Jan. 31st, 2016 12:25 am
kelios: (Default)

Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Warnings: Blowjobs, face fucking, semi-public sex, slight d/s overtones
Summary: Why did Jensen have to change pants at Jaxcon?

Jensen yanked the stupid beanie off Jared’s head, desperate to get his hands into his hair, muttering in between kisses. “God--Jay--such a--fucking--tease” Jared let him, kissing back just as hard, eyes sparkling as Jensen pushed him against the wall of the green room.

“Not a tease if I follow through,” Jared said slyly.

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kelios: (Default)

Title: Devil's in the Details, But You're My Big Picture
Author: kelios
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Summary: Episode tag for Devil in the Details. Sam and Dean's trip to Hell has left them both a little unsettled.

Sam settles into the car with a groan as Dean drops into the driver’s seat with an answering sigh. They’re both a little stiff, more than a little sore, but they’ll live. They’ll live and neither of them is an angel condom and Sam can feel the leftover rage and adrenaline still pulsing through him, shot through with dark satisfaction. They won. They beat the devil again, on his own turf, and as sore as he is Sam can’t help leaning across the seat, reaching for his brother.

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kelios: (Default)

Author: kelios
Title: Your Kink Is Not My Kink (Or Maybe It Is)
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Summary: Written for this prompt on the spn-kinkmeme:
Dean loves food. Dean loves to cook for Sam. Dean loves the bunker kitchen. Sam just loves Dean in his apron and likes to fuck his older brother on every available surface in said bunker kitchen.
Warnings: Wincest, misuse of pie filling, rimming

Dean likes to cook. He knows it’s maybe a little odd for someone with his background, but he figures that’s actually part of it--he’s spent so much time eating salt with a side of grease in shitty diners that it’s only natural he’d want something good when he got the chance. He’s spent years thinking about all the things he’d make if he ever got access to a really nice kitchen--and the one in the bunker definitely qualifies.

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kelios: (Default)

Author: kelios
Rating NC-17
Pairing: Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki
Summary: Jared and Jensen really need some time to themselves, with no one else around. The weekend before Christmas break is their last chance for awhile, and they take it.

Inspired by Jensen and Jared's trip to Whistler to go skiing this weekend :)

“Jen?” Jensen looks up to see Jared leaning against the bedroom doorway. He’s not dressed yet, even though Clif will be there in a maybe half an hour, and the dark circles under his eyes hurt Jensen's heart. “Can we talk for a minute?” Jensen stops digging through the drawer for a clean tshirt and frowns, slightly worried.

“Sure, Jay. What’s going on, is everything all right?”

Jared smiles quickly, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, of course. It’s just…I was thinking….What do you think about staying here this weekend? We could go up to the cabin in Whistler. We haven’t been there in ages.”

Jensen raises an eyebrow. “What about the kids?”

Jared stares down at his coffee cup. “We’ll see them next weekend,” he says quietly, and Jensen knows how hard it is for him to say those words, knows how hard it is for him to ask anything for himself. “But I…I need it. We’ve barely seen each other except for work and I just…”

Jensen’s across the room before Jared even gets the words out. “I think it’s a great idea,” he says quietly, pressing his forehead to Jared’s so they’re breathing the same air. “Some alone time will do us both some good.” He tries to lighten the mood a little. "Maybe we'll even go skiing."

If there’s anything Jensen loves more than seeing Jared’s face light up….Well. There isn’t, that’s all there is to it.

“You think we’ll have time to ski?” It comes across as teasing, but there’s enough heat in Jared’s voice to melt what little snow they’ve gotten this year in Vancouver.

“I think if you want me to be able to work next week we better make some time,” Jensen returns, grinning up at him. He knows Jared is right about being busy--they’ve spent hardly any time alone together the last few weeks that didn’t involve one or both of them being asleep. It hits Jensen, suddenly, just how much he’s missed Jared.

Jared smirks at him. “Is that a challenge?”

“Ha. Go put some clothes on, Sasquatch. Clif will be here in 10 minutes.” Jensen watches Jared walk away, noticeably happier, and finishes his own early morning rituals in a much better mood himself.

Whether it’s anticipation or just luck, Friday’s filming goes smoothly. Jared calls their travel agent and tells him to cancel their flight, Jensen calls the housekeeping service they use in Whistler and has them send someone over to air out the cabin, everyone hits their marks. They even keep the joking to a minimum—no one wants to go over tonight. The light all but shining out of Jared makes Jensen’s heart ache with how much he wants to see it every day, and he decides then and there that something has to give. He’s not sure what or how, but the new year is going to bring some changes for them.

Despite getting done with work at a reasonable hour, by the time they finish packing and Clif drives them to Whistler it’s nearly midnight. They wave their driver off to the hotel and stumble inside, glad to be able to just stop for a little while. There’s a fire laid in the fireplace, and Jensen is contemplating lighting it when Jared comes up behind him, wrapping his arms around him and resting his chin on Jensen’s shoulder. “Thank you,” he says quietly. “I know—“

“—That I need time with you as much as you need time with me?” Jensen interrupts, turning in the circle of Jared’s arms to face him, hands settling on the curve of Jared’s hips where they belong. “That’s good, because I don’t ever want you to forget.” He looks at Jared mock-sternly. “And now, young man, I think it’s time for you to go to bed and get some sleep.”

“Oh?” Jared grins, dimple peeking out. “Is that what they’re calling it these days….”

Jensen drags Jared a little closer, letting him feel how much Jensen likes being where he is. “That’s what I call it,” he says, leaning up and kissing Jared slowly and thoroughly. Jared melts into him, one hand sliding down grip Jensen’s ass while the other cups the back of Jensen’s head.

“If we’re doing anything anywhere other than right here we’d better get moving,” Jared whispers against Jensen’s mouth. “Not sure if I can restrain myself otherwise…”

Jensen steps back with a laugh, shaking his head as he licks Jared’s taste from his lips. Jared lets him go, tracking the motion with eyes gone dark with need. “Jen….”

