Five acts exchange round #3 - my list

[janie_tangerine]

YAY! Best way to start the year. :DD

+ Post a list of your five favorite acts/kinks to read about. Check out this list if you need some inspiration. At the bottom, add what fandoms/pairings you're interested in.
+ Read other people's lists; the master list of lists is here.
+ Post comment-fic based off of other people's interests.

Okay, still keeping my two bulletproof ones but I'm proud of myself for having sorta changed the others. Even if it's variation on themes, but whatever. XD

1) consensual d/s: taken from last two rounds, but apparently I can't get rid of it. Anyway, give me some fully/entirely consensual d/s and I'll love you forever. I don't care if it's some 24/7 thing or not, or if it's sexual or not. As long as it's consensual I'll be happy.

2) crossdressing: aka my bulletproof kink. I like it better if it's men wearing women's clothes but whatever you want, I really don't have many quibbles. As long as it's there. XD

3) AU: go wild. Last time I said just hookers but this time I'd figure I'd go for the whole deal. Hookers, regency, movie fusion, western, whatever, I'll be happy.

4) attention: or, you know, observing your partner, noticing things about them when they maybe don't expect you to, putting them at the center of focus, doing something special for them, the whole deal. Bonus points forever if the person who's paid attention wouldn't expect it. Even more bonus points if it includes PDAs.

5) topping from the bottom: major bonus points if there's riding involved and the person on the bottom is really -topping-, but I also love it when the bottom is pushy/sneaky and has more control over the situation.

Lost: Jack/Boone, Desmond/Sayid, Jack/Sawyer, Boone/Charlie, any combination of Jack/Sawyer/Sayid/Boone, Desmond/Penny, Jack/Juliet, Daniel/Desmond, Richard/Miles, Frank/anyone and Jacob/Richard are my favorites, but I'm of open views. I'm not too big on Jack/Kate, Sawyer/Kate or Sawyer/Juliet (and on Locke and Ben shipped), but if it's set after the finale I'm okay with first and third.
Supernatural: Dean/Castiel, Dean/Sam/Castiel, Dean/Sam, Sam/Castiel (yeah, I totally have imagination), Ash/Andy (SO WHAT? Random but awesome XD), actually Ash/everyone, screw it, the world needs more Ash XD, Dean/Jimmy, Castiel/Jimmy (hell, Dean/Cas/Jimmy is totally awesome too). Oh, and Chuck/Becky? XD [hint: I prefer it if Dean bottoms if you go for a Dean pairing, but if he wants to top it's fine either way. ;)] Though, if Bobby/Crowley strikes your fancy... I might actually be intrigued. *hides*
The Dark Tower series: Roland/Eddie (I could give a kidney for Roland/Eddie, actually. *hints*), Cuthbert/Alain, Roland/Eddie/Susannah, Roland/Eddie/Susan.
Good Omens: Crowley/Aziraphale, Newt/Anathema if you're feeling bold.
Chuck: Chuck/Bryce, Ellie/Awesome, Jeffster. Platonic or not, as you want. XD
Hawaii 5-0: Steve/Danny.
Deadwood: Jane/Joanie (this one is probably hopeless but hey, I'm trying XD), Sol/Trixie.
The Three Musketeers (same as the previous, but again. Let's try it.): Athos/d'Artagnan, Porthos/Aramis, Rochefort/Richelieu (come on, OTP!). Also friendship and not-slash is awesome.
The Vampire porn Diaries: Damon/Alaric, Damon/any male character that isn't Jeremy or Tyler, Damon/John/Alaric and any combination thereof. Damon/Stefan/Alaric would be kinda awesome, too. Then, Damon/Stefan, Tyler/Caroline, Jeremy/Tyler, Jeremy/Bonnie, Stefan/Elena/Damon, Tyler/Caroline/Matt, Stefan/Elena.
Inception: Arthur/Eames, Cobb/Saito, Arthur/Cobb.
Sherlock: Lestrade/anyone except Moriarty.
Leverage: (please don't spoil me for S2/3) Parker/Hardison, Parker/Sophie, Eliot/Hardison, Eliot/Parker/Hardison.
Firefly: Zoe/Wash, Mal/Simon.
Six Feet Under: David/Keith, Nate/Brenda.
Friday Night Lighs: Tim/Jason, possibly set before S2.
Watchmen: Daniel/Rorschach.
Maurice: Maurice/Alec.

1. nirvana!jack/future!cas (lost/spn), h/c and cuddling but ANGST, pg13 for invisiblelove;
2. roland/cuthbert (dark tower series), kissing + maybe h/c. pg13 for wandersfound
3. damon/alaric (vampire porn), jealousy, pg13 for gottalovev
4. dean/castiel (spn), touching + schmoop, pg for ciaimpala
5. jimmy + castiel (spn), apocalypse + immortality + ANGST, r for joyyjpg
6. jack/sawyer (lost), d/s, nc17 for gemjam
7. dean/castiel (spn), amnesia, pg13 for _bluebells
8. dean/castiel (spn), smarm aka asexual!cas of a sorts, pg for jabber_moose
9. dean/castiel (spn), breath + touching + emotional themes, pg13 for fate_incomplete
10. dean/castiel (spn), maps + unconventional happy endings, pg for angeldylan628
11. dean/castiel (spn), trust, pg13 for zelda_zee
12. dean + castiel (spn), artistic themes (writing), pg for hitlikehammers
13. lestrade/sherlock (sherlock bbc), crossdressing, nc17 for miya_tenaka
14. castiel/jo (spn), kissing outdoors, pg13 for unavoidedcrisis
15. damon/alaric (vampire porn), apocalypse + cigarettes, r for fullonswayzeed
16. joe/jerry (some like it hot. yes, srsly), accidental stimulation, r for doreyg
17. arthur/cobb (inception), taking it slow, r for toestastegood
18. dean/jimmy (spn), crossdressing + sexual discovery, pg13 for bittersweet325
19. caroline/tyler (vampire porn), scars, r-ish for crickets
20. damon/alaric (vampire porn), scars + kissing, pg13 for ozmissage
21. dean/Cas (spn), wings, pg13 for sin_stained_ink

Comments

Lost, Jack/Boone, topping from the bottom

[gemjam.livejournal.com]

As Boone straddles him, Jack shifts his hips, reaching out to touch Boone’s thighs. He runs his hands up them, but Boone doesn’t react, reaching behind himself and grasping Jack’s cock. Jack can’t help but whine as Boone squeezes tightly, and then he’s sinking down on him. Slowly. Excruciatingly slowly.

