[ New Fic: Always We Make Love With Our Hearts ] - Sam/Dean, NC17

[mickeym]

Title: Always We Make Love With Our Hearts
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~4400
Spoilers: None I can think of.
Warnings: Note the pairing; also, spanking
Disclaimer: I don't own them, and I'm not making any money off them. I think they'd probably have more fun if I did own them.
A/N: This is shotofjack's Sweet Charity story. It's set in the world I created for the boys in A Medley of Extemporanea, but I don't think it's necessary to have read that; it stands okay on its own.

This story would never have gotten done, and become what it did, without a lot of encouragement from some very special ladies: aynslee, rivers_bend, and thenyxie. They encouraged, suggested, held my hand when I was all 'ahhh! It's not working!', and provided awesome betas after I finished. Thank you all so much. *mwah*

shotofjack, I really hope this is to your liking :) Enjoy!







Sometimes we make love with our eyes.
Sometimes we make love with our hands.
Sometimes we make love with our bodies.
Always we make love with our hearts.
~Author Unknown



Sunrise over the lake is something Dean isn't up very often to see. It's nice out here on the deck, coffee steaming beside him and the yellow-gold-red streaking the sky.

"A guy could get used to this," he tells Muttley, rubbing the dog behind his ears. Muttley snorts in his sleep, one ear twitching and flicking spastically.

"Any guy but you," comes a sleepy voice behind him. The screen door creaks when Sam pushes it open, and Dean makes a mental note to oil it later.

"I'm up, though, aren't I? And before you, even." Dean shifts over enough to let Sam sit beside him on the top step and hands over the second cup of coffee -- three sugars and a quarter cream, just the way Sam likes to drink it.

"And it's totally tilted my world on its axis." Sam nudges Dean's shoulder with his as he takes the cup. "Thanks. Aren't you supposed to be getting ready for work?"

"Nah. I took the day off."

"You did?" Even the yawn at the tail end of the question can't hide Sam's surprise, and Dean laughs.

"Hey, it's not every day my baby brother turns thirty." He can't say 'brother' anywhere but here, in the privacy of their cabin, but Dean's made it a point to say it at least once a day, every day of the past week.

"Dude." Sam hides his face behind the coffee cup, but not before Dean sees the faint flush of red across his cheeks. "Enough with that already, huh?"

"Thirty's a cake-walk, Sammy." Dean bumps against Sam. "You should try edging up on thirty-five."

"You've got months to go before you get there, Dean."

"I'm just sayin'."

"And I'm sayin', give it all a rest, okay? God, you're like a broken record."

This birthday is really hitting Sam hard, and Dean's pretty much in the dark as to why. Thirty'd been a pretty sweet year for him--second chance at, well, everything: life, a job, a cabin, and Sam.

"Did you really take the day off?" Sam shifts a little closer and leans his head on Dean's shoulder. It's kind of sweet, in a sickening, too-much-sugar-gonna-puke sort of way.

"I really did. I'm not as young as I used to be, either," Dean flexes his arm and grins. "Figured it was gonna take me all day to deliver the birthday spanking."

"Oh, hell, no." Well, that gets Sam up and off his shoulder. Up and off the step, even, backing away with a horrified expression on his face. "I'm not seven, Dean. Or nine, ten, or fifteen. Or eighteen."

"I've noticed." Dean puts as much of a leer into his voice and expression as he can manage, then sticks his tongue out when Sam rolls his eyes. "Those were good years, Sammy!"

"Maybe for you--you weren't the one getting your ass smacked." Sam's taken refuge on the lounge chair, eyeing Dean warily as he sits down.

Sam's seventh birthday, Dean gave him seven smacks on the butt -- through his jeans, even, it's not like it was bare-assed -- after Sam licked all the frosting off the tops of all seven (one for each year) cupcakes. "Just got what you deserved, man. You were the one who decided not to share your birthday cake," Dean says, shifting around so he can see Sam's face. Half the fun of winding Sam up is watching his expressions.

"And the other birthdays?" Sam raises an eyebrow. "What was your excuse -- I'm sorry, your reason -- for those?"

