With many many thanks to
ETA: ps, this is all
Desired
Sam/Dean, adult, explicit.
Sam rubbed his thumb hard over the edge of the smack, scraping a little with his nail, bright and sharp. "Good?"
"Yeah," Dean said, on a hoarse breath. "Yeah." And it was, jesus, so fucking good, like everything; like everything else he'd asked for.
( Read the story )
no i'm not done with revisions yet. *slinks away to starbucks to write*
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