He stops when he’s halfway, hovers there, Jack’s dick halfway inside him as his thighs strain to keep him up. It’s obvious that he’s not taking his time because it’s uncomfortable, not because he needs time to adjust. He’s teasing. The smirk on his face and the look in his eyes tell Jack everything he needs to know.

His hands clench on Boone’s taught thighs, frustrated, and it takes every ounce of concentration he has not to just lift his hips and slide himself home. That would be rude. And some tiny voice in the back of his brain tells him that it would spoil all the fun.

So he waits, eyes locked with Boone, breath barely making it to his lungs. He’s throbbing, not just in his cock, but what feels like everywhere, heat radiating from him in time with his heart, and still Boone remains unmoved in every sense of the word.

“Aren’t you going to ask?” Boone finally says. “If you don’t ask, I might think you don’t want it.”

“Please,” Jack grits out without a second thought, no pretence or pride getting in his way.

Boone smiles, sliding the rest of the way down, fast, slamming Jack’s cock inside him. Jack cries out, his neck arching as he throws his head back and everything goes a bit dizzy for a second. The feeling, such heat, such intense grip, overwhelms him for a moment.

When he regains himself slightly, meeting Boone’s eyes once more, he’s looking very pleased with him. And why shouldn’t he?

Re: Lost, Jack/Boone, topping from the bottom

[janie-tangerine.livejournal.com]

... OMG UNF I LOVE YOU. MY BRAIN = NOT WORKING ATM.

No but omg this is awesome. And it hits all my buttons so hard and JACK/BOONE WITH TOPPING FROM THE BOTTOM *FLAIL HARD* no but I love it when Boone is all pushy and sneaky and teasing. And while he's straddling Jack - GODHELLYES. I love this to pieces and this room suddenly became way hotter and I'm very pleased about it. Just. YES. THIS. *is incoherent*

Hawaii Five-0; Steve/Danny, attention

[zelda-zee.livejournal.com]

It starts out as a barely-noticeable itch between Danny’s shoulder blades. He twists around, contorting to reach the spot so he can scratch the hell out it and he catches Steve watching him from across the office with the kind of scary laser-focus that Danny’s more used to seeing when Steve’s staring down some baddie over the barrel of a gun.

Steve blinks, suddenly a deer in the headlights, and looks down at whatever’s on his desk. There are papers there, but Danny knows Steve can’t be doing paperwork, because it’s Danny’s thankless job to do the paperwork around here, thank you very much, and if he ever catches Steve filling out requisition forms or accident reports, he’d be seriously worried about the state of the guy’s mental health. Not that he’s not already seriously worried about that.

Whatever. It’s not like this is the first time Danny’s caught Steve staring into space, lost out in the ether somewhere.

Then it happens again, during a meeting with the Governor, and again, while Kono’s giving a report on a human trafficking investigation she’s working on, and again, over beers with the gang one night after work, and again, after Danny takes down some Yakuza goon who weighs about twice as much as he does with a well-placed left hook, and a bunch of times in the car, several of them when Steve is driving. Danny gets that familiar itch in an unreachable spot in the middle of his back and he looks over at Steve and, every time, he’s staring. Steve always looks away when Danny notices it, and once or twice Danny would swear that Steve’s cheeks turn pink.

Danny doesn’t say anything about it, which isn’t like him. He isn’t in the habit of keeping his thoughts to himself, especially about something that’s driving him nuts. But being the focus of Steve’s attention like that – thing is, Danny likes it. He likes the little frisson of excitement that shoots through him whenever Steve’s got his eyes on him, he likes knowing that, for whatever reason, Steve McGarrett finds him worthy of his attention, he likes the way Steve drops his gaze when Danny’s eyes meet his, lashes dark against flushed cheeks, strangely shy. It’s heady, and it’s not as if Danny was looking for more excitement in his life, because he would have thought that his crazy job supplies him with enough thrills to satisfy even the most hardcore adrenaline junkie, but the thrill he gets when Steve’s got his eyes on him is another kind of thrill altogether.

And it’s not like Danny’s dumb, or blind, or naïve. He knows what that kind of look means. And it’s not like he’s immune either. He figures, on balance, he and Steve are pretty much on the same page, have been from those early days when they were still discovering that somehow and against all odds, all their sharp edges fit together perfectly, like the two weirdest-shaped jigsaw-puzzle pieces in the box. Danny’s always figured the thing with him and Steve fell into the ‘maybe in another lifetime’ category of attractions, or at least he had until Steve started staring at him like he was starving and Danny was a piece of rare Kobe beef. These days it’s seeming less and less like something happening between him and Steve is a pipe dream and more and more like it’s bound to happen any day now.

Re: Hawaii Five-0; Steve/Danny, attention, part 2

[zelda-zee.livejournal.com]

No, make that any minute, Danny thinks, as he catches Steve watching him again. This time it’s after hours in their deserted office, and for once Steve doesn’t pretend. Instead he keeps looking, until it’s Danny who’s blushing, too hot and that itch between his shoulder blades making him fidget in his seat. He doesn’t look away either, because he’s not the kind of guy who backs down from a challenge and he’s not the kind of guy to run away from something just because it scares him more than he’s willing to admit and he’s definitely not the kind of guy will ignore something when it’s sucking up all the air in the room.

Steve walks across the darkened main office, leans his shoulder against the door frame, still holding Danny’s eyes. There’s a long minute of quiet and then he says, softly, “Hey, Danny.”

There’s a look in Steve’s eyes that Danny knows well, the one that says he’s done waiting, that his patience has run out, that there’s no use trying to talk any sense to the guy because he’s made up his mind and nothing in this world is going to keep him from achieving his objective.

Which, in this case, is apparently Danny.

Danny’s on his feet, didn’t even realize he’d moved, but he’s standing beside his desk, heart thumping, palms sweaty. “Hey.” He swallows hard, his voice not as steady as he’d have liked. Jesus, here it is, he thinks. They’re really going to do this. “What took you so long?”

Lost/SPN - Jack/Cas - NC17 - consensual d/s, topping from the bottom

[invisiblelove.livejournal.com]

YAAAAAAAAY EPIC CROSSOVER SHIP IS EPIC. HOPE YOU LIKE THIS, LOVELY :D <33333


Cas remembers when he used to be able to keep Dean pinned to the bed with barely a thought - his strong hunter's body useless against his angelic power. And now a strung out doctor can have him practically incapacitated by simply taking both wrists in one hand and pinning them to the mattress above his head. Now he is helpless to do much of anything but buck and thrash as Jack opens him up with excruciatingly slow strokes of his fingers.

