The Road goes ever on...

Fic: The Price of Love (Masterpost)

firesign10 — Thu, 06 Jul 2023 22:25:01 GMT

Title: The Price of Love
Author: firesign10
Artist: ncdover1285
Pairing(s): Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester (Wincest)
Word Count: 38K
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Show-level violence, a couple instances of het sex

Summary: While Dean Winchester chose to follow in his father’s footsteps and run a brothel, Sam left for college and became a lawyer. When Iniquity become the focus of an FBI investigation, Sam and Dean's worlds collide and they must face each other as antagonists. Will they be unable to bridge the chasm between them, or will they discover that the feelings they once had for each other are still burning underneath their masks?

Notes: Thank you first of all to Wendy, the awesome mod of spn_j2_bigbang, this Queen of the Bangs! It's a privilege to participate again here and present my tenth Big Bang for your reading pleasure.

Art post for ncdover1285 is here!! Please be sure to leave her kudos!

This story was prompted by a stunning pic of Dean in a suit looking very mob boss. Discussions with Bea_Deans_Girl led to an idea that went through a thousand permutations until this story was born.

Thanks to my handholders and alpha readers, merenwen76, tammyrenh, and theatregirl7299. Thanks and hugs to the wonderful ladies of Fic, Food, and Fuckery who always keep me going. Undying gratitude to jerzcaligrl who alpha-ed and beta-ed unceasingly. Final thanks to trendykitty for a final beta and reassurances. It takes a village, people.

Link to story on LJ | on AO3

Link to art post for ncdover1285 is on Tumblr

What is F10 up to?

firesign10 — Thu, 30 Mar 2023 20:51:52 GMT

Hello y'all!

I bring you a news bulletin from the desk of Firesign10...

I'm working to launch my first m/m romance book this year. After talk talk talk the last few years, I am trying to 'woman up' (well, I can't man up, can I) and do it. I'm now through beta and sending to copy editor. I'm trying to go a bit at a time because it's very easy to feel overwhelmed by this first time. I'm happy to say I'm getting some great support already *whew*

So I'm now working on 'establishing a social media presence' under my author name. I've chosen Ellis Colton for that. I have a Facebook page already, and will be looking to set up Twitter and Instagram. Please feel free to offer advice lol!!

If you are on FB, Here is my page. I'm also compiling a list for a newsletter, and if you'd like to be on it, please email elliscolton.author@gmail.com and I'll add you!

I'm alternately excited and terrified lol.

I hope you'll join me :-)

Fic: The Folly and the Ivy

firesign10 — Sat, 24 Dec 2022 20:29:33 GMT

Title: The Folly and the Ivy
Author: firesign10
Pairing(s): Jared/Jensen (J2)
Word Count: 2270
Rating: PG

Summary: Things are tight financially for Jared and Jensen, but when Jared sees the perfect Christmas gift for his boyfriend, he just has to get it.

Notes: Written as my final submission for sn_specialsSaturday Night Specials. Prompt by beatrizwench. Thanks as always to my speedy and steadfast beta, jerzcaligrl!

Click on the cut below for LJ or read on AO3

"What are you getting Jensen for Christmas?" Kim Rhodes asked as she prepped the two espresso machines for the morning rush at Java 'n Juice. A popular coffee shop, Java 'n Juice sold coffee, smoothies, and pastries, and the mornings were always busy.

The question caught Jared a little off-guard, and he almost dropped a pastry basket instead of putting it into the big glass pastry case.

"Um..."

Kim laughed. "Just a question, Jared, not a quiz."

"I don't know...I might not be able to get him anything," he replied sadly. Jared finished filling in the pastries while he continued to explain. "We both had a tuition increase this semester, and things are really tight money-wise right now." He sighed. "If anyone deserves a nice Christmas gift, it's Jensen. He's worked so hard on his music degree, and he's still pulling hours here." Jared smiled and added, "In addition to being the best boyfriend and room-mate ever, of course."

Kim patted his shoulder. "He's not going to mind, Jared. You guys being together is all he wants, and I know that goes for you too." She tossed a towel at him. "Give him an extra special blow job!"

"Ew! Stop talking about sex! You're almost as old as my mom!" Jared mock-grimaced at her, and they both laughed.

As he went about his shift, though, Jared felt sad about not being able to afford a gift for his boyfriend. Sure, he knew Jensen would understand, but that didn't make it feel any better. He was still mulling it over when he left the coffee shop.

It was early enough in the afternoon that Jared decided to pick up his art supplies and head over to the open market. There, colorful booths housed vendors selling all sorts of things: fresh produce and flowers, tasty meats and pastries, beautiful crafts of all kinds. Jared often went there with his cardboard box of artist supplies and a folding chair. He'd set up his little folding easel and paints and brushes, and he'd paint little scenes or portraits on demand. As an art student, it was all good practice, but he also loved to see the smiles his art drew from people.

The bits of money he made this way didn't hurt either. It wasn't a lot; not much would be left over after he'd replenished his paints, but every cent helped. In a similar vein, Jensen would often busk at the market, playing his guitar and singing in his beautiful voice while people tossed money into his open guitar case.

Jared and Jensen lived together in a small apartment over the Java n' Juice. Between their hourly barista wages and their free-lancing, they managed to get by while they pursued their classes as an art and music student respectively. They were young, talented, and in love, so living frugally was not a burden.

When their tuitions had increased, though, it had put a strain on their financial state. The free-lancing money went from nice-for-extras to we-really-need-it. And so, Jared had sadly realized he wouldn't be able to give Jensen a gift this year, as much as he wished he could.

It's just not fair, Jared thought, cleaning his brushes and putting them back into his cardboard box. Jensen works so hard, and he's such a good musician too. I'd love to just get him a little something as a treat. He looked glumly at his earnings for the last two hours. Enough for some necessary groceries, so he wasn't ungrateful. Just...no extra. At all.

Maybe I'll do the special blow job thing after all. He couldn't help smiling at that.

The next day was pretty much the same thing. Barista boy, then hit the market for painting. Classes were already concluded for the holidays, thank goodness. Maybe with the extra hours, he'd make enough for something. But the weather turned, and the snow that arrived, while very pretty and seasonal, chased him from the market. Painting and cold, stiff fingers did not mix.

Jared packed up his things, feeling despondent. Then the cardboard box he'd been using to transport his materials began to lose its shape as it absorbed the wet snow, and he had to struggle to not drop his paints and easel.

Goddammit. Could I just catch a break, please? Trying to wrap his arms around the increasingly soggy box, Jared paused and rested the corner of his box on a vendor's table.

"Can I help you?"

Jared looked up to see the vendor, a stocky, pony-tailed man in a leather apron, looking at him quizzically.

"Oh, gosh, I'm sorry. I just--I needed to balance this so I can get a better grip on it," Jared apologized.

"No, I can see that's a bit...mushy? Structurally unsound? I got a big trash bag if you want to put everything in that." The vendor grinned and offered a big black plastic garbage bag. "This snow sucks. I was hoping for some more last minute holiday sales. Bet you were too." He opened the bag and held it while Jared maneuvered the box into it.

"Thanks, at least now it won't all end up in the mud and slush." Jared shook his head. "Someday I'll have a proper artist's box, but that day is not today."

The box now secured in the plastic trash bag, Jared looked around the booth. Beautiful leatherwork filled the shelves and hung from hooks; belts, bags, wallets, and more. The leather ranged from dark brown to light caramel in hue, and much of it was stamped and dyed with brilliant colors. Jared was impressed with the variety and artistry of the goods.

"Your work is stunning!" He complimented the stocky man. "I'm Jared, by the way."

"Kane, Chris Kane, leather goods." They exchanged a firm handshake. "I've seen you painting before. Nice stuff."

"Thanks." Jared gave one last glance around, and then he saw it. Hanging from a row of hooks in one corner were guitar straps. He put his bag of box down and stepped over to them. Like the rest of the leather goods, they were well crafted, with different patterns carved or stamped into them. One in particular caught his eye and he reached out to touch it. The leather was soft and supple, a deep brown with a green dragon embossed into it. The dragon would curl over the guitarist's shoulder, descending to the instrument's headstock.

"Wow," he breathed. "That's just beautiful."

Kane smiled. "You play?"

Jared shook his head. "No, my boyfriend--he plays. He's here busking sometimes, so you might have seen him. Tall, gorgeous, sings like an angel?"

"Oh, right! Bow legs?" At Jared's nod, Kane went on, "Yeah, he's terrific." Nodding at the strap, Kane said, "That would be a great gift. Pretty, but useful."

