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withimpunityTitle: Before the Night is Through
Pairing: Sam/Dean (pre-standford)
Rating: PORN
Prompt: sam/dean, truth or dare.
Words: 2406
A/n: I had to take a night off from Nano and write complete and utter fucking dirty wrong porn. This is not the plot you are looking for.
“You don't have to do this,” Sam says in that tone that makes Dean want to swing, inferring that he's doing this out of pity, not because Sam's his goddamn little brother and deep down he just wants him to have a normal fucking birthday, with presents and waking up with the worst hangover the world's ever seen.
“Just shut up and open it,” Dean growls, twisting the cap off his beer with the palm of his hands. He's gotten enough scars and cuts in the past ten years, what's one more. He watches Sam's face as he unwraps the paper, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth as it tears. Dean always loved the sound of ripping into something new. He remembers that Christmas Dad didn't make it home in time, remembers breaking into the fanciest house on the block and ganking the presents under their tree like the fucking Grinch, just so Sammy could have a Christmas and forget for a few minutes at least, that there were monsters in the world. It still scares him, the things he'd do for this kid, the things he's always done. Sometimes, Dean wonders if they weren't hunters, would it still be like this between them. Sometimes, he's grateful for the monsters.
* * *
“Where'd you learn this game anyway?”
Sam shrugs and his cheeks blush, face glowing red with innocence. “School. Doesn't matter. You go first, its my birthday.”
“Whatever,” Dean smirks, sitting up so that's he's on the edge of the couch cushion. “Okay. Um. I've never had lusty wrong feelings about my teacher.”
He scowls when Sam doesn't pour his shot and start drinking. “Come on, dude! I've seen your history teacher. She's hot.”
“Dean. You're an idiot.” Sam laughs and rolls his eyes. “Also, take a shot, dude.”
Dean grumbles, “Yeah, yeah,” splashes tequila into his shot glass and erupts in a full body shudder when he swallows it down. “Wooooo,” he grins, smacking his lips. “Tasty.”
* * *
Four or five shots later, Dean's got a nice, warm buzz going on, and Sam's totally sober. Only, now he knows that Dean fantasizes about his teachers, Katie Couric, and that Dean peed his pants on his first hunt.
Sam laughs and twirls his empty, untouched glass on the coffee table, thinking about what he wants to say next. Time to spice things up a little. It is his birthday after all. “I've never jerked off in the Impala.” His eyes flicker up momentarily, catching Dean's before he looks away again. Dean huffs out a breath through his nose and pours the shot, grunting when he throws it back. It feels like his lungs are on fire.
“My turn,” he says and his voice sounds raw, like it would if he'd been yelling for a few hours. “I've never fingered myself while I jerked off.”
Sam looks up and stares as Dean refills his shot glass, but he doesn't raise it to his mouth and swallow just yet. Instead, he pulls Sam's shot glass over with one finger and fills it too, raising an eyebrow at him as if to say, “you first, brother.”
Sam swallows down the lump in his throat and wraps his fingers around the tiny glass. He sees something flicker behind Dean's eyes when he raises it, closes his eyes and tosses it back. The glass slaps loudly on the coffee table when he slams it down, practically growling as the slow burn curls inside of his chest. Dean just grins and downs another shot. “Your turn, Sammy.”
Sam looks up at him from his spot on the floor, hair falling in front of his eyes, looking more fifteen than eighteen at this point, cheeks all flushed pink from both humiliation and Tequila, and licks his lips. “I've never jerked off thinking about another guy.”
Sam doesn't even look at Dean, just reaches for the bottle of Cuervo, pouring the shot glass full with a shaky hand and drinking up. When he does glance up, Dean's eyes are dark and hooded, pouty lips full and pink, and Sam's mouth waters.
“Pour it,” Dean growls and Sam obeys, filling his shot glass with tequila, and Dean reaches down, snatching it up, and drinks.
“Its your turn, Dean.” Sam reminds him quietly, trying to ignore the thrum of arousal pulsing through his dick. Dean runs his tongue over his lips and sits up again, blinking his eyes back into focus. He's swaying a little to the right, but he somehow manages to keep his eyes locked straight on Sam's.