It should make him upset, should make him furious really, to have fallen so far from his former self that a human can have him at his mercy - but in all honesty, and maybe it's just the drugs talking - Cas loves it. He gets off on giving up his power to Jack. Because he knows that he'll take care of him. It's nice to not have to worry about control after millennia of feeling it slowly slip from your grasp.

Cas becomes incapable of thought for a moment when Jack finds his prostate and presses down hard. He lets out a noise that's almost a scream and Jack swallows it with his whisky-flavored mouth. But Jack is by no means so far gone that he doesn't know what he's doing, because right now he's playing Cas like a fucking instrument, like the piano he once mentioned that he could play a million years ago. Back before this twilight zone that they're living in now.

Jack removes his fingers from Cas' body but still manages to keep his wrists pinned as he slicks himself with the precious bottle of lotion that Cas managed to sweet-talk away from Chuck.

Jack presses their mouths together once more as he slides home, catching the desperate little sounds Cas makes. Cas bucks up to meet Jack's first thrust and revels in the feeling of being so completely filled. Jack's eyes are hazy with oxy and alcohol, but Cas can tell he still knows exactly where he is and what they're doing. They long ago gave up on drifting away and trying to pretend that they were fucking the ones they'd lost. Somewhere along the line, they just became enough for each other.

Jack gives a few more exquisite thrusts of his hips and Cas flexes his fingers against the mattress. He has no problem handing over control to Jack, but he has also discovered his very human enjoyment of snatching that control back. He lifts his feet from where they're planted on either side of Jack and wraps his legs around Jack's waist, crossing his ankles at the small of his back. This forces Jack deeper and Cas smiles when he feels Jack give a full body shudder around him. He takes this moment of distraction to pull his arms free from Jack's loosening grasp and reaches up and threads his fingers through Jack's hair, which has finally gotten long enough for Cas to tug. He seals their mouths together and Cas runs his tongue against Jack's teeth.

It's taken Cas awhile to fully come to terms with being human, with losing all of the strength he once had, but he's also learned to appreciate his human strength, the miracle of muscles and bones working together. So it is then that Cas fixes Jack with a wicked stare and clenches his thighs and abdomen and sends them both rolling to the side until Jack is flat on his back and Cas is fixed firmly on his lap. He revels in the clench and pull and stretch of his thighs as he raises himself up only to press back down completely to take Jack as deeply into his body as possible.

Once Jack gets over the initial shock of finding himself flat on his back and at Cas' mercy, a slow smile spreads across his face and he places his hands on Cas' thighs, feeling the muscles there bunch and contract as he guides the speed of their coupling.

Cas smiles and sinks down deep, giving a pleased little gasp when he feels Jack hit his prostate once more. He throws his head back, knows that they both aren't far from coming, and marvels at the contradictions present in his human mind. Because he loves being at Jack's mercy and handing over his control.

But he loves taking it back too.

Re: Lost/SPN - Jack/Cas - NC17 - consensual d/s, topping from the bottom

[janie-tangerine.livejournal.com]

UUUUNF OMG BRAIN IS BROKEN ILU AND YOU PUT TOGETHER TWO OF MY FAVORITE THINGS EVER OOOMGGG YES.

GOD THE DYNAMIC. IT WAS SO PERFECT. I liked that their roles weren't exactly settled all the way because it totally makes sense with the fact that in my head they'd be good at both topping and bottoming, and NN CAS'S REASONING IS JUST SO SOUND. I loved him sweet-talking lotion away from Chuck and reminiscing about Dean but totally giving it up to Jack omg. And it was hot. And I like that both of them are totally there for what they're doing. AND CAS SWITCHING IT IN THE END - UGH BRAIN HAD A SHORT CIRCUIT FROM THE HOT. And the perfection of that. And those last two sentences - UNF YES FOREVER. And THAT PIANO METAPHOR = UM YES THIS.

NO SERIOUSLY THIS IS AMAZING AND MY COHERENCY SUCKS BUT BE SURE THAT I LOVE IT.

Damn, the world should know about the amazingness of this ship more. -nod-

Inception, Cobb/Saito, attention, D/s

[toestastegood.livejournal.com]

"You've bought me a bracelet," Cobb says, looking down at the gift in his hands.

Saito remains impassive and unrevealing, his face purposefully controlled. "You prefer silver to gold," he states. He knows; he's observed. "Go ahead. Put it on."

"I appreciate it and all, but I'm not sure I follow what's going on here," Cobb says. He looks down at the jewellery box in his hands once more, and Saito rests and watches him. By this point, of course, he should have cut all contact with him. The job with Fischer is completed. They have both fulfilled their sides of the bargain. Nothing ought to remain.

And yet -

Here he is, buying gifts for a man who confuses him.

"You're buying me gifts now?"

"I wasn't sure what would be appropriate," Saito confesses. He offers an apologetic smile, and pauses for a beat to allow Cobb's confusion to deepen. "I have never tried to woo a man before. My previous experience has been purely with women."

His smile deepens as he watches Cobb's eyes widen in muted shock - yet it can't come wholly as a surprise. Saito is a busy man with a business to run, yet for the last month he has been here and nowhere else. He has spent time here, hours and days, and for him time is far more valuable than millions. He has less of it.

"Wait, am I understanding this right?" Cobb asks, with a shake of his head like he is trying to jerk himself out of a dream. Saito wouldn't be surprised to find him spinning that top at the next available opportunity. He wouldn't have thought this to be so unlikely.

"I am trying to court you, Mr Cobb," Saito clarifies. If he's honest, he would admit that he is rather enjoying tormenting him like this - but he is rarely honest. "I don't think I'm doing a rather good job of it, yet."

Cobb looks down at the bracelet, staring at it as if it might provide him with answers. It glints mutely in the sunlight.

"Come out with me tonight," Saito asks, watching every slight movement in front of him. "I want to take you to a restaurant I know in Morroco. I do, after all, have an airline at my disposal."

He sees the twitch at the corner of Cobb's mouth, showing that he wants to smile but isn't sure if he dares to do so. "Why me?" Cobb asks. "I don't get it."

That much is clear in everything from the way that Cobb walks to how he chooses to enter a room. He seems oblivious to his innate appeal, able to walk through life as if the sight of him isn't enough to turn heads. A pity, but also an appealing quality.

"We're old men in young bodies," Saito says - because he remembers it well, that long life in Limbo. Sometimes he thinks that he must have left most of himself behind in that limitless place. He thinks that, maybe, he didn't come back whole. "You understand what it is to be lost in eternity. I think that very few would."