"Yeah, yeah it would." Jared bit his lip. "How much?"

Kane told him the price, and it wasn't exorbitant, but it was still more than Jared could afford. He gave the strap one last pat, and found himself saying rashly, "Can you hold onto it for a day? I'll come back."

"Sure thing." Kane took the strap down from its hook. "I'll be here. After the snow ends, that is."

"Thanks, man!" Jared smiled at him and picked his bag back up. "See you then."

He walked back to Java n' Juice through the snow. How are you going to get that strap, doofus? We don't have that extra money his brain scolded him.

Shut up. Jensen deserves that beautiful strap, and somehow I'm going to get it for him! Jared's heart answered.

No robbing anything! We are not spending Christmas in jail, Brain huffed, which Heart beat angrily in response.

Jared sighed.

How am I going to get that gift for Jensen?

* * *

Jared sat on the living room futon, fidgeting nervously. Their little tree, a hand-me-down artificial one from Jared's older brother, stood against one wall. The silver and gold foil paper chains decorating it reflected the multi-color light strings festoonning it, giving the room a festive glow. A red felt skirt sprinkled with white painted snowflakes--a craft project from Jensen's sister--was spread out beneath it. On the skirt rested Jared's package, a slim box wrapped in the gift wrap Kane had kindly provided.

I can't wait for him to open it, Jared thought. It's perfect.

He heard the doorknob rattle, and then it opened and Jensen walked inside. In one hand, he held a large but fairly flat rectangular package, wrapped up in paper with candy canes all over it.

"Hey, baby!" Jared jumped off the futon and hugged his boyfriend.

"Hey yourself," Jensen said, grinning at his boyfriend. "Sit down, Jay, I, uh--I got something for you!" He pushed Jared toward the futon with one hand.

"Oh, are we doing it now?" Jared asked. He darted over to the tree and picked up his package. "I have something for you too."

"Oh wow!" Jensen looked surprised. "I didn't expect--"

"Yeah, me either, so hush up," Jared chuckled. "Are we opening now?"

"Well, it is Christmas Eve, so why not?" Jensen sat down, and Jared joined him.

"I thought--"

Jensen put a finger on Jared's lips, then placed a soft kiss there. "I know, me too. But when I saw this--I had to get it for you. It's perfect."

They kissed again, longer this time, but then Jared put a hand on Jensen's chest and pushed lightly.

"Okay, but--you first." Jared put the slim box in Jensen's lap.

"Thanks, Jay. I can't wait to see what it is. A tie?" Jensen shook the box next to his ear and laughed.

"Of course not!" Jared punched Jensen's shoulder gently. "Go on, open it."

Jensen carefully undid the wrapping paper, causing Jared to roll his eyes. He opened the box inside the wrap, and gasped.

Nestled in white tissue paper was the leather guitar strap. Jensen gasped at the rich green design on the dark leather.

"Oh, wow," he murmured, picking up the strap and drawing it free. Running his other hand down the length of it, he said, "Jared, it's--it's beautiful." His voice caught as he added, "Oh Jay, you shouldn't have."

"I had to, Jen. It's you. I knew it as soon as I saw it." Jared patted his boyfriend's suddenly serious face. "Merry Christmas, Jensen."

Jensen turned his eyes back to Jared. Jared was startled to see tears in them. "Hey, are you okay? Jen--"

Jensen smiled, but his voice was a little shaky as he said, "Open your gift, Jared."

Jared gave him a concerned look, but picked up his present from where Jensen had leaned it against the futon and tore off the wrap.

An artist's portfolio, black and gleaming. The kind where an artist could fasten their brushes and paints on one side, and a folding easel on the other. Handsome and weather resistant, it was just what Jared had been wanting.

"Oh, Jensen." Now it was Jared's turn to be touched. "It's beautiful." He ran a hand over the smooth surface.

And now it was his turn to tear up. How was he going to tell Jensen--

"Jared...I have a confession to make," Jensen said. He laughed, but wiped a tear from his eye. "I uh..." He touched the strap again. "This is just so perfect. I love it. But, Jay--I sold my guitar."

Jared looked at him, stunned. "What? Why? Jen, how could you sell--" He stopped and clapped a hand to his mouth. Shaking his head, he put his hand down and whispered, "Oh, Jensen, no..."

Jensen nodded ruefully. "Yeah. So I could--"

"So you could buy this beautiful case." Tears began to roll down Jared's cheeks. "I can't--Jensen, you--" Wiping his face with the back of his hand, Jared began to laugh.

Jensen stared at him. "Jared, are you okay?" He gripped Jared's shoulder and shook him gently. "Jay?"

"Oh, Jensen, oh my." Jared kept laughing, despite his wet cheeks. "What a pair we are. It's like we're living that story, you know, that famous Christmas one?"

Jensen looked around before looking back at Jared, puzzled. "I don't see any ghosts?"

"No! The other one. Where the man and his wife sold their things to buy a gift for each other. You know, you have to read it in middle school or something." Jared's laugh died down to a soft chuckle. "They're us. Or we're them, rather."

"Jared, do you need a drink or something?" Jensen said, his face concerned.

Jared took a deep breath. "Jen, you sold your guitar to buy me this beautiful case for my art supplies. And I--I sold my easel and supplies to get you that guitar strap." He laid an open palm on Jensen's cheek. "Get it now?"

"Oh--oh no! Oh my God," Jensen groaned.

"Yeah." Jared smiled and drew Jensen's face close so he could kiss it. "We're both so silly."

"No, we're both so in love." Jensen finally smiled too. "Oh man, what a mess." He started chuckling. "But yeah, it is funny too, isn't it?"

"Yep!" They hugged each other, laughing even as tears trickled a bit as well.

"Okay, that's enough of this maudlin crap," Jensen said, standing up. He pulled Jared to stand up with him. "Let's get a drink and toast our silly selves and Christmas too."

"Brilliant idea!" Jared agreed. "And then, someone I know suggested that perhaps another gift might be a super special blow job." He winked. "And I can definitely afford to give that!"

Fic: A Dream Within (1/1)

firesign10 — Fri, 02 Dec 2022 19:36:14 GMT

Title: A Dream Within
Author: firesign10
Pairing(s): Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Genre Wincest
Word Count: 5100
Rating: NC-17

Summary: Sam's in the hospital after a serious hunt injury. He's getting better, but hasn't--or won't--wake up. Dean needs to investigate where his brother's psyche is.

Notes: Written for the 2nd Edition Wincest Zine, The Epic Love of Sam and Dean. The theme was Dreams.

Thanks to jerzcaligrl for the excellent beta!

Link to story on AO3

what do my eyes see
(not see)
what do my ears hear
(not hear)

Do not wake me, for I dream
and it is all the world to me

* * *

"Doctor, all I want to know is--when is my brother waking up?"

Dean Winchester stood at Sam's bedside, scowling at the neurologist. Dr. Bissel was six inches shorter than Dean, but nevertheless he stood nose to nose with Dean over the belligerent query.

"Mr. Mendelbaum, I can't answer that. Your brother's injuries were so serious that we had to induce a medical coma for his body to concentrate on healing. Now, the broken ribs are a slow go, but we're past the danger point for the skull fracture and resultant swelling of the brain. The swelling is subsiding nicely, and all of the internal damage is healing as well as we could hope for." Dr. Bissel's tone was firm during this speech, while his gray eyes regarded Dean steadily. "We have already discontinued the meds inducing the coma. From his readings, Sam should be waking up anytime." The doctor shook his head wearily. "Frankly, I'm at a loss to explain why he is not responding to external stimuli yet, even if he isn't conscious."

Dean ran a hand over his face. His frustration and fear soared; he felt like he was filled with white-hot flames, but he couldn't lash out at this doctor, who'd fought to pull Sam back from the brink. Dean had dragged Sam, bloody and unconscious, here to Saint Agnes Hospital after a fight with a wendigo. The wendigo had surprised them as they were investigating its lair, and its legendary speed meant it had attacked Sam savagely, hurling him into a rock wall with its enormous claws, before Dean had been able to get the flamethrower alight. Dr. Bissel and the trauma staff had put Sam back together, but now--now he should be waking up.

But he wasn't.

"Okay, thanks, Doctor. I really appreciate everything you've done. I know Sam would be dead if it hadn’t been for you." Dean reached out and shook Dr. Bissel's hand. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, but I wish I had a better prognosis for you. It's up to Sam and time now." Dr. Bissel walked off, leaving Dean still standing at Sam’s bedside.

