Firstly - thanks to
settiai for linking this article about how women see comics and how women are portrayed by comics. This line, in particular, says it all, to me. Buffy was sexy. Buffy had sex. But neither of these defined her..
Exactly. And, as the author says - if DC, Marvel, et al, can't figure this out - maybe comics deserve to die.
On a rather weird note...i keep getting spam from Match.com and EHarmony.com and ChristianMingle.com and BlackSingles.com. Apparently, i've suddenly transformed into a single, Christian, black, *desperate* woman. Innnnnteresting. I think it goes without saying that i've never *once* been to these sites, so i am...baffled.
So - some new non-spoilery promo pictures of Boys and Show have been posted. They are yummy. And so, like any good fangirl,
girlguidejones was inspired to make a comment challenge! The Name Your Own Challenge challenge.
So i did! You can go read it at her lj, or you can read it under the cut. I encourage you *all* to join in! Because, you know...booooooooys. :) Utter PWP.
It's early. Sheesh. Forgive any errors.
Sam's sprawled out in the ugliest orange vinyl chair ever and Dean grins when Sam shifts and the vinyl creaks. "Anybody might see me," Dean says, and pushes his jeans a little lower on his hips. He's half naked, fully hard, and watching Sam go from zero to Mach 1 in .5 seconds.
"I mean - blinds are open, sun's shining...anybody could see me standing here with my dick in my hand...." Dean strokes up, over and down, arching his back a little for emphasis and Sam makes a breathy little noise. So does the chair.
"They could just stand in the parking lot and see everything," Dean says, heeling off one boot and then the other - letting the jeans slide a little lower and Sam's leaning forward. Mouth so close, and Dean pushes his cock down flat, offering it to Sam's wet, open lips.
"Watch you suck me," he says, and Sam closes the last half-inch and does, pressing his tongue flat to the wet head and then opening a little wider. Getting just the head in his mouth and sucking and Dean groans, hands on the sill of the window, sunlight warm over his back.
"Yeah, just like that, watch you take me...yeah...." Sam pushes lower, eyes half-shut and rufus-gold in the gilded light. The chair squeaks as he jerks at his belt buckle and the button on his jeans and Dean lets his hips move in a lazy, easy roll, savoring the rub of Sam's tongue, the slight catch of a canine, the huff of warm air over his belly.
"They can see you, Sam...see you sitting there with your pants around your ankles and...fuck...your cock all hard and wet for me...." Sam pulls off slow, sucking hard the whole way, and Dean's whole body spasms as Sam's mouth pulls at the sensitive head. And then Sam's sprawling back in the chair, making it wheeze as he lifts his ass up and settles back down. One hand is cradling his balls, pushing them down and rolling them. The other is on his cock, stroking it slowly - holding it straight up from his lap.
"Think they'll be able to see me splitting you open? See you sitting down on my dick and loving it?"
"Yeah, bet they will," Dean breathes, and he's kicking his jeans away - turning around letting Sam grab his hips - pull him down. Legs spread over Sam's thighs, hands on the sill for balance. Sam's hands pull him open, cool and callused, and his thumbs rub over and around Dean's hole, still wet - still hot and aching, just a little, from before. From the wham, bam, thank you Sam in the back of the car two hours ago.
"Fuck, don't even need any lube," Sam says, and his thumbs slip in, pushing. Rubbing, stretching, and Dean groans again, his back arching and his head dropping down, thighs spreading wider.
"I can just push right in...so wet, love that...." Sam's voice drops to a mumble and then he's dragging Dean down - head of his cock right there, not enough pressure to get in, just enough to open Dean up a little - make him want more.
"Yeah, c'mon, fuck...." Dean leans back - pushes down, and Sam lets him, hands gripping the rubbed-thin arms of the chair, hips coming up in a jerky stutter as his ass sticks to the vinyl. Dean sinks down inch by inch until his sitting, Sam thick and hot inside him, crowding his insides. Feels so good - feels perfect. Dean's a little sore but the burn and the throb are sweet, belly-deep, and he shifts and rocks his hips.
