Writing From the Inside

Hunger of Old Mouths by plutogirl10.

Slash.

Starts off slow. Sam and Dean go south, and run into a guy who wants to rule the world or something. I got to wondering if it was slash at all, or if I had misread the link. Then Dean goes and does something stupid, and loving, and exchanges his sould for Sam’s. The only way Sam can get him out of this is by possessing him, literally and figuratively. There’s blood ritual and semen sacrifice and it’s so beautifully done…slow paced and careful and lyrical and humming with love. It all works out right in the end, or as well as it can for a Winchester. Sheesh. Stuff like this can make you want to stop writing forever, cause, why bother when there’s this out there?

““You said my name,” Sam whispers rough in Dean’s ear, desperate for him to know. “Do you know that, Dean? Last night, you said my name.”

Whatever Sam thinks he should be feeling, it’s all replaced with total reverence when Dean makes the gentlest sound imaginable and bucks, shuddering apart in Sam’s arms, control finally gone. Sam feels every tremble imprint itself into his skin, they’re pressed so close together, and it carries him along with it, leaves him dazed. It takes him some time to register the sticky warmth clinging to his stomach and over his hand.”

Lesson Learnt

Bennu to Benben, Again

Slash.

Slash and then some. Reading this I realize how easy it is to become jaded by this type of fiction and how some writers can take you past that and make it wonderful. There is hotness and there is hotness. These two stories don’t have a plot, really, but I think that’s the point. Or beyond it, the sleepy, in bed interlude is just perfect as it is. Should this go on my Guilty Pleasure list because there’s no plot? Probably. But here it is on the Right Up There list, simply because it was so effective at what it does. Sam and Dean in bed, doing you know what. Doing it in such a giving way, without any girlyness, but with love. Oh man. All sex should be this good.

“Sam leans back to brace an arm behind him on the mattress. Eyes fixed on Dean’s face, he reaches for Dean’s dick – definitely not half asleep anymore – and before he can make sense of it, Dean feels moist warmth settle over him, hovering just there, like a promise of something that Sam will never go back on.”

and

“And in today’s class, Dean learns how to ask for what he wants.

It shouldn’t be as hard as it is. Sam won’t say no, has never said it, and will never say it; Dean knows that as well as he knows this isn’t a game. That’s not the point. He’s breathing harder, and this time it’s not all from arousal. Sam senses his discomfort, of course he does, but he doesn’t move and doesn’t say anything. The thing is, Dean knows he doesn’t have to ask. Knows Sam would let him off the hook if he pushed it.”

So giving, this story. Both of them. Joy.   

Into the Woods by plutogirl10.

Slash.

I didn’t know Dean could call Sam “baby” and have it be so hot. It’s not a word I think about that way, and yet, it works. This fic is an interlude in the woods that happens after the boys do a training session, where naughty things happen in such a hot way, I’m searching for a cold shower even now. Part of the fun is because Dean doesn’t want to, and Sam does.

Part of the fun is also watching Dean give in, as he usually does, and the lengths to which he will go to give Sam exactly what he wants, and how he wants it, because no one knows better what Sam wants than Dean. Twisted? Yes, definately. I’m almost mortified by how worked up this story got me. Where’s that dark haired stranger when I need him? Whew. Is it hot in here, or is it just me. Anyway, the story was fun and, yeah, hot, and well done.

“Sam’s tongue moves over his mouth, laps across the swell of his lip before licking his way inside, cold tip of his nose pressing into Dean’s cheek, and everything is warm and delicious as Dean feels his insides melt. The boy knows how to kiss, and Dean’s not sure if he should be proud, seeing as Sam learnt from him.” 

And this whole bit, included here for your reading pleasure. I believe the correct term for the reaction I had was, “Guh.”

“‘Please,’ Sam whimpers, fingers scrabbling at Dean’s collar as he lifts a leg to straddle Dean’s knee, pressing himself onto Dean’s thigh and pumping desperately. ‘Please, Dean, please -’

‘Okay,’ Dean breathes, wondering if he ever had a chance. ‘Slow, Sam. You hear me?’

And Sam nods frantically, but he’s already pulling Dean’s hand up to his mouth, lips closing around Dean’s middle finger and suckling, thick velvet slide of his tongue, teeth chewing on the digit. Warm, wet, silken mouth pulsing around him, and Dean has to bite his cheek to stop himself from making an embarrassing noise. He tugs his hand away, a thin glimmer of saliva stretching from Sam’s lips, and he quickly replaces his finger with his mouth, hungry, starved.

He pulls Sam closer, hitching his thigh up between Sam’s legs and lets his hand trail into the curve of Sam’s back, slips down further to push gently between soft flesh. His finger eases down, and Dean feels his dick jump at the touch of fine hairs and smooth-taut skin before he finds soft heat and presses in, into the tight grip of Sam’s young body.

