Fic: Hmm-Hmm-Hmm To Town. 1/1 Supernatural
And, we're done! Here is my final entry, minus the day I missed, of 12 Days of Christmas posting.
Title: Hmm-Hmm-Hmm To Town. Author: Lopaka Tanu Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. Characters: Dean, Chuck. Words: 950 Prompt: Crack for the 12th Day of Christmas. Fandom: Supernatural Pairing: Dean/Hand. Rating: Explicit Warnings: Language, Sexual Situation. Summary: Dean's needing to release a little pent up...frustration. Things don't work out like he hoped. Author's Note: For MJ, who requested crack. Set immediately after 4x18 "The Monster At The End Of This Book." ______________________________________
The motel room was quiet. It was a rare moment and he was going to take full advantage of it. There was just one more thing he had to wait for. Cocking his head a little, he listened for it.
A loud thumping came from the wall, then it began to roar.
Hearing the shower come on, Dean closed his eyes in anticipation. A primal shudder ran through him as he reached for his jeans. The button was cool to the touch when he flicked it open. Easing down the bed, he grabbed his zipper and tugged it down.
The first brush of his knuckles against his cock through his briefs was electric. He gasped. At first, his cock remained flaccid. That soon changed as he palmed the length of the shaft, sliding down towards the head. Heat flushed his body and he felt it begin to thicken.
His breath caught in his throat, making him cough gently to clear it. Now clear, he slowly sucked in a breath through his teeth. He massaged the head in tiny circles, working his way under to the glans. Feeling his body begin to relax, Dean sighed with appreciation.
That's when his eyes popped open.
Eyes darting from side to side, he glanced about the motel room. There was nothing immediately visible. His brother was in the shower still and he was alone. After another more thorough search, Dean forced himself to relax.
Realizing that his hand was still around his dick, Dean tugged on the head a couple times. This sent a few shivers through his body and he tensed a little. He moaned softly, closing his eyes again to begin the fantasy. Through his underwear, that was someone else's hand pulling on his cock.
A tiny smile teased at his lips. His dick rapidly filled with hot blood and warmed the fabric in his hand. Oh, yeah, he was getting into this. Shifting his hips, he groaned softly. He was half hard, working on getting the blood flowing to the tip when he opened his eyes.
Seeing the ceiling, he grimaced. Dean groaned painfully as his dick quickly softened in his hand. Groaning again, he ground his head in the pillows from frustration. His teeth clenched, he beat the bed with both fists. This was not fucking happening!
He took a deep breath, clenching his eyes shut. It took two attempts to clear his throat enough that he felt comfortable to try again. With a steady hand, he reached under the waistband of his underwear. His calloused fingers and palm settled around his dick, grasping the soft flesh.
At first, he tried slow, firm strokes to work any interest into it. This soon gave way to painful jerks. His frustration grew as his cock refused to. After a few minutes of painfully dry rubbing the head, he jerked the hand free his underwear with a growl. Pushing his head back enough that he arched his shoulders off the bed, he fisted the sheets.
Why the fuck was this happening to him? But, he already knew why. He was so going to kill that...
His entire body seized up at the shrill ring of the phone. Smacking his cheek flat to the bed, he stared at the night stand like it might suddenly attack him. The phone rang again, almost accusingly at him. Heart racing, he swallowed. Some how, he instinctively knew this was for him.
With a shaky hand, he reached out for the phone. He grasped the handset from the cradle in the middle of the third ring. Sucking in a mouthful of air, he put it to his ear. "What?" His voice was husky, almost a growl.
"You can..." It was Chuck, and he sounded nervous. "You can just...quit it. Anytime."
"I knew it!" Launching himself from the pillows, Dean sat up in the bed. "You perverted dick, get out of my head!"
"I..I should be the one telling you that!" Chuck cleared his throat. "Please. Stop, okay?" His swallow was audible over the line. "Besides, it's not going to happen, not today."
Dean sent a death glare at the phone. If he had super mind powers right now, the sniveling writer would be dead and roasting in hell by now. "Now, you listen very closely." His voice dropped an entire octave. He practically vibrated with pent up frustration and rage.
"I, uh, I mean, it's not..." trailing off, Chuck exhaled into the phone. This caused the speaker to crackle. "I've seen this already. It's not going to work. You're too, oh boy, self conscious to get it, you know."
"No, Chuck, I don't know!" He spit out each word like it might strike the man. Despite what he said, though, he understood. That was the part that was making him angry enough that he white knuckled the handset. "Quit spying on me, or I'll..."
"You'll what? Rip my brain out? Smack me around? Punch my...actually, those all sound pretty effective." Nervously chuckling, Chuck snorted. "I would if I could, but, remember? Please, tell me you remember. I don't want to have to go over this again."
Closing his eyes, Dean clenched his jaw to keep from saying anything. This wasn't the idiot's fault, no matter how much he wanted to blame him. With a annoyed exhalation, he reached over to drop the phone in the cradle. That done, he fell back in the pillows.
After a moment, he looked down his body. There, sitting like a worthless lump, was the bulge of his dick in his underwear. Face burning with sudden humiliation, he laid his head back on the pillow. "Damn it to hell, I hate my life."