“Never thought about you on your knees, Sammy,” he whispers hoarsely, half of his syllables slurring together. “Never thought about pushing my cock through that mouth of yours and fucking it all swollen and red and coming all over your lips. Goddammit, Sam. You got any idea what you fuckin' do to me? Bitin' your lips all the time till they're all red and puffy. Chewin' on your fingers, pens, anythin' you can get in your fuckin' mouth.”
Sam pushes the coffee table out of the way and crawls between Dean's sprawled out legs, looking up at him through a fringe of bangs. “I never thought 'bout spreading you open and licking you clean,” he swallows. There's a heat spreading through him, but this time its more arousal and raw, desperate need, want, fuck, than anything else. “Thought 'bout you straddling me, Dean, riding me while you fisted your cock and came all over my chest.”
“Fuck, Sammy.” Dean groans, pushing his fingers into Sam's hair. Sam bends forward, pressing his nose against the seam of Dean's jeans, mouthing at his erection. “Ngh, yeah. Fuck, Sam. Sammy.”
“Want you,” Sam mutters, pushing Dean's shirt up to taste skin. “Want you, want...” His words trail off as he licks into Dean's naval, tongue tracing the curve of Dean's hipbone, sucking hot flesh into his mouth until Dean squirms away from him. Then Dean's thumbing open the button on his jeans and Sam's hears the rasp of his zipper being yanked open loud in his ears. He's kneeling between Dean's legs when Dean pulls his dick out of his boxers and strokes himself slowly once or twice, looking at Sam the whole time. Sam can smell the arousal coming off of his warm skin, earthy and clean. It doesn't take long before he's licking at the tip of it, tasting Dean on his tongue, hot and salty.
“Oh holy fuck,” Dean groans, tugging on Sam's hair so hard he feels tears sting in the corner of his eyes. “Please, Sam. Please.”
Sam's smiling as he wraps his lips around the head of Dean's cock, slicking the skin with his spit and guiding the rest of it into his mouth. His eyelids flutter when he feels the head rub against the ridges of his mouth and swallows instinctively, drawing a low, almost painful sound from Dean's mouth.
“Oh Sam, Sammy, Sammy,” he's moaning, pulling at Sam's hair and trying so hard to keep from fucking into Sam's mouth and gagging him, but god he wants to so fucking bad.
“Do it, just do it,” Sam's mumbling, lips already swollen, shiny with spit and precome. “I can take it, Dean.” He says and Dean just about loses it right there, grabbing fistfulls of Sam's hair and pushing inside that mouth he's dreamed about fucking ever since he caught Sam sucking some guy off behind the pool hall a few months ago.
Sam's amazing, the way he just takes it. The way he moans and hums around Dean's cock as he thrusts his hips, shoving his cock in and out of Sam's mouth. Dean can feel the vibrations from Sam's lips around his cock and he fucks harder, feeling a small resistance at the back of Sam's throat. It makes Sam's rhythm falter temporarily, but then he's going at it again, moaning all around him and digging his nails into Dean's thigh as Dean's cock slides down his throat.
“Oh God. Jesus, Sammy.” Dean grits out, slowing his tempo. If he keeps this up- “You gotta stop, man.”
Sam makes this sound around his dick that sounds like “uh-uh” and picks up where Dean left off, jerking him off around the base while he sucks the head, flicking his tongue across the slit, making it pulse with clear liquid.
“Sam,” Dean gasps when he does it a second time, his fingers dropping behind Dean's balls to nudge the cleft of his ass. “I'm gonna-”
His eyes squeeze shut when he comes, but then he remembers he wants to see this. Wants to see Sam swallowing around his dick, come spilling out the side of his mouth, dripping down his face like a fucking cockslut. But Sam's fingers are still pushing, sliding along his crease.
“Jesus fuck, Sammy. That was-”
Sam just shakes his head, putting his fingers in his mouth, getting them wet with Dean's come and his own spit, then pushes them between Dean's spread legs, pushing one, then two fingers slowly inside of his brother.
“Christ,” Dean says it like a swear word, clutching the side of the couch. “What are you doing, Sam?”
“Told you,” Sam murmurs, licking a stripe along the inside of Dean's thigh. “Want you, Dean. Want you so bad I can fucking taste it, man. Want you ride my dick, just like all those girls ride you, then I wanna lick you clean, Dean. Gonna taste so good.”