‘Dean-’ Sam whimpers, biting his lip and muscles clenching around Dean’s finger.

‘Don’t, baby,’ Dean murmurs and touches Sam’s mouth with his free hand, thumbing at his bottom lip and easing it out from between white teeth. ‘You have to relax for me, okay?’”

Summer Blackout by nutkin.

Slash.

This writer has the characters down, and the situations she puts them in are realistic and slow without being draggy or boring. When I read this fic, I got swept up in the little backwoods town where the boys find themselves, virtually fatherless, for a hot, Arkansas summer. And, being boys, being brothers, they’ve got their ways when Dad is not around. They drink his stash, they watch illicit porn, they spend food money on video games. And then they, you know, fool around. Here the realisim enters to the point where I can SEE it in front of my face.

Here are some quotes to tempt you:

“Most importantly, there’s nothing creepy about the place. Everything seems a bit trapped in time, but there’s no evil here. No foreboding buildings, no local lore of any kind. The most notable story in town is that Church of the Good Shepherd was once part of the congregation of Church of Nazareth, and had broken off in 1974. People are still scandalized.”

“Sam’s birthday is observed perfunctorily – a cake from the supermarket. Balloons Dean picks up on the same trip for the cake, because blowing them up in rapid succession until they’re totally lightheaded is something of a tradition. It’s also something of a tradition that the person one year closer to death gets to pick what’s for dinner. This usually means making the choice between Cracker Barrel or Applebee’s, but since they’re actually in a house this year, Sam smirks and says he wants hamburgers.” (The part that makes me laugh is the “person who is one year closer to death” part!)

“When John comes in, Dean’s still wearing his apron. They’re both nearly soaked through, and Dean’s got Sam flung over one shoulder, howling with laughter. He’s shaking him upside down, and the contents of Sam’s pockets have already fallen to the floor – quarters rolling off under the refrigerator and crumpled pieces of paper under Dean’s feet.

“And what in the hell is going on here?” he asks, folding his arms and taking in the soapy, damp mess.

“Cooking,” Sam says thickly, from somewhere around Dean’s knees.”

“Sam’s expression teeters between a grin and that same look of focus, the look he gets when he’s studying for something. Figuring something out. It’s so Sam, so little-brother-Sam that Dean wants to tell him about the alternate reality thing, make him stop – but then Sam’s sliding down and looking up at him with those large, dark eyes, tugging his cock from his boxers and still fisting it. For whatever reason, he can’t quite believe that Sam’s going to do it, but then his tongue is against the head of Dean’s prick, and he has never felt anything, anything that good. His lips drag along the tip, so Dean can feel the velveteen smoothness of the skin just inside them, and then he’s opening wider and just sliding him in.”

The whole of this story is so nicely done, I wanted it to continue.

Long Lay the World by setissma.

 Slash.

Oh, I did not want to like this story at all. It’s what I call a hanging curtains story because literally that’s what Dean does. He gets sick of the road (if you can imagine such a thing), terrified that one more werewolf is going to finish Sam off, and that’s it. He moves them to Chicago (my least favorite of cities), and buys a goldurn house for him and Sam. It’s all about fixing the house up and how Sam gets suspicious and thinks Dean’s leaving him for some girl, and I’ve got my hands balled up into fists and I’m holding my breath till I turn blue, cause I don’t like it!!! Except I did. Guilty pleasure definately and you know why? Because this line made me laugh like an idiot:

“Sam makes dinner, actual meatloaf with mashed potatoes and some green beans, and Dean decides this house idea was literally the best he’s ever had. Sam falls asleep with his feet in Dean’s lap, watching Christmas movies, and Dean tops out at 27 pieces of popcorn balanced on his face before he wakes up, which is a new record.”

I about spit out my dinner at that one. Plus, you know, Dean he LOVES Sam to pieces, like in this line:

“He leaves it there, and Sam falls asleep again, against his side. It’s a good way to drive, Dean thinks, and he doesn’t even care that it’s a little girly – Sam’s safe, and he’s making Sam feel safe, and that’s all that matters.”

And she had Sam down pat:

“Sam doesn’t scare easily, but he can’t handle fear, doesn’t know how to deal with loss, and Dean figures maybe it’s the two of them, except the only thing he’s ever been afraid of losing is Sam.”

These people, I swear.

What Comfort It Brings by nutkin.

Slash.

You people. What is it with you, sucking me into a story about Dean’s last days on the planet? Don’t you know how that rips at my very heart and soul? It’s cruel, that’s what it is, and it would be much, much nicer of you if you didn’t write it so beautifully so that I won’t loose myself before I even begin, thank you very much. 

You can read my review of the Supernatural episode “A Very Supernatural Christmas” at pinkraygun.com. Thank you!

