alchemyalice (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
alchemyalice) wrote2010-03-20 05:04 am
alchemyalice) wrote2010-03-20 05:04 am
Entry tags:
Math for Winners
Title: Math for Winners
Author: Alchemy Alice
Genre/Pairing: Oh god I've written porn. Dean/Gabriel porn, to be exact.
Rating: Hard R
Word Count: ~1,500
Disclaimer: I own nothing; in fact, I would be hard-pressed to own up to this at all.
Summary: In which Dean is good at math. And there's a hot tub. Written for the goddamn kink meme which has apparently corrupted me, and then edited (now with more math wooo). I swear to god, this fandom is a slippery slope of slippery-ness.
Here's the thing: If Dean really thought about it (and no, he totally doesn't, thank you very much), he probably would admit that if he was an angel, he would totally be Gabriel. He wouldn't run away from his family like a fucking coward, but he'd totally magic hot chicks out of nothing and eat chocolate all day. Or pie. Pie all day.
Heh. That would rock.
So he has a certain amount of implicit good will towards the archangel, even if said archangel is an enormous douchebag. Which should make this not so surprising.
Only it really is.
They were down in Miami. Demons were skulking around nightclubs, and so Sam and Dean had followed them south to where Dean was basically getting distracted every half mile by the sheer amount of toned skin getting flaunted on the sidewalks. Christ, and it wasn't even Spring Break.
"Dude, we may need to stay here a couple days."
Sam rolled his eyes. "Fine. But we're getting separate rooms."
And then, the equation was as follows:
Known quantities: Dean = hot. Dean knew this, and was perfectly content with this fact.
Also, apparently Miami = awesome. Because even when you book a fairly cheap single room, there's a hot tub out back to go along with the required pool.
Therefore, additionally, hot tub + Dean = awesome squared.
It's simple math, really. What Dean hadn't counted on, was just how well this quantifiable hotness and awesome fit into a certain archangel’s equation. Namely, Gabriel = Archangel + Trickster = Debauchery with a capital 'D'.
So after the job was done and the demons were properly ganked, Dean sucked down a couple of margaritas and then took the bottle of tequila back with him to settle into the heat of the supplied motel amenity. He needed to loosen some sore muscles and a couple of pulled tendons he hadn't really intended on getting before walking into that one club. He would have picked up a girl to go with the booze, but he didn't really feel like showing off all of the lovely black and blue marks up and down his ribs. There was a time and place for getting cooed over, and right now, all he wanted was that priceless combination of jetting hot water and alcohol burn that he knew equaled the best of comforts. He took a firm swallow straight from the bottle, and closed his eyes.
"Nice job you did back there. I liked the blood under the strobe light effect. Very dramatic."
It was only Dean's ingrained appreciation of alcohol that kept him from spit-taking it into the bubbling water. Instead, he very pointedly swallowed, and then opened his eyes into a glare.
"The hell are you doing here, Gabriel?"
Gabriel raised an eyebrow. He's dressed much the same as Dean, black shorts submerged in the water, shoulders just above the bubbles. "It's Miami. What would I be doing not here?"
"I meant more specifically, here in the jacuzzi."
Dean should've stopped drinking to get on his guard, because hello, Trickster + Archangel = monstrosity of trouble. In the hot tub. With him. But instead, he took another swallow. Fuck it, he deserved it. Even Gabriel said so. Tequila was part of his key equation here.
"Just checking in," Gabriel shrugged. "Seeing how my favorite humans are faring."
"Dude, if we're your favorites, I'd really hate to see what you do to your enemies."
"Aw, Dean-o. I was only trying offer you some advice those times. You've just never benefited from the perks of being my favorite. At least...not yet."
Dean was...too drunk to think too hard about this. His muscles were loosening, Lucifer's minions were nameless ash, and the Miami night was warm and dry. And Gabriel's voice had dropped low with that last phrase, hitting him nicely in time with the jet stream at the base of his spine, rolling and suggestive.
Huh. If there was one known quantity Dean intuitively knew balanced him and Gabriel out, it was the addition of hedonism on both sides. And he always was good at improvising in the presence of new math. Hell, who was he to turn down an archangel, especially one who liked women and chocolate more than the Apocalypse?