"That doesn't have to translate to- this." Cobb's hands gesture fruitlessly between them. Watching their movement, Saito's mind can't help but flash to thoughts of what he might like to allow those hands to do to him, how they might feel against his skin, or how Cobb might struggle against him if he pinned his wrists down against a soft, plush mattress. He licks his lips and forces sweet thoughts away. "You could just want to be friends."

"Would you like me to say that I find you very appealing?" Saito offers. "I do, of course. I'd like to keep you."

Cobb coughs, clearing his throat as if there is something stuck there. It makes Saito warm to his topic.

"I am a possessive man, Mr Cobb. I'm used to owning whatever I want."

"And you want to - 'own' me?"

Re: Inception, Cobb/Saito, attention, D/s [2/2]

[toestastegood.livejournal.com]

"Yes." Saito makes no attempt to hide it. "You're something special, and I would like to treat you that way. You and your children would be well provided for. You gave your share of the extraction fee to Yusuf. Your savings will not cover your expenses indefinitely, and you will require financial assistance. I would like to help."

"You make it sound like a business proposal."

"I'm aware that I lack poetry. I'm a businessman, not a playwright." Yet he can see that he has Cobb's attention now, his eyes wide and blue. "I'll confess that I spend more time thinking of the physical side of life with you than the financial one. Perhaps it's a sign that I'm losing my touch."

"What are you-"

"I'd like to fuck you." Sitting outside together, the sun shines on their conversation. There are birds nearby. He feels as if he might be spoiling the atmosphere, but he sees Cobb swallow. "And more besides. If it goes according to plan, we'll have more than enough time to explore each other's quirks. I have quite a taste for bondage; your wrists would look wonderful in cuffs, don't you think?"

Cobb blinks at him, and Saito observes the heaviness of his breathing. He feels him trapped in the palm of his hand, and he leaves the bracelet with him as he stands up; he discreetly adjusts the erection in his trousers, but Cobb's eyes track him the entire way. "I'll see you for dinner tonight," he says - there is no question. He has him hooked. He sees Cobb nod and leaves in satisfaction, the silver of Cobb's jewellery glinting in the sun.

real men wear silk -- spn, dean/castiel, hardish(?) R, crossdressing (of sorts)

[joyyjpg.livejournal.com]

This um. This has sexy tiems. It's brief & barely explicit but IT'S THERE & that's a first for me. Also, just a note that this either vaguely fills your AU prompt or it's early The End!verse before everything went COMPLETELY to hell. Maybe it sort of works for 'attention' too, I don't even know. I just know that I need sleep & I hope that isn't too obvious in the fic. ;P

~

Dean's first thought, when he actually remembers how to think, is that there are two possible outcomes to the situation he just walked in on.

Best case scenario, Cas will think they belong to some chick. He might not have to worry about getting his ass smote these days but Cas can still do amazing things with just a look. One of those things is clearly making Dean feel guilty about things he hasn't even thought about doing because he already kind of does. There will probably be epic silent treatment, withholding of sex, not-so-subtle reminders of just how much Dean owes him, but hey. It'll blow over...eventually.

Wost case, Cas knows what the panties are really doing there. Because only one living soul has ever known that particular secret – and it's kind of nice to imagine that maybe there's one thing in his entire fucked up life that Cas doesn't know about. Because it can't be healthy to know everything, seriously.

Not that they're experts on healthy, but still.

“Whatcha got there?” He tries to keep his tone light but his throat isn't cooperating and he ends up sounding hoarse. Fuck his life.

Cas hasn't even moved, still standing there with a pair of silky black panties in his hand, looking as impassive as ever, like this isn't even that weird at all. Problem is, it's kind of hot – between, well, that, and the fact that Cas in jeans is always hot, as is the facial hair he can't be bothered to shave because it's among his least favorite of the “mundane human activities” he's now forced to endure. (Of course, considering the first time he shaved Dean was actually doing the shaving, and that had lead to all sorts of interesting things, Dean figures anything after that would be boring.)

“I believe they're yours, Dean.”

Shit. Shit.

There are a million smart ass remarks he could make, play it off, but for the life of him he can't come up with a single one. “I, uh...” Smooth, Winchester. Real smooth. “Yeah, I got nothing.”

He slings his grocery bag down on the table and pulls out a beer, not even bothering to put the rest in the mini-fridge because he's going to need all of them. He plops down on the bed and downs half the bottle in one gulp, trying very hard (and failing miserably) to ignore the fact that Cas is still standing there, still holding them, still looking at him.

“I would like to see you in these, Dean.”

Well, that goes straight to his dick – and if Dean had a dime for every time he's said, “Cas, you can't just say shit like that,” they could afford a much nicer room. Cas just keeps on staring, cool and calm, like he fucking owns the situation. Not even a head tilt or anything. Damn, he's getting good at this.

“You enjoy it,” he says, then adds a “please,” though it is absolutely not a beg.

Dean downs the rest of his beer, and he doesn't actually mean to slam it on the nightstand. “Okay then.”

So, the look on Cas' face kills the initial awkwardness in about two seconds flat.

He seems fascinated by them, like Dean had been that first time, touching curiously, testing the feel of the panties beneath his fingers, between his mouth and Dean's cock. And they're completely ruined, between that and the way they end up stretched out while Cas rocks against him, inside him, but it doesn't matter because his deepest secret is now his very favorite not-so-secret kink and he's going to buy five hundred more pairs at the first Victoria's Secret he finds. And it's so fucking amazing that he might not even bother to pretend they're for a nonexistent girlfriend.

But it's not until the panties are in a crumpled, sticky heap on the floor (he was half-heartedly aiming for the wastebasket) that he gets an idea even better than that one.

“Hey, Cas,” he says, getting a hum in reply. “Next time I wanna see you in them.”

Re: real men wear silk -- spn, dean/castiel, hardish(?) R, crossdressing (of sorts)

[janie-tangerine.livejournal.com]

UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUNF IF THIS IS YOUR FIRST TIME WITH THIS KIND OF THING THEN I WANT TO SEE THE SECOND. No but UNF. I died. I CAN'T EVER HAVE ENOUGH D/C + PANTIES. Ohmygod their reactions in this were so freaking spot on. The both of them. I died at Dean being embarrassed and at Cas NOT being embarrassed at all. And that image of Castiel inside Dean WHILE DEAN IS WEARING THEM - GOD MY BRAIN IT DIED A VERY LOVELY AND HAPPY DEATH. And the ending line. YES. You reduced me to a puddle of incoherence and I shall always be grateful for it <33333333333333333333333333333 (also lol, go Dean, we have exactly the same secret kink, except that for me it works because it's him wearing them. Also I had a total snort session when he thought he'd go to Victoria's Secret without even pretending that the panties wouldn't be for him. NNNN. I APPROVE OF THIS SO MUCH.)

