same place again before the pain becomes too much and you rise onto your tiptoes again, crying.

Taeyong watches in awe, his own hand flying down his pants as he strokes himself in front of you. The sounds in the empty apartment only come from you; your moans and quiet sobs, the rattling of the chains and combine with the slurping sounds of your pussy as the dildo exits.

The third time your legs give out, you find that you’ve lost your strength to rise any more. You shift and move, rocking your hips back and forth afraid to stay still and let the pain sink in. The agonising pain changes as the dildo slowly dissipates and your pussy begins to crave more than just the plastic rubber.

“That’s it,” his voice whispers, “Fuck it well.”

White cream trickles down your leg, dripping onto the floor beneath you. Your desperate cries of pain eventually soften and the pain turns to pleasure.

“That’s it princess, keep going. Give it to yourself.”

Your motions grow frantic as you move; your hands bonded above your head, body stretched tight, nipples screaming in pain and a familiar tension building inside of you. But the dildo stretches too far deep into you and you scream louder than before, tears slipping out of your eyes as you squeeze them shut.

“Taeyong I can’t, red stop,” you cry out urgently. You feel his hands against your waist before you’re able to see him. He holds your weight up, lowering the rod holding the dildo and you relax. Your walls finally left empty and gnawing as you breathe heavily for air.

“You okay?”

“Yeah – I just need a second.” You whisper, your head rolling forward as you hang still.

Taeyong watches as you weaken in his hold, his own heart panging with ache as he hears your gasping. “That’s enough for today.” He murmurs.

You jerk your head back up, “NO!” you cry out; ignoring the nipple clamps tightening around you from the sudden movement. “I can keep going.” You mumble, desperate for the orgasm that was so close to being released.

Taeyong doesn't ask again, dropping your body as you fall flat footed against the platform and your nipples are pulled even worse than before. He ignores your screams as he readjusts the rod and places the dildo back at your entrance.

Having already prepared yourself for the intrusion, you go much more contently onto the dildo, jerking your thighs violently, grinding yourself harshly onto the thing side of you, hurting yourself, as you moan. You avoid his gaze, turning to stare at the heedless flow of people beneath the window instead.

Then without warning, it becomes too much. A wave of pleasure, ferocious in its intensity roars over you, taking you completely by surprise. You come hard, fast, thrashing against the chains as you scream in ecstasy. You contract around the dildo, each contraction lasting in an explosion of pleasurable pain as your orgasm continues on and on.

When it finally dies, you hang limply from the chains, twitching and moaning. Taeyong removes the rod supporting the dildo, letting it slide out with a plop from your abused and aching pussy, smearing your juices along his hand. He reaches around you and unclamps your nipples.

Fire blooms as the sudden rush of blood comes back and you whimper at the new pain. He releases the metal rod from the base and picks up the hard rubber dildo alone. He brings the head towards your lips and without conscious thought, your mouth opens as he shoves it deep against the back of your throat.

Aftershocks from your orgasm ripple through your body with each thrust into your mouth. The dripping cum covered dildo automatically placed far away into your mind as you moan around it. He presses harder and it slides without resistance down your throat, until its base reaches your lip.

Your mind returns slowly to your body. Then in a rush, you were suddenly aware of your physical self, of the steady ache between your legs, the burning pain in your nipples, the thick rubber penis in your throat. It’s not until you finally need to breathe that you start screaming around the gagged intrusion, struggling against your bonds. Taeyong pulls it from your mouth as you cough, gasping for air.

Working quickly, Taeyong unfastens the chains from the bindings around your ankles, and then the same for the manacles around your wrists. Your body sags into his arms, unable to muster the strength of standing.

“You did so well baby.” He coos, supporting your weight and helping you to off the platform. As you blink heavily in his arms, you look back out the window, noticing a crowd of heads closely clustered and facing your direction. You can already see their disgusted faces as they murmur amongst themselves, the sea of hostile faces some curious, some downright hungry, all looking at you.

Your face glows red as you bury your face deeper into Taeyong’s chest, the people’s fingers pointing straight at you.

[hellfireprince]

@bornhybrid this one’s a fair bit longer... but Aryan and Alex need to work on their issues

~

"Why are we being subjected to this torture?" Raven grumbled, flopping into the seat next to Toren on her father's private jet, having bean beaten at chess for the third time during the flight and giving up.

"Blame your mother," Aryan huffed as he put away the game board. "She's the one that's best friends with him."

"I like Grandpa's place," Toren said quietly.