His eyelids dropped to half-mast. "Want a drink, then?" he said. It came out a growl.
Gabriel rose and moved through the water, and then he was straddling Dean's lap, his presence light, just a careful press of skin. "Maybe just a taste," he murmured.
Dean placed the bottle on the concrete, making sure it wasn't about to fall, before taking his hand away and placing it at the junction of Gabriel's neck and shoulder. Gabriel watched him intently, long sweeps of his gaze traveling between his face and the rest of him beneath the surface. Like everything else, it was warm and provocative, and Dean was just about willing to accept anything with those two adjectives behind it at this point. "All right," he said, nodding. "A taste, then."
Gabriel kissed him. It didn't start off soft or exploratory--it was direct and sharp with the clash of teeth and the wide sweep of a nimble tongue along the roof of Dean's mouth, collecting traces of tequila and then past that, a sample of just Dean. Gabriel hummed into the contact, and settled himself more fully on Dean's lap, the stream of the water parting around them both.
"You," he observed, moving his lips down and along Dean's jaw line, "Are far too pretty to be ignored, my friend."
"Oh yeah?" Dean replied, fisting one wet hand in the archangel's hair and leaning into the touch. "Well, I always did like attention."
Gabriel hummed again, this time in approval. "Also," he said conversationally, and wow, his hand might have started at Dean's shoulder but now it's dipping lower and lower, "I've been giving what you said some thought."
"What'd I say?" Dean asked hazily, sliding his hips forward toward the end of the bench to give Gabriel better access.
"That I should stand up to my family. I didn't agree, for a while." Gabriel's hand dipped beneath the waistband of Dean's shorts, and math suddenly escaped Dean altogether. "But then I started tallying all of the things I like about the human race, all the things that'd get lost once Lucifer's been cast down and there’s Paradise on Earth."
"Candy," Dean suggested, gripping Gabriel's waist as he tipped his head so his lips could close over the sensitive skin behind Gabriel's ear.
"That. And sex," Gabriel hissed, and he took hold of Dean almost aggressively, enough for Dean to suck his own breath in sharply. Gabriel stroked upward firmly, and continued, "And I'm starting to think that these things would really be worth keeping. You know, in the long run."
"So what you're saying is," and Dean dipped his own hand lower, down the curve of Gabriel before pressing questioningly inward. "You just need incentive? Maybe a reminder of why we're worth keeping around?"
"Something like that," Gabriel agreed a bit hoarsely, pushing back into Dean's grip as Dean thrust forward with hips and hands both.
Dean lifted him up, pulling off his shorts at the same time, using the streaming water and the archangel's smaller size against him, and lined himself up carefully. He looked up at Gabriel, whose eyes were dark and wide and intent. He said, voice dry and gravelly, "I can think of worse reasons to whore myself."
He loosened his grip, and Gabriel sank down painstakingly slowly onto him. He was white-hot on the inside, tight and smooth, and Dean exhaled harshly before grabbing onto the archangel’s earlobe with his teeth and biting down. He felt more than heard Gabriel growl in response and begin moving slowly against his hips' instinctive canting. He shifted slightly, and felt a distinctive rub, and then Gabriel shuddered.
"Positive reinforcement is always appreciated," the archangel whispered, before sinking his own teeth into the tendons in Dean’s neck.
Dean practically purred, though he would never admit it, and thrust more sharply, earning a sharp intake of breath and a tightening around him that made him gasp. Roughly, he said, "Gabriel..."
"Right there. One more."
He pushed, and Gabriel threw his head back, cursing, and suddenly he was so unbearably tight that Dean went right along with him, his vision whiting out for a brief seizing moment. He pulled the archangel's body to him, keeping them flush as they both rode it out. Gabriel's arms were vice-like around his shoulders, his own wrapped around Gabriel's waist. Dean inhaled, taking in the smell of chlorine and wet skin and a vague lingering sweetness, feeling Gabriel breathe in stuttering gasps against him.
"I take it you may need these reminders more than once?" he said, when he could form words again.