Dean/Sam, crossdressing + attention (PDAs), Hard R, 1/3

[bittersweet325.livejournal.com]

Sam and Dean had both done it when they were younger. John would never have made his sons pretend to be his daughters, but every now and then it was necessary for getting the right kind of intel on a hunt or, even more common, when the authorities caught up with John. No matter how many fake IDs or sudden moves the Winchesters took, there was usually a trail of dead bodies and of truancy problems regarding the boys. So every now and then, John rolled into town with his daughters Samantha and Deanna until the coast was clear. Dean did as he was told as always, but he hated it – always had, always would. He'd been teased mercilessly prior to adolescence for being pretty. He didn't need a fucking dress to make it worse.

Sam, on the other hand, complained very little, a rarity for Sam when John issued any order. Dean teased him about it and Sam would pretend to get pissed off, pouting in the backseat of the Impala, but by the time both he and Dean were adults, Dean knew all too well just how much Sam had enjoyed it.

“Dad's gone. Aren't you gonna change?” Dean asked with a smirk. It was Saturday, which meant no school for Sam, and John had left on a hunt hours ago. It had been a long time since Sam sat around the motel room wearing baggy jeans and a hoodie when John wasn't around.

Sam just shrugged, turning the page in his math book that he seemed very intent on re-reading. Dean had told Sam he should have dropped out once he was sixteen. Sam could have gotten his GED with no trouble (unlike Dean who had to take it three times) and be done with the whole thing, but Sam refused. He liked school. Dean knew he wanted to go to college, but he hoped it wouldn't come up even though Sam was eighteen now with less than a month left of school.

“Great,” Dean mumbled. “So you're just gonna sit there and pout all day? That'll be a blast.”

“Dean...” Sam rolled his eyes.

“Dad hasn't left us alone in like a month,” Dean said sidling up beside Sam on the bed. He ran his hand along Sam's abdomen, unbuttoning his pants and slipping his hand inside. “I had plans.”

Dean thought maybe Sam had outgrown his enjoyment of playing dress-up. It wasn't unheard of, but it seemed unlikely as Dean's fingers brushed over a pair of silky panties trimmed with lace. Sam didn't push Dean away. He closed his eyes, letting the book fall onto his chest

“P-plans?” Sam forced out as Dean teased his cock.

“Wanted to take you out, dinner, a movie, but if you're not in the mood,” Dean pulled his hand away and stood up, moving to the other bed. Sam let out a frustrated sigh and threw his book aside.

“You wanna take me on a date?” Sam said a little surprised. Sam had never even left the room dressed like a girl outside of those times it had been for a case. Certainly not since it had taken on a sexual component with Dean.

“Wanna take Samantha on a date,” Dean corrected. It wasn't that he didn't love Sam as he was, but Samantha was something that belonged just to them now. “Please, Sammy, don't sit here sulking like an emo bitch for whatever reason.”

“I can't, Dean,” Sam frowned again.

“We'll go to the next town over,” Dean pressed the matter. “No one 'll see you, if that's what you're worried about.”

“I don't care about that,” Sam could easily kick any little prick's ass at school that saw him in a dress and made fun of him. Dean wouldn't stand around and let Sammy get picked on, either. They'd move on soon enough anyway. “The clothes we bought in Indiana. They don't fit anymore.”

That was over a year ago. Sam had been still been under six feet then. The last two growth spurts the boy had were massive. He'd caught up to Dean and the kept going. There weren't a whole lot of girls 6' 4”. Sam had browsed around a J.C. Penney while Dean and John were off on a hunt, but there wasn't a damn thing that was going to fit him without looking ridiculous. He was still thin, toned, but not overly muscular despite John's insistence that he weight train harder.

Dean slid over on the other bed making room for Sam and motioning for his younger brother to join him. Sam curled around Dean's side, head resting on his chest.

“Sorry, Dean,” Sam mumbled. “Woulda been nice.”

Dean/Sam, crossdressing + attention (PDAs), Hard R, 2/3

[bittersweet325.livejournal.com]

“You know they have this thing called the internet,” Dean ran his fingers through Sam's hair. “They sell all kinds of shit on there for all kinds of people.”

“Yeah, I know,” Sam said with a laugh. “I'm the one who taught you how to use the internet and now all you use it for is porn.”

“Not all I use it for,” Dean leaned away from Sam, digging around under the edge of the bed producing a duffel bag Sam didn't remember seeing before. He tossed it onto Sam's lap. “Here.”

“Dean, what –“

“Gimme some credit, dude. I'm not totally oblivious. Open it,” Dean motioned to the bag. Sam unzipped the bag. There were new clothes inside – jeans, tank tops, hoodies, skirts, dresses. Sam looked up at Dean. “You're not allowed to get pissy that I bought them with a fake card I ditched.”

Dean had ordered them when he knew they'd be leaving a few towns back. He had them overnighted to make sure he got them in time and packed them up while Sam was at school.

“They'll fit,” Dean continued when Sam didn't say anything. “I measured your actual clothes to size them. It was some website for tall girls.”

“Fuck, Dean, this is...” Sam dropped the jeans back into the bag. Dean almost thought he was pissed for a second.“So cool.”

“Good,” Dean smirked, pleased with himself. “Let's go. Get changed.”

The jeans sat low on his hips just barely hiding who he really was. The tank top didn't quite reach the top of the jeans, a fact Sam doubted had anything to do with the clothes fitting wrong. It was meant to leave a good two inches of skin visible. It was perfect for the fake belly button ring Sam had bought a year ago, three sparkling stars that dangled from his navel. He put a hoodie on to cover up his arms. Sam didn't have a wig. They were pretty damn expensive even for a fake credit card. A hair straightener was cheaper and Sam's hair was short enough that when pulled as straight as possible and combed just right with a few shiny clips, well, it looked plenty feminine. He wore the lipgloss that Dean liked.

“So perfect,” Dean mumbled when Sam came out of the bathroom. He placed his hands on Sam's hips, savoring a slow kiss.

“Dean,” Sam talked softer when he was attempting to look like a woman. It made Dean smile. “We better go.”

“I'm thinkin' we should just stay in.”

“No, I wanna go,” Sam blushed a little, but Dean nodded leading him out to the car.

They went to a mall two towns away. There was a movie theater there and plenty of restaurants to choose from. Sam was surprised at Dean's inability to stay our of his personal space. He never would have taken Dean for the PDA type. He grabbed Sam's hand the second they were out of the car and Sam wasn't sure he let go until they were sitting in a booth at the restaurant. Even then, Dean kept his hand on Sam's knee when he wasn't eating. Sam blushed the whole time.