"Every little brother needs a good smackdown once in a while." Dean grins. "You just happened to get them on your birthday, those particular years." Though the one on Sam's eighteenth birthday hadn't been so much for smacking down his younger brother as a not-quite-identified-but-still-lurking interest in Sam's ass. But no one besides Dean ever needed to know that.

He's kind of itching to get his hands on that ass right now, come to think of it.

Sam obviously reads Dean's mind, because he scoots back further on the lounge chair and scowls. "No, no, and no."

"You're no fun," Dean complains over the rim of his mug. He's going to need a refill pretty quickly. And breakfast. And Sam.

Heh. He's always going to need Sam.

"Wasn't what you were saying last night." Sam eyes him over the edge of his own mug. "You didn't really take the whole day off just 'cos it's my birthday--did you?"

Dean nods. "Told you--it's not every day my baby brother turns thirty. Figured we'd find something to do to celebrate the occasion."

Sam's eyes darken, but it's not the hot dark Dean was hoping for; instead, it's the dark of thinking-too-much-and-feeling-guilty. Dean moves from the step to crouch down beside the lounge chair.

"Sam?"

"Just--" Sam waves his free hand vaguely. "I honestly didn't--didn't think I'd make it. To thirty. The other psychics didn't, and Mom didn't, and--" He cuts himself off by taking another noisy swallow of coffee, but Dean hears the pain -- the guilt -- in the words both spoken and unspoken.

I made it. I survived.

Sam won't ever say the words, but he thinks them. Dean knows he does, because he's thought them about their Dad, when they finally figured out that Dean lived in John's place. It's the whole why me? thing that never gets answered satisfactorily.

Sometimes Dean wishes he was better with things like comforting and reassuring. Sure, he did fine when Sam was a little kid, but the older they both got, the more difficult it became. A lot of it's him -- he worked so hard to put up a tough, hard-as-nails exterior to keep shit from getting through that even now, after a handful of years of Sam pulling Those Talks out of him on a fairly routine basis, it's still difficult.

"I didn't think I would either," he says finally, trying to keep his voice low and soothing. "Wouldn't have, except--you wouldn't let go." Dean rubs one hand over Sam's thigh, trying to smooth out some of the tension he feels there. "It's okay, Sammy. That--I'm glad you're thirty. 'Cos you're still here. You're--" With me, he finishes silently, but somehow, like always, Sam seems to hear. Or just to know.

Sam smiles faintly and leans in to brush a kiss over Dean's mouth. "Yeah," he says. "I am."

Anything Dean might say to that gets swallowed up in the heat of that kiss; Sam's tongue creamy-sweet and bitter from the sugared coffee, slicking around inside Dean's mouth, chasing the flavor there. He falls forward on his knees, tugging on Sam's t-shirt to bring him closer, trying to telegraph without words what he's feeling, the comfort he wants to give.

"Come back to bed with me," Sam whispers. "Please."

"Really want to." Dean bites at Sam's lower lip, then licks over it when Sam hisses. "Wanna spank you, too. Say yes, Sammy, c'mon."

"Dean--" Sam's cheeks are flushed; spots of red brushed over his cheekbones, and his eyes are dark, pupils wide with growing desire. Dean dips his head and bites at the side of Sam's neck, sucking heat to the surface and smiling when Sam shivers in his arms. "God, you don't play fair."

"Never," Dean promises, and sucks again. "C'mon, you know you want me to."

Sam makes a noise that could be either assent or dissent, but shifts himself up off the lounge chair, large hand clutching at Dean's shoulders as if he can pull him up with just his will. Dean leans in closer to Sam and nuzzles at the thin strip of skin showing where Sam's t-shirt's ridden up.

"Dean. God." Sam's voice is hoarse, a little raw, and the sound he makes when Dean licks around his navel is pretty close to a whimper.

"Just 'Dean' is fine." Dean bites at Sam's stomach; drops kisses over the barely-there marks. Sam's getting hard, dick slowly pressing outward against the thin pajama pants he's wearing.

Sam laughs breathlessly. "I was trying to get up--"

"From here, looks like you're getting up just fine." Dean nuzzles in, rubbing his cheek against Sam's erection, laughing softly when Sam clutches a little harder at his shoulders. He reaches around and rubs at Sam's ass, smacks lightly once and snorts when Sam gasps. Another smack, harder this time, makes Sam shift forward. Dean mutters, "Yeah, thought so," and delivers a third one.