Dean looked down at his brother. Even after the last several days, it was a shock to see Sam lying so quietly in the hospital bed. He was unnaturally pale; a bloodlessness underlay the usual tan of his skin, and his head was still swathed in white bandages. The ventilator obscured half of his face, the hoses running to a machine next to the bed. His chest rose and felt softly, regularly, its motion dictated by that machine rather than by his heart and lungs. Smaller tubes and wires were hooked into his arms and hands, some red with blood and others clear with fluids and medications, and a larger tube snaked underneath the blanket, taking care of his waste.

It hurt Dean to see Sam like this. Sam was such a large, vital man, muscle and bone creating someone beautiful and unique. And yet here he was, dependent on flimsy hoses and soulless machines, only alive by their proper functioning. Sam's being itself, his consciousness, his personality--all were absent. He was a husk.

Dean clenched his jaw, willing the hot tears brewing behind his eyes to evaporate. He had to be strong for Sam. He needed to figure out what was blocking his brother from returning to consciousness--to Dean. There was no time or energy for stupid chick flick moments, not when his brother's life was still so fragile. Dean curled his hands into fists, digging his short nails hard into his palms, willing the pain to battle the tears.

He lost. The tears overran the pain, welling out of his eyes and trailing down his stubbled cheeks, pooling at the corners of his mouth and in the collar of his shirt. Dean fumbled toward the empty chair at Sam's bedside, half-falling into it as he took his brother's hand gently, pressing it to his dry lips and shaking with silent sobs.

* * *

Sam woke up slowly, smiling as he snuggled luxuriously into the sheets. Dean was already gone, probably to make coffee, but his warmth lingered. Sam gave a little sigh, relishing the comfortable mattress, the soft but firm pillow, the gentle weight of the comforter atop him. He stretched, felt the ache of last night's activities throughout his body, and chuckled. They'd rolled around together, laughs and little tickles leading to kisses and more measured touches, and then...

Sam's ass told him about the 'then', but he didn't care. He loved feeling the after-effects of making love with Dean. A little bruising, a few bite-marks, an achy ass, all were just signs they'd had rousing sex. Better yet was the way it left his heart so filled and complete, secure in the fact that Dean loved him as much as he loved Dean.

"Coffee's ready!" Dean called out from the kitchen. Sam threw off the covers and pulled on the pajama pants lying on the floor, where they'd been abandoned last night. Going downstairs into the kitchen, he smiled at Dean, who was stirring eggs in a fry pan, bacon already sitting on another plate. The aroma in the kitchen was delicious.

"Morning," Sam said, kissing Dean on the cheek.

"None of that," Dean answered, turning to catch Sam's mouth with his. "Go sit, these are ready."

Sam sat down at the small kitchen table and watched Dean divide the eggs and bacon onto two plates. Depositing the plates on the table, he went back for mugs and brought them over in one hand, the other holding the coffee pot.

"You're the best," Sam said. "Thanks for making breakfast."

Dean snickered. "Thanks for last night. You were pretty spectacular."

"You weren't too shabby yourself," Sam countered with a grin.

They both began to eat, and Dean started talking about getting the paint for repainting the kitchen and living room. Sam sat watching him, noting how Dean's green eyes sparkled, how his plump lips grew shiny from the bacon, how relaxed his face was.

The food was tasty, and Sam sipped his coffee afterward, feeling easy in his skin. The sun shone in through the window over the sink, and his belly was full. Dean was puttering with the dishes, moving around the kitchen with his natural grace.

I could live this way forever, Sam thought. It's perfect.

* * *

"Bobby, thanks for coming." Dean ushered Bobby into the motel room, kicking an empty pizza box across the stained carpet.

"Of course, Dean. You should have called sooner. No need to deal with this alone." Bobby looked around the unkempt room. Takeout bags overflowed the wastebasket, with empty soda cans and beer bottles piled next to it. "You might wanna think about letting housekeeping in for one day."

"What?" Dean looked around, seeing the mess he'd become inured to with fresh eyes. It was pretty grody, even for his standards. "Ohh, uh, yeah. I've been at the hospital most of the time."

"Sure, I understand." Bobby sat in one of the two wooden chairs at the small table. "What can I do? How is Sam doing?"

Dean sat in the other chair, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. "The doctor says he's doing great, physically. Bones mending, brain swelling down, yadda yadda."

"Okay, that's great. What's the 'but', since I assume there is one."

Dean sighed and sat back. "He's not waking up. He should be responding to, uh, 'external stimuli'--like when they pinch him or knuckle his chest. But he's not. And even though they stopped the meds for the coma, he's still out cold." Dean ran a hand over his face. "The longer he's out, the greater chance he has brain damage. Or that he won't ever wake up at all." He cleared his throat, which seemed to be narrowing as he spoke. "I can't--he--"

Bobby reached over and squeezed Dean's knee. "I got you, boy. What d'you have in mind? 'Cause I'm guessing you have an idea, or I wouldn't be sitting here."

Dean nodded. Getting up, he went over to the mini fridge and pulled out two beers, handing one to Bobby. Opening his own bottle, Dean took a swig before continuing.

"I want to go in after him, Bobby. Wanna find out where he is, and see if I can bring him back."

Bobby drank and set his beer down. "You thinking about visiting the astral plane?"

Dean shook his head and sat back down. "Nope, not astral. Too iffy; I don't know what plane he's on, and it's too big to just wander around in."

Bobby tilted his head. "Ohhhhh. You're thinking African dream root."

Dean nodded. "You mind watching over me while I go on a little excursion?"

* * *

The African dream root tea tasted as terrible as it had the first time Dean had it. He swished it with Sam's toothbrush for the biological element, deliberately blocking out how gross that was. Tea downed, roiling stomach ignored, he'd felt himself falling back and back and back...

And then he was standing in a house. More specifically, a kitchen. Crappy old paint, beat-up linoleum floor, that chrome-legged Formica table that every 50's kitchen boasted. A fry pan with remnants of scrambled cheesy eggs was in the sink, along with greasy plates and stained coffee cups.

Dean took a moment to take it all in. What was this place? Why would Sam be here?

He moved toward an open doorway that led to the living room. A worn couch sat along one wall, the red upholstery dulled to a rusty pink. A similarly worn chair, a coffee table, and a television that hadn't ever heard of flat screen technology rounded out the room. Half a dozen paperbacks leaned tipsily in the shelves on one side of the TV, and a boldly colored crocheted afghan was draped over the back of the couch, lending the room a warm feel despite the shabby furniture.

"Where am I?" mused Dean, turning to survey the room. "Why am I here, Sam?"

He heard some noises, kind of squeaky and growly at the same time. Looking out into the hallway, he saw stairs leading up to another floor. He eased onto the stairs, moving his weight slowly to avoid any squeaking of loose boards. The sounds grew louder as he ascended, and while they didn't sound dangerous, he still went cautiously. A thwacky kind of noise was mixed in there now, and he could not for the life of him place it, despite recognizing that it was something he'd heard before.

Reaching the top of the stairs, he came out onto a landing with a couple of doors on each side. One door was slightly open, so he moved silently closer to that one first.

Dean lined himself up with the crack in the door, trying to give himself the best angle to see inside without being seen himself. The sounds were quite loud now, but they still confounded him rather than giving him clues as to what was going on.

When he looked into the room, it all became much clearer.

He saw himself, naked as a jaybird, atop his brother, fucking him like there was no tomorrow. Ass pumping, thighs flexing, 'Dean' was sparing no effort to boink 'Sam.' The thwacking noise suddenly made sense--it was the smack of flesh against flesh. Dean could see 'his' balls slapping 'Sam's', could hear 'Sam's' whimpers and 'Dean's' grunts. 'Sam' was loving it, judging by his desperate pleas of "more" and "God, Dean" while his hands groped at the sheets. Dean could see 'Sam's' cock bobbing between his legs, hard and dripping, swaying with each solid thrust from 'Dean'.

Dean was stunned. Most of him was stunned, anyway. His brain froze, baffled at how to react to such an unexpected scene. His dick, though, was immediately down with the show happening in front of it, promptly stiffening inside Dean's jeans and poking insistently at his fly.

The men in front of him had to be approaching their climaxes, because their noises grew even louder and more urgent. 'Dean' hammered mercilessly into 'Sam', who moaned like a stuck pig and started slapping the bed with one hand.

"Fuck, Dean, fuck...I need..."

"I know what you need, baby. My cock in your ass, my come filling you up. Gonna fill you up right now, yeah, shit!"

'Dean' threw back his head and howled as he ground his hips against 'Sam's' ass. Still standing by the door, Dean watched 'Sam' likewise cry out when his cock jerked hard and spewed white over the sheets. Locked together, they moved now in slow-motion, writhing as one while they orgasmed simultaneously.