“Mother fuck,” Dean gasps, cock already filling to hardness again, just hearing Sammy talk like that to him. “Where'd you get that filthy fucking mouth at, Sam?”
“Mmm,” Sam hums, pressing his lips Dean's balls. “Just you, big brother.”
* * *
Dean hasn't gotten hard again this quickly in a long freaking time, but watching Sam strip off his clothes just inches in front of him definitely does the trick. Sam's filled out so much over the years and its really only noticeable like this, Sam laid bare in front of him, all hard, sinewy muscle and flat, rippled stomach, and the most beautiful fucking cock he's ever seen. Not that he's seen that many.
Dean kisses and mouths the inside of Sam's thighs until Sam's entire body is trembling beneath him, pulling fibers of carpet out between his fingers and biting down so hard on his bottom lip its turning white around the edges of his teeth. “Dean,” he whimpers and its that sound that really gets to Dean, although it makes him wonder if Sam knows what it does to him. Its the sound Sam makes when he's in trouble or hurt; its the sound Dean could hear a million miles away and come running, guns blazing, and kill any fucking thing in his path to get to his little brother. Sam whimpers like he needs this, like he's going to die without it, and Dean's never been able to refuse him before; why would he start now?
He climbs up Sam's body and straddles his hips, reaches between them and aims Sam at the right spot, sinking slowly, inch by inch, onto his brother's cock. The only lubrication they had was mostly Sam's spit and a little bit of his own come, but whatever. It feels like dying and being born again. It feels like everything he's always wanted, but didn't know he wanted until now. He looks down at Sam and there's tears leaking from the corner of Sam's eyes and Dean's chest tightens.
“Sammy, what-”
“Move, Dean.” He grits out like he's being tortured, and oh, Dean gets it. He laces his fingers through Sam's hand and starts rocking back and forth on his dick, moaning like a fucking whore each time Sam's cock sinks inside of him, brushing against his prostate, and he doesn't care what he sounds like. Pretty soon Dean finds his rhythm, plants his palms on Sam's chests and rides the fuck out of him, grinding his teeth and biting the inside of his cheek as Sam's nails break his skin. Sam's name tumbling from his lips like an incantation.
“Fist your cock,” Sam manages to mutter, looking up at Dean through hooded eyes, trail of blood smeared across his bottom lip.. “Wanna see you come on my dick, Dean.”
Dean groans deep down in his throat and takes one hand off of Sam's chest, wrapping it around his cock and fisting himself like Sammy told him to. “Want you,” he pants, pressing crescent indentations over Sam's heart with his nails. “Want you to come, Sammy.”
“You first,” Sam murmurs, watching Dean in fascination as he bares his throat, feeling warm, sticky come spurting across his belly when Dean shouts hoarsley and shakes through his orgasm. The muscles inside of him tighten and clench around Sam's cock and its too much at once and so good and fuck, so tight. Sam grabs hold of Dean's hips tight and slams into him one last time, coming in short, violent pulses inside of Dean's ass, feeling it trickle down his thighs.
“Off,” He says a moment later, a little out of breath and a lot boneless, patting Dean on the thigh. Dean's about in the same shape or worse, coming twice in less than an hour, sprawled out on his stomach across the carpet and then fuck, Sam wasn't kidding. He's lifting Dean's knees up until he's leaning on his elbows, ass up in the air and then god, Sam's licking inside of him, licking up his own come, curling his tongue around and stabbing it inside of him, making the nastiest slurping sounds and fuck if Dean's dick isn't trying to get hard again. Failing, but trying its goddamned best.
Finally, Sam flops down beside him on the floor, dragging the back of his hand over his mouth, grinning like he just won the goddamn lottery or something.
Dean snorts. “Sorry I didn't get you ice cream and cake,” he says casually.
“That's okay,” Sam grins, licking and smacking his lips. “I'm good.”
Pairing: Sam/Dean (pre-standford)
Rating: PORN
Prompt: sam/dean, truth or dare.
Words: 2406
A/n: I had to take a night off from Nano and write complete and utter fucking dirty wrong porn. This is not the plot you are looking for.
“You don't have to do this,” Sam says in that tone that makes Dean want to swing, inferring that he's doing this out of pity, not because Sam's his goddamn little brother and deep down he just wants him to have a normal fucking birthday, with presents and waking up with the worst hangover the world's ever seen.