Sam's gonna look awfully good, laid out on their bed, his bare ass red with Dean's handprints.

It would be really easy to push Sam back onto the lounge chair and just have at it out here. Inside will be better, though, where they can take their time. Where Dean can spank Sam until Sam's sobbing for it, begging in a hungry, rough voice for Dean to fuck him.

Dean rubs his face once more against Sam's erection, his own body tightening with pleasure when it throbs beneath the fabric. His knees creak a little when he pushes to his feet, but it's forgotten when Sam pulls him close and just takes, too desperate to be called a kiss, his tongue slick and hot as he fucks into Dean's mouth.

"Bedroom, now," Dean growls, stumbling backward toward the door. Sam follows, only releasing Dean enough for them to navigate through the cabin without actually hurting themselves.

The bed's still messy and unmade, quilts spilling to the floor on Sam's side in a riot of blues and browns, huge squashy pillows piled all around. It's so fucking domestic, and Dean really kind of loves it.

Dean pushes Sam down onto the bed and follows him, loving the way Sam feels beneath him and against him. He's all hard muscle and flat planes, but he's warm, soft skin over it too, and he's curving up to meet Dean kiss for kiss, huge hands spreading over Dean's back to hold him close.

"Wanna," Dean begins, mouthing along Sam's jaw. Sam shivers when Dean nips at his neck and then his ear. "Wanna spank you, get your ass red and hot, until you're wiggling from it."

"Dean--"

"Shh, not done yet." Dean rocks down against Sam and brushes another kiss across his mouth, slow and sweet, tongue just teasing at Sam's lips. "Gonna rub that heat into you, Sammy, lick and kiss it 'til my mouth's just as hot. Then I'm gonna spread you open and rim that sweet little hole until you're open and wet and begging for my cock."

Sam does a full-body shudder and Dean feels the hard throb his dick makes, even with two layers of cloth in between. He laughs, low and dirty, and bites at Sam's ear again before whispering, "I wonder which part of that's making you hotter?"

Sam grabs Dean's head and pulls him back in for another kiss; licks words into his mouth. "Guess you'll just have to start at the beginning and figure it out, huh?"

And that's his Sammy--toppy little bitch, even when he's on the bottom.

Dean laughs and shifts up off the bed, maybe posing a bit as he strips off his t-shirt, because Sam is totally watching him, eyes hot and dark. "Like what you see?"

Sam snorts. "I'd like it better if it were over here, rather than over there."

"Bossy bitch." Dean tosses his shirt toward the closet and pounces back onto the bed, landing on his hands and knees over Sam. "Get your shirt off."

"Who's bossy?" But Sam reaches to shuck the shirt up and over his head while Dean tugs Sam's pajama pants down his legs.

He presses a kiss to the tattoo curling around Sam's hip, licking once over the dark lines before reaching behind him to toss the pants away.

"I’m the older brother--I'm supposed to be." Sam's dick is gorgeous fully erect: flushed and swollen, tip slick with pre-come. Dean strokes one finger up the underside, feeling the heat and the throb. His own dick echoes the throb, trapped inside his sweats. Sam hisses softly when Dean drags his fingertip across the tip of his cock, smearing the slickness. "Already leaking," he says quietly and leans to lick it up.

Sam arches upward with a low sound that hits Dean square in the gut. It's raw and hungry, and Dean wants to hear it again. He laps at Sam's dick, tongue sliding easily over the smooth, velvety-soft skin, then licks downward toward the base. Sam's natural scent is stronger here, clean sweat and musk, tangy salt and the ripe, heavier scent of sex from last night.

There's that sound again, pulled from Sam like it's the best kind of pain he's ever felt. Dean cups Sam's balls and rolls them gently while he licks and sucks, until Sam's arching upward, a litany of breathy sounds pouring from his mouth.

The sounds change from breathless porn to frustrated to pissed off when Dean pulls off and backs up, wiping at his mouth. He smacks Sam's hip. "Damn, Sammy. Should wash your mouth out with soap."

Sam glares at him. "It's not nice to tease."

