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Finally have these done. They are all fairly short snippet fics. (There are 1 or 2 prompts missing but I'm still working on them and one turned out a bit longer than expected so will be posted separately...)
Each title is a song or piece of music...
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splash_the_cat
What Are You Asking Me? – Sam/Jack (SG-1)
What Are You Asking Me?
There is a mattress in the back of his truck and the stars above and she wonders just how she got here. There are two strong fingers inside her and she arches as they move, seeing white behind her vision.
“Ja-“ It’s just a noise, not a name, but he seals his lips over hers anyway, pulling the rest into himself, swallowing it whole.
We can have this, he’s saying into her mouth. Can’t we just have this?
When he pulls away, she remembers to breathe and with breath comes everything else. How this is it for them, how far away he is now, how he always means to retire but there’s just always one more fight.
As his thumb circles, liquid pleasure radiating outwards from that tiny point of contact, she’s not sure how to answer.
She puts her hands up, covers her eyes, blocks out the stars.
Forotavia_b
Martial Law – Mitchell/Sheppard (SG1/SGA)
Martial Law - Mitchell/Sheppard
How did we lose?
No whisper-quiet nothings, no empty sentiments. Hands and mouths and the desperate undoing. Collapse against skin that smells just like your own, dirt, sweat and fear.
How did we?
Blunt fingers run over scarred skin and Mitchell presses his forehead so hard into Sheppard’s collar bone, he’s sure he’ll leave a dent there but it doesn’t matter. Anything… anything to get the hollow defeat out of Sheppard’s eyes.
There is a hitched moan and then Sheppard is bringing his hands up to his face, to Mitchell’s face and it’s a toss-up whether he’s trying to get closer or push away.
How?
Mitchell doesn’t have answers, but he has hands and a mouth and he hopes that’s enough.
He hopes.
Forpoisontaster
Damaged – Dean/Dean (SPN/GG)
Damaged - Dean/Dean
Dean?
He startles because as far as he knew, Sammy was back in the motel room, but there is something slightly off about the guy across the bar. He’s tall and shaggy and lean, but he’s also laughing, open and friendly and that’s… all wrong.
Dean?
Their eyes lock and Dean wants to look away, but instead he tips his beer bottle slightly, just enough for the guy to catch.
The guy smiles and untangles himself from his friends, moving through the crowd with the kind of sloppy grace only the very tall possess who work with their bodies for a living. This kid is either an athlete or a builder or…
But his musing is lost when he presses himself through to the middle of the dance floor and feels large hands on his shoulders.
Dean? Where have you been?
Dean presses back and while there is sinewy muscle stretched over bone, it isn’t hard like he is expecting. There is a little give there, less defined angle but then there are long fingers stroking over his stomach and he lets his eyes slide closed and lets the thumping of the music carry them.
Dean knows he should turn, look the guy in the face because up close he’s bound to look even less like Sam than from across a darkened bar.
But he doesn’t.
He can’t.
You could at least have let me know where you were going.
They’re in a nothing town in the middle of nowhere, the kind of place that could be labelled quaint so he’s probably asking for the beating of his life by doing it, but he lets the guy get his belt unbuckled and fingers under his waist band and he thanks god for laundry day because he’s wearing his oldest pair of jeans that have always been too big.
There is a heel of a palm rubbing him hard and Dean feels like he’s fifteen again because he’s that fucking close, but he can’t help it. The guy is draped over his back, arms over his shoulders and there are people pressed on all sides and that’s it, he’s done and there is a low, throaty chuckle in his ear and a voice says,
“Dean.”
You can call me a girl all you like, but I worry okay?
”What?” he snaps out and spins and the guy steps back a little, hands out.
“That’s my name. Dean,” he says, smile slipping.
There is a rushing noise in his ears and Dean shoulders his way out of the club because, if anything, up close the guy looked more like Sam than he would’ve thought possible.
Shutup Sammy and go to sleep.
Fordissimulatory
Bad Company – Jayne/Kaylee (Firefly)
Bad Company
He’d been sunk the moment he’d seen her but she was small and precious and he’d thought he’d needed to tread carefully.
Instead, when he’d gone to the engine room to do something he’d never done before, make with the conversation, she’d blown hair out of her eyes, said, “Oh for the love of-!” in an exasperated tone that he would usually be offended by and had pushed him back against the engine, wriggling out of her coveralls as she put up one foot, flat against his chest, to hold him in place.
“Kaylee, what-“ he’d started to say but she’d pressed against him, flush and round and warm and his arms had come up automatically, holding her in place, never wanting to let go.
Forkatcorvi
Everyday Should Be A Holiday – Sam/Cam (SG-1)
Everyday Should Be A Holiday
“It’s my day off.”
“What? Like you were going anywhere anyway.”
“What? I go…places.”
“Yeah, like where?”
“I’ll have you know I have a very full and exciting… what’s that?”
“Uh…”
“Uh? Oh my God Cameron!”