Slowly 'Sam' and 'Dean' broke apart, each drifting down to the bed like leaves shed from a tree. They curled together, arms and legs encircling each other, still breathing hard as they exchanged soft kisses and murmurs.

His lungs full of the heavy smell of sex, Dean turned away from the bedroom door. His mind churned unceasingly, trying to sort out the jumble of emotions evoked by what he'd just witnessed. Like werewolf fangs tearing through flesh, his heart had been ripped open, but instead of blood spilling out, it was a torrent of new--or at least previously unrecognized--feelings.

Holy Jehoshaphat. That was the hottest thing I've ever seen tumbled out first, followed by that should have revolted me, but...it didn't. In fact, his boxers were wet with pre-come. What the hell, that's my brother... He stumbled back down the stairs, only keeping his feet by clutching the banister.

Dean rushed out the front door and collapsed in the grass at the side of the steps, belly cramping but cock twitching. The searing images of those naked bodies rutting together made his breath hitch. His hand moved of its own volition to pull his zipper down and yank himself out. Fuck, gotta--need to-- Already hard and leaking, Dean grabbed his dick and stripped it while the erotic scene played over and over again in his mind's eye. 'Sam's' straining cock, flushed dark and swinging heavily, pre-come pattering down from the swollen tip. The sweet curve of his ass under 'Dean's' hands, muscular thighs spread wide. Watching his 'own' ass bunching and flexing while he reamed 'Sam', hands squeezing hard on 'Sam's hips, only releasing one to slap one plump cheek, the fleshy reverberation echoing in the room.

Their mutual cries of ecstasy exploded in Dean's mind and he groaned loudly, his release spurting over the grass as he fell to his knees. The overpowering orgasm shook loose the truth long bottled up in his head.

I'm in love with my brother.

* * *

"Son? You okay?"

Dean opened his eyes blearily. A blurry face hovered over him; oh, right, Bobby. The African dream root tea. It all oozed back into his mind, which felt like jello.

Oh shit. It felt like jello in his boxers. Cold, sticky jello. Oh fuck, did he--

Bobby cleared his throat. "If you're conscious again, I'm, uh, I'll go get some food and drinks. You good?" He stepped back from the bed, nervously adjusting his hat. "Be back shortly. In case, you know, you need to, uh take a moment."

Dean managed to sit up and wave at him. "Got it," he whispered hoarsely. " 'm fine." Or I will be once I peel these boxers off. Ugh.

Bobby left the room, stepping briskly through the door and shutting it firmly.

Dean groaned and flopped back onto the bed. Great. He took a dream tea ride and had a fucking orgasm in front of Bobby. Yeah, like that wasn't going to scar both of them.

He pulled himself upright and headed for the bathroom.

When Bobby returned with two Italian grinders, chips, and a six-pack of beer, Dean was showered and dressed in clean clothes. He'd stuck the incriminating evidence in a plastic shopping bag, tied it up, and stuffed it into his duffle under the rest of his laundry.

He and Bobby sat together at the table, eating the first half of their grinders in silence.

After several bites, Bobby took a swig of beer and broke the silence.

"Now, I don't wanna pry necessarily, but we gotta talk about what you saw if this is gonna help Sam at all. So just put any embarrassment outta your head for now. We've all seen and done things under the influence, whether it's alcohol, drugs, spells, curses, what have you. Okay, son?"

Dean choked down the bite in his mouth. He drank half his beer, trying to relax his throat so he could speak.

"I hear ya, Bobby, but I think you watching me nut has to be a first. And now it's a last."

Bobby snickered, and suddenly Dean felt more relaxed. It's not like he'd actually jerked off in front of Bobby, after all. Every male had wet dreams.

He'd lay odds that Bobby didn't anticipate hearing about Sam's incestual fantasy though.

"So, I was in a house. Kinda small, just ordinary, and inside it was...kinda beat up, but like homey still. Cozy. Shabby furniture, but an afghan on the couch, and cans of paint lined up in one room like they were gonna paint it."

Bobby nodded encouragingly. "Okay, go on."

Dean drank the rest of his beer. "I, uh, heard some noise, but it was empty downstairs, so I went upstairs. Hadn't seen any sign of Sam yet. When I got upstairs, there was an open door, and so I, uh...it uh..."

"Come on, Dean, just spit it out. It's Sam, it can't be that bad."

Dean harrumphed. Maybe if he just said it all at once, ripped off the bandage.

"ItwasSamandmeinbedfuckinglikerabbits."

Bobby stared at him. Dean looked at him with wide, innocent eyes.

"Can you, uh, slow that down for me?" Bobby asked quietly. "I don't think I understood that right."

Now that the seal was broken, Dean could say it more clearly.

"Sam and me--I mean, y'know, dream-Sam and dream-me? We were in bed, and we--they--were fucking like rabbits. Like horny little critters, wham bam thank you ma'am. Happy ending and everything."

Bobby got up and went over to his bag. Unzipping it, he pulled out a bottle of whiskey. He opened it, took a big swig, and offered it to Dean. Dean took it gratefully and also took a large swallow. Bobby sat back down, took another drink, and then waved his hand.

"Go on. Can't get worse than that."

Dean rubbed his eyes with one hand. Talking about what he'd seen just made it more real, the words hanging in the air.

"Jesus, Bobby, what else is there?"

Bobby tsked. "Come on, you're a better hunter than that. What else happened?"

It was Dean's turn to drink. Coughing from the bite of the booze, he choked out, "They, uh, finished. And I went back downstairs and freaked out."

Bobby gave him a stern look. "That before or after you popped your cork?"

Dean felt the flush burning his cheeks. He didn't know where to look, but for sure he was never looking Bobby in the face ever again.

Bobby sighed. "You boys...you been different all your lives. And I don't mean Sam's brush with demon blood, or your trips to Hell. I'm talking about how you two don't hardly need to talk during a hunt. How you know almost telepathically when each other is hurt. You're a hound dog, Dean, but you got no interest in anything more than a one night stand." He got up and walked over to his bag. "Not many brothers could live hand-in-glove like you and Sam do and not kill each other. Maybe there's something buried in there you need to think about."

Dean was shocked at both Bobby's words and the calmness of his delivery.

"Jesus, Bobby, are you telling me to go ahead and--that me and Sam should--"

"Calm your tits there, Romeo. I'm just saying...a hunter's life can lead to some strange situations. You ponder that. I'm heading back to Sioux Falls, but call me when Sam wakes up." He picked up his duffle and opened the door.

"So you think--you think he will wake up?" Dean asked, feeling unsure again.

"I think so. Depends on you, don't it?" And with that Bobby nodded and left, shutting the door behind him.

"Fucker," Dean mumbled. "Depends on me to what, say yes to the incest?" He spied the bottle still sitting on the table. "Well, at least he left me this!" He picked it up and gulped some down.

* * *

Sam felt himself wake up, smiling as he snuggled luxuriously into the sheets. Dean was already gone, probably to make coffee, but his warmth lingered. Sam gave a little sigh, relishing the comfortable mattress, the soft but firm pillow, the gentle weight of the comforter atop him. He stretched, felt the ache of last night's activities throughout his body, and chuckled. They'd rolled around together, laughs and little tickles leading to kisses and more measured touches, and then...

"Coffee's ready!" Dean called out from the kitchen. Sam threw off the covers and pulled on the pajama pants he found lying on the floor, where they'd been abandoned last night. Going into the kitchen, he smiled at Dean, who was stirring eggs in a fry pan, bacon already sitting on another plate.

"Morning," Sam said, kissing Dean on the cheek.

* * *

Dean sat on the bed and looked at the mug of African dream root tea. It smelled as bad as it tasted, kind of like dirty socks boiled in swamp water.

I gotta go back. I gotta bring Sam back.

He hadn't wanted to call Bobby back after the last embarrassing trip, so he was just flying solo this time. Dean resolutely gulped the foul brew down, trying not to gag, before stretching out on the bed. He was resolved that he would talk to Sam and convince him to come home. To come back to Dean.

Closing his eyes, Dean fell into the dream.

* * *

Sam curled together with Dean, arms and legs encircling each other, still breathing hard as they exchanged soft kisses and murmurs after their explosive climaxes. He was just drifting off when he heard something--someone--bang the screen door of the kitchen.

Who's here? His eyes snapped open. Dean was fast asleep, mouth slightly open, breathing deep and slow. Sam gently extricated himself and stood up, grabbing the pajama pants he'd abandoned earlier on the floor. He quietly slipped down the stairs, wishing he had a gun, or a baseball bat, or anything.