“Just shut up and open it,” Dean growls, twisting the cap off his beer with the palm of his hands. He's gotten enough scars and cuts in the past ten years, what's one more. He watches Sam's face as he unwraps the paper, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth as it tears. Dean always loved the sound of ripping into something new. He remembers that Christmas Dad didn't make it home in time, remembers breaking into the fanciest house on the block and ganking the presents under their tree like the fucking Grinch, just so Sammy could have a Christmas and forget for a few minutes at least, that there were monsters in the world. It still scares him, the things he'd do for this kid, the things he's always done. Sometimes, Dean wonders if they weren't hunters, would it still be like this between them. Sometimes, he's grateful for the monsters.
* * *
“Where'd you learn this game anyway?”
Sam shrugs and his cheeks blush, face glowing red with innocence. “School. Doesn't matter. You go first, its my birthday.”
“Whatever,” Dean smirks, sitting up so that's he's on the edge of the couch cushion. “Okay. Um. I've never had lusty wrong feelings about my teacher.”
He scowls when Sam doesn't pour his shot and start drinking. “Come on, dude! I've seen your history teacher. She's hot.”
“Dean. You're an idiot.” Sam laughs and rolls his eyes. “Also, take a shot, dude.”
Dean grumbles, “Yeah, yeah,” splashes tequila into his shot glass and erupts in a full body shudder when he swallows it down. “Wooooo,” he grins, smacking his lips. “Tasty.”
* * *
Four or five shots later, Dean's got a nice, warm buzz going on, and Sam's totally sober. Only, now he knows that Dean fantasizes about his teachers, Katie Couric, and that Dean peed his pants on his first hunt.
Sam laughs and twirls his empty, untouched glass on the coffee table, thinking about what he wants to say next. Time to spice things up a little. It is his birthday after all. “I've never jerked off in the Impala.” His eyes flicker up momentarily, catching Dean's before he looks away again. Dean huffs out a breath through his nose and pours the shot, grunting when he throws it back. It feels like his lungs are on fire.
“My turn,” he says and his voice sounds raw, like it would if he'd been yelling for a few hours. “I've never fingered myself while I jerked off.”
Sam looks up and stares as Dean refills his shot glass, but he doesn't raise it to his mouth and swallow just yet. Instead, he pulls Sam's shot glass over with one finger and fills it too, raising an eyebrow at him as if to say, “you first, brother.”
Sam swallows down the lump in his throat and wraps his fingers around the tiny glass. He sees something flicker behind Dean's eyes when he raises it, closes his eyes and tosses it back. The glass slaps loudly on the coffee table when he slams it down, practically growling as the slow burn curls inside of his chest. Dean just grins and downs another shot. “Your turn, Sammy.”
Sam looks up at him from his spot on the floor, hair falling in front of his eyes, looking more fifteen than eighteen at this point, cheeks all flushed pink from both humiliation and Tequila, and licks his lips. “I've never jerked off thinking about another guy.”
Sam doesn't even look at Dean, just reaches for the bottle of Cuervo, pouring the shot glass full with a shaky hand and drinking up. When he does glance up, Dean's eyes are dark and hooded, pouty lips full and pink, and Sam's mouth waters.
“Pour it,” Dean growls and Sam obeys, filling his shot glass with tequila, and Dean reaches down, snatching it up, and drinks.
“Its your turn, Dean.” Sam reminds him quietly, trying to ignore the thrum of arousal pulsing through his dick. Dean runs his tongue over his lips and sits up again, blinking his eyes back into focus. He's swaying a little to the right, but he somehow manages to keep his eyes locked straight on Sam's.
“Never thought about you on your knees, Sammy,” he whispers hoarsely, half of his syllables slurring together. “Never thought about pushing my cock through that mouth of yours and fucking it all swollen and red and coming all over your lips. Goddammit, Sam. You got any idea what you fuckin' do to me? Bitin' your lips all the time till they're all red and puffy. Chewin' on your fingers, pens, anythin' you can get in your fuckin' mouth.”
Sam pushes the coffee table out of the way and crawls between Dean's sprawled out legs, looking up at him through a fringe of bangs. “I never thought 'bout spreading you open and licking you clean,” he swallows. There's a heat spreading through him, but this time its more arousal and raw, desperate need, want, fuck, than anything else. “Thought 'bout you straddling me, Dean, riding me while you fisted your cock and came all over my chest.”