"It is if the delivery's good." Dean smacks Sam's hip again. "Roll over, birthday boy, and get up on your hands and knees."

Sam gives him a Look, then rolls. "Aren't you supposed to put me over your knee?"

Dean laughs. "Think you'd fit over my knee?" Sam really has a fine, fine ass. Dean rubs a hand over it; lets his fingers tickle down in the crack between cheeks. "You wanna lean up against the wall, instead?"

"I don't--" Sam stops and licks his lips. "Nah, this is fine. Just--ow!" The first smack reverberates around them, a sharp crack that's loud in the quiet morning.

"Just getting your attention," Dean says, rubbing his fingers over the red-on-white that's risen. He taps gently against Sam's right cheek, then again, a little harder. "Count 'em off."

Sam jerks at the next blow, stuttering out, "O-one."

Two through five get nothing more than a hiss and the number; six through twelve Sam counts off in a raw voice, each word clipped a little at the end. He presses back against Dean's hand when Dean stops to rub the heat in, fingers and palm stinging already, not even halfway in. He presses his fingers down into the cleft between reddening cheeks and strokes over Sam's hole gently. Sam sucks in a rough breath at the first touch of Dean's mouth to his ass.

"How's--is it--"

"Pretty warm," Dean says quietly, lips tracing the words into the red marks. "Looks good. Feel good?"

The tips of Sam's ears are red, and Dean hardly can understand the mumble, but he knows it's 'yes'. He smiles and presses one more kiss to warm skin and draws back.

"We left off at twelve," he says, and brings his hand down sharply, increasing the force.

"Thirteen," Sam groans, shifting minutely. He counts off fourteen, fifteen and sixteen, then pants, "God, you're not really doing thirty, are you?"

Dean rubs over the whole of Sam's ass; it's getting nicely warm, verging on hot. Dean's throbbing inside his sweats, dick ready to bust through the fabric. "I said it was a birthday spanking. One for each year, Sammy."

"I hate you." The words sound like they're being forced out; each one bitten off and rough along the edges, but at the same time, Sam's rubbing his ass back against Dean's hand, his breathing fast and harsh.

"Yeah, I can tell." Dean keeps his voice even; doesn't even crack a smile when Sam twists to look over his shoulder. "We're halfway there, man. You can take the rest."

Dean doesn't stop rubbing Sam's ass, spreading the heat over, pressing it into him. The way Sam's moving under his touch makes Dean hungry to feel his whole body pressed against Sam's; hungry to feel all that heat burning into him.

"God." Sam groans, a low, thick sound that's all sex, his whole body shaking and shuddering, and Dean has his hand in the air, bringing it down hard and fast before he's had time to register he's moving. Sam makes the same sound, so raw and needy and fucking hungry, that Dean's surprised he's not coming in his pants just from hearing it. "Seventeen."

He smacks Sam over and over, listening over the staccato beat pounding in his ears to Sam's voice, to the numbers. Ticks off eighteen through twenty-five, and Christ his hand is on fire. Just like Sam's ass and upper thighs.

Sam's arching backward now, meeting each blow straight on. He shifts right after twenty-seven, dropping down onto his chest and folded arms, ass up in the air and cock hanging thick and heavy between his legs.

Dean takes a moment to shake the cramp out of his hand and arm, and stares down at Sam, head down and ass up, his entire body quivering in…anticipation? Need? Want?

"Fucking gorgeous like this," Dean breathes, and lays the last three on Sam, fast and hard. He hears the hitch in Sam's breathing; hears it expand to a low sob when he rubs his hands over the red, hot skin. It's hard to tell where the heat of his hands stops and the heat of Sam's ass begins, but he's going to do his best to figure it out. "Should see it, Sammy." Dean moves in closer, kneeling onto the bed right behind Sam. "Cherry red, can't even see separate marks any more. Just--red. So fucking red, and hot--heat's just pouring off you."

"T-touch me, Jesus, Dean." Sam's voice wobbles, and his breath catches in his throat again, pulled out as a whimper when Dean leans in and licks over the left cheek, pausing to kiss and suck randomly. Dean reaches between Sam's legs to stroke his dick, sticky and wet, and--

"Fuck." Dean strokes Sam slowly; he's hard as a rock, but. "You fucking came from this, didn't you?" Sam makes a soft sound and pushes forward into Dean's hand. "Didn't you?"

