New Fic! Sam/Dean
I have tried my hand at a new kink. It's watersports, everyone! I've noticed more watersports fic with Sam and Dean than I ever noticed in other fandoms. And the ones I've read thus far have been amazing, so I thought I'd give it a try.
Title: The Twinkle List
Author: bksncleverness
Word Count: ~1500
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Watersports, ho! Don't read it if you get squicked by that kind of thing. Also slashy smex.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my smutty imagination.
Notes: For my darling mooncharm who is my Porn Muse and who shares some of my many perversions. *sigh* Unbeta'd, so feel free to chime in with suggestions.
They were barely in the door when Dean pushed Sam onto the bed closest to them. It wasn’t hard to make Sam stumble; he’d definitely had at least two beers too many. Dean crawled over onto him, pinning him to the bed. Even in his drunken state, Dean somehow managed to find a way to unlace his right boot with one hand while he rucked up Sam’s t-shirt with the other. One boot hit the floor with a thud, and he switched hands, getting to work on the other boot while he forced Sam’s t-shirt over his face.
“Hey,” Sam said, voice muffled in the fabric.
“Too many clothes,” Dean grunted, turning to fight with the lace of his left boot. After a minute, it too thudded to the floor on the other side of the bed, and Dean bent down to kiss Sam, pulling his own t-shirt off in between kisses.
Sam shifted underneath him, trying to get the pressure of Dean’s weight off his bladder. He’d had to go since they left the bar, but he just figured he’d wait until they got back to the motel, not expecting that Dean wouldn’t be able to wait thirty seconds before pushing him down onto the bed. Dean leaned on him unmercifully as he undid Sam’s button flys and shoved them down his hips.
“Let me up, I gotta take a piss,” Sam said, nudging Dean’s chest up.
“No,” Dean said, leaning down to suck a bruise into Sam’s neck.
He moaned at the feeling of Dean’s hot mouth on his skin, a momentary distraction from the pressure of at least three beers building up. He sat up a little ways, wincing at the position as Dean leaned on him again to take his own pants off.
“Fuck, Sammy,” Dean said, covering Sam with his body and rolling his hips against Sam’s. “Feels so good.”
“Dean, come on. Let me up.”
“No can do, baby bro,” Dean said, licking long stripes up the column of Sam’s neck, biting and sucking the tender, salty skin.
Sam tried to distract himself with Dean’s rough kisses, figuring his brother would take pity on him and let him up in a minute. But when one minute became five and stretched into ten, Sam’s desperation grew. He pushed Dean back by the shoulders.
“Dean, seriously. This is not hypothetical. It’s actual,” Sam said, attempting to sit up and throw Dean off.
“What if I don’t care?” Dean said.
“Well, you’re gonna fucking care in a minute when I piss all over you and this bed!” Sam said, straining to sit up fully.
“I’ll say it again, Sammy. What if I don’t care?” Dean asked, looking down at him with that goddamn fucking twinkle in his eye. The same twinkle he got right before he tied Sam up at that ridiculous hotel outside of Reno a few weeks earlier. The same twinkle that emerged when he convinced Sam to dress up in that…well, that dress. Funny thing was, the closer Dean got to the end of his year, the more that twinkle seemed to show up. Sam never saw him write anything down, but he could swear Dean had a fucking Twinkle List going, and he was crossing things off it at lightning speed. As if Sam could say no to Dean. About anything.
Without warning, Dean rolled them both over so Sam was on top. The sudden jolt alone nearly made Sam wet the fucking bed. He made to get up, but Dean hooked his legs around the back of Sam’s knees.
“Dean” Sam said, nervous laugh escaping his lips. “I’m not kidding.”
“What if I want to see it. Feel it. All over me,” Dean said slowly, running a hand over his own chest. And the look in his eyes made Sam’s body wage serious war between having to piss like a racehorse and wanting to fuck Dean stupid.
“You’re gonna be sorry,” Sam said, trying in vain to untangle himself from Dean’s legs.
Dean placed a hand on Sam’s lower belly and pushed.
Sam gasped. “Dean. Come on,” he said, batting Dean’s hand away.