Swivels them a little, feeling Sam rub all over inside. Sam moves around behind him, elbow bumping Dean's back as he strips out of his jacket and shirt and then his hands fit themselves to Dean's hips - over the marks he left earlier. Little plum-colored smudges on pale skin. He slides his hands slowly up - finds a nipple and pinches and Dean shudders - lifts up and pushes down. Does it again and again and again while Sam's hands crawl all over him, pinching and scratching and rubbing and lifting.
Not touching his dick but Dean likes that. Likes the wait - likes the anticipation. Likes how the sun is making him close his eyes because then he can just feel and he almost doesn't notice the chug of an engine - the slamming of car doors and two voices that cut off abruptly with shocked exclamations.
"Fuck, Sam...."
"You're right, they can...see us, fuck...they're just standing there wa-watching...." Sam moves and the chair creaks and then he's shoving Dean forward, hand on his back. Pushing him into the blinds and pushing himself up and out of the chair. Dragging Dean's ass back toward him and kicking Dean's legs wider and getting that solid grip on Dean's hips and fuck, yes, this.
This is where Sam just piledrives in, hard enough to almost-hurt, hard enough to feel like he's gonna fuck right through Dean into the wall and Dean braces himself and throws his head back - opens his mouth and makes some noise. Clenches down tight around Sam's cock and twists his hips and lets it all out when Sam gets just the right angle.
"Fuck yes, yeah, fuck, right there, right there, Jesus, c'mon, c'mon, harder, fucking...hell, Sam, Saaam...."
He can see, in a sort of shimmery golden haze, two shapes standing not five feet away, wavering back and forth. Sweat tickling down his ribs and the taste of dust in his mouth and Sam goes up on his toes, bringing Dean with him, palming him open wider and grinding in deeper.
"Christ, you look...look like a slut, like I paid for you, fuck, putting on a show...Dean, yeah...." Sam's voice is gravel and whiskey and Dean flails back blindly. Finds Sam's thigh and tries to drag him closer - deeper - and Sam knots his fingers in Dean's hair and drags him up and back, hand on Dean's belly now, crushing him back.
Sam's mouth on Dean's shoulder, tongue licking up his neck and then biting, white-hot lance of prickling pain and Dean yells, bracing against the sill and shoving back as hard as he can and Sam's hand goes from belly to cock, squeezing.
Gun-rough palm stroking from head to root and back, fast and brutal and possessive and Dean bucks under him. He can feel Sam getting shaky - losing his rhythm and Dean knows he close, so fucking close, so he squeezes and releases, over and over, rewarded by Sam gasping out some incoherent string of curses and endearments, both his hands going back to Dean's hips to yank clumsily.
To bruise all over again in new spots as Sam slams home and then goes nearly still, his mouth open and hot on Dean's throat, his cock pulsing a little bigger and everything going hotter and wetter as he comes.
Hips jerking in frantic little arcs and Dean squeezes ruthlessly and crowds back and loses his breath altogether when Sam's hand gets back to his cock.
Jacks him hard and fast and just fucking right and whoever it is outside says "Jesus Christ" and that's it, that's all, Dean's coming, too, bowing over the sill and moaning loud and low as Sam curls over, sweat-sticky chest hot on Dean's back. Sam milks him dry, cock still moving in achy little pushes that feel so fucking good, his mouth moving in wet little arcs over Dean's back.
Sam's panting hard, and Dean is, and Sam tugs and staggers backwards and all but falls into that ugly fucking chair and Dean goes with him, embarrassing little squeak coming out of his mouth when he bottoms out on Sam and Sam just crushes him closer.
Dean's sweat-slick and breathless and sore all over - thighs a little trembly and ass throbbing and messy-wet on Sam. Sam shifts around a little and then just flops, limp, under Dean and Dean leans back on him and laughs softly.
Whoever it is - was - outside is gone now, and the sun's nearly gone, too, slipping away through winter-bare trees. Sam breathes and the chair sighs and Dean gives a little experimental twitch of his hips that makes them both groan.
"Should close the blinds," Sam mumbles, and Dean heaves a long breath and levers himself upright and off. Leans against the sill again, fingertips just ghosting over his belly - skimming his softening cock.
"Nah. I kinda like 'em open like this." Sam opens one eye and stares at him, and Dean grins wolfishly back. "Bet if we turned the lights on, anybody might see...all night long."
