Genderswap: Fucking Dean, Take 2
Jan. 12th, 2008 02:08 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thecatevariMore of the genderswitch/swap/fuck...whatever. In theory, this happens IMMEDIATELY after the first, disasterous attempt at fucking.
I'm very iffy about this. I don't know if it's too soon, I don't know if the Dean from the previous scene would be able to relax to this degree. I'm not sure about the tension and pacing. I'm worried that it's coming off as too non-con. I'm worried about the transiton from oral to fucking. I don't know if the scene break works, giving me the reset to have that transition more smoothly or whether it just breaks the tension too much and I should stay in Sam's POV the whole time. I don't know if it makes sense for Sam. Clearly, I just don't know.
I think...I think there's something here about Sam and how, despite his best intentions, some of his perception of Dean DOES shift because he looks at him and sees a woman. And how the reality of his viewpoint alters the emotional viewpoint, bringing out this even more tangible desire to protect. To be chivalrous. And, to some extent, because Sam is allowed to have internalized skanky issues like the rest of us, how much that chivalry lends itself to a certain amount of chauvinism. I see Sam as kind of...controlling here. And I don't think it crosses the line. I hope not, anyway, but at the same time, i think Sam does have this incompletely hidden need to assert some control over the situation and it translates itself to having a certain measure of control over Dean. I think there's a lot of alpha male possessiveness coming to the fore because it's not just women looking at Dean, which are less competition, it's guys. And they're not being particularly respectful or subtle about it and in that respect, Dean was always SAM'S. And he can see Dean feeling vulnerable and frustrated and uncomfortable, but he can't change the nature of mankind. All he can do is offer the typical protection of 'This woman is marked, this woman is taken", like dogs pissing on a hydrant.
I also, if I stick with Dean's POV in the second half, want to play up more how he doesn't like it and he does. It's pleasurable but at the same time, he feels a kind of guilt about it. These aren't his parts, he's not supposed to be feeling pleasure with them (and beneath that, a subconscious layer of IF I feel pleasure with these girl parts, I may never get my boy parts back) and yet, he very much IS feeling pleasure. And there's a dirtiness to it that I want to express more fully. It feels wrong and weird...but it's also the wrong and weird that's getting him off.
Sam's already awake—or really, still awake, if you want to get technical about it—when Dean twitches, moans in his throat, and then blinks up hazily into Sam's eyes. "I want to try again," Sam says.
Dean stares at him blankly for a long time. Then, when it penetrates, Dean makes a face and hisses disgustedly through his teeth and starts to roll away. "It wasn't bad enough for you the first time?"
Sam grabs Dean by the arm and tugs him back. Dean's eyes are already stony, stubborn and Sam's hard pressed not to squeeze his fingers tight until he leaves bruises. "I want to try again," Sam repeats, putting all the hardness he can't express physically into his voice. "You asked me to fuck you and I did, Dean. I did it your way. Now I want to try it my way."
Dean's eyes flicker uncertainly. "Sam…"
He knows Dean is sensitive about the changes in his body, that he's loss mass and muscle, if not height. Sam looms over him more than ever, can manhandle him more easily than before. And because Sam knows it bugs Dean, he tries not to lord it over him the way he might if the circumstances were different. But sometimes it's the only way he can get Dean to listen to him—with anger, with force.
Sam pushes Dean back on the mattress, forcing open his mouth, forcing open his legs. Dean's knees come up, and his hands plant on Sam's chest between them. Dean undulates, uncomfortable, but he doesn't push, panting fast into Sam's mouth. Sam squirms his fingers between them and touches Dean, not dipping in but just rubbing around Dean's lips; rough circles that will draw the blood, sensitize him.
Dean makes a low, desperate noise.
"Let me, Dean," Sam breathes into his brother's mouth. "Please. Let me do it right. Let me make it good."
Dean doesn't answer in words, but he shifts his hips sharply, grinding himself against Sam's hand.
Sam would be lying if he said he hasn't thought of this since whatever turned Dean into a woman. It's been a long time since there's been a woman in his bed and an even longer time since he's been with a woman that he cares about as much as he cares about…well, as much as he loves Dean.