“What? It’s a very small space and you keep… moving.”
“Are you twelve?”
“I can’t help it. It’s a natural… hey! What are you doing?”
“Trying to get more comfortable.”
“That’s not…get your hand off that!”
“Sorry. Accident.”
“Like fun!”
“It really was. I was just… moving it out of the way.”
“It’s not a piece of furniture! You can’t just move it wherever you like!”
“Really? How about if I move it like this?”
“Sam… I… ungh.”
“What was that Cameron? I think I missed that.”
“You can… yes, moving like that is a-okay with me…unghforchrissakes!”
“Guys?”
“Walter?!”
“Yes, Sirs. I just thought you’d like to know that you’re broadcasting all over the base. We had a mike rigged up inside while we were testing the device.”
“Oh fu-“
rei_c
The End – Vamp!Sam/Dean (SPN)
The End
“I’m sorry…I’m sorry…I’m sorry….”
It’s a whispered litany in his ear as he pulls himself from the depths of unconsciousness.
“I thought I wanted… but I couldn’t…”
He feels trembling fingers passing across his temple, down his cheeks, into his hair. Lips on his forehead, eyelids and finally at the corner of his mouth. Mumbled apologies against his cheek and he’s being held against a chest.
One with no heartbeat under the breast.
“Sammy,” Dean croaks, weak. He opens his eyes enough to see Sam setting him down on the carpet, the fan whumping overhead, steady, stirring the night warm air but doing nothing to cool it.
“I know you wanted… but I can’t…” Sam is saying, moving away, backwards on his knees. “I can’t Dean… I can’t.”
“Sammy,” Dean sighs, an exhalation of breath and even though he’s dizzy, he manages to get to his hands and knees, following Sam’s retreat across the room. “Sammy you have to. You have to make me strong.”
“No…” Sam protests and there is blood coating his lips. Dean crawls up his brother’s body, taking handfuls of shirt as he goes until he can lick his way into Sam’s mouth, chew at his lips.
“Please Sam. You have to make me strong like you,” he says, knowing it’s unfair, but what about this is? He’s straddling Sam and grinding down and Sam is making a whimpering sound, half arousal and half mourning and Dean wants to be sick but there’s something he needs first.
“You have to make me strong,” Dean says, offering his throat, feeling Sam’s teeth graze the skin and then bite down. Feeling relief wash over him as he brings Sam’s wrist to his own mouth, using the knife from his boot to peel back the skin and bring red to the surface.
“Before they come,” he says as liquid coats his tongue, impossibly hot.
“Before he comes.”
Each title is a song or piece of music...
For
splash_the_catWhat Are You Asking Me? – Sam/Jack (SG-1)
What Are You Asking Me?
There is a mattress in the back of his truck and the stars above and she wonders just how she got here. There are two strong fingers inside her and she arches as they move, seeing white behind her vision.
“Ja-“ It’s just a noise, not a name, but he seals his lips over hers anyway, pulling the rest into himself, swallowing it whole.
We can have this, he’s saying into her mouth. Can’t we just have this?
When he pulls away, she remembers to breathe and with breath comes everything else. How this is it for them, how far away he is now, how he always means to retire but there’s just always one more fight.
As his thumb circles, liquid pleasure radiating outwards from that tiny point of contact, she’s not sure how to answer.
She puts her hands up, covers her eyes, blocks out the stars.
For
otavia_bMartial Law – Mitchell/Sheppard (SG1/SGA)
Martial Law - Mitchell/Sheppard
How did we lose?
No whisper-quiet nothings, no empty sentiments. Hands and mouths and the desperate undoing. Collapse against skin that smells just like your own, dirt, sweat and fear.
How did we?
Blunt fingers run over scarred skin and Mitchell presses his forehead so hard into Sheppard’s collar bone, he’s sure he’ll leave a dent there but it doesn’t matter. Anything… anything to get the hollow defeat out of Sheppard’s eyes.
There is a hitched moan and then Sheppard is bringing his hands up to his face, to Mitchell’s face and it’s a toss-up whether he’s trying to get closer or push away.
How?
Mitchell doesn’t have answers, but he has hands and a mouth and he hopes that’s enough.
He hopes.
For
poisontasterDamaged – Dean/Dean (SPN/GG)
Damaged - Dean/Dean
Dean?
He startles because as far as he knew, Sammy was back in the motel room, but there is something slightly off about the guy across the bar. He’s tall and shaggy and lean, but he’s also laughing, open and friendly and that’s… all wrong.
Dean?
Their eyes lock and Dean wants to look away, but instead he tips his beer bottle slightly, just enough for the guy to catch.
The guy smiles and untangles himself from his friends, moving through the crowd with the kind of sloppy grace only the very tall possess who work with their bodies for a living. This kid is either an athlete or a builder or…
But his musing is lost when he presses himself through to the middle of the dance floor and feels large hands on his shoulders.
Dean? Where have you been?