Our delightful hostess thoughtfully 'continued' the story here. Whooo! And check out
runedgirls lovely The Dean Will Do Whatever For A Sam In Leather Challenge.
Yeah. :)
ONE MORE DAY.
*twirls*
Exactly. And, as the author says - if DC, Marvel, et al, can't figure this out - maybe comics deserve to die.
On a rather weird note...i keep getting spam from Match.com and EHarmony.com and ChristianMingle.com and BlackSingles.com. Apparently, i've suddenly transformed into a single, Christian, black, *desperate* woman. Innnnnteresting. I think it goes without saying that i've never *once* been to these sites, so i am...baffled.
So - some new non-spoilery promo pictures of Boys and Show have been posted. They are yummy. And so, like any good fangirl,
So i did! You can go read it at her lj, or you can read it under the cut. I encourage you *all* to join in! Because, you know...booooooooys. :) Utter PWP.
It's early. Sheesh. Forgive any errors.
Sam's sprawled out in the ugliest orange vinyl chair ever and Dean grins when Sam shifts and the vinyl creaks. "Anybody might see me," Dean says, and pushes his jeans a little lower on his hips. He's half naked, fully hard, and watching Sam go from zero to Mach 1 in .5 seconds.
"I mean - blinds are open, sun's shining...anybody could see me standing here with my dick in my hand...." Dean strokes up, over and down, arching his back a little for emphasis and Sam makes a breathy little noise. So does the chair.
"They could just stand in the parking lot and see everything," Dean says, heeling off one boot and then the other - letting the jeans slide a little lower and Sam's leaning forward. Mouth so close, and Dean pushes his cock down flat, offering it to Sam's wet, open lips.
"Watch you suck me," he says, and Sam closes the last half-inch and does, pressing his tongue flat to the wet head and then opening a little wider. Getting just the head in his mouth and sucking and Dean groans, hands on the sill of the window, sunlight warm over his back.
"Yeah, just like that, watch you take me...yeah...." Sam pushes lower, eyes half-shut and rufus-gold in the gilded light. The chair squeaks as he jerks at his belt buckle and the button on his jeans and Dean lets his hips move in a lazy, easy roll, savoring the rub of Sam's tongue, the slight catch of a canine, the huff of warm air over his belly.
"They can see you, Sam...see you sitting there with your pants around your ankles and...fuck...your cock all hard and wet for me...." Sam pulls off slow, sucking hard the whole way, and Dean's whole body spasms as Sam's mouth pulls at the sensitive head. And then Sam's sprawling back in the chair, making it wheeze as he lifts his ass up and settles back down. One hand is cradling his balls, pushing them down and rolling them. The other is on his cock, stroking it slowly - holding it straight up from his lap.
"Think they'll be able to see me splitting you open? See you sitting down on my dick and loving it?"
"Yeah, bet they will," Dean breathes, and he's kicking his jeans away - turning around letting Sam grab his hips - pull him down. Legs spread over Sam's thighs, hands on the sill for balance. Sam's hands pull him open, cool and callused, and his thumbs rub over and around Dean's hole, still wet - still hot and aching, just a little, from before. From the wham, bam, thank you Sam in the back of the car two hours ago.
"Fuck, don't even need any lube," Sam says, and his thumbs slip in, pushing. Rubbing, stretching, and Dean groans again, his back arching and his head dropping down, thighs spreading wider.
"I can just push right in...so wet, love that...." Sam's voice drops to a mumble and then he's dragging Dean down - head of his cock right there, not enough pressure to get in, just enough to open Dean up a little - make him want more.
"Yeah, c'mon, fuck...." Dean leans back - pushes down, and Sam lets him, hands gripping the rubbed-thin arms of the chair, hips coming up in a jerky stutter as his ass sticks to the vinyl. Dean sinks down inch by inch until his sitting, Sam thick and hot inside him, crowding his insides. Feels so good - feels perfect. Dean's a little sore but the burn and the throb are sweet, belly-deep, and he shifts and rocks his hips.
Swivels them a little, feeling Sam rub all over inside. Sam moves around behind him, elbow bumping Dean's back as he strips out of his jacket and shirt and then his hands fit themselves to Dean's hips - over the marks he left earlier. Little plum-colored smudges on pale skin. He slides his hands slowly up - finds a nipple and pinches and Dean shudders - lifts up and pushes down. Does it again and again and again while Sam's hands crawl all over him, pinching and scratching and rubbing and lifting.