An excerpt:

“Then Sam and Dean track the PGs to their lair, and pick the lock to enter the dwelling uninvited, no doubt staining the carpet with the heels of their muddy boots and sneakers. (They’ve brought stakes made of Evergreen, and there’s a fantastic scene where Dean sharpens these between his marvelous thighs. Don’t get me started.) As they wander through the house, looking for something e-vile, I got the feeling that they really didn’t have a clue what all the decorations were about. Yes, in theory, but why someone would have seven (yes, seven) snow globes, piles of cookies, miles of garland, and a plethora of Santa statues, etc., only to have to take them down in a few weeks is beyond them. I guess that’s my problem, too, why put ‘em up if you only have to take them down? So I’m projecting onto the boys, even though, by the looks on their faces, they would be agreeing with me: what IS all this stuff? You know, cause for the boys, stuff is stuff, and either it’ll be useful in a fight, you can use it to wash blood out of your clothes, or you can eat it. Otherwise, it’s just stuff.”

Pictures…(Click on the links to display beautiful, full-size pics. Click on thumbnails for smaller but still beautiful pics.)

Sam hogs the couch

Beautiful Dean

Driving Down the Darkness by nutkin

Slash.

Oh, man. This story was perfect. It had no flaws. It was 40,000 words of pure goodness. I think what I liked best was the slow pacing and the atmosphere of normalcy in which the relationship built up. There was no slap dashed-ness to this. The story covers the first season by the end of which Sam and Dean are together, replete with all the “this is wrong, this is so wrong” angst that makes it so real for me and that I love so well.

At first I wondered how an author could actually pull it off, following through every ep and making coda scenes out of it, but it worked. In a few places the writer actually writes out the actual scene and gives us the interior thoughts, including the all important scene from Provenance, when Sam says “It’s not just Jess.” Always wondered what he meant by that, now I know.

 The writing is solid and good and descriptive in the right places. A pleasure to read all the way through. This woman knows her craft. Here’s a quote:

“The truth is, there had been times at school when he really wished they weren’t out here waiting for him. He wished the stories he told were true – a childhood spent traveling because of work, a drunk father, a brother who didn’t care. He wished he could sweep the truth under the rug and believe the lies. It would have made his life so much easier, and there were ugly times when he wished they’d just disappear, leave him to the life he had created.

In all his vague acceptance that death might come for him, he never stopped to think about what he might leave behind. He’s got another good twenty to thirty years before his midlife crisis comes knocking, so it’s never been much of an issue. Yeah, he lives his own life. Yeah, he fucks around. You have to find your pleasure where you get it when you live by the sword.

But when he saw death coming, when time seemed to splinter and dance blue sparks across the water, what flashed in front of him wasn’t his whole life. It wasn’t the good and the bad, the people he’s saved and the battles he’s won, his sins and lies and wrong-doings.

It was just Sam.

Like looking at photographs, he could remember the two of them chasing each other through roadside fields, playing cowboys and Indians and shooting cans on fences. Wading in muddy rivers and hopping between weeds in sidewalk cracks so their feet didn’t burn. Corner store Slurpees, lips stained blue with syrup. All the punched shoulders, all the noogies, all the late-night whispered conversations alone in the car and motel beds. Eighteen summers, eighteen springs, splashing in puddles and having each other’s backs.

That’s what his mind found to remember; that’s what his life was all about.”

You can read my review of the Supernatural episode “Dead Man’s Blood” at pinkraygun.com. Thank you!

An excerpt:

“Oh. My. Holy. Hell. It’s The DAD. The boys are shocked ghost white to find The Dad sneaking up on them. (The last time they were together, ages ago, they agreed that The Dad would be safer apart from his boys.) The Dad slips into the backseat of the Impala like he owns the place and takes the letter from Dean. Instantly the scene flips from two brothers floundering around to three men on a mission, one of whom is in charge of everything and everyone. The Dad doesn’t read the letter aloud, he merely scans it, mutters to himself (with those pillowy lips of his), and then starts barking out orders. There’s a vampire nest, they are going after it. There’s a gun, The Dad wants it. Follow me, The Dad says, and off they go.”

Pictures…(Click on the links to display beautiful, full-size pics. Click on thumbnails for smaller but still beautiful pics.)

Dean and Sam hunting vampires

Sam laughing with The Dad

Sam and Dean and The Dad

Birds on a Wire and Beggars Would Ride by Killa.

Slash.

This story was the first SPN fiction I ever read. I remember that it was because I was looking at Amalthia’s rec list and being overwhelmed, selected the fiction that had the same title as a songvid I once made. I’ve always loved this song and what it was about, so click, off I went. Lucky, lucky me! I got a great story by which all other stories I read in this fandom will be judged. How’s that for subjective reading?

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