“Fuck, Sammy.” Dean groans, pushing his fingers into Sam's hair. Sam bends forward, pressing his nose against the seam of Dean's jeans, mouthing at his erection. “Ngh, yeah. Fuck, Sam. Sammy.”
“Want you,” Sam mutters, pushing Dean's shirt up to taste skin. “Want you, want...” His words trail off as he licks into Dean's naval, tongue tracing the curve of Dean's hipbone, sucking hot flesh into his mouth until Dean squirms away from him. Then Dean's thumbing open the button on his jeans and Sam's hears the rasp of his zipper being yanked open loud in his ears. He's kneeling between Dean's legs when Dean pulls his dick out of his boxers and strokes himself slowly once or twice, looking at Sam the whole time. Sam can smell the arousal coming off of his warm skin, earthy and clean. It doesn't take long before he's licking at the tip of it, tasting Dean on his tongue, hot and salty.
“Oh holy fuck,” Dean groans, tugging on Sam's hair so hard he feels tears sting in the corner of his eyes. “Please, Sam. Please.”
Sam's smiling as he wraps his lips around the head of Dean's cock, slicking the skin with his spit and guiding the rest of it into his mouth. His eyelids flutter when he feels the head rub against the ridges of his mouth and swallows instinctively, drawing a low, almost painful sound from Dean's mouth.
“Oh Sam, Sammy, Sammy,” he's moaning, pulling at Sam's hair and trying so hard to keep from fucking into Sam's mouth and gagging him, but god he wants to so fucking bad.
“Do it, just do it,” Sam's mumbling, lips already swollen, shiny with spit and precome. “I can take it, Dean.” He says and Dean just about loses it right there, grabbing fistfulls of Sam's hair and pushing inside that mouth he's dreamed about fucking ever since he caught Sam sucking some guy off behind the pool hall a few months ago.
Sam's amazing, the way he just takes it. The way he moans and hums around Dean's cock as he thrusts his hips, shoving his cock in and out of Sam's mouth. Dean can feel the vibrations from Sam's lips around his cock and he fucks harder, feeling a small resistance at the back of Sam's throat. It makes Sam's rhythm falter temporarily, but then he's going at it again, moaning all around him and digging his nails into Dean's thigh as Dean's cock slides down his throat.
“Oh God. Jesus, Sammy.” Dean grits out, slowing his tempo. If he keeps this up- “You gotta stop, man.”
Sam makes this sound around his dick that sounds like “uh-uh” and picks up where Dean left off, jerking him off around the base while he sucks the head, flicking his tongue across the slit, making it pulse with clear liquid.
“Sam,” Dean gasps when he does it a second time, his fingers dropping behind Dean's balls to nudge the cleft of his ass. “I'm gonna-”
His eyes squeeze shut when he comes, but then he remembers he wants to see this. Wants to see Sam swallowing around his dick, come spilling out the side of his mouth, dripping down his face like a fucking cockslut. But Sam's fingers are still pushing, sliding along his crease.
“Jesus fuck, Sammy. That was-”
Sam just shakes his head, putting his fingers in his mouth, getting them wet with Dean's come and his own spit, then pushes them between Dean's spread legs, pushing one, then two fingers slowly inside of his brother.
“Christ,” Dean says it like a swear word, clutching the side of the couch. “What are you doing, Sam?”
“Told you,” Sam murmurs, licking a stripe along the inside of Dean's thigh. “Want you, Dean. Want you so bad I can fucking taste it, man. Want you ride my dick, just like all those girls ride you, then I wanna lick you clean, Dean. Gonna taste so good.”
“Mother fuck,” Dean gasps, cock already filling to hardness again, just hearing Sammy talk like that to him. “Where'd you get that filthy fucking mouth at, Sam?”
“Mmm,” Sam hums, pressing his lips Dean's balls. “Just you, big brother.”
* * *
Dean hasn't gotten hard again this quickly in a long freaking time, but watching Sam strip off his clothes just inches in front of him definitely does the trick. Sam's filled out so much over the years and its really only noticeable like this, Sam laid bare in front of him, all hard, sinewy muscle and flat, rippled stomach, and the most beautiful fucking cock he's ever seen. Not that he's seen that many.