“Make me sorry, Sammy,” Dean whispered. “Make me fucking wet and sorry.”
“Dean, I can’t. The bed…” Sam said, voice trailing off, like he couldn’t possibly think of ruining a mattress in this godforsaken hotel.
“Need I remind you, Sam, that Mr. John Bonham is picking up the tab, and I don’t think he’d have a problem with it. Besides we have another perfectly good bed to sleep in over there,” Dean said, nodding over to the other bed and pushing his thumbs into the soft flesh of Sam’s lower belly. A thin dribble of piss came out, barely enough to drip down onto Dean’s stomach and Sam clenched up immediately.
“Shit,” said Sam. “I didn’t mean to-” Sam closed his eyes, flush crawling up his cheeks. “I can’t-”
“Let it go, Sammy. Just relax and let it go. I fucking want it, okay?” Dean said, pushing with his thumbs again. And this time, even if Sam had wanted to hold back, he just couldn’t anymore. He leaned on one hand and aimed with the other just as the stream hit Dean in the chest and ran in rivulets down over his crotch and ribs.
“Oh God,” Sam shuddered, watching his piss soak the sheets around Dean.
“That’s right, Sammy. Let it all go,” Dean said soothingly, bringing his fingers up to play in the stream. He grabbed Sam around the neck and pulled him down for a kiss while Sam pissed on Dean’s stomach and chest. “So warm,” he murmured against Sam’s lips.
Sam let out the breath he’d been holding, finally relaxing as the pressure was relieved. As the stream slowed to a dribble and then stopped, Sam lay down on top of Dean, getting his own belly and chest wet. “Jesus,” he said.
“You weren’t kidding,” Dean said, running his fingers through Sam’s hair. There was a smile in his voice.
Sam sat up over him, red-faced and scowling, “I told you, Dean. You wouldn’t listen. I was-”
“Shut up, Sammy. I’m just playing with you.”
“Should we-” Sam jerked his head over to the other bed.
“Nah. Just fuck me here,” Dean said, voice low. “Fuck me wet and dirty right here.”
Sam leaned over Dean to get the lube on the middle table. He smoothed it over himself and worked his fingers into Dean. Dean’s ass was soaked with the warm, pale yellow liquid, the wet spot on the sheets still spreading.
Sam lifted Dean’s legs up, put them on his shoulders, his own knees hitting warm wetness as he moved forward. The sight of Dean under him like this, wet and dirty, the sheets soaked and smelling of piss, got Sam off more than he thought possible. Dean’s wet hands grabbed Sam’s sides as he moved slowly over Dean, waiting until tight muscles relaxed around his cock. There was something about letting go like that, that made Sam feel...free, and when Dean’s small nod told him it was all right to move, he fucked Dean harder than he had in quite a while. He fucked so hard he lost himself for a minute, not sure where he was, only that Dean was with him, moving so perfectly in time with Sam that the world seemed to stop around them.
Dean shifted himself under Sam, grunted, “Fuck me harder. Make me feel it,” and Sam leaned down, caught his brother’s mouth in a bruising kiss. When Sam reached between them and grasped Dean’s wet cock, he barely gave it a pull before Dean was coming, clenching around him so hard that Sam had little choice but to give in and let go again. He keened loudly, his voice rumbling into the silence of the room as he fucked Dean through his own aftershocks, the smell of Dean’s come mixing with sweat and piss and it was dirty and wrong and so fucking amazing.
He collapsed on top of Dean, finally remembering where he was. “Fuck, Dean,” he said, breathing hard.
“Yeah,” Dean answered, swallowing and catching his breath. “Whoo.”
After a minute, Sam rolled off, lay down in the sheets next to Dean.
Dean looked at Sam and then around at the bed. “Hell of a wet spot, Sammy,” he said, smirking.
“You asked for it,” Sam said, pushing the sweaty hair off his forehead.
“What say we take a shower and leave this bed to John Bonham?” Dean said, hauling himself up and wiping the backs of his legs with the sheet.
“Sounds good,” Sam said, following him over to the bathroom.
Sam looked back at the bed and shook his head. Shit he thought. There really isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for him.
