Wincest Fic Recs
A few of the string of utterly hot Sam/Dean fic I've come *ahem* across lately. Because the wincest, you guys? The wincest is some of the best and raunchiest porn to be found anywhere. (This fandom has amazing fic! I'm even starting to read gen!! Dudes, I do not do gen.) But this recs list is of teh p0rny. randombastary, you'll love this first fic, even if there are some wincesty bits. Awesome and amazing, incredible tone and voice and use of language. So hardcore. It'll blow you away, which is why I'm reccing to you despite the wincest.
"Stop me if you've heard this one. Guy walks into a bar, rolls his leather off his shoulders and hands it to his brother, the tall guy coming in just a half-step behind him. Okay, it's not so much a bar and more of a roadhouse, a sawdust on the floor kind of place, like you'd expect to see Sam Elliot any second, you know? Tractor trailer parking out back, no light beer, you know. Okay, so. Guy walks into a roadhouse, sheds his leather and hands it to his brother, the brother could be ten kinds of dangerous if he was in the mood, but he's not the one with the faint shimmer of crazy in his eyes, he's not the one rolling up his sleeves as he makes his way to the jukebox. Guy takes his wallet out, fishes out a tenspot, feeds it in and the thing spits it out. He smoothes it on the glass, tries it facing the other way; the thing eats it and tells him he's got twenty plays for his money, so he scrolls through the tracks for about a minute or five and then he punches in the same number twenty times. The dudes in the roadhouse stop finding it funny around about the third, fourth run through, and the guy's just leaning back on the juke, smoking a cigarette with his left hand and working the heavy hunk of silver on his right middle finger with his thumb. Guy grins at his brother, the brother's at the bar with a bottle of MGD at his lips, and when Kenny sings again the best that you can hope for is to die in your sleep, they both cock their heads and smile. Chairs scrape and boots scuff, and that grin gets wider; the guy crooks his fingers, c'mon, c'mon. Who wants some? The brother takes another long pull off his bottle, says loud and clear: "I got fifty on him."
Bitches, if I could write like that, I'd be happier than Andy with a fresh bongload. WAYYY happier. And from here on down, it's pretty much unrepentant porn! In-character, well-written porn...because that's how I roll.
This one's only R-rated. Sue me, it's fabulous. "Everybody called them the Wolfpack – every hunter, at least." Wolfpack
Dean loses the power of speech, but is no less...well, Dean: Speechless
Weecest, Sam's 15. "Dean wished he knew how to make him stop. More than that, worse, he wished he knew how to want to make Sam stop." You and Me On Milk Cartons