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e_julianaHow The Winchesters Kiss
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e_juliana
Gen, PG
The Winchesters, they are dangerous men. Not for an innocent, but even innocents can be swept up in their wake. But the Winchesters, they also know how to kiss. This is how the Winchesters kiss.
~~~~
Dean tastes of cheap beer and leather, of smoke and tears. He has possibly the most perfect lips for kissing, full but not too soft, able to meet up against yours and arrange themselves for maximum pleasure. His teeth come into play every once in a while, tugging gently, just a tease. He brings his hands up to your jaw, tilting your head to provide better access to your lips, letting his thumb trace along your cheek.
Usually, when Dean comes in for a kiss, he’s just this side of cocky. He knows you want it, knows it’s going to be fun, knows he’s probably going to have your panties down around your ankles by the end of the night, and you’ll love every minute of it. But there are times…
Sometimes – rarely – Dean’s kisses have a hint of desperation to them – please don’t go, please help me live, please make me whole. Sometimes there’s a sorrow to his kissing that even the most dedicated lips can’t take away. And sometimes he’s just so surprised that his bullshit actually worked that he’s like an overgrown puppy, full of glee and slightly clumsy.
~~~~
Sam tastes of sun and sky, of lightning and sulfur. His lips are thinner than his brother’s, more flexible. He also likes touching your face as he kisses you, and his hands are so big that they cup your face from your cheek to your neck. His puppyish demeanor drops away as soon as you start kissing each other, and he somehow manages to arrange it so you’re both comfortable, despite the insane height difference.
Sam always checks for permission before coming in for a kiss. It’s usually just a flicker of his eyes or a raise of his brows, but it’s always there. It’s not something you’d notice normally, but every once in a while…
Sam kisses slowly, as a rule, enjoying every second of it, savoring the taste of you. At least, he’s slow until the passion overtakes him, and then it’s all heat – fire and lust and a determination to make you forget your own name. The thing about Sam’s kisses, though – you never know who the real Sam is, who’s really kissing you.
~~~~
John tastes of ashes and whiskey, of dust and steel. He prefers to put his hand on the nape of your neck, playing with your hair as his lips crush up against yours. His other arm slides around your waist, bringing you in closer, pressing your bodies together.
There’s no prelude, no warning before John comes in for a kiss. Just a flash of heat, and you’re pinned in his arms, happy to be there. The heat can climb up to an inferno before he backs off, leaving you shaking with want. But (and with John, there’s always a but)…
John is untouchable. The fire is real, the need is real, but the deepest parts of his self are walled off, unassailable. He’s calm and self-assured, even in the height of it, and the horizon is always in his eyes.
~~~~
That, my love, is how the Winchesters kiss.
by
e_julianaGen, PG
The Winchesters, they are dangerous men. Not for an innocent, but even innocents can be swept up in their wake. But the Winchesters, they also know how to kiss. This is how the Winchesters kiss.
~~~~
Dean tastes of cheap beer and leather, of smoke and tears. He has possibly the most perfect lips for kissing, full but not too soft, able to meet up against yours and arrange themselves for maximum pleasure. His teeth come into play every once in a while, tugging gently, just a tease. He brings his hands up to your jaw, tilting your head to provide better access to your lips, letting his thumb trace along your cheek.
Usually, when Dean comes in for a kiss, he’s just this side of cocky. He knows you want it, knows it’s going to be fun, knows he’s probably going to have your panties down around your ankles by the end of the night, and you’ll love every minute of it. But there are times…
Sometimes – rarely – Dean’s kisses have a hint of desperation to them – please don’t go, please help me live, please make me whole. Sometimes there’s a sorrow to his kissing that even the most dedicated lips can’t take away. And sometimes he’s just so surprised that his bullshit actually worked that he’s like an overgrown puppy, full of glee and slightly clumsy.
~~~~
Sam tastes of sun and sky, of lightning and sulfur. His lips are thinner than his brother’s, more flexible. He also likes touching your face as he kisses you, and his hands are so big that they cup your face from your cheek to your neck. His puppyish demeanor drops away as soon as you start kissing each other, and he somehow manages to arrange it so you’re both comfortable, despite the insane height difference.
Sam always checks for permission before coming in for a kiss. It’s usually just a flicker of his eyes or a raise of his brows, but it’s always there. It’s not something you’d notice normally, but every once in a while…
Sam kisses slowly, as a rule, enjoying every second of it, savoring the taste of you. At least, he’s slow until the passion overtakes him, and then it’s all heat – fire and lust and a determination to make you forget your own name. The thing about Sam’s kisses, though – you never know who the real Sam is, who’s really kissing you.
~~~~
John tastes of ashes and whiskey, of dust and steel. He prefers to put his hand on the nape of your neck, playing with your hair as his lips crush up against yours. His other arm slides around your waist, bringing you in closer, pressing your bodies together.
There’s no prelude, no warning before John comes in for a kiss. Just a flash of heat, and you’re pinned in his arms, happy to be there. The heat can climb up to an inferno before he backs off, leaving you shaking with want. But (and with John, there’s always a but)…
John is untouchable. The fire is real, the need is real, but the deepest parts of his self are walled off, unassailable. He’s calm and self-assured, even in the height of it, and the horizon is always in his eyes.
~~~~
That, my love, is how the Winchesters kiss.