Jensen doesn’t step back into Jared's arms. “Uh-uh, no way. I am not letting you fuck me on the floor again.” He points to a now invisible mark on his forehead. “Remember this? Never. Again.”

Jared laughs, head thrown back and dimples in full force, and Jensen has never been able to resist that laugh. He was gone from the first time he heard it. Jared steps forward, hands out, but Jensen evades him neatly, grabbing a pilot’s case from the floor and heading to the bedroom. “You just gonna stand there all night?” he asks, throwing a come hither look over his shoulder. “Or you gonna come fuck me through the mattress like you promised earlier?”

Jared doesn’t need to be asked twice.

They don’t make it to the slopes til after noon the next day. Even Jared sleeps in, wrapped around Jensen as though he can’t bear an inch of space between them even in sleep. Jensen isn’t complaining—he feels that same need. He hadn’t realized how thin the thread he’d been holding onto had gotten, how much he needed to recharge, to just be with Jared in the peace and quiet with no one demanding their attention but each other. And, Jared puts out body heat like a small furnace, and it’s particularly welcome in the chilly cabin.

Still, all good things must come to an end. Eventually Jared’s stomach and Jensen’s bladder complain enough that they let go—reluctantly, with several one last kisses—long enough to get up and take care of the basics. The smell of coffee drifts over them as soon as they open the bedroom door—after nearly a decade of service, the housekeeping staff always sets a timer for them now. Jensen inhales gratefully and stretches, wincing at the pull of muscles that might be a little overtaxed from last night. Jared watches him, something hot and possessive in his eyes as he fills two mugs and passes one over to Jensen.

“You gonna make it on the slopes, old man?” Jared teases. “Or did I break you last night?”

“Fuck you,” Jensen says cheerfully, feeling better now that he’s fortified with coffee.

Jared goes still, cheeks and the tip of his nose turning pink. Heat washes over Jensen and he steps in close, sitting his coffee on the counter. “Yeah?” he says, leaning up to breath the words into Jared’s ear. “That what you want, Jay?” He pushes forward, caging Jared with his hands on the counter as he rolls his hips. “Want me to take you back to bed and work you open with my fingers so you can take me?” Jared sucks in a shaky breath, and Jensen smiles, closing his teeth on the hinge on Jared’s jaw, right in that spot that drives Jared crazy. “Or maybe I’ll use my tongue first, get you sloppy wet so I can just slide right in. You’re so tight when I do it that way, Jay. You’d feel it for days.”

Jared groans against Jensen’s temple, hips rolling in desperate little circles against him. “Yes,” he gasps, “God yes, Jensen, just do it—“ He tries to catch Jensen’s lips with his, but Jensen pulls back.

“No can do, babe,” he says wickedly. “Clif will be here in an hour, we’ve barely got time to get cleaned up as it is—“

Jared growls, grabbing Jensen by the hips and flipping him so their positions are reversed. “Fucking tease,” he mutters, but he’s smiling. “Show you what happens when you tease—“ In one quick move he lifts Jensen up and onto the counter top, kissing him hard and fast. This time Jensen doesn’t pull back. Instead he throws his arms around Jared’s neck, locks his legs around Jensen’s waist and kisses him like they haven’t touched in weeks. Jared growls again, nipping Jensen’s lip as he drags his boxers down, balancing Jensen on the edge of the counter.

“Do it,” Jensen gasps into Jared’s mouth. “Come on, come on—“

Jared gets them both naked, or close enough to work with. “Hold the counter,” he orders, panting, and slides Jensen right to the edge. His grip on Jensen’s hips tightens, muscles flexing to take the weight as he holds him steady. Jensen shifts, getting one hand on Jared’s cock, spreading the wetness leaking from the head as much as he can. Jared hisses, biting his lip as he struggles to stay still, the slick channel of Jensen’s hand sending sparks up his spine.

“Kiss me,” Jensen tells him breathlessly, and Jared does, breathing messily into Jensen’s mouth as he pushes in, tight heat gripping him mercilessly.

“Fuck…”Jensen groans through gritted teeth. He’s still loose from the night before but there’s not enough slick to make the push smooth yet. He breathes through it, forcing himself to relax. “Move, Jay, go on.”

Jared waits brief moment, then starts to move with short, quick strokes. Jensen throws his head back, moaning as Jared abuses the hell out of his prostate, shoving him perilously close to the edge. “Jared—Jay—fuck, fuck--“

“Feel so good, Jen.” Jared’s fingers tighten on Jensen’s hips, probably leaving another set of bruises but Jensen doesn’t care. Jared is fucking him hard and fast, leaning in to kiss him and trapping Jensen’s cock between them. The friction is just this side of enough, and Jensen is about ready to beg for Jared’s hand to push him over when Jared shifts and bites down on his neck right under his jaw and sucks. The flare of pleasure-pain that rockets through him along with the idea the that Jared is marking him throws him almost violently over the edge. His whole body locks down as he comes, muscles clenched tight around Jared, white streaking over both their chests almost to Jensen’s chin. Jared keeps fucking him through it, keeps sucking that spot on his neck, tiny, desperate sounds leaking out around his sealed lips as he finally loses it inside Jensen, filling him with warmth.

Afterwards they hold each other, kissing and shivering through the occasional aftershocks. Finally, Jared pulls out as gently as he can, wincing at Jensen’s discomfort. He gives Jensen one final kiss and licks over the really spectacular bruise on Jensen’s neck one last time before sighing happily.

“I guess we better go shower,” he says reluctantly. “Clif will be here pretty soon.”

Jensen smirks. “Guess we don’t want him getting an eyeful,” he agrees. “C’mon, I’ll race you to the shower.”

Jared manages not to laugh. “Yeah, okay. Um.” Jensen glares at him half heartedly.

“Not a word,” he orders, walking carefully toward the bathroom. “Come on.”