At the base of the stairs, he peeked into the kitchen. His heart hammered with shock at what he saw.

Dean.

Dean was standing in the kitchen. Sam looked back up the stairs. He'd just left Dean sleeping.

But here Dean was, fully dressed and leaning against the counter, looking perfectly normal.

"Heya, Sammy."

"Dean? What--but you--" Sam stammered, at a loss to comprehend what was happening. How was Dean in two places at once?

"Oh, you mean Sleeping Beauty upstairs? Yeah, about that," Dean said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Here's the scoop, Sam. You're in a coma, this is all a dream, and it's time to come home."

* * *

Dean watched Sam's eyes widen in shock at Dean's words. Of course it made sense that Sam didn't know this wasn't real. It was his consciousness, his reality at the moment. A pretty soap bubble of a world, and Dean was here to pop it. Rip off the bandage.

"What?" Sam gaped at him. Dean tried not to think about how adorable Sam looked with his hair sticking up all over and his baggy pajama pants.

"You're in a dream here. You're actually in the hospital. We hunted a wendigo, and it...well, it didn't go so great. You got hurt pretty bad, so I brought you to the hospital." Dean straightened up, meeting Sam's eyes directly. "You had some serious injuries, and you had to have a bunch of surgery, so the doctors put you in a coma while they fixed you up."

"Wow, uh...wow." Sam ran a hand through his hair, making it even wilder. "I don't know what to think about this. I mean, I'm here. And I'm okay." He gestured to himself. "I'm fine."

Dean shook his head. "Here, you are. But really, you're lying in a hospital room with a bunch of stuff hooked up to you. I've been sitting there with you for days." Dean couldn't hold back from reaching out to Sam and squeezing his shoulders. "I know it's a lot to get your mind around. You've been here because your big brain had to heal. But now, it's fine, except you ain't waking up. So, I came here to see why and bring you back." He felt his voice grow husky. "I need you, Sammy."

Sam pulled a chair away from the kitchen table and sank down onto it. "How can this be, Dean? I mean, I'm living here. This is real." He thumped the table.

"Yeah, buddy, I know. But it's not really real." Dean sat down at the table too. "I don't know how to prove it to you. And I...I get why you're happy here."

Sam clapped a hand to his mouth. "Oh, shit!" He bit his lip. "What have you--did you see--"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, Sammy, I saw. It's us keeping you here, isn't it? You and me, being together--that's why you want to stay?"

Sam flushed. "God, I never meant for you to know. Didn't want you to think I was crazy, or a perv. But somehow here, you already did know? This is so confusing." He took Dean's hand, resting his thumb on the inside of Dean's wrist. "I can feel your hand, your pulse. But upstairs--I could feel--"

"Yeah, yeah, I know what you felt," Dean interjected. It was his turn to blush; his cheeks grew hot, and he had to clear his throat. He tried to just barrel on, his voice gruff. "It's okay, Sammy. I never woulda said anything, but now...well, it's pretty clear how you feel. So let me just say, uh, me too. Ditto."

"Ditto?" Sam tilted his head and glared at Dean. "Are you really trying to profess big gay love for me with 'Ditto'?"

Dean snickered. "Well, I could have said, 'I know.'"

Sam laughed and smacked Dean's leg. "Asshole."

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

Dean grabbed Sam's hands and pulled him up to standing.

"Fine, how's this?" Tilting his face up, Dean pressed his lips to Sam's. Sam stood still, barely pressing back. Dean sighed and took his face in both hands. He kissed Sam again, but this time, like he really meant it, with lips and tongue engaged, his fingers stroking Sam's cheeks. Dean heard soft moaning, and he wasn't really sure if that was coming from Sam or him.

What was definite was Sam's response. Long arms wound around Dean's waist and shoulder, pulling him close. Sam's lips became as hot and urgent as Dean's, his tongue as curious, his need palpable. Desire, long ignored and denied, surged through Dean, and his dick hardened in one blood-dropping rush. Dizzy with want, Dean ground his hips against Sam, seeking pressure and friction.

"Okay," Sam panted, pushing Dean away. "I...I believe you. This is the dream."

Dean looked at him, feeling dazed. "What? How did a kiss convince you?"

Sam cupped Dean's face with one hand, his multi-colored eyes gazing into Dean's. "The Dean upstairs kisses me like I always dreamed of." He kissed Dean softly. "You kiss me like I'm your dream."

Dean's breath caught, his heart swelling with his newly freed emotions, and he pulled Sam back into his arms for another scorching kiss.

Several timeless moments later, they pulled back from each other, chuckling and smiling.

"Okay, so come home, and we can do this for real." Dean reluctantly disengaged fully from Sam. "I'm going to go back now and get over to the hospital."

"Okay," Sam said. "I'll see you there as soon as I can. I don't quite know how I'm going to get there, but I'll be there."

* * *

Dean awoke with a start. His cock was throbbing in his jeans, and his lips still buzzed from their kisses.

Fuck. And that's the dream? The reality's gonna kill me.

Arriving at the hospital, Dean hurried to Sam's room. One of Sam's nurses was inside, checking his vitals. She gave Dean a sad smile.

"I'm sorry, Dean, there's been no change. I think Dr. Bissel wants to discuss transferring Sam to a--"

"No. It's okay. He's going to wake up." Dean tugged the crappy plastic hospital chair to Sam's bedside. "Anytime now. He's gonna wake up."

Dr. Bissel walked in. "Dean! I was just going to call you. With Sam still unresponsive, I think we need to look into transferring him to a long-term care facility."

Dean shook his head, not even looking at the doctor. Taking Sam's hand into his, Dean rubbed it gently.

"No. He's waking up today."

Dr. Bissel sighed heavily.

"I know how difficult this is--"

"No!" Dean cleared his throat. "Sorry. Just, no. He's on his way back. We just have to give him a little more time."

Dean heard the nurse tsk sadly. Dr. Bissel opened his mouth, then closed it again. He looked at the clipboard the nurse handed him.

"Another day, but then--"

Sam's hand twitched in Dean's grasp. Dean almost forgot how to breathe.

"Doctor!" The nurse's voice was shocked.

Dean leaned closer to Sam. "Come on, baby brother. Come on, you can do it." He gave Sam's hand a little encouraging squeeze.

"Doctor, the readings--" the nurse began.

Dr. Bissel came over to the other side of Sam's bed, looking at him closely.

Sam's hand moved again. His eyes rolled underneath his eye lids.

"Oh my God," the nurse murmured.

Sam's eyes opened, blinking at the light. They flicked to the doctor, then turned and found Dean. Even with the ventilator mask on his face, Dean could tell Sam was smiling from the joy and love in his eyes.

"Hey there, tiger." Dean smiled back. "Welcome home."

firesign10 — Fri, 25 Nov 2022 18:49:35 GMT

✨ holiday love meme 2022 ✨
my thread here

Fic: Fortune Favors the Brave (Masterpost)

firesign10 — Tue, 08 Nov 2022 21:31:41 GMT

Title: Fortune Favors the Brave
Author: firesign10
Artist: jdl71
Pairing(s): Jared/Jensen
Word Count: 6700
Rating: PG13

Summary: Jared visits a fortune teller at a Ren Faire and discovers that Jensen, the shy librarian at the local library, is his soulmate. Now, if he can just convince Jensen about this...

Notes: Written from jdl71's art prompt for the 2022 SPN/J2 Reverse Bang. Thanks to Jen for the beautiful prompt, as well as the other lovely pieces she made for the story! As always, it was a smooth and delightful collaboration!! Please be sure to visit her art post, linked below.

Many thanks to my alpha reading squad *throws kisses* and to my wonderful beta jerzcaligrl!!!

Link to story on LJ | on AO3

Link to art on AO3

Fic: Halloween Ball(ing) Masterpost

firesign10 — Sat, 22 Oct 2022 22:38:11 GMT

Title: Halloween Ball(ing)
Author: firesign10
Pairing(s): Jared/Jensen (RPF)
Word Count: 2260
Rating: NC-17

Summary: Jared and Jensen just completed a secret mission while at the Governor's Halloween Masquerade Ball. They take some well-earned 'time for themselves'...while still at the Ball.

Notes: A timestamp for The Other Wesson. Written for Saturday Night Specials

Thanks to my fabulous beta-on-the-spot, jerzcaligrl.