That was going to be the thing that saved Dean, Sam was sure of it. And if that meant that Sam would have to go along with Dean’s unorthodox appetites sometimes, well then so be it. So fucking be it.
~fin
Title: The Twinkle List
Author: bksncleverness
Word Count: ~1500
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Watersports, ho! Don't read it if you get squicked by that kind of thing. Also slashy smex.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my smutty imagination.
Notes: For my darling mooncharm who is my Porn Muse and who shares some of my many perversions. *sigh* Unbeta'd, so feel free to chime in with suggestions.
They were barely in the door when Dean pushed Sam onto the bed closest to them. It wasn’t hard to make Sam stumble; he’d definitely had at least two beers too many. Dean crawled over onto him, pinning him to the bed. Even in his drunken state, Dean somehow managed to find a way to unlace his right boot with one hand while he rucked up Sam’s t-shirt with the other. One boot hit the floor with a thud, and he switched hands, getting to work on the other boot while he forced Sam’s t-shirt over his face.
“Hey,” Sam said, voice muffled in the fabric.
“Too many clothes,” Dean grunted, turning to fight with the lace of his left boot. After a minute, it too thudded to the floor on the other side of the bed, and Dean bent down to kiss Sam, pulling his own t-shirt off in between kisses.
Sam shifted underneath him, trying to get the pressure of Dean’s weight off his bladder. He’d had to go since they left the bar, but he just figured he’d wait until they got back to the motel, not expecting that Dean wouldn’t be able to wait thirty seconds before pushing him down onto the bed. Dean leaned on him unmercifully as he undid Sam’s button flys and shoved them down his hips.
“Let me up, I gotta take a piss,” Sam said, nudging Dean’s chest up.
“No,” Dean said, leaning down to suck a bruise into Sam’s neck.
He moaned at the feeling of Dean’s hot mouth on his skin, a momentary distraction from the pressure of at least three beers building up. He sat up a little ways, wincing at the position as Dean leaned on him again to take his own pants off.
“Fuck, Sammy,” Dean said, covering Sam with his body and rolling his hips against Sam’s. “Feels so good.”
“Dean, come on. Let me up.”
“No can do, baby bro,” Dean said, licking long stripes up the column of Sam’s neck, biting and sucking the tender, salty skin.
Sam tried to distract himself with Dean’s rough kisses, figuring his brother would take pity on him and let him up in a minute. But when one minute became five and stretched into ten, Sam’s desperation grew. He pushed Dean back by the shoulders.
“Dean, seriously. This is not hypothetical. It’s actual,” Sam said, attempting to sit up and throw Dean off.
“What if I don’t care?” Dean said.
“Well, you’re gonna fucking care in a minute when I piss all over you and this bed!” Sam said, straining to sit up fully.
“I’ll say it again, Sammy. What if I don’t care?” Dean asked, looking down at him with that goddamn fucking twinkle in his eye. The same twinkle he got right before he tied Sam up at that ridiculous hotel outside of Reno a few weeks earlier. The same twinkle that emerged when he convinced Sam to dress up in that…well, that dress. Funny thing was, the closer Dean got to the end of his year, the more that twinkle seemed to show up. Sam never saw him write anything down, but he could swear Dean had a fucking Twinkle List going, and he was crossing things off it at lightning speed. As if Sam could say no to Dean. About anything.
Without warning, Dean rolled them both over so Sam was on top. The sudden jolt alone nearly made Sam wet the fucking bed. He made to get up, but Dean hooked his legs around the back of Sam’s knees.
“Dean” Sam said, nervous laugh escaping his lips. “I’m not kidding.”
“What if I want to see it. Feel it. All over me,” Dean said slowly, running a hand over his own chest. And the look in his eyes made Sam’s body wage serious war between having to piss like a racehorse and wanting to fuck Dean stupid.
“You’re gonna be sorry,” Sam said, trying in vain to untangle himself from Dean’s legs.
Dean placed a hand on Sam’s lower belly and pushed.
Sam gasped. “Dean. Come on,” he said, batting Dean’s hand away.
“Make me sorry, Sammy,” Dean whispered. “Make me fucking wet and sorry.”