Dean presses back and while there is sinewy muscle stretched over bone, it isn’t hard like he is expecting. There is a little give there, less defined angle but then there are long fingers stroking over his stomach and he lets his eyes slide closed and lets the thumping of the music carry them.
Dean knows he should turn, look the guy in the face because up close he’s bound to look even less like Sam than from across a darkened bar.
But he doesn’t.
He can’t.
You could at least have let me know where you were going.
They’re in a nothing town in the middle of nowhere, the kind of place that could be labelled quaint so he’s probably asking for the beating of his life by doing it, but he lets the guy get his belt unbuckled and fingers under his waist band and he thanks god for laundry day because he’s wearing his oldest pair of jeans that have always been too big.
There is a heel of a palm rubbing him hard and Dean feels like he’s fifteen again because he’s that fucking close, but he can’t help it. The guy is draped over his back, arms over his shoulders and there are people pressed on all sides and that’s it, he’s done and there is a low, throaty chuckle in his ear and a voice says,
“Dean.”
You can call me a girl all you like, but I worry okay?
”What?” he snaps out and spins and the guy steps back a little, hands out.
“That’s my name. Dean,” he says, smile slipping.
There is a rushing noise in his ears and Dean shoulders his way out of the club because, if anything, up close the guy looked more like Sam than he would’ve thought possible.
Shutup Sammy and go to sleep.
For
dissimulatoryBad Company – Jayne/Kaylee (Firefly)
Bad Company
He’d been sunk the moment he’d seen her but she was small and precious and he’d thought he’d needed to tread carefully.
Instead, when he’d gone to the engine room to do something he’d never done before, make with the conversation, she’d blown hair out of her eyes, said, “Oh for the love of-!” in an exasperated tone that he would usually be offended by and had pushed him back against the engine, wriggling out of her coveralls as she put up one foot, flat against his chest, to hold him in place.
“Kaylee, what-“ he’d started to say but she’d pressed against him, flush and round and warm and his arms had come up automatically, holding her in place, never wanting to let go.
For
katcorviEveryday Should Be A Holiday – Sam/Cam (SG-1)
Everyday Should Be A Holiday
“It’s my day off.”
“What? Like you were going anywhere anyway.”
“What? I go…places.”
“Yeah, like where?”
“I’ll have you know I have a very full and exciting… what’s that?”
“Uh…”
“Uh? Oh my God Cameron!”
“What? It’s a very small space and you keep… moving.”
“Are you twelve?”
“I can’t help it. It’s a natural… hey! What are you doing?”
“Trying to get more comfortable.”
“That’s not…get your hand off that!”
“Sorry. Accident.”
“Like fun!”
“It really was. I was just… moving it out of the way.”
“It’s not a piece of furniture! You can’t just move it wherever you like!”
“Really? How about if I move it like this?”
“Sam… I… ungh.”
“What was that Cameron? I think I missed that.”
“You can… yes, moving like that is a-okay with me…unghforchrissakes!”
“Guys?”
“Walter?!”
“Yes, Sirs. I just thought you’d like to know that you’re broadcasting all over the base. We had a mike rigged up inside while we were testing the device.”
“Oh fu-“
rei_cThe End – Vamp!Sam/Dean (SPN)
The End
“I’m sorry…I’m sorry…I’m sorry….”
It’s a whispered litany in his ear as he pulls himself from the depths of unconsciousness.
“I thought I wanted… but I couldn’t…”
He feels trembling fingers passing across his temple, down his cheeks, into his hair. Lips on his forehead, eyelids and finally at the corner of his mouth. Mumbled apologies against his cheek and he’s being held against a chest.
One with no heartbeat under the breast.
“Sammy,” Dean croaks, weak. He opens his eyes enough to see Sam setting him down on the carpet, the fan whumping overhead, steady, stirring the night warm air but doing nothing to cool it.
“I know you wanted… but I can’t…” Sam is saying, moving away, backwards on his knees. “I can’t Dean… I can’t.”
“Sammy,” Dean sighs, an exhalation of breath and even though he’s dizzy, he manages to get to his hands and knees, following Sam’s retreat across the room. “Sammy you have to. You have to make me strong.”
“No…” Sam protests and there is blood coating his lips. Dean crawls up his brother’s body, taking handfuls of shirt as he goes until he can lick his way into Sam’s mouth, chew at his lips.
“Please Sam. You have to make me strong like you,” he says, knowing it’s unfair, but what about this is? He’s straddling Sam and grinding down and Sam is making a whimpering sound, half arousal and half mourning and Dean wants to be sick but there’s something he needs first.
“You have to make me strong,” Dean says, offering his throat, feeling Sam’s teeth graze the skin and then bite down. Feeling relief wash over him as he brings Sam’s wrist to his own mouth, using the knife from his boot to peel back the skin and bring red to the surface.
“Before they come,” he says as liquid coats his tongue, impossibly hot.
“Before he comes.”