"Yeah. God. I just--it hurts, but it's good, and I couldn't--" Sam shudders when Dean speeds up his strokes, moving into Dean's hand, then back to rub against Dean.

Christ. Christ. He just wailed the shit out of his brother, and Sam fucking came from it.

"Don't do it again, 'til I'm fucking you," he growls, giving Sam's dick one last squeeze. Sam chokes out something that sounds like agreement, then moans when Dean moves in to nuzzle. He knows it has to hurt -- he hasn't shaved yet today, and at the very least Sam's gotta be sensitive now -- probably sore as hell, actually.

Sam's trembling increases when Dean bites into the hot, hot flesh, teeth scoring lightly. He sucks where he bites, then licks over it, lapping at the heat as if he can absorb it into himself.

Each taste of Sam is bursting with hot, sizzling on his tongue like cinnamon gum. Dean follows the heat, licking a swirling pattern that widens, then narrows down until he's reached the cleft between Sam's asscheeks. Sam moans when Dean grasps his cheeks and spreads them; his moans turn into guttural sounds when Dean touches his tongue to the small, puckered opening.

Dean licks Sam slowly, savoring the taste and the sounds his brother's making. He describes small circles, quick flicks of his tongue until Sam's rocking back to meet each one, low grunts and snarls mixed with whimpers and sighs. Dean spreads him wider, feeling the burn against his fingers, and presses his tongue against Sam's hole, shuddering when the muscle gives just a little. He presses over and over, listening to the melody of words and sounds Sam's making.

"Taste good, man," Dean mutters, dragging his hand across his mouth. He wets two fingers in his mouth and presses them in, body tightening with arousal at the way Sam just opens for them. The easy way his body accepts Dean's. "Feel good. Gonna feel awesome around my dick."

He fucks Sam slow with his fingers, wishing he could draw it out even longer. Sam's already come once, the little bastard, but Dean hasn't. His dick is going to break off if he doesn't get to fuck something and soon.

"Enough, God--fuck me, Dean, please." Sam's voice is strained, rough; he's clenching his fingers in the sheets, knuckles white against the dark colors. "Need you inside--" He gasps when Dean shifts his fingers and from the way he growls and tightens down Dean knows he found Sam's prostate. He strokes over it gently, teasingly, until Sam's panting and groaning, fucking himself backward. "Dean--"

"That's it, Sammy. Fuck yourself on my fingers. So fucking hot for it, body opening up for me."

It's awkward, working his sweats down with one hand, but Dean's nothing if not determined, and he gets them down over his thighs before he has to pull away from the siren heat of Sam's body to finish pushing them off. Sam whines, low and frustrated, and Dean laughs and gives him a gentle slap to the hip.

"Easy, tiger. Gimme a minute, yeah?" It's clichéd, but they keep the lube in the nightstand, or sometimes stashed between mattress and box springs. Somewhere handy, easy to reach quickly. Like now.

"Easy for you to say," Sam starts, then shivers when Dean trails cool, slick fingers over his cheeks and down to his hole. "Dean."

"You're the one got his rocks off already." And god, even just thinking about how that happened makes Dean a little dizzy, because--holy fuck. Sam got off on spanking.

But then there's nothing left to say or think or anything else, because Dean's pressing up against Sam, pressing inward, and Sam yields so sweetly, muscles relaxing and letting Dean push in; one smooth stroke that seats him completely, surrounding him in tight, slick heat.

He lets the pleasure roll through him in warm, rich waves; lets it out in the form of a low, rumbling groan. Sam responds in kind, body flexing around Dean's, their whispers of sound shivering all around them.

They're connected in an endless loop that has Dean in sensory overload, drowning in goodness and hoping he doesn't recover.

Dean shifts back on his haunches, pulling Sam with him and down on to his lap. It's kind of awkward, but it pushes Dean even deeper inside Sam and brings them closer together. Like this he can lean forward and mouth along Sam's shoulders; scrape his teeth over the lines of muscle of Sam's neck. The Eye of Horus beckons, and Dean responds, licking over the smooth lines, tasting salt and skin; feeling the way Sam's muscles shift and move against his tongue.