"I might, yes," Gabriel agreed.
Sex = Saving the World. That was definitely a whole new equation Dean could get behind.
Author: Alchemy Alice
Genre/Pairing: Oh god I've written porn. Dean/Gabriel porn, to be exact.
Rating: Hard R
Word Count: ~1,500
Disclaimer: I own nothing; in fact, I would be hard-pressed to own up to this at all.
Summary: In which Dean is good at math. And there's a hot tub. Written for the goddamn kink meme which has apparently corrupted me, and then edited (now with more math wooo). I swear to god, this fandom is a slippery slope of slippery-ness.
Here's the thing: If Dean really thought about it (and no, he totally doesn't, thank you very much), he probably would admit that if he was an angel, he would totally be Gabriel. He wouldn't run away from his family like a fucking coward, but he'd totally magic hot chicks out of nothing and eat chocolate all day. Or pie. Pie all day.
Heh. That would rock.
So he has a certain amount of implicit good will towards the archangel, even if said archangel is an enormous douchebag. Which should make this not so surprising.
Only it really is.
They were down in Miami. Demons were skulking around nightclubs, and so Sam and Dean had followed them south to where Dean was basically getting distracted every half mile by the sheer amount of toned skin getting flaunted on the sidewalks. Christ, and it wasn't even Spring Break.
"Dude, we may need to stay here a couple days."
Sam rolled his eyes. "Fine. But we're getting separate rooms."
And then, the equation was as follows:
Known quantities: Dean = hot. Dean knew this, and was perfectly content with this fact.
Also, apparently Miami = awesome. Because even when you book a fairly cheap single room, there's a hot tub out back to go along with the required pool.
Therefore, additionally, hot tub + Dean = awesome squared.
It's simple math, really. What Dean hadn't counted on, was just how well this quantifiable hotness and awesome fit into a certain archangel’s equation. Namely, Gabriel = Archangel + Trickster = Debauchery with a capital 'D'.
So after the job was done and the demons were properly ganked, Dean sucked down a couple of margaritas and then took the bottle of tequila back with him to settle into the heat of the supplied motel amenity. He needed to loosen some sore muscles and a couple of pulled tendons he hadn't really intended on getting before walking into that one club. He would have picked up a girl to go with the booze, but he didn't really feel like showing off all of the lovely black and blue marks up and down his ribs. There was a time and place for getting cooed over, and right now, all he wanted was that priceless combination of jetting hot water and alcohol burn that he knew equaled the best of comforts. He took a firm swallow straight from the bottle, and closed his eyes.
"Nice job you did back there. I liked the blood under the strobe light effect. Very dramatic."
It was only Dean's ingrained appreciation of alcohol that kept him from spit-taking it into the bubbling water. Instead, he very pointedly swallowed, and then opened his eyes into a glare.
"The hell are you doing here, Gabriel?"
Gabriel raised an eyebrow. He's dressed much the same as Dean, black shorts submerged in the water, shoulders just above the bubbles. "It's Miami. What would I be doing not here?"
"I meant more specifically, here in the jacuzzi."
Dean should've stopped drinking to get on his guard, because hello, Trickster + Archangel = monstrosity of trouble. In the hot tub. With him. But instead, he took another swallow. Fuck it, he deserved it. Even Gabriel said so. Tequila was part of his key equation here.
"Just checking in," Gabriel shrugged. "Seeing how my favorite humans are faring."
"Dude, if we're your favorites, I'd really hate to see what you do to your enemies."
"Aw, Dean-o. I was only trying offer you some advice those times. You've just never benefited from the perks of being my favorite. At least...not yet."
Dean was...too drunk to think too hard about this. His muscles were loosening, Lucifer's minions were nameless ash, and the Miami night was warm and dry. And Gabriel's voice had dropped low with that last phrase, hitting him nicely in time with the jet stream at the base of his spine, rolling and suggestive.
Huh. If there was one known quantity Dean intuitively knew balanced him and Gabriel out, it was the addition of hedonism on both sides. And he always was good at improvising in the presence of new math. Hell, who was he to turn down an archangel, especially one who liked women and chocolate more than the Apocalypse?
