Fic: Running Through the Wet Grass, SPN/AtS, Dean Winchester/Lindsey McDonald

[moonlettuce]

Title: Running Through the Wet Grass
Author: Claire
Pairing: Dean Winchester/Lindsey McDonald
Rating: NC-17
Summary: When you don't know which way is home and the only way to go is forward
Notes: Originally written for the following prompt in comment_fic: SPN/AtS, Dean/Lindsey, dusty back road. Title from the Better Than Ezra song Desperately Wanting.

Follows Dust and Silence.

They don't make it back to the motel. Barely make it out of the bar before Lindsey's lips are on Dean's, hands pulling at Dean's belt. And Lindsey tastes of whiskey and ash, and Dean will deny to the day he dies that it's him who whimpers when Lindsey finally pulls away.

"Wanna suck you," Lindsey murmurs, and all Dean can do nod and groan, cock hard behind his jeans, because he is fucking absolutely with that thought.

"Motel--" Dean barely manages to get the word out before Lindsey's mouth is back on his, swallowing words and breath and anything Dean is willing to give.

And Lindsey just smirks, fucking smirks, against Dean's lips as his hands wrap around Dean's wrists, edging them further away from the bar until Dean's back hits solid and cold, the metal of the truck leeching heat even through his jacket and tee.

With a final nip to Dean's lower lip, Lindsey moves back and sinks to his knees, hands reaching out for Dean's belt.

And Dean knows they shouldn't do this here, in the flickering neon glare of the bar's sign. Knows that there'll be no way to hide what they're doing is someone steps outside; Dean, with his fingers dragging against the smooth metal of the truck as his cock is released to the air, and Lindsey, kneeling in dust and dirt as he leans forward.

There's breath ghosting across the head of Dean's cock, hot and barely there, and Dean can't stop the words from escaping. Yes and please and god mingling into a gasp as Lindsey wraps his lips around Dean and sucks. Teeth and tongue and lips and Dean can't help but thrust into Lindsey's mouth, wanting to be buried deeper in Lindsey's throat.

"Fuck--" Torn from Dean's lips as his hands move to Lindsey's head, holding him still as Dean comes. But Lindsey's not moving, not pulling away, just shifting closer and swallowing Dean down.

And Dean thinks he should be embarrassed about barely lasting longer than he used to when he was teenager but it's been so fucking long with nothing but demons and roads and Sam that he can't bring himself to care about anything except Lindsey sitting back on his heels, thumb catching a drop of Dean's come from the corner of his lips and licking it off his skin.

Hands wrapping around Lindsey's arms, Dean pulls him up. Pulls him up and drags him closer, fusing their lips together. The whiskey in Lindsey's mouth has been replaced by Dean, sharp and there.

Lindsey grins as he moves slightly, tucking Dean's cock back into his jeans as his tongue edges Dean's ear, murmuring "Motel?"

And Dean just nods, and leads the way.

Comments

[pandarus.livejournal.com]

Ngah!

Okay, that was hot like woah, and also, omg, the best idea ever.

Damn.

I...I may have to write me some Dean/Lindsey, 'cause that's two of my very favourite fictional boys right there, and...yeah. Guh. Lovely. Good job!

[moonlettuce.livejournal.com]

::grin:: It really is a disturbingly pretty mental image :D