As always, Jared doesn’t need to be told twice.

kelios: (Default)
Title: Nothing Bad Will Ever Happen to Me (Not Even You)
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: simulated non-con, simulated somnophilia, wincest

Dean drives Sam crazy with his mother henning, there’s no doubt about that. But days like today? When Sam is ready to find a crossroad and beg whatever demon shows up to make the pain to go away? He’s grateful that he doesn’t have to say a word for Dean to know just what he needs. He crawls into the backseat and pulls off his flannel overshirt, balling it up into a pillow with just enough left to cover his eyes. It doesn’t make the pain go away, but it helps enough he can pretend he’s not going to gouge his own eyes out with a spork the first chance he gets.

The motel Dean chooses is a little nicer than their usual fare. Hiding in the back seat means Sam doesn’t know if Dean chose it on purpose or if it was the only game in town. Then again, Sam doesn’t actually care about anything right now except Dean pulling the blackout curtains and dropping the room into blessed darkness. Sam collapses on the bed farthest from the door, not even bothering to take off his shoes, but Dean’s having none of that.

“C’mon, Sammy,” Dean says with that gentleness he reserves for true fuckedupedness. “If you get mud on the bed you’ll bitch all night, and I’m not switching with you.” He pulls off Sam’s boots and socks, then tugs on the hem of his jeans. Sam groans, but Dean just tugs again. “Go on,” Dean orders. “You know you’ll be more comfortable.” He turns away as Sam mutters bossy under his breath but pops the button on his jeans and shoves them off and onto the floor before sprawling across the bed.

Dean’s right. He is more comfortable. When Sam’s like this, he hates it more than usual when Dean’s right, but that doesn’t stop him from accepting the pills Dean offers on his way out the door.

“Gonna hit that bar a few miles back, see if I can scare up some reserve cash,” Dean says, speaking as quietly as he can. “Maybe we’ll celebrate when I get back, yeah?”

Sam does his best to smile, but judging by Dean’s wince he probably doesn’t succeed. He waits for the door to close before he swallows the pills dry, pointedly ignoring the bottle of whiskey Dean had set on the nightstand. He’d rather not asphyxiate on his own vomit, thanks. He closes his eyes, buries is face in the pillow, and does his best to relax.


Sam comes awake gradually. Fingers slip across his cheek, stroking his hair, his ear. He knows it’s Dean, he’d know Dean’s hands anywhere, but this…Dean has never touched him like this before, so much gentleness, so much tenderness. Sam knows he should stir, give Dean a chance to move away, but he can’t. He can’t. Not yet. He just wants a few more moments for himself, no matter how selfish he feels.

Dean pulls in a shaky breath, and Sam hears the cap from the bottle of whiskey hit the nightstand as Dean takes a long drink. Then his hand lands on Sam’s shoulder, heavy and warm. “Sam?” he says. “Hey, Sammy, wake up, man.”

Sam doesn’t stir. He just wants one more moment of Dean’s attention to savor, that’s it, then he’ll sit up and they’ll go out to dinner and everything will be fine. He hears Dean take another drink, hand still gentle and firm on his shoulder. “Never understood why you wear so many layers, Sammy,” Dean says quietly. Sam can hear the slur in his words, but it’s still a shock when Dean trails his hand down Sam’s back in a warm caress. He can’t help the twinge of disappointment he feels when Dean stops right before his fingers stroke the bare skin between his t-shirt and his boxers. Then he feels it, the rough callouses of Dean’s fingers on his skin as Dean lets himself touch.

Sam bites back a moan, fights not to arch into Dean’s touch. “Fuck,” he hears Dean whisper. Then, “Sammy” almost reverently, almost like a prayer as he flattens his hand on the bare skin of Sam’s back, stroking the smooth skin. This time Sam can’t stop the shiver that rolls through him, can’t help the whimper that escapes as he realizes with instant clarity that he has no intention of stopping this, that he’s going to take whatever Dean will give him regardless of the consequences.

Dean falls to his knees next to the bed, and the press of his lips against Sam’s hip nearly undoes him. It’s all Sam can do to keep quiet as Dean moans against his skin, and all his good intentions disappear completely as Dean’s restless hands grip and knead Sam’s ass. Sam’s body takes over, bucking up against the fingers pushing against his sensitive opening, wanting more.

“Dean,” Sam moans helplessly, grinding down against the mattress. He’s already almost painfully hard, years of pent up desire filling his cock and fogging his brain far more than the painkillers he’d taken earlier. Dean jerks his hand back as if burned, and it takes all of Sam’s willpower not to beg Dean to touch him again. Sam forces himself to lay still, ears straining. He can hear Dean breathing, panting almost, then the sound of Dean’s zipper easing down almost breaks his resolve again. Dean groans a little, but doesn’t touch Sam, and Sam’s mind spins crazily at the thought of Dean jerking off on his back, on his face oh God, branding him, changing him forever.

But it doesn’t happen, even though Sam hears the rattle of Dean’s belt as it hits the floor. Sam doesn’t let himself move, hoping against hope that Dean will finish what he started.

Sam’s concentrating so hard on staying still that he almost misses what Dean’s saying. “Maybe it’s my turn to have something good,” Dean mutters roughly, and Sam feels like his heart is going to burst out of his chest. “Maybe it’s my turn to just take what I want.”

And fuck if that doesn’t turn Sam on even more, the idea that Dean—fiercely protective, loving Dean, the brother who has never done anything but care for Sam their whole lives—the idea that Dean could so lose himself to this thing between them, could let himself go far enough to simply take what he wants for once in his life.  It’s messed up, Sam gets that—he should be pissed as hell by what Dean is doing. But all he can feel is relief twisted up with desire and want so strong he isn’t sure he can control himself long enough not to screw it all up.

Dean’s voice tapers off, muttering under his breath as something thumps onto the bed next to Sam and the mattress dips under Dean’s weight. Sam tries to breathe normally, but that goes out the window when Dean pushes Sam’s shirt up, baring more skin to the cool motel room air. Sam gasps when Dean hooks his fingers in Sam’s boxers, tugging them down so slowly it’s torture. He can’t help himself, whimpering into the pillow and rutting into the mattress as Dean runs his hands up Sam’s legs, groaning under his breath at the feel of Sam’s skin under his hands. His cock, wet and hard, brushes Sam’s leg, dotting the skin with precome as Sam tries desperately to remain still enough not to give himself away. He feels like he could come just from this, just from Dean’s hands cupping, kneading the smooth, firm muscle of his ass as he gently spreads Sam open.