It's ridiculous and sappy and more romantic than Sam thought was even possible, but he's wanted to kiss Dean like this, hold Dean like this since the first rumblings of ha ha, you have tits! faded into something deeper, something darker. He thinks it says something that though Dean's shaking, his hands skid up Sam's shoulders and then Sam's neck to tangle in his hair and hold them together. He hopes it does, anyway, though they're long past destined for hell.
Dean's breasts are just as Sam thought they'd be, satin soft, firm muscled and enough to fill Sam's palm, the nipple rough and even more responsive than before if the noises Dean's making are anything to go by.
Sam bites and sucks his marks into the pale, freckled flesh of Dean's neck and shoulder; dark, urgent bruises that say owned, that say mine. All these guys, all these fucking guys looking at Dean—his Dean—wanting to do so much more than look. Stupid, pointless excuses to brush past, to touch him, all of them wanting to be where Sam is now and not even knowing what the hell they're looking at.
"Sam—" Dean's voice sounds like sobs when Sam tongues Dean's nipples, drawing on them hard. Sam's roots protest as Dean's fingers tighten brutally in his hair. Sam doesn't stop. Can't.
"Not yet." Sam licks his way into Dean's mouth for a slow, lingering kiss before returning his attention to teasing Dean's breast. Between Dean's legs, he feels wetness, blessed wetness, slick and thick, slipping across his fingertips and now, now, Sam can feel aware of his cock, hard and aching with want for his brother, his brother's wet, tight cunt. Sam slithers down, scraping his teeth across Dean's belly, holding Dean's hips flat when Dean tries to buck, still making frantic little noises. "I'll make it good, Dean. Promise."
"Sammy…"
"Shhh." Sam pushes Dean's thighs apart with his shoulders, then spreads them wider with his hands, until the big tendon on either one stands out like a cord. Sam can feel the tremble better, both the strain of being so far opened and the lingering nervousness. Dean's pussy is a mystery to him still, a stranger in his body. Dean knows what to do with girls—Jesus, so many girls—but it's always been an outside, secondary experience. It's never been him like this, even when Dean's been on the bottom. Sam's really looking forward to showing him the pleasure his pussy can feel.
Dean presses up sharply against Sam's mouth at the first lick and he tries to bring his thighs together, bitten nails scratching coarsely at the sheet. "No." Dean twists against Sam's hands. "Sammy…" His voice fades into a moan, ground out through his teeth. "Please, Sammy, I. I can't. I don't…"
"Shhh," Sam says again, nuzzling against the crease of Dean's thigh. Dean, of course, hasn't shaved or trimmed. It's unlike almost every woman Sam's ever been with, coarse and sort of dirty and he breathes in Dean's smell with his eyes closed, feeling it in the pit of his belly, in his cock. "Shhh. You're okay, Dean." His thumb finds Dean's cunt, slipping across it, slicking up to his clit and pressing in. Dean moans, pushing down, begging without words. Sam breathes out, groaning himself. Yesterday feels so far away…hell, ten minutes ago seems so far away and Sam feels drugged, crazy, starving, wanting to fuck himself in deep and hard until Dean unravels. "God. Dean," he mutters and plunges his tongue deep.
***
Dean's gone down on his share of girls. Damn good at it too, if he says so himself.
It's different feeling it from the other side. Different from having his cock sucked. At the same time, there's a sense of wrongness to it too, a strangeness to the pleasure that disorients him, worries him, distracts him from losing himself in that place he always goes in his head.
He can't escape it, though; can't escape feeling. Not with Sam holding him down and holding his legs wide. He feels wet, soaked through and so raw. He can smell himself and it's different. It's so goddamn different.
He can't focus, though. Sam won't let him, grabby and growly, strength that would be terrifying if it was anyone else. At the same time, he knows he could fight off Sam if he wanted to; that Sam would let him go without argument if that's what Dean really wants.
Dean doesn't know anymore, what he wants.
He wants his cock back. He wants his body.
Sam tongues Dean's clit and oh, God, he wants to come, the orgasm coiled and bunched tight inside him, waiting for that nth degree of pressure or frequency or something to release.
I'm very iffy about this. I don't know if it's too soon, I don't know if the Dean from the previous scene would be able to relax to this degree. I'm not sure about the tension and pacing. I'm worried that it's coming off as too non-con. I'm worried about the transiton from oral to fucking. I don't know if the scene break works, giving me the reset to have that transition more smoothly or whether it just breaks the tension too much and I should stay in Sam's POV the whole time. I don't know if it makes sense for Sam. Clearly, I just don't know.
