MOAR SPAM OF THE WINCEST VARIETY
OKAY SO ONCE UPON A TIME THIS CHICK NAMED justsomehippie WAS ALL LIKE "HEY 'BIE WATCH THIS SHOW IT'S CALLED SUPERNATURAL IT'S KIND OF GAY" AND I WAS LIKE LOL OKAY. AND THEN SHE WAS LIKE "LOL THEY'RE GAY" AND I WAS LIKE "I LIKE THE DUDES AND THE ANGELS TOGETHER MORE" AND SHE TOLD ME I WAS WRONG BUT I DON'T WANNA BE RIGHT.
AND THEN FOR SOME REASON, PROBABLY BECAUSE I MADE HER ANGRY DOING SOMETHING STUPID, I WROTE HER WINCEST PORN. IT'S PRETTY LOLARIOUS CONSIDERING I THINK I WAS ON SEASON TWO WHEN THIS HAPPENED?
For the past few days, Sam has had an evil glint in his eyes that, if Dean knew what caution was, would have him walking on eggshells around his brother. Instead, he plowed on through as normal, and it comes as a surprise to him when he wakes up to Sam sliding into him.
“Shit, Sammy,” Dean grunted as Sam bottomed out, grinning over him and panting already. There was a high flush from his cheeks down to his chest, and Dean wanted to taste it, taste the salt on his skin from the sweat collecting on his brow and his upper lip, in the dip of his collarbone and over the dark ink of his tattoo. When he tried to sit up, though, Sam pushed him back down roughly.
“No, Dean, not today.” His eyes sparkled mischievously and Dean groaned as Sam shoved him a little harder into the bed and thrust up into him hard.
“Shit!” Dean repeated, chewing on his lip and grasping at the tangled sheets. Sam laughed a little, a chuckled whuff of air that brushed the bangs out of his eyes and hit Dean’s forehead, brushed sweetly across his cheek. He moaned, and Sam drove his hips in again, and again, and again until Dean’s world blanked out and he fell softly back to earth, landing lightly on the bed and staring up into Sam’s sweaty face and soft eyes.
“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, Sammy,” he said, gently stroking the hair away from his brother’s face. Sam turned his face into it, pressed a kiss against the heel of Dean’s palm, and whispered softly, “Do you trust me?”
“’Course, Sammy.”
Sam smiled, somehow both sweet and completely evil at the same time, then slowly pulled out of Dean.
“Don’t move,” he said, backing across the room to his duffle bag and watching Dean like a hawk the entire time. Dean pushed himself up onto his elbows and Sam barked, “Don’t move!”
“Jesus, alright Sammy. Don’t get your panties in a knot.” Dean lay back down and sighed, closing his eyes until he felt the bed dip under Sam’s weight again. Sam was smirking and there was a spark of mischief in his eyes that Dean knew better than to trust. Just as he opened his mouth, Sam leaned down to kiss him and slid a hand down between Dean’s legs. And that’s when he felt it.
“Sam?!” Dean said breaking away from his brother and trying to stare down his own body. Sam just shushed him gently and ran a soothing hand over his hair.
“No, no, Dean, it’s okay, it’s all okay. Just let me, I just. I want to, Dean, please.”
Dean swallowed and leaned back; he’d never been able to deny Sam anything, and this...whatever this was, it seemed easy enough. If Sam wanted to get kinky with toys, whatever, Dean could do that.
“Just...” Dean raised his hands to cover his eyes as Sam slowly slid the plug into place, and he had to fight down a groan when he realized it pressed right over his prostate, and any movement, even the slightest twitch, sent a spark of pleasure shooting through him. He swallowed. “Explain?”
Instead, Sam kissed him gently.
“C’mon, get dressed, there’s a place we should be checking out. Six disappearances over the last five years, all in the same area. Sounds right up our alley.”
“What!” Dean pulled his hands away from his face and tried to sit up, but the plug curved into him with the movement and he gave a shout, his dick giving an interested twitch. His entire body spasmed and he fell back, panting. “Oh, oh god, Jesus, fuck.”
Sam shushed him again and helped him slowly sit up, pull on a shirt and a pair of jeans, get his socks on and tie his shoes before helping him to his feet and hustling him out the door. He looked positively gleeful.