Fuck fuck fuck Sam thinks wildly. There’s no way he can stay quiet for this, no way he won’t give himself away. His hips have a mind of their own, grinding into the coarse hotel comforter in a way that’s almost as much pain as pleasure. He can hear Dean whispering over him, but he can’t make out the words except his name Sammy Sammy Sammy which seems appropriate since Sam can’t seem to say anything but Dean.

Sam moans, almost a sob, as Dean leans forward to blow warm air over his hole then lick the tender skin. Dean hasn’t shaved since morning, and his stubble burns deliciously against Sam’s skin, the contrast driving him wild. Dean seems to realize what he’s doing to Sam, rubbing his face all over, nipping and outright biting in between licking over Sam’s hole and balls, driving Sam insane. Finally, finally he stops teasing and pushes his tongue inside the tight ring of muscle. Sam can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t do anything but writhe helplessly underneath Dean, moaning Dean’s name like a prayer, begging for more as quietly as he can. Tomorrow, he thinks wildly, tomorrow he’s going push Dean onto the bed and ride his face until they both come, until Sam can scream his pleasure as loudly as he wants.

Dean pulls back after a few minutes, sweet relief that only makes Sam more desperate when Dean replaces his mouth with his fingers. Dean twists them, stretching and pulling, and God, Sam is going to lose it any second. Dean finds his prostate and strokes him mercilessly, relentlessly. Sam bites his lip so hard he’s surprised he can’t taste blood, doesn’t think he can take much more even though he never wants it to end. He nearly sobs with relief when Dean finally tugs his fingers free even as he can’t help rocking back against Dean’s hand in protest at the same time.

Dean doesn’t make him wait long. Sam hears the crinkle of a condom wrapper, Dean’s hiss of pleasure as he slides it on, and then he’s back. He rubs the head of is dick over Sam’s swollen, sensitive hole, teasing again, and Sam tenses in anticipation. Dean pushes forward, finally, then stops when he feels how tight Sam still is. Sam does his best to hold still, but it hurts when Dean shoves, soft apology soothing Sam along with his hands as Dean strokes his back and hair gently. Dean works his way in slowly, murmuring praise and love so good for me Sammy, so beautiful look so pretty on my cock and it’s so good, each slow, steady stroke wracking Sam’s body with pleasure like he’s never felt.

Dean stops when he’s finally all the way in, Sam gasping underneath him, shuddering at how amazing it feels to be so full of Dean. His brother only gives him a moment to adjust before he’s pulling out again, thrusting back in harder this time, setting up a rhythm that Sam tries to match. Dean’s hands are locked onto Sam’s hips, hauling Sam up and back to meet him with every thrust, and Sam can’t wait to see the bruises he’s going to have tomorrow, to press them and savor this moment again. He groans when Dean slows, suddenly, then rearranges himself against Sam’s back so that he can force his hand underneath Sam. Dean gets a hand on Sam’s cock, warm and rough and calloused and Sam loses it, two strokes and he’s coming harder than he ever has in his life, twisting and writhing under his brother like he’s possessed, biting his lip so hard tears spring to his eyes as he tries not to cry out.

Dean fucks him through the aftershocks, hard and fast and if he could Sam thinks he’d be getting hard again because there’s something about being used, about being fucked for nothing but Dean’s pleasure that lights something inside of him on fire. He feels Dean tighten, feels him pulse against the condom and shudders again, wishing he could feel Dean bare inside him. Dean collapses on top of him, heavy and warm, for a brief moment before pulling out and away. Sam wishes Dean would stay, adds the idea of wrapping himself happy and spent around his brother to his list of things he’s going to do tomorrow and hopefully every day for as the foreseeable future.

Dean rolls off the bed and staggers into the bathroom. Sam smiles and stretches, enjoying the ache in his ass and hips, imagining the bruises he’s going to have in the morning. He’s tired, blissed out from possibly the most intense orgasm he’s ever experienced on top of the residual painkillers still in his system. He’s trying to keep his eyes from drifting closed as his mind tries to turn itself off, needing to stay awake until Dean comes back, but it’s a losing battle.

Sam’s still asleep when Dean comes back out of the bathroom, still sprawled facedown on the bed. The sight hits Dean like a punch to the gut. Sam looks debauched, fucked out and used, and all he can think is how gorgeous Sam looks like this, how much he wants to fall into bed next to his brother and do all of this again the next morning.

That doesn’t last long.

Sam looks debauched, used. He’s bruised, swollen, covered in lube and come. Dean did that, Dean raped his brother, and the shocked realization knocks the breath out of him. He collapses on the empty bed, sick with guilt and horror.

“I’m sorry, Sammy,” Dean whispers hoarsely. “God, I’m so sorry.”

After a moment Dean forces himself to stand, goes into the bathroom again and comes out with a warm wet cloth. He cleans Sam as gently and carefully as he can, wiping up drying lube and come. Dean, Sam sighs, shifting, arching into Dean’s touch as if he craves it. It hurts Dean’s heart—he doesn’t deserve even this much acknowledgement from Sam, doesn’t deserve to touch him again, but he doesn’t stop. He can’t hide what happened here, but he hopes this might make Sam feel less violated when he wakes, and—selfishly--Dean knows this is probably the last time he’ll ever touch Sam, take care of him, and he wants to savor it. To remember. If he can take any memory to hell, let it be this.

Dean shifts Sam gently onto his side, away from the cooling wetness underneath him. He wipes Sam down carefully, then pulls Sam’s discarded boxers up over his hips before grabbing the coverlet from the other bed and tucking it in around his brother. Sam shifts onto his side almost immediately, hair falling over his eyes, and Dean has to resist the sickening urge to push it away, knowing he can never trust himself to do that again.