I think...I think there's something here about Sam and how, despite his best intentions, some of his perception of Dean DOES shift because he looks at him and sees a woman. And how the reality of his viewpoint alters the emotional viewpoint, bringing out this even more tangible desire to protect. To be chivalrous. And, to some extent, because Sam is allowed to have internalized skanky issues like the rest of us, how much that chivalry lends itself to a certain amount of chauvinism. I see Sam as kind of...controlling here. And I don't think it crosses the line. I hope not, anyway, but at the same time, i think Sam does have this incompletely hidden need to assert some control over the situation and it translates itself to having a certain measure of control over Dean. I think there's a lot of alpha male possessiveness coming to the fore because it's not just women looking at Dean, which are less competition, it's guys. And they're not being particularly respectful or subtle about it and in that respect, Dean was always SAM'S. And he can see Dean feeling vulnerable and frustrated and uncomfortable, but he can't change the nature of mankind. All he can do is offer the typical protection of 'This woman is marked, this woman is taken", like dogs pissing on a hydrant.
I also, if I stick with Dean's POV in the second half, want to play up more how he doesn't like it and he does. It's pleasurable but at the same time, he feels a kind of guilt about it. These aren't his parts, he's not supposed to be feeling pleasure with them (and beneath that, a subconscious layer of IF I feel pleasure with these girl parts, I may never get my boy parts back) and yet, he very much IS feeling pleasure. And there's a dirtiness to it that I want to express more fully. It feels wrong and weird...but it's also the wrong and weird that's getting him off.
Sam's already awake—or really, still awake, if you want to get technical about it—when Dean twitches, moans in his throat, and then blinks up hazily into Sam's eyes. "I want to try again," Sam says.
Dean stares at him blankly for a long time. Then, when it penetrates, Dean makes a face and hisses disgustedly through his teeth and starts to roll away. "It wasn't bad enough for you the first time?"
Sam grabs Dean by the arm and tugs him back. Dean's eyes are already stony, stubborn and Sam's hard pressed not to squeeze his fingers tight until he leaves bruises. "I want to try again," Sam repeats, putting all the hardness he can't express physically into his voice. "You asked me to fuck you and I did, Dean. I did it your way. Now I want to try it my way."
Dean's eyes flicker uncertainly. "Sam…"
He knows Dean is sensitive about the changes in his body, that he's loss mass and muscle, if not height. Sam looms over him more than ever, can manhandle him more easily than before. And because Sam knows it bugs Dean, he tries not to lord it over him the way he might if the circumstances were different. But sometimes it's the only way he can get Dean to listen to him—with anger, with force.
Sam pushes Dean back on the mattress, forcing open his mouth, forcing open his legs. Dean's knees come up, and his hands plant on Sam's chest between them. Dean undulates, uncomfortable, but he doesn't push, panting fast into Sam's mouth. Sam squirms his fingers between them and touches Dean, not dipping in but just rubbing around Dean's lips; rough circles that will draw the blood, sensitize him.
Dean makes a low, desperate noise.
"Let me, Dean," Sam breathes into his brother's mouth. "Please. Let me do it right. Let me make it good."
Dean doesn't answer in words, but he shifts his hips sharply, grinding himself against Sam's hand.
Sam would be lying if he said he hasn't thought of this since whatever turned Dean into a woman. It's been a long time since there's been a woman in his bed and an even longer time since he's been with a woman that he cares about as much as he cares about…well, as much as he loves Dean.
It's ridiculous and sappy and more romantic than Sam thought was even possible, but he's wanted to kiss Dean like this, hold Dean like this since the first rumblings of ha ha, you have tits! faded into something deeper, something darker. He thinks it says something that though Dean's shaking, his hands skid up Sam's shoulders and then Sam's neck to tangle in his hair and hold them together. He hopes it does, anyway, though they're long past destined for hell.
Dean's breasts are just as Sam thought they'd be, satin soft, firm muscled and enough to fill Sam's palm, the nipple rough and even more responsive than before if the noises Dean's making are anything to go by.