"'S good, Sam," he mutters, nipping at Sam's ear. "You feel so fucking good."

Sam breathes out something that sounds like, "nnnnhh," and rocks a little, tightening around Dean. They hold like that for what feels like forever, Dean snug inside Sam, body humming with the need to move, but wanting to stay still, to just feel Sam all around him.

"You feel good," Sam finally manages. "All--all of it's good, Dean. I just--I can't--"

"Shhh." Dean slides his hands up and down Sam's chest, rubbing over the scars on his abdomen, then lower to take Sam's dick into his hand to stroke. "I got you, Sammy. Always got you."

"Need you." The words are nothing more than a whisper, hardly even that. "Dean--I need--"

"Yeah. Yeah, Sam." Dean pushes gently and Sam falls forward, catching himself easily on his hands and knees; takes Dean's weight against him with a grunt. "Gonna give you what you need, always give it to you."

It was slow before; now it's faster, harder, each thrust echoing all the way up inside him, like a sonic boom Dean feels in his bones and his blood.

They have a good rhythm going, the best kind of sex because it's not quick and dirty -- though that's good -- it's built up and built up, and Dean's overflowing with it. They're both overflowing with it. Electricity hums all through him, now, pressure building and stretching.

"Gonna come with me?" He asks Sam, fingers white at the knuckles where he's holding Sam so tightly. "Wanna feel you come around me, c'mon, Sammy." Dean leans in and licks up over the scar laying thick along Sam's spinal column, feeling Sam twitch beneath him. "Jerk off while I fuck you. Wanna feel you come apart--"

"Fuck, Dean." Sam hisses the words and jerks beneath Dean, shaking with need as he jacks himself.

He spasms around Dean with each stroke, and it's too much after all the building and waiting; Dean's been hard for hours, it feels like, all that energy coiling inside him, winding through him, wanting out. He holds on tight and slams into Sam over and over; hears Sam cry out, something wordless and keening just before he clamps down hard around Dean's dick. Dean comes with a long, low groan, thrusting one last time into Sam and holding there, straining forward as everything whites out for a long moment. Everything feels hot and alive, like he's holding onto a live wire as it sears him, and it feels so good it hurts; aches deep inside him in the all the best ways.

Sam's arms give out a moment later, sending both of them sprawling down onto the bed, Dean still inside Sam -- and happy to stay there forever, if he could.

"You're heavy," Sam says a minute later, but he doesn't move. Doesn't even twitch. If anything, he sounds sleepy and sated. Fucked out.

"Mmm." Dean tries shifting off; all that does is allow him to slide out of Sam. He wiggles until he's off Sam enough they can both breathe, and that's all he can manage. "Love you, Sammy," he mutters into Sam's hair. "Happy birthday."

Sam's only answer is a low, "mmhmm", but it's enough.

Sam's ass is still warmer-than-usual when Dean slides his hand down to rest on it. He falls asleep thinking about how he might convince Sam into a spanking again, before his next birthday.

~fin~

Comments

[nu-breed.livejournal.com]

Oh dear LORD.

Kim that's just. Gah. SO hot I can't even SPEAK.

I was bemoaning the lack of Samgetsspanked fic the other day, and this more than makes up for it. GUUUUUUH.

[cormallen.livejournal.com]

Bzuh.
That is just - wow, the level of hotness here is pretty much in the helltastic proportions. Just. Exploding hot.
Sam needs to get spanked more often.

[sunrunnersioned.livejournal.com]

Um...wow I don't have a review...that was yumy..perfect..so fricking hot ^=^

[slytherinblack.livejournal.com]

Oh, god, HOT. Also reminds me of an RP I did with someone, and it's always fun to see someone else on my wavelength. Mmm.

Out of curiousity, is the Eye of Horus the tattoo? Because I've really been thinking about getting one. Hee.

[glimmerella.livejournal.com]

Cold... shower... please!

[deanshot1]

Jesus, that was majorly hot.

Dean spanking Sam 30 times for his birthday, that just made my brain melt.

Loved every single word of it, Thank you so much for sharing.

