Mink (minkmix) wrote,
Mink
minkmix

SPN Ficlet: Five Minutes - Adult Content!

This fic goes with the Happiest of Birthday Wishes to Olga! (This is a PWP on a freakin' El Camino bab-bee. Have you ever heard of anything more All American than that? :D Besides maybe a red,white&blue apple pie that sings Garth Brooks songs and has no health care...)
-mink

p.s to olga
(I think you'll understand why this is a day late. And I apologize that it's not quite what I wrote the first time but I hope you dig it anyway)


Title: Five Minutes
Author: Mink
Rating: NC-17 - PWP - ficlet
Pairings: Gordon/Dean
Spoilers: General (for all aired episodes)
Disclaimers: SPN & characters are owned by their various creators.
Summary: Scene filler for S2ep:Bloodlust - After Gordon and Dean drunkenly bond about vampires in that bar, they stumbled out into an alleyway and Gordon tapped that. No really, he totally did. XD



It amused him that Dean Winchester might be afraid that someone could be looking.

Even more amusing was the idea that Dean Winchester was afraid of anything at all. Gordon’s lips grazed over the hunter’s clenched jaw, wondering what would happen if he attempted to engage this man in the unwanted sentiment of a kiss. As soon as their mouths met Dean jerked his head to the side, the stubble of his cheek against Gordon's lips instead.

“It's all right,” Gordon’s hands moved the leather jacket down Dean's shoulders, wrapping his arms in a tangle around his hips. “You know that no one cares what happens in the dark.” With a firm push and a lot of force, he seated Dean on the hood of the El Camino.

“Unless it’s—” Dean’s voice wavered when Gordon’s mouth was on his neck again. “...happenin’ to them.”

The divide of pleasure and pain didn’t have many shades in between on the curiously hungry features of Dean Winchester. But in the next five minutes Gordon Walker was determined to witness every aspect the boy had to offer.

The engine had cooled, but the metal was still hot under their hands. He didn’t mind the denting noises Dean’s palms made as he awkwardly tried to keep himself upright, Gordon’s mouth pressing him backwards and easing his thighs apart. Although Gordon’s grip on the warm weight of the denim between Dean’s legs was careful, it was also impatient. Pushing under the threadbare T-shirt, Gordon ran his fingertips down Dean’s belly and tugged the metal square of the belt buckle.

“You heard what I said,” Dean writhed on Gordon’s hand. “N-Not out here.”

“What are you so scared of?“ Gordon decided to use a taunt that sealed the deal on any tenuous playground dare. “That your parents will find out?”

Dean’s body tensed dangerously under his.

“Don’t worry,” Gordon assured him. “Sammy went to bed.”

Dean‘s fist was suddenly locked under Gordon’s chin, the dark flush on his cheeks mixed with real anger. The deadly kind that would see blood run in this dark alley if either hunter wanted it that way. As they stared at each other in deadlock, Gordon pulled the buckle free real nice and slow. He didn’t particularly care for slow but certain times called for certain measures. Gordon's hand fit perfectly underneath the undone button fly with Dean’s flesh pressing hard and heavy in the palm of his hand.

He smiled when Dean ever so slightly spread his legs wider.

It was the bewildered surrender of a man who understood that the game was over.

Gordon’s smile grew.

With a gasp of disbelief, Dean let himself be slid backwards, trying to use his elbows to keep himself from performing an outright sprawl. Gordon liked eager but he enjoyed the desperation of Dean’s hands on his fly a lot more. Hooking his fingers in the belt loops of Dean’s jeans, he pulled the denim down out of his way and yanked Dean onto his back. Wetting his lips, Gordon liked how Dean still couldn’t really decide whether or not to keep fighting. But Gordon didn’t want this part to be gentle either. He used his mouth to be steady and relentless. Wet and sloppy and thorough. All that boy could do was start swearing again, angry and breathless until his head fell back onto the hood with a weak thud. Gordon’s mouth was nicely swollen when he finally let Dean go.

But they still had a little time left.

Already neatly tangled in his jacket, Dean groaned when his bare stomach met the metal hood. Gordon wadded up the leather in a fist and knocked Dean’s boots apart to spread him good and wide. He wanted tight and hot, he wanted his hand pressed down on the small of Dean’s back to feel the sweat as the boy arched his spine. Gordon had to close his eyes for second, but only for a second because when he pushed again, Dean did better for him than curse. He gave Gordon the lost and frantic cries of a man who can feel that their last minute is almost up. Gordon leaned over and rocked the body under him until the car’s shocks started to squeak in a rhythm that matched Dean‘s gasp for air. This boy was already gone, all Gordon had to do was sink in deeper, angle his hips just right until Dean’s voice caught again in the back of his throat and stayed there, and then one, two, three...

Nice and slow this time, just like it sounded when Dean started coming and didn’t stop until Gordon smothered all that bliss with a kiss. He pressed fingers and thumb into the line of Dean’s jaw to swallow each and every moan as he finished the boy off with his other hand.

Gordon could hear his own heart pounding when Dean finally quieted down. “Thank you,” he sincerely told him. “Thank you very much.”

“Shit,” Dean breathed into Gordon‘s mouth. “L-Lemme go.”

He pressed his mouth to Dean’s lower lip one more time before wiping a messy hand across the thigh of Dean’s jeans. Panting for breath, Dean slid off the hood and slumped down to his knees on the asphalt. Gordon turned to find a pack of Marlboros in his jacket and take a look at the time.

Flicking the lighter, he watched Dean fumble with his pants and look for the belt. If it hadn’t been Gordon’s very last cigarette he maybe would have offered Dean one. But the other hunter had already refused the proposal that he had given tens times over the course of the evening.

And Gordon knew when to stop asking.















Tags: gordon/dean, nc-17, spn one shot
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