After a few moments of watching Sam sleep, Dean turns away, more determined than ever to do the right thing. He grabs a clean pair of boxers from his duffle and dresses quickly, grateful that he hadn’t had a chance to unpack anything yet. In a matter of minutes he’s ready to go, three quick steps to the door before he stops with his hand on the knob, caught by the pen and paper next to the phone.

I’m sorry, Sam is all he manages to scrawl before his vision blurs, but it will have to be enough. He closes the door behind him as quietly as he can, sits in the Impala with his head resting against the steering wheel as he finally lets the tears drip down his face. It hurts, having his heart ripped out of his chest with his own hands, but he knows he has no one to blame but himself. It's better this way, he tells himself bleakly, and puts the car into drive and pulls away into the darkness.

kelios: (Default)
Title: Water under the Bridge
Rating: G
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Warnings: non
Summary: Sam hopes Dean doesn't make him wait too long.
A/N: Drabble written for twitter based on the linked picture.


Neither of them sleep all that well these days, but Dean still drinks enough to pass out sometimes, runs himself into exhaustion so deep his body can't help but give in. Even that doesn't bring a restful, peaceful sleep though; Dean tosses and turns and moans in his sleep, far more vocal than Sam ever remembers him being before.

He doesn't like to admit it, even to himself, but those nights are his favorites.

He carefully--very carefully, they are both big guys after all, and Sam's not entirely convinced the motel room beds are even really queensized--lays down next to Dean in his bed, under or over the covers depending on what Dean chose. The effect is nearly instantaneous--Dean always calms, turning his face toward Sam with a soft sigh as the tension leaves his body and he sinks into deeper, more restful sleep. Some nights he turns all the way toward Sam, throws an arm over Sam's chest or wedges a leg between Sam's, pushing his face into Sam's neck and all but collapsing into himself.

Sam's always careful not to move on those nights, barely breathing, not daring to let himself nod off for fear of what he might do. He loves it, though, loves it with a fierce, jealous satisfaction that he can't quite rid himself of, because no one else gets this, no one else has EVER gotten this. No one else has ever done this for Dean, soothed him simply by being present, with just a touch. This side of Dean, soft, vulnerable, open-it's just for Sam. Sam knows that--it's ground into his bones the way Sammy is ground into Dean's.

Sam lets himself hope, sometimes, that these stolen nights might mean something, that they might be a way back to what they used to have, but he's afraid to think of it too often, afraid it might bleed over into their waking moments. For all that Sam pursued Dean when they were younger, he knows there is too much anger, too much resentment, too much that can't be easily taken back for that to happen again. But Sam can't give up. He just hopes Dean won't make him wait too long.
kelios: (Default)
Title: Whatever Our Souls are Made Of, His and Mine are the Same
Rating: Nc-17
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Characters: Sam, Dean, Castiel
Warnings: Wincest, voyeurism
Summary: Now that the war in heaven is over, Castiel finds himself at loose ends. Watching the Winchesters is one way to pass the time. (Prompt from the first round of Masquerade.)

Watching the Winchesters has become one of Castiel's favorite pastimes. Not their physical bodies, necessarily--although Castiel has found that his vessel does enjoy that occasionally too. No, mostly he watches their souls

Soulmates are rare. Castiel has never seen two of them come together before, and it's endlessly fascinating. He watches them for days, sometimes, as they cycle through love, anger, fondness, exasperation--each emotion taking a different hue and shape, drawing them closer, pushing them farther apart, but never truly separate.

Even when they are miles apart, their souls reach for each other, and sometimes, if he tries very hard, he can feel a distant echo of the ache such distance causes.

Today they are not far apart. Sam has pulled Dean onto his lap, pushed his cock deep inside his brother as he holds him close. Dean's head is thrown back with the pleasure of it, gasping Sam's name, saying things that Castiel once would have considered quite blasphemous. Now, he simply leans closer, straining for a better view, to hear what Sam is saying in return.

Dean Dean god love you, fuck--so fucking much

There is energy building between their souls, borders breaking down as they melt into one another, spilling the pleasure of joining into their bodies. It's stunning, breathtaking, and Castiel isn't surprised to find his vessel hard and aching to be touched. He ignores it to watch, enraptured, as Sam and Dean reach their climax, souls finally becoming the one they were intended to be for a few short moments.

He watches a little longer, faint jealousy tainting his pleasure as he watches them separate and return to their own bodies. He has no soul, will never truly know the pleasure of joining with another the way they do. He may rut with a female vessel, but it will never be like this, it will never be even the poor imitation that most humans achieve when their souls briefly touch. For all of their might and power, he and his brothers will, in this regard, always be lesser. Always alone.

Sam stands, still holding his brother, still joined to him body to body, and they both laugh, sated and content. Sam spills them both onto the bed carefully, gently leaving Dean's body and collapsing next to him. Castiel watches until they fall asleep, and after, longing for things he'll never have. 
kelios: (Default)
I saw someone post a list like this on tumblr and I thought it would be fun to look back myself.

ETA: this was supposed to be a Top Ten, but I have to include these pics of themselves dressed as Mr and Mrs Clause and enjoying their Aspen ski vacation, There are also some really amazing memories that were intensely personal that I can't share, but that I will definitely always treasure :)

1. The highlight for me definitely has to be the J2/Cast/Crew project that I worked on. Some friends and I spent a couple of weeks raising money and bought a nice gift for the cast/crew, and got customized bottles of JWB (Jensen and Jared remembered that it was Rufus' favorite, which made me very happy) that we were able to give to Jared and Jensen at Vancon. They were were very appreciative and thankful and I'm so glad we were able to tell them how much they mean to us, to fandom and to the show. I loved seeing pictures of the crew with the shotglasses on twitter, and I'm glad we were able to tell them how much we appreciate them all.

2. Jared and Jensen asking me what OTP means, and having them both compliment me on my Brodependency is my OTP tshirt at Vancon.

3. Jared and Jensen leading fans to chant SAMANDDEAN at JIBCon in Rome
(All the J2 parts of JIBCon, actually, together and separately.)

