Ah, humpday.
What better way to spend it then reading about humping?
Brotherly humping.
It's a lot like brotherly bonding, except it's generally spend naked and hopefully coming.
Lets be frank here, the coming is important.
And with that thought, I bring you this week's rec.
by Rivkat.
It begins as your typical witch-hating-spell-fic, but takes a turn so smoothly, it rivals peanut butter. It's never as you expect. Is it a ghost? Is it a demon? Is it something else? Yes, yes it is. God -excuse me- Chuck knows I do love a good plot twist. Oh, I do, I do. Dean get's hit with a curse with no cure in site. What seems innocent quickly turns to something more sinister, though Elder Winchester takes it like a champ, and there is a pun in there I won't even bother explaining.
He couldn't take his eyes off of Dean's dick, darkening with blood as he watched, swaying a little as it thickened. It was almost possible to believe that Dean was doing this on his own, but something else was responsible for the side-to-side jerks and the continued slide of skin up near the head. As Sam watched, the middle of Dean's dick just sort of spread out a little, as if it was being compressed by invisible fingers. A sick shudder went through Sam, bringing him back to himself.
Every succubus they'd ever heard tell of was visible, so this had to be something different. A poltergeist?
Well, he did have someone to consult: "What the hell is that?"
Dean managed to push his head and shoulders up off the bed, propping himself up with his elbows. "Looks like a—oh—handjob."
Sam's stomach flipped over. God, Dean wasn't even covering himself with a sheet. Of course Dean would have an over-amorous exhibitionist ghost attach itself to him; Dean had probably dreamed about this sort of thing for years.
Dean's eyes fluttered closed. Sam watched him as he tilted his head back and swallowed, the tendons and hollows of his neck arrowing down to his naked chest. "Dean!"
"I guess I'm just that sexy," Dean gritted out. His hips were jumping up and down now, little thrusts that should have looked sillier than they did. "Not really used to an audience," he said after a moment. "But hey, if it's working for you—"
Sam opened his mouth to deny it, then realized that if Dean bothered to check, he'd be able to see Sam half-hard in his boxers. He'd been sleeping, it was natural, but explaining that would only lead to further humiliation.
"I'm going to the car," he snapped, and jumped out of bed, looking for his sneakers. The spring night was warm enough that he could get away with boxers and a T-shirt, but when this was over, he was going toget Dean for fucking up the salt lines so that a spirit could get in, even a horny spirit. Come to think of it, that must have been what happened last night.
Dean picked up girls like pennies, and there was no reason they had to be alive for him to do it.
And there is totally a sequel. I think I'll go read that now.
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