Dean kisses and mouths the inside of Sam's thighs until Sam's entire body is trembling beneath him, pulling fibers of carpet out between his fingers and biting down so hard on his bottom lip its turning white around the edges of his teeth. “Dean,” he whimpers and its that sound that really gets to Dean, although it makes him wonder if Sam knows what it does to him. Its the sound Sam makes when he's in trouble or hurt; its the sound Dean could hear a million miles away and come running, guns blazing, and kill any fucking thing in his path to get to his little brother. Sam whimpers like he needs this, like he's going to die without it, and Dean's never been able to refuse him before; why would he start now?
He climbs up Sam's body and straddles his hips, reaches between them and aims Sam at the right spot, sinking slowly, inch by inch, onto his brother's cock. The only lubrication they had was mostly Sam's spit and a little bit of his own come, but whatever. It feels like dying and being born again. It feels like everything he's always wanted, but didn't know he wanted until now. He looks down at Sam and there's tears leaking from the corner of Sam's eyes and Dean's chest tightens.
“Sammy, what-”
“Move, Dean.” He grits out like he's being tortured, and oh, Dean gets it. He laces his fingers through Sam's hand and starts rocking back and forth on his dick, moaning like a fucking whore each time Sam's cock sinks inside of him, brushing against his prostate, and he doesn't care what he sounds like. Pretty soon Dean finds his rhythm, plants his palms on Sam's chests and rides the fuck out of him, grinding his teeth and biting the inside of his cheek as Sam's nails break his skin. Sam's name tumbling from his lips like an incantation.
“Fist your cock,” Sam manages to mutter, looking up at Dean through hooded eyes, trail of blood smeared across his bottom lip.. “Wanna see you come on my dick, Dean.”
Dean groans deep down in his throat and takes one hand off of Sam's chest, wrapping it around his cock and fisting himself like Sammy told him to. “Want you,” he pants, pressing crescent indentations over Sam's heart with his nails. “Want you to come, Sammy.”
“You first,” Sam murmurs, watching Dean in fascination as he bares his throat, feeling warm, sticky come spurting across his belly when Dean shouts hoarsley and shakes through his orgasm. The muscles inside of him tighten and clench around Sam's cock and its too much at once and so good and fuck, so tight. Sam grabs hold of Dean's hips tight and slams into him one last time, coming in short, violent pulses inside of Dean's ass, feeling it trickle down his thighs.
“Off,” He says a moment later, a little out of breath and a lot boneless, patting Dean on the thigh. Dean's about in the same shape or worse, coming twice in less than an hour, sprawled out on his stomach across the carpet and then fuck, Sam wasn't kidding. He's lifting Dean's knees up until he's leaning on his elbows, ass up in the air and then god, Sam's licking inside of him, licking up his own come, curling his tongue around and stabbing it inside of him, making the nastiest slurping sounds and fuck if Dean's dick isn't trying to get hard again. Failing, but trying its goddamned best.
Finally, Sam flops down beside him on the floor, dragging the back of his hand over his mouth, grinning like he just won the goddamn lottery or something.
Dean snorts. “Sorry I didn't get you ice cream and cake,” he says casually.
“That's okay,” Sam grins, licking and smacking his lips. “I'm good.”
no subject
Date: 2008-11-11 02:30 pm (UTC)(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2008-11-11 10:33 pm (UTC)Your omplete and utter fucking dirty wrong is totally awesome.
*needs cold shower now*
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2008-11-11 10:40 pm (UTC)*loves*
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
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From:no subject
Date: 2008-11-12 12:47 am (UTC)(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2008-11-12 08:22 am (UTC)Dirty, hot, filthy weecest FTW! With Ass!Virgin!Dean riding Sammy. And felching. *passes out*
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2008-11-12 09:00 am (UTC)(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2008-11-12 03:43 pm (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 2008-11-12 04:12 pm (UTC)(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2008-11-12 09:31 pm (UTC)that was... the porniest porn of them all.
I think I blacked out.
You are the master of disaster. ♥
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2008-11-13 05:56 pm (UTC)NGH dirty talk and desperate boys and hot sex. SO YUM.
no subject
Date: 2008-11-14 12:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-26 09:37 pm (UTC)