Link to story on LJ | shortly on AO3

Fic: A Hard Lesson (Masterpost)

firesign10 — Wed, 14 Sep 2022 23:52:44 GMT

Title: A Hard Lesson
Author: firesign10
Pairing(s): Jared/Jensen
Word Count: 4800
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: D/s

Summary: Jared's having a bad time, but when he goes to Sensuale, (his boyfriend Jensen Ackles' sex club) to blow off steam, he acts out and Jensen has to teach him a lesson.

Notes: Written for the prompt "mind your manners" for the 2022 salt_burn_porn. Thanks to jerzcaligrl for the super-prompt beta and to blackrabbit42 for hosting another round of this great event!

Link to on LJ | On AO3

Fic: Some Other Beginning's End

firesign10 — Sat, 20 Aug 2022 20:33:52 GMT

Title: Some Other Beginning's End
Author: firesign10
Pairing(s): Jared/Jensen
Word Count: 1410
Rating: NC-17

Summary: It's the morning after Jared hooked up with hot bartender Jensen and explored his sexuality, and Jared is having Thoughts. And maybe an orgasm. No, definitely an orgasm.

Notes: Sequel to Every New Beginning. Written for Saturday Night Specials. Thanks to Jerzcaligrl for the speedy beta. As the first story's is, this title is from Semisonic's Closing Time.

Link to story on LJ | on AO3

Fic: Coming Out of the Dark

firesign10 — Mon, 20 Jun 2022 01:30:46 GMT

Title: Coming Out of the Dark
Author: firesign10
Pairing(s): Sam Winchester, Samuel Winchester (AU), Dean Winchester (AU)
Word Count: 4K
Rating: NC-17

Summary: Sam is deep in mourning after Dean's death. The AU Winchesters come to help him.

Notes: My first barn-versary story, written for Saturday Night Specials from a prompt by kelios. Thanks to my fabulous beta jerzcaligrl

Link to story on AO3

Fic: The Ceiling Can't Hold Us (Masterpost)

firesign10 — Thu, 16 Jun 2022 17:53:40 GMT

Title: The Ceiling Can't Hold Us
Author: firesign10
Artist: dwimpala21
Pairing(s): Jared/Jensen (J2)
Word Count: 25,550
Rating: NC-17

Summary: It's been many years since Jared Padalecki and Jensen Ackles fought their way back to be together, after their first attempt at a relationship crashed and burned. Over a twenty year span, they deal with professional successes and troubles as well as personal joys and demons. Their story is one of trials, tribulations, and a testament to enduring love.

Notes: Written for the 2022 Supernatural/J2 Big Bang and as an auction fill for the long-patient mtpw43.

This story is the third and final part to the Pay Phone Verse. The two previous installments are Pay Phone and The Things That We Could Be. Reading them would enhance reading this story, but this is written to be a stand-alone.

Thanks and adoration to dwimpala21 for the stunning new art set! It's gorgeous!
Thanks and curtseys to wendy, the Queen of Bangs! Thank you for your dedication over the years, and allowing us this wonderful experience again this year!

I could never have written, much less finished, this without the steadfast support, endlessly patient ear, and reassuring hand-holding from theatregirl7299. Thank you.

Thanks to my alpha readers theatregirl7299, merenwen76, jerzcaligrl, and kelios who all read various drafts and scenes and gave me their valuable input as well as encouragement. Thanks and appreciation for my lovely betas, jerzcaligrl who caught all my mistakes and also kept encouraging me. I am so grateful for all of you!

Link to Story on LJ | on AO3

Link to Art on LJ |on AO3

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Epilogue

Fic: Sidestep into Paradise

firesign10 — Sat, 28 May 2022 20:37:14 GMT

Title: Sidestep into Paradise
Author: firesign10
Pairing(s): Cordell Walker/Dean Winchester
Word Count: 3K
Rating: NC-17

Summary: Dean Winchester goes into a bar and meets Cordell Walker.

Notes: A little present for merenwen76 and kelios, written for Saturday Night Specials. Thanks to betas jerzcaligrl and theatregirl7299.

Link on AO3

Repost: Now with ART!

firesign10 — Sun, 15 May 2022 18:05:06 GMT

Reposting with beautiful new art from dwimpala21!! Thank you!!!

Title: Scene Play
Author: firesign10
Beta: theatregirl7299
Pairing(s): Jared/Jensen
Word Count: 3440
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: Not even close to real

Summary:What happened before: Jared Doms at Jensen's club, but Jensen figures out Jared's real desire.

Now: Jensen and Jared do their first public scene with Jared as Jensen's sub. Before they get to that, though, another Dom hits on Jared.

Notes: Written for my July 2019 SMPC, timestamp to my January 2019 SMPC, Switch Play. Thanks to theatregirl7299 for the beta and support!

Link to story on LJ | on AO3

Repost: Now with ART!

firesign10 — Sun, 15 May 2022 18:02:38 GMT

Reposting this story because now it has beautiful art by dwimpala21!! Thank you!!

Title: Switch Play
Author: firesign10
Beta: theatregirl7299
Pairing(s): Jared/Jensen
Word Count: 3211
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Light BDSM

Summary: It's Jared Padalecki's first night performing as a Dom in the club Sensuale. He's pleased with how his scene with bartender Rich goes, but afterward he meets the club's stunning owner, Jensen Ackles. Jensen was fine with the scene too, but he makes some surprising observations that completely shake Jared up.

Notes: Written for my first SMPC of 2019. Many thanks to theatregirl7299 who helped me work the wrinkles out and beta-ed.

Link to story on LJ | on AO3

firesign10 — Wed, 09 Mar 2022 18:58:15 GMT

As so many of us are, I am finally completing the move over to Dreamwidth. I've imported this journal and will now post from there. Please add me there as firesign10 for this LJ and also fireheart13 for my other LJ.

Fic: Taking Direction

firesign10 — Sat, 05 Mar 2022 22:48:24 GMT

Title: Taking Direction
Author: firesign10
Pairing(s): Jared Padalecki/Jensen Ackles
Word Count: 2200
Rating: NC-17

Summary: Jensen's directing on Walker, and he's missing the old days...

Notes: Written for kelios's birthday and posting for Saturday Night Specials.

Link to story on AO3

Fic: The Circling Sky

firesign10 — Sat, 05 Feb 2022 23:30:57 GMT

Title: The Circling Sky
Author: firesign10
Pairing(s): Soldier Boy/Cordell Walker
Word Count: 2700
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Rough sex, discussion of PTSD, implied past rape/non-con (Soldier Boy)

Summary: Soldier Boy decides it's time to tap Cordell Walker's ass again. Somehow no-strings rough sex turns into possible psychological repercussions.

Notes: My 2/5/22 Saturday Night Specials fic! Continuing The Super and The Ranger, by popular demand :-) Many thanks to Jerzcaligrlfor the beta and feedback!

Somehow what started off as your random rough sex hook-up has morphed into angst and post-trauma issues. While nothing is spelled out, please be aware that there is mention/discussion of PTSD, and rape/non-con is implied in character behaviors.

Link to story on AO3

Soldier Boy pushed the twink that was kneeling in front of him away with a muttered curse. The blond guy was slim, downright skinny--one strike from Soldier Boy's fist and he'd break. Twinkie protested, reaching for Soldier Boy's dick, but Soldier Boy had had enough. His cock was already softening, reflecting the lack of true arousal.

So unsatisfying. Soldier Boy picked up his uniform and stepped into it, sealing it around him, feeling his persona resettling around him.

"Get the fuck out of here," he said to Twinkie. Not waiting to see if he was obeyed, Soldier Boy strode from the room.

The Tower was suddenly too stifling. He needed air. He needed to fly. Soldier Boy headed to a nearby launch deck and cast himself into the air, letting himself fall just a hair before swooping up into the sky. The cool air blasted past his face, blowing away the funk he'd been feeling for a few days now. Fuck the suits, fuck the syncophants, fuck the twinks scrambling to please him--this was what he wanted, what he needed. Space, air, freedom. The collar of duty was weighing him down too much, restricting him.

Choking him.

He swirled and spun in the air, gulping down deep breaths. He felt his brain airing out, emptying itself of mission details and the struggles to understand this new world's parameters. Its culture, its language--so much had changed since his own era, and he was tired of trying to adapt.

And the memories--fuck, the memories. Distant ghosts and dark tendrils of events past, foggy at first but details sharpening all the time. Hands, ropes, straps, all holding him down. Things handling him, invading him...fingers, tongues, toys, cocks. He was so strong on the outside; a Supe, a superhero with powers far beyond a man's. And yet, he had not been free. Had not been his own person. Had been manipulated as a political pawn, used as a blunt weapon.