Sam bites and sucks his marks into the pale, freckled flesh of Dean's neck and shoulder; dark, urgent bruises that say owned, that say mine. All these guys, all these fucking guys looking at Dean—his Dean—wanting to do so much more than look. Stupid, pointless excuses to brush past, to touch him, all of them wanting to be where Sam is now and not even knowing what the hell they're looking at.
"Sam—" Dean's voice sounds like sobs when Sam tongues Dean's nipples, drawing on them hard. Sam's roots protest as Dean's fingers tighten brutally in his hair. Sam doesn't stop. Can't.
"Not yet." Sam licks his way into Dean's mouth for a slow, lingering kiss before returning his attention to teasing Dean's breast. Between Dean's legs, he feels wetness, blessed wetness, slick and thick, slipping across his fingertips and now, now, Sam can feel aware of his cock, hard and aching with want for his brother, his brother's wet, tight cunt. Sam slithers down, scraping his teeth across Dean's belly, holding Dean's hips flat when Dean tries to buck, still making frantic little noises. "I'll make it good, Dean. Promise."
"Sammy…"
"Shhh." Sam pushes Dean's thighs apart with his shoulders, then spreads them wider with his hands, until the big tendon on either one stands out like a cord. Sam can feel the tremble better, both the strain of being so far opened and the lingering nervousness. Dean's pussy is a mystery to him still, a stranger in his body. Dean knows what to do with girls—Jesus, so many girls—but it's always been an outside, secondary experience. It's never been him like this, even when Dean's been on the bottom. Sam's really looking forward to showing him the pleasure his pussy can feel.
Dean presses up sharply against Sam's mouth at the first lick and he tries to bring his thighs together, bitten nails scratching coarsely at the sheet. "No." Dean twists against Sam's hands. "Sammy…" His voice fades into a moan, ground out through his teeth. "Please, Sammy, I. I can't. I don't…"
"Shhh," Sam says again, nuzzling against the crease of Dean's thigh. Dean, of course, hasn't shaved or trimmed. It's unlike almost every woman Sam's ever been with, coarse and sort of dirty and he breathes in Dean's smell with his eyes closed, feeling it in the pit of his belly, in his cock. "Shhh. You're okay, Dean." His thumb finds Dean's cunt, slipping across it, slicking up to his clit and pressing in. Dean moans, pushing down, begging without words. Sam breathes out, groaning himself. Yesterday feels so far away…hell, ten minutes ago seems so far away and Sam feels drugged, crazy, starving, wanting to fuck himself in deep and hard until Dean unravels. "God. Dean," he mutters and plunges his tongue deep.
Dean's gone down on his share of girls. Damn good at it too, if he says so himself.
It's different feeling it from the other side. Different from having his cock sucked. At the same time, there's a sense of wrongness to it too, a strangeness to the pleasure that disorients him, worries him, distracts him from losing himself in that place he always goes in his head.
He can't escape it, though; can't escape feeling. Not with Sam holding him down and holding his legs wide. He feels wet, soaked through and so raw. He can smell himself and it's different. It's so goddamn different.
He can't focus, though. Sam won't let him, grabby and growly, strength that would be terrifying if it was anyone else. At the same time, he knows he could fight off Sam if he wanted to; that Sam would let him go without argument if that's what Dean really wants.
Dean doesn't know anymore, what he wants.
He wants his cock back. He wants his body.
Sam tongues Dean's clit and oh, God, he wants to come, the orgasm coiled and bunched tight inside him, waiting for that nth degree of pressure or frequency or something to release.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2008-01-12 12:30 pm (UTC)I really love this universe. A lot. *hugs*
no subject
Date: 2008-01-12 12:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-01-12 05:38 pm (UTC)I got a strong sense of Sam's desire for Dean & protectiveness, not to mention how much he just wants Dean. And the switch to Dean's POV is very effective. Dean being torn between experiencing that kind of pleasure and wanting his boy bits back hurts the reader just like it hurts Dean.
(And you wrote PORN!)
no subject
Date: 2008-01-13 01:50 am (UTC)Did I mention it's really really really hot? Because it is! Very hot.
Weird twitch of mine, Sam calling Dean's vagina a pussy. It feels weird to me. I don't think it's because it doesn't work. It's just such an odd thought, you know? Softer and less defensive/aggressive than 'cunt'.
But I think that discomfort mimics Sam's so that works very well. Go you. I like!