4. Jensen buying a house in Austin less than a mile from Jared.

5. Jensen tweeting this picture (Jared and Jensen):

6. Jensen tweeting this picture (Sam and Dean):

7. This picture of Jared hugging Jensen from the 2nd 200th ep celebration:

8. The love and respect Jared and Jensen got from the CW at the UpFronts:

9. This photo op of Jared and Jensen enjoying their extra hour in the ballpit from Dallascon:

10: Their enthusiasm when I asked them to sign my "I'm proud of us" autograph.
kelios: (Default)

Whew. What a weekend. It was wonderful seeing friends again and meeting people that I’d only talked to online—one of my favorite things about the con. I didn’t arrive until Friday afternoon, and I think the less said about Friday night the better lol (altho Kyline and I *did* do Wincest shots, which amused the hell out of me).

Saturday was really just hanging out with friends and having fun. I loved singing with the Women of Letters—those girls know how to have a great time! I wish I’d spent a little more time with them, but there were SO MANY PEOPLE to see.

Sunday, of course, was the big day. I was super nervous about my photo ops because BALL PIT! but in the end it all worked out :) My photo op with Jensen was great, he gave me a big smile and a hug. My hair was in my face for the first pic so I had to hug him again, which I will never complain about! He was in a great mood, happy and cheerful, and I got a beautiful smile coming and going (and in my photo, too), as well as a ‘thanks again’ and a wink.

My solo with Jared was great too. I love the way he always smiles and just opens his arms—I can’t even think about anything but one of his amazing hugs (I can’t decide if I miss his bonecrushing hugs, or if my back and ribs are grateful ;) As I left he put a hand on my shoulder briefly and said ‘Thank you, always’, which you know. These guys. They give us so much and appreciate us so much. I just love the reciprocal relationship we all have, this mutal appreciation and respect. It’s amazing, and it feels really good to be a part of.

And FINALLY…my J2 op. The whole ball pit idea was literally last minute—I was still buying plastic balls on Friday after work before I left for the con. This whole thing started because my friend Kati (@adorkablekati) had jokingly pouted that Creation didn’t have a ball pit scheduled for Dallascon. I responded by wondering if J2 would have liked an extra hour in the ball pit and man did things go downhill from there! But in the best possible way :D

So I was kind of stressing over the ball pit idea because I had meet and greets with Jared and Jensen, and the timing was going to be kind of tight. The really, really horrible elevator set up at the Dallascon hotel made it worse. But Kati, Jaime and Vinnie helped me work it out and kept me from freaking out while we waited for the end of the J2 photo op line ♥

So we made it into the room (barely, the attendant was kind of O.o) and up to the front of the line, and Jensen gives me this okay WTAF look and says “You know, I don’t usually do inflatables, but for you guys…” Then Vinnie brings over some (blue I’m sorry we had to) balls for each of them to hold and they both kind of lit up as they started tossing them back and forth to (lol at) each other. Jensen grabbed one of Jared’s and started juggling them, and Jared grabbed a few more and tried to juggle as well which did NOT go well for him at all. Balls were going everywhere, and then they started pelting Chris and Clif with them (Jared does have good aim!). The volunteers finally got everyone settled down (by everyone I mean Jared and Jensen, Kati and I were just sort of watching in awe)  and the guys asked what we wanted them to do.

I explained that if they didn’t mind, I’d love to have a picture of them in the ballpit having fun. Kati and I stood to either side of them holding the extra hour in the ball pit sign, then we got out of the way so Chris could snap an extra pic for WinchesterBros to auction off. I thanked them for being such good sports, and Jared hugged me and said “You’re welcome”, which was too funny tho I’m sure he probably wasn’t actually thinking of the mockumentary.

And then that part was over. We staggered out of the room, I went off to take a few deep breaths before Jensen’s meet and greet. They were such good sports, and I love that they were able to have a little fun with us.

kelios: (Default)
I'm getting ready to send a set of shot glasses and a bottle of Johnny Walker Black to the writers in LA. I couldn't do it beforehand because I had to wait until I actually had the shot glasses, which were manufactured and delivered in Canada.

This is the letter (along with the list of donors) that is going with the bottle and shot glasses:

To the Supernatural Writers,

Of all the crafts that create this show, yours is the most crucial, the most elemental – you charge the collection of particles that collide and expel the energy, the story, of our world. We gather around that vim and verve daily. We grasp at it. We dance with it. We transform it. And we know that without you, there would be no us. Our “we” belongs, in part, to you.

And yes we often bless you with our highest honors in one breath and damn you with our most appalling curses in the next, but those emotions and passions are our proof of life. They are the expanding worlds you fuel when you place your words together and let them slam gloriously into a universe.

Chuck Shurley stated it best, “Writing is hard.” So please see this gift as we intend it. It is our gesture of appreciation, a gesture we know is incomplete but given with complete affection and regard.

Yours with respect. Yours with fondness. And yes, yours with love.

We look forward to another decade of your stories.

kelios: (Default)
Here it is! Jared and Jensen with their engraved bottles of Johnny Walker Blue and their shotglasses. I'm sure you'll notice someone is missing--given the way my pictures have been spread around with 'commentary' I didn't feel comfortable including myself in this one. I hope you all enjoy!

pic of us and Js with gift cropped
kelios: (Default)

To the Supernatural Crew,

Yours is the invisible craft. Each week we bear witness to the magic you shape from light, shadow, steel, and fabric. And we are blessed to be such witnesses. So much of the time you disappear into the story, but know that we see you. We know you are there and we are so very grateful that you are there. The writers may bring plot. The cast may bring voice. But you, you bring life. You are the sense and the sound and the other million nuances that dance around and within the screen. Yours is the gift that lingers with us long after the credits roll.

For this gift, we offer you these glasses as gift and acknowledgment. Toast yourselves as we toast you.

To our magical magicians, we wish you many years of continued success. And we thank you for the light, for the sound, for the brick and the mortar, for the cloth and shield. For the world you give us, we can never repay.