“Dean, I can’t. The bed…” Sam said, voice trailing off, like he couldn’t possibly think of ruining a mattress in this godforsaken hotel.
“Need I remind you, Sam, that Mr. John Bonham is picking up the tab, and I don’t think he’d have a problem with it. Besides we have another perfectly good bed to sleep in over there,” Dean said, nodding over to the other bed and pushing his thumbs into the soft flesh of Sam’s lower belly. A thin dribble of piss came out, barely enough to drip down onto Dean’s stomach and Sam clenched up immediately.
“Shit,” said Sam. “I didn’t mean to-” Sam closed his eyes, flush crawling up his cheeks. “I can’t-”
“Let it go, Sammy. Just relax and let it go. I fucking want it, okay?” Dean said, pushing with his thumbs again. And this time, even if Sam had wanted to hold back, he just couldn’t anymore. He leaned on one hand and aimed with the other just as the stream hit Dean in the chest and ran in rivulets down over his crotch and ribs.
“Oh God,” Sam shuddered, watching his piss soak the sheets around Dean.
“That’s right, Sammy. Let it all go,” Dean said soothingly, bringing his fingers up to play in the stream. He grabbed Sam around the neck and pulled him down for a kiss while Sam pissed on Dean’s stomach and chest. “So warm,” he murmured against Sam’s lips.
Sam let out the breath he’d been holding, finally relaxing as the pressure was relieved. As the stream slowed to a dribble and then stopped, Sam lay down on top of Dean, getting his own belly and chest wet. “Jesus,” he said.
“You weren’t kidding,” Dean said, running his fingers through Sam’s hair. There was a smile in his voice.
Sam sat up over him, red-faced and scowling, “I told you, Dean. You wouldn’t listen. I was-”
“Shut up, Sammy. I’m just playing with you.”
“Should we-” Sam jerked his head over to the other bed.
“Nah. Just fuck me here,” Dean said, voice low. “Fuck me wet and dirty right here.”
Sam leaned over Dean to get the lube on the middle table. He smoothed it over himself and worked his fingers into Dean. Dean’s ass was soaked with the warm, pale yellow liquid, the wet spot on the sheets still spreading.
Sam lifted Dean’s legs up, put them on his shoulders, his own knees hitting warm wetness as he moved forward. The sight of Dean under him like this, wet and dirty, the sheets soaked and smelling of piss, got Sam off more than he thought possible. Dean’s wet hands grabbed Sam’s sides as he moved slowly over Dean, waiting until tight muscles relaxed around his cock. There was something about letting go like that, that made Sam feel...free, and when Dean’s small nod told him it was all right to move, he fucked Dean harder than he had in quite a while. He fucked so hard he lost himself for a minute, not sure where he was, only that Dean was with him, moving so perfectly in time with Sam that the world seemed to stop around them.
Dean shifted himself under Sam, grunted, “Fuck me harder. Make me feel it,” and Sam leaned down, caught his brother’s mouth in a bruising kiss. When Sam reached between them and grasped Dean’s wet cock, he barely gave it a pull before Dean was coming, clenching around him so hard that Sam had little choice but to give in and let go again. He keened loudly, his voice rumbling into the silence of the room as he fucked Dean through his own aftershocks, the smell of Dean’s come mixing with sweat and piss and it was dirty and wrong and so fucking amazing.
He collapsed on top of Dean, finally remembering where he was. “Fuck, Dean,” he said, breathing hard.
“Yeah,” Dean answered, swallowing and catching his breath. “Whoo.”
After a minute, Sam rolled off, lay down in the sheets next to Dean.
Dean looked at Sam and then around at the bed. “Hell of a wet spot, Sammy,” he said, smirking.
“You asked for it,” Sam said, pushing the sweaty hair off his forehead.
“What say we take a shower and leave this bed to John Bonham?” Dean said, hauling himself up and wiping the backs of his legs with the sheet.
“Sounds good,” Sam said, following him over to the bathroom.
Sam looked back at the bed and shook his head. Shit he thought. There really isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for him.
That was going to be the thing that saved Dean, Sam was sure of it. And if that meant that Sam would have to go along with Dean’s unorthodox appetites sometimes, well then so be it. So fucking be it.
~fin