Not touching his dick but Dean likes that. Likes the wait - likes the anticipation. Likes how the sun is making him close his eyes because then he can just feel and he almost doesn't notice the chug of an engine - the slamming of car doors and two voices that cut off abruptly with shocked exclamations.
"Fuck, Sam...."
"You're right, they can...see us, fuck...they're just standing there wa-watching...." Sam moves and the chair creaks and then he's shoving Dean forward, hand on his back. Pushing him into the blinds and pushing himself up and out of the chair. Dragging Dean's ass back toward him and kicking Dean's legs wider and getting that solid grip on Dean's hips and fuck, yes, this.
This is where Sam just piledrives in, hard enough to almost-hurt, hard enough to feel like he's gonna fuck right through Dean into the wall and Dean braces himself and throws his head back - opens his mouth and makes some noise. Clenches down tight around Sam's cock and twists his hips and lets it all out when Sam gets just the right angle.
"Fuck yes, yeah, fuck, right there, right there, Jesus, c'mon, c'mon, harder, fucking...hell, Sam, Saaam...."
He can see, in a sort of shimmery golden haze, two shapes standing not five feet away, wavering back and forth. Sweat tickling down his ribs and the taste of dust in his mouth and Sam goes up on his toes, bringing Dean with him, palming him open wider and grinding in deeper.
"Christ, you look...look like a slut, like I paid for you, fuck, putting on a show...Dean, yeah...." Sam's voice is gravel and whiskey and Dean flails back blindly. Finds Sam's thigh and tries to drag him closer - deeper - and Sam knots his fingers in Dean's hair and drags him up and back, hand on Dean's belly now, crushing him back.
Sam's mouth on Dean's shoulder, tongue licking up his neck and then biting, white-hot lance of prickling pain and Dean yells, bracing against the sill and shoving back as hard as he can and Sam's hand goes from belly to cock, squeezing.
Gun-rough palm stroking from head to root and back, fast and brutal and possessive and Dean bucks under him. He can feel Sam getting shaky - losing his rhythm and Dean knows he close, so fucking close, so he squeezes and releases, over and over, rewarded by Sam gasping out some incoherent string of curses and endearments, both his hands going back to Dean's hips to yank clumsily.
To bruise all over again in new spots as Sam slams home and then goes nearly still, his mouth open and hot on Dean's throat, his cock pulsing a little bigger and everything going hotter and wetter as he comes.
Hips jerking in frantic little arcs and Dean squeezes ruthlessly and crowds back and loses his breath altogether when Sam's hand gets back to his cock.
Jacks him hard and fast and just fucking right and whoever it is outside says "Jesus Christ" and that's it, that's all, Dean's coming, too, bowing over the sill and moaning loud and low as Sam curls over, sweat-sticky chest hot on Dean's back. Sam milks him dry, cock still moving in achy little pushes that feel so fucking good, his mouth moving in wet little arcs over Dean's back.
Sam's panting hard, and Dean is, and Sam tugs and staggers backwards and all but falls into that ugly fucking chair and Dean goes with him, embarrassing little squeak coming out of his mouth when he bottoms out on Sam and Sam just crushes him closer.
Dean's sweat-slick and breathless and sore all over - thighs a little trembly and ass throbbing and messy-wet on Sam. Sam shifts around a little and then just flops, limp, under Dean and Dean leans back on him and laughs softly.
Whoever it is - was - outside is gone now, and the sun's nearly gone, too, slipping away through winter-bare trees. Sam breathes and the chair sighs and Dean gives a little experimental twitch of his hips that makes them both groan.
"Should close the blinds," Sam mumbles, and Dean heaves a long breath and levers himself upright and off. Leans against the sill again, fingertips just ghosting over his belly - skimming his softening cock.
"Nah. I kinda like 'em open like this." Sam opens one eye and stares at him, and Dean grins wolfishly back. "Bet if we turned the lights on, anybody might see...all night long."
Our delightful hostess thoughtfully 'continued' the story here. Whooo! And check out
Yeah. :)
ONE MORE DAY.
*twirls*