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For
whiskyinmind, who picked Faith/Dean/Eliot. Not really surprising that this one's NC-17. *g*
Eliot’s on sensory overload almost from the word go. He and Dean have kissed once before, but this time it’s like a promise fulfilled – hungry and full of intent. And Faith clearly has no interest in taking things slow – she has his belt buckle undone, and is busy unbuttoning his jeans before Dean’s trembling fingers figure out the buttons on his shirt.
His cock is already hard when she frees him from his pants, but Eliot manages to retain enough presences of mind to grab a fist-full of Faith’s hair and tug. “You…” he gasps, twisting away from Dean’s mouth, “have too many clothes on.” His hand falls weakly away a moment later; his brain clearly incapable of remembering the English language and processing what Dean is doing to a spot on his neck just under the jawline at the same time.
He manages to grab the hem of Dean’s t-shirt just as Dean finishes unbuttoning Eliot’s long sleeved flannel. “You too,” he growls, balling fists in the cloth and jerking upwards.
Dean grins; stepping back, he skins out of the t-shirt and throws it to one side. Eliot has a moment to realize that Faith has stripped to the waist as well, then his hands are full of bare skin and well defined muscles, and Faith is sliding her mouth over the end of his shaft.
His last conscious thought before he accepts that he’s lost complete control of the situation is that they never bothered to ask…
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Eliot’s on sensory overload almost from the word go. He and Dean have kissed once before, but this time it’s like a promise fulfilled – hungry and full of intent. And Faith clearly has no interest in taking things slow – she has his belt buckle undone, and is busy unbuttoning his jeans before Dean’s trembling fingers figure out the buttons on his shirt.
His cock is already hard when she frees him from his pants, but Eliot manages to retain enough presences of mind to grab a fist-full of Faith’s hair and tug. “You…” he gasps, twisting away from Dean’s mouth, “have too many clothes on.” His hand falls weakly away a moment later; his brain clearly incapable of remembering the English language and processing what Dean is doing to a spot on his neck just under the jawline at the same time.
He manages to grab the hem of Dean’s t-shirt just as Dean finishes unbuttoning Eliot’s long sleeved flannel. “You too,” he growls, balling fists in the cloth and jerking upwards.
Dean grins; stepping back, he skins out of the t-shirt and throws it to one side. Eliot has a moment to realize that Faith has stripped to the waist as well, then his hands are full of bare skin and well defined muscles, and Faith is sliding her mouth over the end of his shaft.
His last conscious thought before he accepts that he’s lost complete control of the situation is that they never bothered to ask…
(no subject)
18/2/12 10:10 (UTC)You? Rock!
*huggles*