“I think I should drive, hmm?” Sam said when they got to the car, and Dean would have protested until he leaned against the car and the plug shifted meaningfully within him, and, well. Dean was pretty interested in not dying today.
“Fine,” he grunted, tossing Sam the keys and going around the passenger side. He got in and sat down and leaned his head against the back of the seat, giving himself a moment to adjust to the new ways the plug was brushing against his insides and his dick was brushing against the inside of his jeans.
“I fucking hate you so much, Sam,” he groaned when he finally found his voice again. “So much. Fucking bitch.”
“Jerk,” Sam replied cheerfully, before starting the car and oh, the vibrations the engine sent running through the car made Dean grab onto the door handle and hold on for dear life.
The ride out of town and onto the highway was quiet except for Dean swearing up a storm with every turn or shift, and Sam seemed to be enjoying it. The bastard had a smile on his face every time Dean looked at him, and Dean really wanted to smack him in the mouth almost as much as he wanted to roll over and beg him for anything to make it stop.
“Sammy,” he finally settled on whining, panting, face flushed, sweating all over. His shirt was sticking to the skin of his back and he wanted to pull it away, but it required shifting forward and he just couldn’t do it. He’d finally found a way to sit that eased up the pressure a little, helped him not want to go fucking crazy, and he was not changing that now.
“Need some help there, Dean?” Sam asked with this fucking...smarmy smirk, and Dean would have told him to fuck off, uttered a witty oneliner, but at that moment Sam jerked off the freeway and onto a little dirt road that was full of bumps and dips and turns, and Dean quickly lost all coherency and descended into nonsense babbling.
“Shit, fuck, fuck, Sammy fuck you oh my god Sammy fuck me please, oh god Sam, so good, so - shit!” Sam hit a particularly bumpy patch and Dean lost it, crying out as he came all over the inside of his jeans.
Dean slumped in his seat as Sam pulled over and put the Impala in park, turning to Dean with that same smirk. He unbuckled his seatbelt and crawled across to Dean, undoing his before yanking him upright and into a kiss.
“Suck me off and I won’t make you wear it back, too,” he said, pulling away with a final nip to Dean’s lower lip. Dean glared up at him but obediently lowered himself onto the floor and started working on Sam’s belt.
He was totally going to get his revenge, and it was going to be long and sweet and fantastic. But as he shifted and the plug, still nestled up inside him and still driving him crazy, shifted along with, he had to bite down a groan and force vengeance to the back of his mind. He had a task to do here, after all, so he put the thoughts of Sam in silk panties and leather chaps aside and obediently bent his head.
AND THEN FOR SOME REASON, PROBABLY BECAUSE I MADE HER ANGRY DOING SOMETHING STUPID, I WROTE HER WINCEST PORN. IT'S PRETTY LOLARIOUS CONSIDERING I THINK I WAS ON SEASON TWO WHEN THIS HAPPENED?
For the past few days, Sam has had an evil glint in his eyes that, if Dean knew what caution was, would have him walking on eggshells around his brother. Instead, he plowed on through as normal, and it comes as a surprise to him when he wakes up to Sam sliding into him.
“Shit, Sammy,” Dean grunted as Sam bottomed out, grinning over him and panting already. There was a high flush from his cheeks down to his chest, and Dean wanted to taste it, taste the salt on his skin from the sweat collecting on his brow and his upper lip, in the dip of his collarbone and over the dark ink of his tattoo. When he tried to sit up, though, Sam pushed him back down roughly.
“No, Dean, not today.” His eyes sparkled mischievously and Dean groaned as Sam shoved him a little harder into the bed and thrust up into him hard.
“Shit!” Dean repeated, chewing on his lip and grasping at the tangled sheets. Sam laughed a little, a chuckled whuff of air that brushed the bangs out of his eyes and hit Dean’s forehead, brushed sweetly across his cheek. He moaned, and Sam drove his hips in again, and again, and again until Dean’s world blanked out and he fell softly back to earth, landing lightly on the bed and staring up into Sam’s sweaty face and soft eyes.
“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, Sammy,” he said, gently stroking the hair away from his brother’s face. Sam turned his face into it, pressed a kiss against the heel of Dean’s palm, and whispered softly, “Do you trust me?”
“’Course, Sammy.”
Sam smiled, somehow both sweet and completely evil at the same time, then slowly pulled out of Dean.