Sam couldn't have explained the plot of the movie they went to see. Dean's lips were on his the second the lights went down and barely relented before the end credits. Sam was painfully hard, afraid if something wasn't done he'd cum in his pants much to his embarrassment. They were in the last row and it was early enough in the day that the theater was practically empty. Dean unzipped Sam's pants as Sam slouched lower in the seat.

“Better stay quiet, baby,” Dean warned his voice ragged as he went down on Sam. Sam bit down on the insides of his cheeks nearly drawing blood before he came in Dean's mouth. Dean kissed him again. Sam could taste himself. “Can't wait to get you back to the motel and have my way with you.”

“Dean,” It was almost a whimper as Dean put Sam back in his pants zipping him up.

the spirit of adventure -- becky/chuck, crossdressing

[unavoidedcrisis.livejournal.com]

"This is going to end badly," Chuck whimpered. He shut his eyes tightly against the questing, probing implement.

"Where's your spirit of adventure?" Becky stamped her foot and Chuck winced again.

"Um, in my other pumps?"

Becky stood back, mascara brush in hand, and admired her handiwork. "Well then, cutie, you should probably put on your other pumps." She smacked his ass firmly, laughing softly when she did,

The makeup wasn't nearly as bad as Chuck had been expecting. Other than one little incident with the eyelash curler, he hadn't felt it at all. The tissues Becky had used to stuff the bra were getting warm and scratchy on his chest, but the loose, flowing sundress was actually kind of nice. The shoes though... They were so pretty on Becky, strappy and just the right amount of sparkle. He'd admired them more than once, and apparently this time it made Becky think.

And once Becky got a thought in her head, well then, look out world.

She pointed commandingly at the closet where Chuck had hid the offending shoes while she went downstairs to find her eye makeup remover. The shoes were gorgeous, he would admit, but they were too high and he teetered when he tried to stand, and the glitter got everywhere and was impossible to get rid of. It was the herpes of the decorative world. That wasn't even the worst part.

"They pinch my toes. And my heels. And every other part of my feet that I didn't even think could get pinched by shoes. My tarsals and my metatarsals. And my stapes." Chuck was complaining vehemently, but he was also sitting on the edge of the bed and squeezing his feet into the glittering, pink pumps.

Becky kissed him sweetly on the forehead, so as not to ruffle his hair. "Beauty is pain." She waited until he was standing again, balancing precariously on five inch heels.

"Feeling that adventurous spirit now?"

Chuck muttered something under his breath, probably a swear word.

"Look," Becky grinned, turning him around to face the full length mirror. She pressed her mouth into his shoulder blade, somewhere between a kiss and a giggle.

Even though he'd just shaved that morning, he was already rocking some intense stubble, which he thought really took away from the overall look, but even Chuck had to admit the dress fit his curves well.

"Are we done playing dress up?" he asked, playing the role of irritated macho man as convincingly as he could, given that he couldn't take his eyes off his reflection.

"I don't know," Becky said, ducking under his arm and pressing herself into him. "Are we?" She kissed at his lower lip -- the highest point she could reach with Chuck in heels.

Chuck closed his eyes rather than rolling them and let himself be drawn into her kiss. He slid his hand down her side, feeling soft fabric and softer girl curves, and then, just for kicks, he slid his hand down his own side and over his own hip. The fabric was just as soft, and really, it wasn't like he had a chiselled beach bod, so the curves were soft too. When he caught a glimpse in the mirror, he decided secretly that the shoes really did pull the whole ensemble together.

Becky broke off the kiss and sighed impatiently, glaring up at him. "It's barely realistic if you have a giant boner, Shurley."

He thought it was a little ironic that the first time he'd ever had his dick called 'giant', he was wearing women's clothes. Instead of commenting to that effect and having his self-esteem shattered forever when Becky giggled and agreed, he took her in his arms and dipped her low in front of the mirror.

"Tonight," he promised, "I'll prove that real men sparkle. Well, their shoes do, at least."

Re: the spirit of adventure -- becky/chuck, crossdressing

[janie-tangerine.livejournal.com]

"Tonight," he promised, "I'll prove that real men sparkle. Well, their shoes do, at least."

FFFF OMG ILU. This - just - I had a comment but then I read that and my brain broke. Just. CHUCK HOW SO AWESOME. And Becky how so even more awesome, lol. Oh my this was perfect. Their dialogue was spot-on, Chuck's voice was absolutely spot-on, Becky's attitude was beyond amazing (and she'd totally be so on board with dressing Chuck up) and omg poor Chuck and his five-inch heels. I feel his pain. And Chuck not being embarrassed about the whole 'I have a giant dick but I'm wearing heels' = win. Just, I loved it, thank you! And the title is awesome too XDDDD

SPN - Dean/Castiel - crossdressing (r/nc-17ish)

[sin-stained-ink.livejournal.com]

Oh, and these are the panties: http://img402.imageshack.us/img402/4913/aw31044.jpg

Kind of a porn fail, sorry. I did want to go further with it.

****
How Cas found out about Rhonda Hurley and her panties, Dean doesn’t know, but he thinks it’s possible that the angel’s been reading his mind- and that’s definitely not a bad thing this time. The panties are teal, he thinks, with a little bow that he can’t decide whether he likes or wants to rip off, and lacy bits.

The satin’s warm against his skin, stretched tight across his cock as Cas arranges the material to his satisfaction, never touching him long enough or hard enough to make him come. It looks obscene, but that’s part of the attraction. It looks like it should be wrong but it’s so far from it.

“Lie back,” Castiel’s voice is pitched low, but the command is unmistakable, and Dean lets himself be pushed backwards until he feels the pillows at his back.

Dean props himself up on his elbows and watches the pre-come form a damp spot on the satin as Cas traces the outline of his cock with the tips of his fingers before he presses a kiss just above the edge.

“Cas,” Dean groans as his breath ghosts across the panties, seeping through the material to heat his skin. His cock twitches in anticipation. “Cas

In response, Cas leans forward, mouthing at the satin and Dean feels Cas’ tongue pressing against him, the sensation muffled by the satin, but still amazing, hard but soft and all wet heat. He has no idea what to do. Cas is sucking him off through the panties and he’s pretty sure he’s supposed to do something more than stare at him with his mouth hanging open like a shocked goldfish, but he’s damned if he can think of anything.

Castiel looks up at him through his lashes and this is going to kill him but he doesn’t care because it’s going to be a hell of a way to go.

Re: SPN - Dean/Castiel - crossdressing (r/nc-17ish)

[unavoidedcrisis.livejournal.com]

I know I'm really really missing the point here, but I want those panties.