Had been passed around like a fucktoy. A glorified cocksucking sex doll, every hole for everyone's use, with no thought of his own pleasure. His own safety, as he was ripped into, penetrated recklessly, choked at both ends.

His pain.

Son of a bitch. He flew higher, faster, attempting to outstrip the flood of sensations and memories. Where is all this coming from? He'd buried all this shit before he'd gotten lost accidentally on purpose. Even when they'd found him, shaved him, shined him back up and put him back in the game, the memories hadn't returned.

Not until he'd met the Ranger.

Walker. He'd run into the Texas Ranger during a mission, and fucked him hard and rough after. Then looked him up a second time, when the itch had been too strong. Had found him and taken him again, until...

Until Walker, angry and denied his satisfaction, had turned the tables on an endorphin-blunted Soldier Boy. Walker had stood towering over Soldier Boy while he lay on the ground, still foggy from a blistering orgasm. Walker stood with his still-rigid cock in his hand and jerked off, finishing himself off and spewing come over Soldier Boy's prone form. Soldier Boy had watched Walker's white release painting his body, felt the hot, wet fluid against his bare skin. And the memories had broken free, like Walker's climax had been the key to the strongbox they were stowed in.

It's his fault. Soldier Boy glowered at a passing cloud. Fuckin' cowboy.

Well, fine. Frustrated after Twinkie's ineffectual blow job, Soldier Boy decided to find the Ranger and get some real ass. And if he asserted his power, regained his poise by subduing the lanky cowboy, all the better.

A smile formed on Soldier Boy's face. Let's go get him.

* * *

Cordell sat on the hood of his truck parked in the clearing, the little private one where he'd had so many happy, private moments in the past, and more recently a couple of scorching encounters with the mysterious Supe, Soldier Boy. Those encounters had left conflicting feelings inside Cordell; sure, they'd had ridiculously hot sex, but sex laced with pain, and then sex laced with some kind of psychological distress for Soldier Boy. Cordell recalled Soldier Boy's face when Cordell had finished jerking off over his body. The harsh sobs, the frenzied spasms of a man in deep distress trying to get free. Cordell had been shocked; he'd tried to console and calm Soldier Boy, but the Supe had fled.

PTSD. That was all Cordell could think happened. Somehow he'd triggered something deep inside Soldier Boy, something acutely painful. Something that Soldier Boy, when he returned to himself, had pushed away as hard as he'd physically pushed Cordell away before taking to the air.

Cordell wondered how Soldier Boy was doing. While no expert, Cordell knew enough about PTSD to know that the freshly awoken memories would not just disappear again. The pain evoked would be haunting Soldier Boy, possibly confusing him, provoking him into rash and emotional actions. Already potentially dangerous for a man, that kind of turmoil could be catastrophic for a Supe. Or for anyone around him.

"Miss me?"

Cordell jumped, just about falling off the truck hood before catching his balance and standing up.

"Jesus! Is that a superpower too, sneaking up on people like that?" Looking at the smirk on Soldier Boy's face made Cordell simultaneously want to smack him or kiss him. Those full, pink lips were far too tempting. Soldier Boy watched Cordell, slowly rolling his tongue out to moisten those lips. The corners of his mouth twitched up when Cordell tried to subtly tug at his jeans.

"What are you doing here?" Cordell asked, trying to sound firm and authoritative. Soldier Boy had a way of stripping off any of Cordell's professionalism. Maybe it was the way Soldier Boy manhandled him. Or the way he topped so...toppily. Or...

Fuck! Get a grip, asshole, stop thinking about sex.

"Thinking about sex with me, aren't you?" Soldier Boy drawled. His eyes flicked down to Cordell's crotch, where his dick was unhelpfully pushing against his fly. "I can help with that."

"No," Cordell lied.

"Liar," retorted Soldier Boy, and he pulled Cordell in for a punishing kiss.

The remnants of any composure Cordell had vanished under Soldier Boy's mouth. Cordell found himself opening eagerly to the Supe, kissing back just as roughly.

"Yeah, now you're talking." Soldier Boy grabbed Cordell's belt and tore the buckle off, peeling his jeans off like a banana skin.

"Dude! you've gotta stop ripping my clothes off!" Cordell pushed at Soldier Boy's hands, but Soldier Boy batted them away and ripped his shirt off anyway. "Dammit!"

Soldier Boy snorted, taking Cordell by the hips and turning him to face the truck. "Hands on the hood."

Cordell obeyed, bracing himself before Soldier Boy knocked him over when he started rutting against Cordell's ass. He hadn't even seen Soldier Boy pull his dick out, but there it was, hot and hard, plowing between Cordell's cheeks. He moaned despite himself as Soldier Boy kept rutting, pressing himself against Cordell's back, running his hands up Cordell's chest and flicking at his nipples. His hips were just far enough from the truck that his cock bobbed in the air, his heavy length rigid and the swollen head starting to leak pre-come.

Soldier Boy pulled back and squeezed Cordell's ass. "You got the perkiest damn ass. Beggin' for my hand on it." He put action to his words, giving Cordell several sharp slaps on each cheek. "Yeah, that's it, nice and pink."

Cordell yelped at the spanking, the blows hard enough to really smart. His skin burned, and he could just imagine the dark pink that had to be blooming there. What was it that made that so fucking hot? He'd never thought he had a pain kink, but he couldn't deny how turned on he was. Soldier Boy was pinching his nipples now, and there too the tiny sparks of pain just made his cock jerk uncontrollably.

"You didn't know what a fuckin' freak you are, didja," Soldier Boy breathed into Cordell's ear. Teeth nipped his shoulder, the nape of his neck. He shivered. "Got something for lube?"

"You came to fuck me, why didn't you bring any?" Cordell replied as snarkily as his arousal would allow. "Yeah, driver's side door, in the--"

Soldier Boy tugged the door open, moving around it to rummage in the empty slot at the bottom of it. Cordell instantly missed the heat and pressure of his body. Then the door slammed back shut and slippery fingers were probing insistently at his hole.

"Fuck! You're so tight. Can't wait to get my dick in there," Soldier Boy growled. And apparently he meant it, because after some pretty cursory fingering, he started pushing his dick in.

Cordell gasped. The stretch burned, and he tried to breathe deep and relax his muscles. His fingers curled against the truck hood. Too much, too much...

"Yeah, that's it," crooned Soldier Boy. He slid his hands over Cordell's hips, gripping hard. "That's it, that's what I needed. You need it too, don't you? Yeah..." He pushed all the way in, his cock buried deep inside Cordell. Cordell could hardly breathe with it, all the air pushed out by the intrusion. "Fuck, yeah," Soldier Boy moaned again.

He ground himself against Cordell, like he was making sure every last millimeter of dick was firmly nestled. Cordell panted; he was still catching his breath, but also his arousal was surging, rocketing up now that he'd been fully plumbed.

"Move, you bastard," he grunted, too pinioned between Soldier Boy and the truck to move himself. "Goddammit, move!"

"Shut the fuck up," Soldier Boy snarled. But he did move, pulling almost all the way out, leaving only the tip inside and Cordell whimpered at the emptiness. Then Soldier Boy yanked Cordell back as hard as he thrust in, sending that twisted blend of pain and pleasure reverberating throughout Cordell's body. A normal man could never have handled someone Cordell's size like a rag doll, but Soldier Boy's Super strength had no problem with it, pushing and pulling on Cordell's hips, slamming in and then grinding against Cordell's prostate again and again.

"Take it...take it, you bitch," Soldier Boy muttered. "Pussy boy, you're just a hole, shut the fuck up and take it..."

Lost in a haze of sensation, Cordell caught Soldier Boy's words. They cut through the fog, and as Cordell tuned in, he thought Soldier Boy sounded strangely distant or drugged. He knew from their previous sex that even in full rut, Soldier Boy sounded much more present, even if rough or angry. This was more like he was in a trance, or--a memory? Cordell flashed back again to their last encounter, and how Soldier Boy had been triggered to some dark memory or experience. Was it happening again, even with him topping?

Of course, parsing this out was not easy, not with having one's body being reamed by a Supe wielding a big dick. Cordell's thinking was erratic, between the physicality of Soldier Boy-sex and the intense pleasure it generated. He'd get a few scraps of thought and then oof as Soldier Boy's hands yanked his hips, followed with an ohmygodyestheredon'tstop when Soldier Boy's cock drove in. By the time Cordell could finish his thought, he was almost ready to come, his balls drawn up tight and his dick like fucking iron. He didn't dare move his hands, or he'd have ended up face-first into the truck hood, but he desperately wanted a hand on his cock.

