somnolentblue: statue of a woman from the waist up (Default)
somnolentblue ([personal profile] somnolentblue) wrote in [personal profile] rivkat 2010-04-28 04:38 am (UTC)

I love this so very, very much. It gleefully smashes my OMG!HOT buttons (mmmm, bondage and trust and biting, with hints of breathplay and future gunplay), and it hits my OMG!SAM-N-DEAN buttons. I love the hot like burning nature of the sex, and I also love how Sam and Dean's partnership, trust in each other, and love permeates the fic (the way real partners did, they weren’t making decisions for each other any more, their unspoken communication and being on the same wavelength when they talk). I started reading it with a giggle (angel slippers! L-I-S-A!), and I finished reading it with a grin (although, perhaps, not quite matching the magnitude of Dean's grin at the end).

“I guess they think you’re mine,” he said after a minute. Well, yeah, was Dean’s first reaction. and But if he was blindfolded, that would make it even more obvious that Sam was the one taking care of him, making sure everything went right. I suspect Dean notices more than he lets himself see or gives himself credit for later.

He was having this week’s orgasms and the next’s, following on each other until he was ectoplasm-limp, barely hanging on with his legs while Sam did his best to fuck them into a single creature. The way this sentence is crafted really works for me; the image it creates is fabulous, too.

The shock and joy on Sam’s face was totally worth it. Mostly the shock, though. Didn’t pay to let Sam get complacent, after all. Boys! I like the teasing dynamic and the sheer joy Dean and Sam have found.

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