TVD; Damon/Alrac, #4 and a bit of #1 and #2, R, cool kids belong together (1/2)

[ozmissage.livejournal.com]

Twelve.

That’s the number of times Damon has touched Alaric in the past twenty minutes. Briefly, he entertains the idea that it might be considered a little OCD to keep count. But then Damon leans across Alaric on the pretense of grabbing a bottle of ketchup and takes special care to make sure their thighs press together beneath the bar in the process and Alaric decides that keeping count is a very rational, very practical thing to do. Damon smirks to himself as he tips the glass bottle upside down and drenches his already soggy, inedible fries in ketchup.

This was supposed to be a strategy meeting. Alaric had come prepared to share the impressive number of ways he had learned how to kill a vampire so Damon would be ready for Klaus when he showed up on their doorstep. But so far they had discussed Springsteen vs. Dylan, got into an argument over Springsteen vs. Dylan, drank two and a half pitchers of beer, bemoaned their rotten luck with vampire women, and ordered two plates of food that they ignored in favor of more beer before cycling back to the Springsteen/Dylan debate.

And in between all that, Damon has somehow managed to inappropriately touch Alaric thirteen times. The first couple of times were innocent things---a tap on Alaric’s arm to get his attention, a quick, friendly nudge of his boot. But then they got strange. Once, Damon reached out to wipe an imaginary stain away from Alaric’s cheek with his thumb. Another time, he left his hand on Alaric’s knee so long Alaric was forced to turn sideways just to shake him off.

He knows Damon’s screwing with him. It’s a game. Damon wants to see how long it will take before Alaric calls him on his bullshit, before he lets on to fact that Damon’s got him squirming. So Alaric keeps a running tally in his head and his mouth shut rather than give Damon the satisfaction of winning. In fact, Alaric thinks it’s about time to turn the tables.

(Also, he’s maybe a little drunk.)

“You okay, buddy?” Damon asks, eyes wide and as innocent as he can manage.

Alaric turns slightly so they’re facing one another on their bar stools, their legs sliding together like puzzle pieces, and reaches out to clamp a hand on Damon’s shoulder, taking extra care to make sure his hand touches the bare skin of Damon’s collarbone. Serves him right for leaving so much skin exposed. How damn hard is it to do a couple of buttons?

“I’m great,” he says. “How are you?”

“Oh, I’m awesome,” Damon says. He scoots to the edge of his seat, forcing his knee to slide up the length of the inside of Alaric’s thigh, stopping less than inch away from his crotch. Alaric swallows hard and pretends not to notice the look of satisfaction on Damon’s smug face.

This is stupid. He’s a grown man. A grown, teacher type man. He shouldn’t be playing cat and mouse games with a vampire. Especially not this vampire. And especially not here with half of Mystic Falls watching them.

“What are you doing, Damon? Aren’t we a little old for this?”

Damon shrugs and flexes his leg so his knee brushes against Alaric’s crotch. Alaric’s breathe hitches. He’s already hard and now Damon knows it.

“I’m pulling your pigtails,” Damon says. “You know, like when little Johnny likes little Sally he runs up to her on the playground and gives her pigtails a good yank---” he punctuates the word by rubbing is knee firmly against the rapidly growing bulge in Alaric’s pants.

Alaric’s had more than enough. He angrily shoves Damon’s leg away and slides off his stool with every intent of walking out the door, but Damon’s hand clamps down on his elbow like a vice and his face is suddenly so close, Alaric can feel his cool, completely unnecessary breath on his cheek.

“I want to fuck you, Ric,” Damon whispers. “And I know you want to fuck me.”

“Go to hell,” Alaric growls.

Re: TVD; Damon/Alrac, #4 and a bit of #1 and #2, R, cool kids belong together (2/2)

[ozmissage.livejournal.com]

Damon laughs and wraps a hand around the back of Alaric’s neck dragging him forward until their lips are crushing against each other. Alaric knows he should pull away. He’s standing in the middle of the only restaurant in Mystic Falls with his tongue jammed down Damon Salvatore’s throat.
There’s no way this is going to stay quiet.

But he is drunk and hard and Damon’s sucking at his bottom lip and fuck---

He pulls away and catches the corner of Damon’s jacket.

“Bathroom,” Alaric says through gritted teeth.

“Yes sir,” Damon replies.

Alaric pushes Damon through the door and begins checking the stalls while Damon leans against a sink watching his every move.

“I didn’t think you’d give in so easily,” Damon says conversationally. “I had a master plan and everything and then you go and pull me into a bathroom stall on the first night. Got to say, I’m a little disappointed in you, Ric. I didn’t think you were the easy type.”

Alaric turns the lock on the door and takes a deep breath before turning around. He’s lost his mind. That’s the only explanation. Damon killed him, for God’s sake. He sure as hell shouldn’t be dragging him into any bathrooms.

Damon crosses the distance between them so quickly Alaric barely has time to register the fact that he’s moved. He presses his long, lean body against Alaric’s and Alaric can feel their cocks rubbing against each other through their jeans.

Yeah, he’s doing this.

“This only happens once,” Alaric says.

Damon winks before jerking Alaric’s pants down and wrapping his hand around Alaric’s erection. Alaric bites his tongue to keep from whimpering.

“Whatever you say, Ric,” Damon mutters against Alaric’s ear.

Without warning, Alaric flips them so Damon’s back is against the wall. Damon doesn’t fight him; in fact he seems perfectly happy to be manhandled. Alaric drops to his knees and yanks Damon’s jeans down only to find Damon’s cock straining against the flimsy cotton of a lace-trimmed black thong.

Alaric arches an eyebrow at Damon who merely grins and hooks a finger in the lace band to pull them down.

“Like I said, I wasn’t expecting you to give it up tonight.”

Alaric shakes his head. There’s no way he’s not going to regret this tomorrow.

Supernatural: Dean/Castiel; AU, attention, crossdressing (NC-17)

[wandersfound.livejournal.com]

okay i'm trying to discreetly post this in the middle of a computer lab at the school so hopefully nobody looks over my shoulder... also while i was writing this i kept thinking of that line in titanic where rose is like "i want you to draw me like one of your french girls" and laughing and my roommate kept giving me strange looks so yeah, hahaha, but hopefully it isn't as cracky as all that. also this is the first bit of d/c i've written for this round of 5 acts, so weird.

Dean finds Castiel’s apartment in the classified ads. He thinks he might be getting a little bit old for a roommate, but it’s either live with a roommate or keep living in the craphole with the vermin in the walls where he’s spent the past two years. Castiel’s apartment has two bedrooms, a kitchen, a living room, and it’s nearly ten miles closer to Dean’s job at the fire station. And apart from the weird name, Castiel’s actually an okay guy.