"No offence T, but that's because you're boring," Raven said simply. "And his place is boring. You're a perfect match."

"I... take offence," Toren muttered pointedly.

"There's nothing to do there!" Raven complained to her father. "Two weeks surrounded by grass? Not okay with that. I have friends who are actually doing things and throwing parties and having fun, and I have to miss out on all of that!“

“I didn't have a choice any more than you did, though you’d be missing out on the parties anyway, you're thirteen,” Aryan said pointedly. "Believe me, I understand your frustration. But... maybe we can find something to do this time around."

"Like what? I don't do long walks Dad."

"If I hear one more complaint out of either of you, I will extend the trip for a month," Hope threatened with a hiss as she sat down.

"I'm okay with that," Toren shrugged.

"Of course you are darling, because you're not ungrateful that your loving grandfather has invited us around for the holidays," Hope smiled, brushing his knee softly. "As opposed to your father and your sister, who apparently seem to forget their manners when they hear the name 'Alex'."

Aryan rolled his eyes, sitting down opposite Raven.

"There's a lot of room to shoot. I could teach you how to do it properly if you like," he suggested.

"Shooting?!" Raven perked up immediately. "Hell yes!"

"Oh no, you do not get to be excited about shooting cans but upset about spending time with your grandfather. You will not be shooting if I don't think you deserve it," Hope said simply. "That means being nice to your grandfather and enjoying his company like you should."

"Hope, come on, at least she's happy about some-"

"Neither do you," Hope insisted simply. "No guns until after Christmas. No guns period if I don't see you making an effort."

Aryan opened his mouth to object, but Hope's firm glare silenced him without another word. He'd been to war, but his wife was more terrifying than anything he'd ever seen. Instead of arguing, he just slumped back in his seat, scowling out the window.

"Why don't you like seeing Grandpa?" Toren asked. "He's the nicest person in either of our families."

"That's because he has no ambition whatsoever, so he doesn't need to beat anyone down the ladder with vicious blows of his tongue," Aryan sighed. "I know he's a good person, and I do like him. We just... have nothing in common, we don't understand each other."

"You and Mum had nothing in common until you got to know each other."

"It's not just because of that," Hope said knowingly. "Your father's bitter. When his parents split up, they had to figure out custody. A lot of parents do, and a lot of them end up splitting custody."

"...Not Grandma and Grandpa?"

"They didn't figure out anything, I chose,“ Aryan objected with frustration. "You have let my father plant ideas about this in your head, it's not true."

"Your father is bitter because his father didn't fight for him," Hope said simply, ignoring Aryan's objection. "Because apparently despite the fact that they never had anything in common, that Aryan clearly hung off his mother's arm, and she was in a much better place to take care of an ambitious teenage boy, your father thinks that Alex should have dragged the family through an ugly custody battle instead of an amicable split that was better for all of them."

"Not true," Aryan grumbled under his breath. "I chose to stay with my mother.”

"Oh yes, and apparently Alex was supposed to go directly against his son's wishes to stay with your grandmother and argue that he should stay with him instead," Hope finished pointedly. "Your father is blind as well as deaf, and is in serious denial."

Aryan got to his feet abruptly, heading over to sit down at the other end of the plane, away from all the talk. Hope sighed and followed him to her feet, ruffling Toren's hair reassuringly and moving down the plane to sit opposite her husband.

"I know you know it was in your best interests," she said softly, leaning in until he met her eyes. "You know he loves you more than anything, and if he'd been in the position to take care of you, he would have. You're his only child, Aryan. You cannot tell me you wouldn't have done the same if that situation applied to us."

"I know," Aryan mumbled. "But... I felt like he abandoned me."

"Did he? He never missed a baseball game, he took you out to his place every holiday to teach you how to shoot, he stayed in the city so that he could still be close to you... I get that you might have been upset as a kid but... surely looking back now you can see he never abandoned you. You have to forgive him one day."

"Great. He went to my games, he stayed in a place my mother paid for, hooray for me."

"Aryan, we are all going to enjoy this trip a whole lot more if you work through your ten year old self's daddy issues."

"You know, I came up this end of the plane to stop being harassed," Aryan said pointedly. "I have work to do."

Hope sighed, but took the hint, getting to her feet.

"Fine. Don't forgive your father. You just sulk down here instead."

"You don't know the whole story Hope. It's not that simple."

"Well tell me then."

He didn't, choosing to fall silent instead and focus on the clouds outside the window. Hope shook her head in disbelief, giving up and moving back to her children, who had lapsed into an argument about what movie to watch for the rest of the flight.