His eyelids dropped to half-mast. "Want a drink, then?" he said. It came out a growl.
Gabriel rose and moved through the water, and then he was straddling Dean's lap, his presence light, just a careful press of skin. "Maybe just a taste," he murmured.
Dean placed the bottle on the concrete, making sure it wasn't about to fall, before taking his hand away and placing it at the junction of Gabriel's neck and shoulder. Gabriel watched him intently, long sweeps of his gaze traveling between his face and the rest of him beneath the surface. Like everything else, it was warm and provocative, and Dean was just about willing to accept anything with those two adjectives behind it at this point. "All right," he said, nodding. "A taste, then."
Gabriel kissed him. It didn't start off soft or exploratory--it was direct and sharp with the clash of teeth and the wide sweep of a nimble tongue along the roof of Dean's mouth, collecting traces of tequila and then past that, a sample of just Dean. Gabriel hummed into the contact, and settled himself more fully on Dean's lap, the stream of the water parting around them both.
"You," he observed, moving his lips down and along Dean's jaw line, "Are far too pretty to be ignored, my friend."
"Oh yeah?" Dean replied, fisting one wet hand in the archangel's hair and leaning into the touch. "Well, I always did like attention."
Gabriel hummed again, this time in approval. "Also," he said conversationally, and wow, his hand might have started at Dean's shoulder but now it's dipping lower and lower, "I've been giving what you said some thought."
"What'd I say?" Dean asked hazily, sliding his hips forward toward the end of the bench to give Gabriel better access.
"That I should stand up to my family. I didn't agree, for a while." Gabriel's hand dipped beneath the waistband of Dean's shorts, and math suddenly escaped Dean altogether. "But then I started tallying all of the things I like about the human race, all the things that'd get lost once Lucifer's been cast down and there’s Paradise on Earth."
"Candy," Dean suggested, gripping Gabriel's waist as he tipped his head so his lips could close over the sensitive skin behind Gabriel's ear.
"That. And sex," Gabriel hissed, and he took hold of Dean almost aggressively, enough for Dean to suck his own breath in sharply. Gabriel stroked upward firmly, and continued, "And I'm starting to think that these things would really be worth keeping. You know, in the long run."
"So what you're saying is," and Dean dipped his own hand lower, down the curve of Gabriel before pressing questioningly inward. "You just need incentive? Maybe a reminder of why we're worth keeping around?"
"Something like that," Gabriel agreed a bit hoarsely, pushing back into Dean's grip as Dean thrust forward with hips and hands both.
Dean lifted him up, pulling off his shorts at the same time, using the streaming water and the archangel's smaller size against him, and lined himself up carefully. He looked up at Gabriel, whose eyes were dark and wide and intent. He said, voice dry and gravelly, "I can think of worse reasons to whore myself."
He loosened his grip, and Gabriel sank down painstakingly slowly onto him. He was white-hot on the inside, tight and smooth, and Dean exhaled harshly before grabbing onto the archangel’s earlobe with his teeth and biting down. He felt more than heard Gabriel growl in response and begin moving slowly against his hips' instinctive canting. He shifted slightly, and felt a distinctive rub, and then Gabriel shuddered.
"Positive reinforcement is always appreciated," the archangel whispered, before sinking his own teeth into the tendons in Dean’s neck.
Dean practically purred, though he would never admit it, and thrust more sharply, earning a sharp intake of breath and a tightening around him that made him gasp. Roughly, he said, "Gabriel..."
"Right there. One more."
He pushed, and Gabriel threw his head back, cursing, and suddenly he was so unbearably tight that Dean went right along with him, his vision whiting out for a brief seizing moment. He pulled the archangel's body to him, keeping them flush as they both rode it out. Gabriel's arms were vice-like around his shoulders, his own wrapped around Gabriel's waist. Dean inhaled, taking in the smell of chlorine and wet skin and a vague lingering sweetness, feeling Gabriel breathe in stuttering gasps against him.
"I take it you may need these reminders more than once?" he said, when he could form words again.
"I might, yes," Gabriel agreed.
Sex = Saving the World. That was definitely a whole new equation Dean could get behind.
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