The first time Dean meets him, Castiel is covered from paint, pretty much head to toe. The tips of his dark, messy hair are blue and green, and Dean can’t tell if it’s hair dye or just more paint (it’s a little of both, Dean figures out later). He’s quiet and irritable and has an earring that Dean thinks looks incredibly stupid and doesn’t seem to ever clean up any of the art supplies that litter the floor and tables of every room in the apartment.

There are only two things about Castiel that really frustrate Dean — one is his penchant for painting while only partially clothed, revealing a thin and wiry but attractive body and, just above his loose sweatpants, sharp hipbones that Dean can’t help but imagine running his hands over.

The other is Castiel’s constant requests that Dean act as a model for his sketches and paintings. Although Castiel asked him once, Dean refuses to pose nude for his roommate, afraid that his body will have a reaction to Castiel’s particularly close proximity that he won’t be able to hide without his pants, but apart from that Castiel has talked him into any number of ridiculous costumes and poses. Lately, Castiel has been working on a series of pieces revolving around the texture of fabrics, so Dean has been dressed in silk shirts and leather pants and corduroy jackets and Castiel has drawn the way they drape or fit on his body.

Dean is far from unaware that he’s hot, and he knows he has a good body, but he still feels a little embarrassed by the way Castiel scrutinizes him while he’s working on a new piece. And when Castiel shows him the next article of clothing he intends to draw, Dean decides it’s time to stop acting as his roommate’s model.

Castiel looks hurt when Dean tells him. “But I’ve only got two more pieces for this set,” he says. “I’ve got a gallery showing in a month and I’ve got to get them finished.”

“I know, Cas,” Dean says, looking at the wad of fabric in Castiel’s clenched fist, “but that’s a dress.”

“It’s more of a tunic,” Castiel says. “It’s just… the last one’s sort of like a toga, so it connects everything. You see?” he asks hopefully, holding out the fabric. Dean just stares at him. “I can’t get a different model now, Dean, I have to have continuity or the whole set makes no sense.” Dean doesn’t know much about art apart from what Castiel has told him and what his brother Sam yammered on about to him when he took an art history class once in college, but Dean figures he must be right. He makes an annoyed sound in the back of his throat and then snatches the fabric out of Castiel’s hand and walks back into his own bedroom to change.

Whatever Castiel says, when Dean pulls on the clothing he decides it’s definitely a dress, not a tunic. It’s tight and short and Dean knows it has to be women’s clothing. For a second, he considers just changing back into his jeans and t-shirt and telling Castiel he’ll have to find someone else, but finally he just sighs and opens the door. Castiel is standing there waiting for him, and when Dean steps out, he nods and walks back into his room. Dean follows.

Re: Supernatural: Dean/Castiel; AU, attention, crossdressing (NC-17)

[wandersfound.livejournal.com]

He never gets tired of looking at Castiel’s room. There’s no furniture apart from a futon-like bed, and the walls are covered with dozens, maybe even hundreds, of drawings, paintings, and other bits and pieces of Castiel’s work. It’s a mess, but Castiel seems happy and at least he keeps it mostly confined to the one room (the art supplies themselves are another matter, but Dean’s given up on putting paintbrushes and canvasses in a pile hoping that Castiel will put them away).

“Alright,” Castiel says, stepping over a pile of oily, paint-covered rags to reach his easel, “You know what to do.” He gestures with a paintbrush to a small stool in the middle of the room. Dean goes and stands on the stool, pulling at the hem of the dress to make sure it doesn’t accidentally reveal anything, and Castiel goes to work.

There’s a chandelier hanging from the ceiling just above the stool, and Dean feels warm under its harsh light. The way Castiel is looking at him makes him feel even warmer. Dean sometimes wonders if his roommate ever blinks when he’s working; if Castiel does, Dean never catches it. Instead he stares at Dean intensely, examining him as though looking through whatever ridiculous clothes he’s put Dean in, rather than at the fabric itself. Dean shifts under Castiel’s watch, and Castiel tells him to stop fidgeting. Dean ignores him and rolls his eyes.

“Dean, stop moving,” Castiel says again. He considers for a moment, and then says “Put a foot on the floor.”

“What? No,” Dean says, considering the length of the dress.

“I’ll make it worth your time,” Castiel says crossly. He disappears into the kitchen and returns with a beer, which he hands to Dean.

“This is my beer anyway,” Dean says. Castiel ignores him and returns to his work. Dean drinks the beer, trying to stay as still as he can otherwise (leaving both feet firmly on the stool).

After what seems like years, but is probably somewhere around two hours, Castiel steps away from his easel and looks at it, then back at Dean, then to the easel again. “That’s enough for today,” he says finally, “You can get down.” Dean steps down from the stool and heads for the door, but Castiel stops him, blocking the door and putting a hand on Dean’s shoulder to hold him in place.

“What, Cas?” Dean asks, “I gotta get out of this fucking thing.” He gestures down at himself. Castiel mutters something in response, but Dean doesn’t have time to process what it is because suddenly Castiel is kissing him, lips pressing insistently against Dean’s as he slides one hand up Dean’s bare thigh, fingertips edging underneath the hem of the dress. Dean’s too surprised to do anything but kiss him back, parting his lips and letting Castiel slip his tongue between them.

Castiel pushes his hand upward, hitching up the fabric of the dress so it rests at Dean’s stomach, then tugs at Dean’s hips to pull their bodies flush together, Dean’s bare groin against Castiel’s pants. Dean can’t help the moan he lets out as he feels his hardening cock against Castiel’s, even through the thin fabric of his sweats, and he takes it as permission to finally stroke over the well-defined hipbones he had always noticed.

Castiel takes a step forward and Dean a step back, moving them farther back into Castiel’s room. Dean almost trips over a stray can of paint, but they make their way to the bed and Castiel pushes Dean down on it. He grinds down against Dean and Dean spreads his legs and moans, pressing his hips up to meet Castiel’s. He reaches to push Castiel’s pants down his legs, tugging them off and tossing them to the side, and when Castiel thrust down again, they both groan at the feeling of skin on skin.

[mythras-fire.livejournal.com]

This. Was hot. And sexy. And fun. There should be more painter!cas/dean fics in this world. I love how Castiel subtly and artfully (hah, no pun intended) maneuvered Dean into becoming his model and even more so into that dress. And how Dean was like, 'um, no' to putting one foot on the floor lol. That was awesome. Just wait till Dean has to wear the toga ;)...

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