“Don’t move,” he said, backing across the room to his duffle bag and watching Dean like a hawk the entire time. Dean pushed himself up onto his elbows and Sam barked, “Don’t move!”
“Jesus, alright Sammy. Don’t get your panties in a knot.” Dean lay back down and sighed, closing his eyes until he felt the bed dip under Sam’s weight again. Sam was smirking and there was a spark of mischief in his eyes that Dean knew better than to trust. Just as he opened his mouth, Sam leaned down to kiss him and slid a hand down between Dean’s legs. And that’s when he felt it.
“Sam?!” Dean said breaking away from his brother and trying to stare down his own body. Sam just shushed him gently and ran a soothing hand over his hair.
“No, no, Dean, it’s okay, it’s all okay. Just let me, I just. I want to, Dean, please.”
Dean swallowed and leaned back; he’d never been able to deny Sam anything, and this...whatever this was, it seemed easy enough. If Sam wanted to get kinky with toys, whatever, Dean could do that.
“Just...” Dean raised his hands to cover his eyes as Sam slowly slid the plug into place, and he had to fight down a groan when he realized it pressed right over his prostate, and any movement, even the slightest twitch, sent a spark of pleasure shooting through him. He swallowed. “Explain?”
Instead, Sam kissed him gently.
“C’mon, get dressed, there’s a place we should be checking out. Six disappearances over the last five years, all in the same area. Sounds right up our alley.”
“What!” Dean pulled his hands away from his face and tried to sit up, but the plug curved into him with the movement and he gave a shout, his dick giving an interested twitch. His entire body spasmed and he fell back, panting. “Oh, oh god, Jesus, fuck.”
Sam shushed him again and helped him slowly sit up, pull on a shirt and a pair of jeans, get his socks on and tie his shoes before helping him to his feet and hustling him out the door. He looked positively gleeful.
“I think I should drive, hmm?” Sam said when they got to the car, and Dean would have protested until he leaned against the car and the plug shifted meaningfully within him, and, well. Dean was pretty interested in not dying today.
“Fine,” he grunted, tossing Sam the keys and going around the passenger side. He got in and sat down and leaned his head against the back of the seat, giving himself a moment to adjust to the new ways the plug was brushing against his insides and his dick was brushing against the inside of his jeans.
“I fucking hate you so much, Sam,” he groaned when he finally found his voice again. “So much. Fucking bitch.”
“Jerk,” Sam replied cheerfully, before starting the car and oh, the vibrations the engine sent running through the car made Dean grab onto the door handle and hold on for dear life.
The ride out of town and onto the highway was quiet except for Dean swearing up a storm with every turn or shift, and Sam seemed to be enjoying it. The bastard had a smile on his face every time Dean looked at him, and Dean really wanted to smack him in the mouth almost as much as he wanted to roll over and beg him for anything to make it stop.
“Sammy,” he finally settled on whining, panting, face flushed, sweating all over. His shirt was sticking to the skin of his back and he wanted to pull it away, but it required shifting forward and he just couldn’t do it. He’d finally found a way to sit that eased up the pressure a little, helped him not want to go fucking crazy, and he was not changing that now.
“Need some help there, Dean?” Sam asked with this fucking...smarmy smirk, and Dean would have told him to fuck off, uttered a witty oneliner, but at that moment Sam jerked off the freeway and onto a little dirt road that was full of bumps and dips and turns, and Dean quickly lost all coherency and descended into nonsense babbling.
“Shit, fuck, fuck, Sammy fuck you oh my god Sammy fuck me please, oh god Sam, so good, so - shit!” Sam hit a particularly bumpy patch and Dean lost it, crying out as he came all over the inside of his jeans.
Dean slumped in his seat as Sam pulled over and put the Impala in park, turning to Dean with that same smirk. He unbuckled his seatbelt and crawled across to Dean, undoing his before yanking him upright and into a kiss.
“Suck me off and I won’t make you wear it back, too,” he said, pulling away with a final nip to Dean’s lower lip. Dean glared up at him but obediently lowered himself onto the floor and started working on Sam’s belt.
He was totally going to get his revenge, and it was going to be long and sweet and fantastic. But as he shifted and the plug, still nestled up inside him and still driving him crazy, shifted along with, he had to bite down a groan and force vengeance to the back of his mind. He had a task to do here, after all, so he put the thoughts of Sam in silk panties and leather chaps aside and obediently bent his head.