~

Aryan leapt easily from the large tree branch to the roof, rifle on his back. To hell with Hope's ban on guns before Christmas. Shooting at this distance required all his focus and concentration. It was calming in a strange way, because his heart pounded every time a shot went off, but he never had more mental clarity than when he was sniping.

"I'm getting too old to follow you up there, son."

"Then don't," Aryan said shortly, setting up the gun's stand and scope, peering down the barrel at the target he'd set up some four hundred yards away. He had shot further before, much further, but he hadn't done long range for some time, and it was dark. He had two weeks to stretch for his record - a four second shot of some eight hundred yards.

There was silence for a minute, and Aryan thought for a moment he had actually managed to send his father away, but then the roof access door opened nearby, Alex climbing out of it.

"Don't know why you always insisted on climbing a tree," he muttered. "Ladder's much easier."

"I believe it had something to do with sneaking out without detection."

"Without detection?" Alex snickered. "Thought a branch had fallen on the roof every time you did, you made such a racket."

"Dad, I just want to sit up here and shoot. And you shouldn't be up here anyway, you'll break a hip or something."

"Hey, I may be getting on, but I could still beat you to the driveway," Alex challenged playfully. "Hope was lookin' for you."

[cinnamonanddean]

Wincestmas Day 2: All that sexual tension (Part 1/3)

Hi! Glad you liked yesterday! So - this fic was in response to your likes for late-season Wincest and pining boys, but also because I had a look at your A03 and saw your fic where older Sam and Dean meet their younger counterparts. So hopefully you’ll like this. Unfortunately, though, it got out of control long (its finished up just under 4k) so I am going to send it in three parts over the next three days (assuming you like it). Here’s part 1!

There’s a bang and the motel door flies open. Dean’s on his feet immediately, scrambling for his gun even as he assesses the threat.

Sam tumbles into the room, literally ass-over-tea-kettle, long legs flying over his head as he rolls to a stop at Dean’s feet. Dean’s hand shivers as he trains the gun on the open doorway, waiting to see what’s wrong; but nothing follows Sam into the room. There’s just the quiet echoing of an empty motel parking lot and the whuffing breaths coming from his little brother.

When Dean finally looks down, his rapidly pounding heart freezes. Sam looks up at him out of eyes big in a rounded face, hidden under shaggy bangs that Dean hasn’t seen in over fifteen years. His skinny chest is heaving, long twig legs sprawling out from his body in clothes that are swimming on his slender frame. Sam had only gone out to get their morning coffee, and he’s come back like this.

“What the fuck, Sammy?” Dean demands.

 ***

“Rowena,” is Sam’s terse answer when he gets his breath back, in a voice far higher than Dean’s accustomed to.

“Rowena is the witch we’ve been following?”

“Yeah. And she saw me from across the road, I guess, and well…” Sam tails off, gesturing down at himself.

“Well.” Dean echoes. He can’t quite process what’s happened.

Sam unfolds himself, standing up to his full height. Which, Dean notices with a swoop of his stomach, is a little less than Dean himself.

“How old are you meant to be, anyway?”

Sam frowns, nose wrinkling, and shoves his bangs out of his eyes. He comes to stand in front of Dean, close enough that his warm, sweet breath brushes against Dean’s cheek. He’s just smaller, just enough that he has to tip his eyes up to look at Dean.  “Um… about 18, I guess?”

“How’d you know?”

“I got taller than you just after-” he pauses, ducking his head.

Just after I left for Stanford, Dean fills in mentally. They still don’t talk about it. Dean can still remember the shock, that night in Sam’s Stanford apartment, when Sam had stood up and towered over him for the first time.

“Ok.” He takes a deep, deep breath, trying to right his thoughts. “We got two choices: try and go after Rowena, or try and fix this ourselves.”

“She’ll be long gone,” Sam suggests. “Now that she knows we’re onto her.”

Dean hums, sorting through everything they know about Rowena. “I’m not so sure,” he says slowly, thinking aloud. “I think she’ll wanna stick around and laugh at us.”

The flash of annoyance across Sam’s face is at once so familiar and utterly disconcerting. Now, that look tends to be directed at Rowena, at Crowley, at their current case; back when Sam had this body, it had been directed at everything as teenage Sam had vented his frustrations. Their Dad and the life they led had been a frequent recipient of Sam’s disgust, but Dean hadn’t avoided it either, and it’s an unpleasant reminder of their teenage arguments.

