It Happens for the First Time On Dean’s 21st Birthday - (Sam/Dean, PG-13) - PART ONE
It happens for the first time on Dean’s 21st birthday.
They’d been holed up in some god-forsaken town in Eastern Idaho for over a month, since just before Christmas. Dad was gone, of course. He’d made vague promises that he’d be back in a few days, but when Dean finally reached him by phone he was already a week overdue.
“I’ll be there for your birthday, son,” Dad promised, but Dean knew better than to believe that. John had missed all but four of his birthdays, and those had all been before Mom died.
Sam had enrolled himself in the local high school, forging John’s signature on all the papers. At sixteen-and-a-half Sam was long and lanky and just starting to grow some solid muscle. He was a constant distraction, folding himself into the couch or armchair with a book, long legs curling around chairs as he studied at the tiny kitchen table. He chewed on his bottom lip until it was raw and red, chewed his fingernails until they bled. Dean had to physically pull him out of his books to get him to practice his wrestling moves. Dean pushed the furniture out of the way in the living room so they could spar inside, since it was too cold and icy outside.
Sam was growing stronger, getting bigger in every way. It was getting harder to pin him. It wasn’t as easy to come out on top. Dean couldn’t help pushing Sam to find new limits, and Dean kept adjusting his own moves to stay one step ahead. Sam was still unsure of his new body, and Dean was able to use that to his advantage, grappling with flailing arms and legs that were longer than Sam realized, throwing off his balance.
Dean still came out on top, but he could feel Sam’s strength, could feel the promise of future power in Sam’s long body. He’d never tell Sam this, but someday he was pretty sure Sam would win.
Not today, though. Today Sam was flat on his front on the floor, arms twisted behind his back, Dean sitting on his hips to keep him down. Dean waits for the fight to drain out of him before letting Sam go, stepping back just to be sure Sam doesn’t trip him. Dean’s learned the hard way not to stand too close after Sam’s been bested.
“Good work today,” Dean praises. “You can have the first shower. I’m gonna go check on my baby.”
He doesn’t think about how good it felt to have Sam’s body laid out under his. He ignores the obvious bulge in Sam’s jeans and his own throbbing dick. Just adrenaline, he assures himself as he takes in Sam’s flushed cheeks, his sweat-drenched neck and arms, his messy hair. Dean doesn’t dwell on how much he likes being pressed hard against Sam’s body.
PART TWO
They’d been holed up in some god-forsaken town in Eastern Idaho for over a month, since just before Christmas. Dad was gone, of course. He’d made vague promises that he’d be back in a few days, but when Dean finally reached him by phone he was already a week overdue.
“I’ll be there for your birthday, son,” Dad promised, but Dean knew better than to believe that. John had missed all but four of his birthdays, and those had all been before Mom died.
Sam had enrolled himself in the local high school, forging John’s signature on all the papers. At sixteen-and-a-half Sam was long and lanky and just starting to grow some solid muscle. He was a constant distraction, folding himself into the couch or armchair with a book, long legs curling around chairs as he studied at the tiny kitchen table. He chewed on his bottom lip until it was raw and red, chewed his fingernails until they bled. Dean had to physically pull him out of his books to get him to practice his wrestling moves. Dean pushed the furniture out of the way in the living room so they could spar inside, since it was too cold and icy outside.
Sam was growing stronger, getting bigger in every way. It was getting harder to pin him. It wasn’t as easy to come out on top. Dean couldn’t help pushing Sam to find new limits, and Dean kept adjusting his own moves to stay one step ahead. Sam was still unsure of his new body, and Dean was able to use that to his advantage, grappling with flailing arms and legs that were longer than Sam realized, throwing off his balance.
Dean still came out on top, but he could feel Sam’s strength, could feel the promise of future power in Sam’s long body. He’d never tell Sam this, but someday he was pretty sure Sam would win.
Not today, though. Today Sam was flat on his front on the floor, arms twisted behind his back, Dean sitting on his hips to keep him down. Dean waits for the fight to drain out of him before letting Sam go, stepping back just to be sure Sam doesn’t trip him. Dean’s learned the hard way not to stand too close after Sam’s been bested.
“Good work today,” Dean praises. “You can have the first shower. I’m gonna go check on my baby.”
He doesn’t think about how good it felt to have Sam’s body laid out under his. He ignores the obvious bulge in Sam’s jeans and his own throbbing dick. Just adrenaline, he assures himself as he takes in Sam’s flushed cheeks, his sweat-drenched neck and arms, his messy hair. Dean doesn’t dwell on how much he likes being pressed hard against Sam’s body.
PART TWO