[runedgirl.livejournal.com]

What a luscious combination of sweet and hot, just perfect! Damn, emphasis on the hot too. Please to write a spanked!Dean at some point, you do it so well. :)

Thanks!
Lynsey

[rivers-bend.livejournal.com]

It's and honour and a privilege to have my name associated with this in any way. Gorgeous work, sweetie. And I've got to second Lyn's vote for spanked Dean if the muse ever strikes you.

*hugs*

[insaneboingo.livejournal.com]

I love this. I am completely in love with 'A Medley' and I was so jazzed to see this in the same world. This is just utterly delicious. I will be rec'ing in my journal. Thank you.

[roguebitch.livejournal.com]

*pours self into bucket*
*puts bucket in the FREEZER*

That was made of hotness. Holy crap. Love it.

[honeymull.livejournal.com]

o_o

I'll, uh...be a second.
Wow, that killed any brain activity I'd had goin' on.

I've always though spanking was pretty hot, right, but not...Not THIS hot. Ye GODS, this was just smoking.
Dean realizing Sam came even before he'd really done anything besides spank him was the best part for me.
I loved it, every word. Thank you!

[littlestarling.livejournal.com]

That was AWESOME!

[clarkco.livejournal.com]

Really nice.

[rejeneration.livejournal.com]

Oooh baby! This is so warm and ... even with the spanking ... safe? I love how the boys relate to one another, like they're just... like they're just _together_ and a _unit_. The dichotomy between Sam feeling his thirtieth and Dean feeling his (almost) thirty-fifth is amazing!!

Spanking... mmmmmmmmm. So touch-stone between them. Not because it's been something Dean's been doing since Sam was seven, but because each time Dean's hand touches Sam, you can almost _feel_ the desire, longing, _LOVE_ that makes them in this universe.

It's hot and it's lovely. -smiling-

[shotofjack.livejournal.com]

I have so much to thank you for - I barely know where to start.

1 - I love that you put it into the Extemp!verse because I love your depiction of the boys in that.
2 - I love Dean enjoying the morning & having Sam's coffee ready.
3 - I beyond love the spanking *blushes* and I have no words for Sam coming just from that *blushes double*
4 - This is sensational: Everything feels hot and alive, like he's holding onto a live wire as it sears him, and it feels so good it hurts; aches deep inside him in the all the best ways.
5 - Your style & flow is remarkable -so gifted.
6 - Oh yes, the whole thing is SMOKIN' HOT. After I read it, I went for a walk in the cold to cool off!

Thank you so very much. You did a tremendous job.

*giant hugs*

[topaz119.livejournal.com]

fzzzzzt.

I am gone. But I died happy.

[saturn92103.livejournal.com]

Holy shit. This short circuited my brain.

[lissa-ann.livejournal.com]

WOW. WOW.

I read both stories. I LOVE stories like this, where they're just with each other and for each other and...just close together. A life outside of hunting is sometimes tough to see, but this captures it so beautifully. Dean showing his soft side, only to his Sammy.

These stories make my heart happy. :)

Very, very nice work.

[cleverthylacine]

Goodness, that's hot. Hot as Sammy's poor ass :)

[whitedestiny1x2.livejournal.com]

Yesssssssssssss.

[zortified.livejournal.com]

I have a feeling it won't be difficult for Dean to talk Sam into being spanked again. At least I hope not. ;-)

[fromyourashes.livejournal.com]

Oh, gosh. Oh, my gosh.

[sammynce.livejournal.com]

This is totally awesome and hot and fuck so hot!
Don't know if you know about the comm [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com] but it will my pleasure if you wante to post it here! This is awesome!Thanks for sharing

[pyroblaze18.livejournal.com]

So I was already over the moon from watching SPN tonight, but now? I am in awe.

I already love this 'verse of yours, and I can read these stories over and over because I just love the domesticated schmoopiness, but this is incredible.

I love the connection they have, and of course, this is INSANELY hot. Mind-blowingly hot.

This is amazing, and your writing is just so wonderful!

[kelly-girl.livejournal.com]

Sweet Jesus, that was hot. I think I loved that Dean was so turned on from Sam coming while getting spanked. Just...wow. Excellent writing.