“Yeah, you’re right. Guess we better try find her.”

***

That’s harder than Dean could have imagined. Not just because Rowena is tricky and cunning -  if she wants to stay hidden, she’ll find a way - but because Sam doesn’t look like an FBI agent anymore. Or like any of their other typical disguises. He doesn’t even look like a credible intern. They have to beat a hasty retreat from the police station when the local sheriff starts asking too many questions, and the bouncer won’t even let Sam into bar where Rowena had last been seen.

“Just go back to the motel, Sammy,” Dean says, gritting his teeth. Today has been harder on him than he’s willing to admit; Sam’s outward appearance a constant reminder of feelings he’d ruthlessly squashed down when Sam had run away.

“No, I’m going to help,” Sam insists, jaw set. His skinny wrists poke out from under the cuffs of his shirt, but his trousers are pooled around his ankles where his legs aren’t quite as long as they should be. The shirt billows around his chest - he’d pulled the suit jacket off as soon as he could, unable to function properly with the longer sleeves - and every time he moves, Dean catches a glimpse of smooth, hairless chest. “I’ve spent more time with her than you, I know how she thinks.”

“There’s nothing you can do,” Dean insists, trying to make his argument sound believable even to himself, when all he actually wants is to remove the temptation that is Sam from his sight for a little while. “I can investigate easier by myself. Then I’ll come back and tell you everything, and you can use your great wisdom and knowledge to predict what she’ll do next.”

Sam scowls at the sarcasm in his voice. “Fine.” He spins on his heel and stomps off, the dramatic exit only barely ruined by his little stumble as he narrowly avoids a lamppost. Sam at eighteen had been all new angles, long legs and clumsiness, and that’s clearly true of Sam at thirty-four in his old body.  

Dean breathes freely for the first time since Sam had re-appeared in their motel room that morning. Taking a moment, he leans back against the wall outside the bar, closing his eyes.

Images of Sam flash through his brain - images of Sam today overlaid with images of Sam when he really was eighteen, when he’d taken to wearing little shorts and loose t-shirts that hung off his shoulders. When he’d taken to stealing Dean’s old t-shirts, squeezing new muscle into old material; and when he’d often spent long hours in the shower, high noises spilling out that Dean had tried so hard not to hear.

There’s a million reasons they still don’t talk about Stanford; and one of them is the reason Dean had let Sam go. His sanity had been hanging by a thread when Sam had revealed his plan; he’d barely been able to think at times for how much he’d wanted his little brother and how guilty he’d felt. He’d often head out to bars, ready to drink himself into forgetfulness; but come home without touching a drop, suddenly terrified that he’d lose his inhibitions with his sobriety.

Sam had wanted - expected - Dean to come with him to Stanford. That had been painfully apparent in the triumphant way he’d revealed his plans to their father, vicious satisfaction evident in his voice as he’d expected to announce his victory in their years-long push-pull fight over Dean’s affection, Dean’s loyalty. But Dean had steeled himself and turned Sam down; insisting that hunting was his life, that there were people to save. Sam had turned doe eyes swimming with tears on him, but Dean had stood firm. Their father’s joy at winning had led to the savage fight that saw Sam banished from the family for so many years.

Since then, Dean has managed to restrain his feelings, pushing them to a place where he barely remembered they existed. Winchesters were masters of denial, after all. But now, everything is bubbling to the surface again.

Scrubbing his hand across his eyes, he pushes himself away from the wall and heads into the bar. Time to get back to work, to find Rowena and find a cure - and then he can go back to forgetting he’d ever had inappropriate, dirty thoughts about his little brother.

***

Dean makes his way back to the motel a couple of hours later, tiredness singing through his body. It’s mental tiredness more than anything - weariness from trying to suppress his feelings all day - and all he wants is a burger, a beer and a quiet night.

Takeaway bag in hand, he nudges the door open with his hip, hoping that Sam isn’t going to kick up a fuss about the unhealthy food. His worries go to shit when the bag crashes to the floor, spilling fries everywhere; the cola pooling across the already-stained floor.

Sam’s stretched out on the bed, face down. He’s completely naked, muscles fluttering as he rolls his hips back to meet the three fingers stretching his ass wide, and his face is buried in the t-shirt Dean was wearing yesterday.

  So yeah, that’s part 1… part 2 coming tomorrow. 

I’ll also be starting work on fics for later in Wincestmas today - so if there’s anything you’d like to add to your likes/wishes, now is a really good time!