"P-please," he stuttered, words broken by being shaken like a dog toy. "T-touch me...need--"

"Fuck that. Fuck you. Come on my cock, slut. That's all sluts get." Soldier Boy thrust in and up so hard that Cordell was forced onto his toes. "Fuckin' hole, it's all you get." Soldier Boy bucked again, and son of a bitch, Cordell came. Even as his neglected dick clamored for friction, it shot white streaks onto the truck. Cordell yowled like a tomcat, heat exploding out from his balls into his chest, his head, searing his eyeballs in a thousand volts of white light.

Behind him, Soldier Boy roared his climax. Cordell felt the gush of heat filling him, felt Soldier Boy's cock pulsing inside him in the mighty spasms of his orgasm. Cordell groaned, his own body trying to respond again, but only managing a few twitches in its satiation.

And then he was lying on the ground a few feet from his truck. Already short of breath from the sex, now the rest of the air was knocked from his lungs and he gasped, strangled by the lack of oxygen. Coughing and choking, he managed to breathe, his vision clearing from the blackness that had started to descend.

"What...the fuck..." He husked out the words. Half of him was still in orgiastic afterglow, and half was seething at how Soldier Boy had actually flung him away. Cordell tried to register if he was at least unbroken. "The fuck, you asshole..."

But as his eyes fell on Soldier Boy, any other imprecations died on his lips. Soldier Boy was kneeling in the dirt, head bowed. He wrapped his arms around his head, hands positioned as if fending off invisible blows. Whimpers and moans punctuated a litany of 'no' and 'please' in a frightened voice. As Cordell watched, he saw Soldier Boy crumple to the earth, curled into a ball as much as a big man could be.

Cordell scrambled across the grass, hesitating when he reached Soldier Boy. He knew that those in the throes of a PTSD flashback could be unexpectedly violent, lashing out at the tormentors in their memories in an urgent need to protect themselves. With Soldier Boy's Supe strength, that could be fatal.

"Hey, hey, hey." Cordell pitched his voice low and soothing. "You're okay, it's all right. You're safe. No one is touching you. No one is hurting you." He kept up speaking in that calm tone, trying to reach the distraught man inside the Supe. "It's okay."

Soldier Boy began to uncurl, his sounds of distress quieting. Cordell dared to reach out, gently running his hand over the Supe's head, petting it gently as he continued talking softly to him, reassuring him.

Then the spell broke, and Soldier Boy sat up, knocking Cordell's hand away. Cordell immediately backed up, hands raised and open in the universal sign of 'no threat'.

"It's okay, man. You're alright, everything is alright."

Soldier Boy looked around, his eyes darting to Cordell, the truck, around the clearing, back to Cordell. He could see the confusion clouding Soldier Boy's green eyes, the vulnerability quivering on the full lips.

"What's happening to me?" Soldier Boy asked. "It's like the world is spinning, I'm spinning in the sky. I don't know where I am. Who I am. There's voices in my head, and everything is.." He shook his head.

Cordell saw his shirt lying on the grass and picked it up, slipping his arms into the sleeves and ignoring the lack of buttons. It felt weird to be consoling someone while naked. He resolutely ignored his sore ass and the wet sensation of come leaking from him.

"I think you're having some kind of flashbacks to some thing or some time that is painful for you. It's called PTSD, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Something about having sex is triggering those flashbacks, where you are reliving whatever the trauma was." Cordell reached out again, putting his hand on Soldier Boy's shoulder. "It's overwhelming and it's scary, but we can get you some help." He patted the shoulder. "I can get you some help. I want to help."

Soldier Boy stared searchingly into Cordell's eyes. Cordell waited to see how he'd react to the offer. Would he scorn it, like last time and just fly away angrily? Or would he accept it? He took his hand off Soldier Boy's shoulder and held it out, open, palm up, and waited to see if Soldier Boy would take it.

firesign10 — Mon, 24 Jan 2022 18:54:15 GMT

I've finished my story for the new edition of the Wincest Zine, coming this spring! :-D

I also posted my entry for the news salt_burn_porn challenge. Every New Beginning, a J2 story (Explicit, 3500 word count.).

Next up, I need to work up a draft for the spn_cinema check-in that is due a week from today.

And more seriously, I need to return to work on the story that I hope will be my first published work. Time to buckle down, self!

Thanks for reading and following along!

Fic: Every New Beginning

firesign10 — Fri, 21 Jan 2022 21:02:23 GMT

Title: Every New Beginning
Author: firesign10
Pairing(s): Jared/Jensen
Word Count: 3570
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: none

Summary: Stanford student Jared goes to a club before heading home to Texas for the summer. He doesn't meet any interesting women, but the bartender is another story.

Notes: Written for the Spring 2022 salt_burn_porn. My tag was "I know who I want to take me home." Many thanks to jerzcaligrl for the speedy beta!

Link to AO3

firesign10 — Sat, 15 Jan 2022 17:50:04 GMT

Happy to say that I am a participant in the new round of salt_burn_porn challenge!

Pretty much I am working on my story for the new Wincest Zine, which is due March 1. I'm heading into the homestretch, and with a good wind, I will finish the rough draft this weekend.

I keep mulling over the story I'm reworking (sluggishly) for possible publication. It has some real structural issues that worked for a 10K fanfic but won't work for a 50K book. I think I'm getting a handle on it, so...I need to dive in. The first plunge is the hardest, right?

In the meantime, I'll also be playing with doing a J2 Legally Blonde for spn_cinema! I know how I'm doing it, but who do you think should be Ell and who should be Luke Wilson?

Happy New Year!

firesign10 — Sun, 02 Jan 2022 19:36:17 GMT

Happy New Year!

So hope you had a chance to catch my last story for 2021, Sparks and Ashes, a Stanford era wincest. Sex and angst! Ending the year with a bang lol.

Next on deck for me is:

1. Writing a story for the second Wincest Zine, due March 1. Wincest (of course, per the title) and the theme is Dreams. 1-5K word count.

2. I'm doing spn_cinema, also due beginning of March! My film choice is Legally Blonde.

3. Returning to work on the story hopefully heading to publication. I got overwhelmed in October and lost confidence, but I'm feeling a lot better about it all so I'm going to get back to work on it.

I'm continuing to mod at sn_specials Saturday Night Specials, and I'm one of 3 mods working on the Wincest Zine, so I am pretty busy on the fandom front. Also still doing panels for Con-Tinual on Facebook. Panel videos are available there or on the Gail Z. Martin Youtube channel. (Panels on Supernatural with a variety of topics!)

Fic: Sparks and Ashes

firesign10 — Sat, 01 Jan 2022 18:46:44 GMT

Title: Sparks and Ashes
Author: firesign10
Artist: tx_devilorangel
Pairing(s): Wincest (Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester)
Word Count: 4580
Rating: NC-17

Summary: On New Year's Eve at Sanford, Sam gets an unexpected visitor - his brother Dean.

Notes: Inspired by the art piece of the same name by tx_devilorangel. Thank you for the great sexy inspiration, bb!! You were a delight to work with! Thanks to jerzcaligrl for the beta!

Link to story on LJ | on AO3

Link to art on LJ

My 2021 in LJ

firesign10 — Sun, 26 Dec 2021 21:01:46 GMT

My blog statistics for 2021

Get your card here!

firesign10 — Sun, 12 Dec 2021 18:13:16 GMT

Happy December!

What have you been writing, Firesign10?

Well, not much.

I did write 3 Halloween smutty shorts for the Halloween Spookfest. All are J2: Halloween Handfasting, Trick or Cheat, and Stranger than Fiction.

I kinda hit a bit of writer's block and low writing self-esteem issues, but I've been working through it and am ready to resume. Probably nothing major will happen before the end of the year, although I am doing a Saturday Night Special story in conjunction with tx_devilorangel for art. We'll be re-visiting the Richesters!

Next up will be working on my story for the next Wincest Zine, with the theme of Dreams. Also, I signed up for spn_cinema, where I'll be re-working Legally Blonde, with art by jessie_cristo73.

And the big thing will be to resume working on the story I want to use first for publishing. I've been working on setting up my study--repurposing my daughter's old bedroom--and am hoping that having my own space will greatly contribute to my productivity!

In the meantime...happy holidays!

firesign10 — Thu, 21 Oct 2021 16:51:25 GMT

IT'S TIME! The clock has struck! The moon is full! It's time to hit the Halloween Spookfest Comment Meme & write some SPOOKY-ASS PORN! Creepy, cracky, or just plain sassy--find prompts & post your stories/art or links here: https://sn-specials.livejournal.com/22342.html Spread the word!