Thank you. They are simple words but they are most heartfelt.

With love, respect, and admiration.

Dear Jared and Jensen,

Stella Adler once said that talent lies in choice. And as always, we thank you for choosing to play Sam and Dean Winchester. Your choice all those years ago has brought so many, so much. When you are older and this show is far behind you, know that these past nine years you have, every day, given a gift to your fans. Your choice, your talent, has created communities, forged friendships, buoyed spirits, and yes, saved lives. Something about what you do brings us a rare joy, one not shared by any other show. Each success is our success. All of us, those whom you see and those whom you may never see, have a Supernatural story, a story inspired by your talent. And so any gift we give you will always be small in comparison.

But here we are, offering to you a token of our loyalty, our respect, and our love.

May you give us many more years of Sam and Dean.

Carry on and carry forth.

With love.


Aug. 26th, 2014 12:08 am
kelios: (Default)
First of all, I want to say thank you to everyone who donated to this project. Obviously, we couldn't have done it without you. In retrospect, I regret that those of us doing the planning kept the details as quiet as we did, but all we wanted was to make sure it would be a surprise for those receiving the gifts. Because news of the project spread primarily by word of mouth, it simply wasn't possible to keep everyone as well informed as some would have liked, and I apologize if anyone felt slighted or left out. That was never our intention. All we ever wanted to do was show the crew, and Jared and Jensen, how much they mean to fandom and how much we all appreciate the last 9 years of hard work and dedication.

Yesterday was J2 day at Vancon 2014! J2 day is always my favorite day, but this time around was even more special than usual, because some friends and I, with the help of quite a few other fans, had put together something special for the cast and crew as well as Jared and Jensen.

About six weeks ago, some friends and I decided we wanted to do something nice to commemorate the 200th ep and 10 seasons of Supernatural. We thought about sending a cake to the office, but decided that something permanent would make a better gift. We finally settled on shot glasses, and began contacting friends and fans who we thought would like to contribute.

We asked everyone to keep their donations quiet, so that the gift could be a surprise, and instead of a public announcement let the news spread by word of mouth. Within a few days, we'd raised a somewhat astonishing amount of money, and it just kept coming in. By the end of the first week, we had more than enough for our shot glasses, and decided to expand our gift to include Jared and Jensen. It didn't take long to discover that an engraved bottle of Johnny Walker Blue would fit into our budget--and would be a great tribute to the dearly departed Rufus Turner (still missed by many of us).

A very talented artist created a great design for us to use on the glasses, and it wasn't long before we were able to get the ball rolling. And while we were working on finding a company to create the glasses, and working out what we wanted engraved on the bottle of JWB, fans continued to hear about the project and donate. It wasn't long before we were able to afford a second bottle (one for each of the Js:), and not long after that we had enough for a gift for the writers as well. After that...well, the Supernatural fandom supports many charities, and we quickly decided that St. Jude's Hospital and The Down Syndrome Guild of Dallas would get any overflow.

In the end, fans donated approximately $1700 for this project. We broke it down like this:
~$500 for the shot glasses and shipping
~$550 for two engraved bottles of Johnny Walker Blue for Jared and Jensen
~$150 for 4 bottles of Canadian Club so that the crew could toast the 200th ep in their new shot glasses
~$100 to send a set of glasses and a bottle of Johnny Walker Black to the writers in LA
And finally, $400 for charity. We initially donated $100 to St. Jude's Hospital and $100 to the DSGD, and as fans continued to donate, decided to send any new funds to the DSGD since fandom is actively raising money to support Team Levi.

As Vancon got closer and closer, everything started coming together. The glasses arrived in Canada safe and sound, and there was a slight issue with the Johnny Walker Blue that was luckily worked out quickly. I compiled a list of all the wonderful fans who donated and made sure all their twitter handles were matched up so that a list could be included both with the glasses going to set and with each of the bottles of JWB.

And finally....Vancon. Before the con started, the four of us who helped plan the event who were attending (me, @kellsbellsTFW, @candygramme (Sue) and @ristispeaks) decided to wait until Saturday to approach Creation about giving the bottles of JWB to Jared and Jensen. We already knew how we were getting the shot glasses to the office, but we were hoping Creation would allow us to present the Js with their bottles during one of their panels so that everyone who contributed could see and we could possibly even ask fans who donated to stand and be acknowledged. Unfortunately, Creation no longer allows that sort of presentation. We quickly regrouped and Risti and I agreed to give up one each of our J2 photo ops so that we could all be together. Chris (Creation's photographer) had no problem with giving us a few moments at the end of the session, and we were all set except for the excruciatingly nervewracking wait.

When the time came for our final photo op, Risti and Sue each took a bottle and Kel took the two shot glasses. Somehow, I managed to speak coherently enough to tell the Jared and Jensen that in honor of the 200th ep and reaching 10 seasons of Supernatural, a large group of fans had gotten together to buy the crew a gift of 300 shot glasses (kel gave them the two we'd kept out for them) and Jared yelled NO WAY! FUCK OFF! for the first time. I got out that so many people donated that we had enough for a gift for them as well, and it sort of disintegrated into chaos for a bit. They were both very impressed and appreciative of the JWB (and Linda--they both remembered it was Rufus' favorite!). They especially liked the engraving: Jensen N Jared 10 YEARS OF SUPERNATURAL. (We'd originally planned on one bottle, and the engraving only allowed for 15 chars per line). After that settled a bit, I was able to tell them we'd also gotten a gift for the writers (NO WAY!), AND had $400 left to give to charity. (FUCK OFF!)

Things got a bit hectic again for a few moments after that. However, I did manage to tell both Jared and Jensen how much we all appreciate their hard work, and that Sam and Dean simply wouldn't be the same without them. That they made the characters who they were, and they are the reason we love Sam and Dean and Supernatural so much.

Both Jared and Jensen thanked us repeatedly, and told us how much the appreciated the effort we all put into doing this. I made a point to let them know before Chris took our picture that each bottle had a letter and a list of every fan who helped make this gift and the crew's gift possible. It was a wonderful experience to be able to tell them how much they mean not only to us but to all of fandom, and to let them know that so many people wanted to do something nice for them.

Thank you again to everyone who helped make this possible. We all appreciate so much that you were willing to donate to this project.

kelios, kellsbellsTFW, ristispeaks, candygramme, dmfny, setinreality, mais_fica, nottheribbons

http://kelios.livejournal.com/74065.html Letters to the crew and Jared and Jensen

http://kelios.livejournal.com/73745.html Pictures of the JWB and shot glasses.

http://kelios.livejournal.com/75705.html Picture of donors list
kelios: (Default)

I only had a couple of photo ops—I bought one with Tahmoh after his VIP panel because he was so interesting, and I bought a J2Mark to share with a friend. Other than that I only had J2 this time around.

My first op was with Jensen, who gave me a big smile and for some reason it fried my brain and I freaked out about hugging him which I thought I’d gotten over *facepalm* Then after the picture he stopped me to read my shirt out loud and gave me another HUGE smile and said Thank you :)

Next I had my duo op. (We got to watch Jensen being silly for a bit before Jared arrived—dancing and goofing off a bit before becoming totally engrossed in his phone for like five minutes) Jared gave me a big smile and held me back from the photo for a moment to read my t-shirt (that got me an awesome, love it and a wink) before we did the photo. I swear I was trying to stand between them equally but Jared is like a magnet or something, I always end up leaning against him and this time he pulled me in so hard I look like I’m about to fall over lol In Dallas I swear I’m going to stand next to Jensen. I SWEAR.

Next was my photo with Jared. He gave me a hug and we took our photo but he stopped me when I went to leave and said “Okay I have to ask—what does OTP mean??”

So I told him it means One True Pair, and in this context it means that I really love Sam and Dean and their relationship. He practically blinded me with his smile and said YEAH ME TOO. This also gave me the chance to tell him how much I love the way he and Jensen play Sam and Dean, and that I honestly didn't think anyone else could have done as well. He said that means a lot to them, that they really appreciate hearing things like that. He also waved off the Creation volunteers who wanted to make me move, which was amusing. (I know they were just doing their job, but still--it was nice that he wanted to let me finish.)

I did have another J2 photo op later that was very involved, but for the purpose of this report, I’ll just say that at the end of the photo op Jensen pulled me aside and asked me “Okay, what does OTP mean??” I gave him the same answer I gave Jared, and I added that I love that Sam and Dean are soulmates and their relationship makes me very happy. Jensen gave me a big, big smile and said That’s really great, we do too, and hugged me again, which was….very nice. Very, very nice.

Lots more wonderful, wonderful things happened this weekend, but those are some of the good ones.

kelios: (Default)
My comment is awaiting moderation, so I'm sure it will never see the light of day :P

I find it incredibly insulting to both Jared and Jensen every time someone claims they don't know their characters and should have no say in the storylines. You're wrong. About a lot of things in this article, but more than anything else you are wrong about that. Jared and Jensen have been playing Sam and Dean for 9 years. They know these characters better than anyone else. Meta writers on the internet? Please. These are people who are writing their OPINIONS. They are writing their interpretations. And those interpretations are NOT more valid than those of the people who bring these characters to life. To claim that they are is ridiculous--there are as many opinions as there are meta writers, and they can't possibly all be right.

It's not the show's fault that some people were blinded by their desire to see destiel become canon. And refusing to make destiel canon is NOT the same as stating ANY same sex relationship would 'ruin the show'. Jared was referring ONLY to destiel, and he did so because that ship does NOT fit the character of Dean in the slightest.

Supernatural has given fans a LGBTQ character, and destiel fans in general weren't interested because it wasn't Dean. If destiel fans want to be taken seriously as fans who want representation, they should work with what they are given, and campaign for more characters like Charlie. The cast and crew of Supernatural are NOT bad people; they are not homophobic, despite claims by some destiel fans. But--understandably--they don't respond well to demands and bullying, which seems to be the forte of much of the online destiel fandom. If you want real representation, if you are serious about wanting to make the world better for the LGBTQ community through TV shows, then be mature. Ask nicely. Many, many fans would love to see LGBTQ representation that doesn't involve changing a character who has identified as canonically straight for 9 years into someone who is bi or gay just to suit fans. That doesn't help anyone's cause.
kelios: (Default)

Title: Confessions
Author: me
Characters: Sam, Dean, Castiel
Pairing: Sam/Dean (shortly)
Rating: G
Summary: Castiel wants to get some things off his chest, Sam wants to eat lunch in peace.

Part 1 )

kelios: (Default)
Every time we start from the beginning, I ask myself: which is more painful, watching the first time with no idea what was coming, or re-watching with full knowledge of just how bad it's going to get? I can never decide.

There is so much hope in the early seasons. Supernatural has always been dark and relatively bleak, but the hope in Sam's voice when he says "I gotta find Dad" is heartbreaking. And Dean...he believes he'll be able to keep Sam safe even tho part of him also believes he'll fail because that's the way he's built. Sam believes they'll save Dean from Hell, they believe they can protect the seals, they believe they can stop Lucifer.

Now...now every season, every episode just feels like despair. They are going through the motions. They can't settle down, because TGDAs and demons won't let them. They can't save people and hunt things, because TGDAs and demons won't let them. They can't even DIE because if they do, TGDAS (heaven) and demons (hell) will be waiting with malicious glee to tear them apart when they arrive.

(BTW, this is another reason I don't like 9.01. Sam KNOWS that they are on heaven's shitlist, yet he wants to die and make sure Dean can't bring him back? I mean, what? Does he miss the Cage or something? Such bad writing and plotting.)

I can't imagine how they get up and keep moving every day, except fear of what will happen if they don't--and each other. They must be so bonecrushingly tired, mentally and physically. My heart aches for them, every episode. And now the show wants to take the one good thing they have (each other) away from them. It breaks my heart, and not in the good way.


kelios: (Default)

December 2016

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