Fic: Echoes
Title: Echoes
Author: Celtic_Forest
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Notes and Warnings: Set before season 4. Wincest. Odd combination of schmoop and anti-schmoop. Brotherly love and pop psychology.
Summary: Hotel room, cold pizza, and guns. It was all very sweet, really.
Word count: 877 I own nothing and make no money (too true).
When Sam and Dean make love it may sate a desperate hunger for one another, or be tender and loving, or they might play a new game that leaves them laughing but with even more knowledge of each other - hundreds of possibilities. All passionate, all expressions of their mutual feelings of love, respect, and affection for one another. This wasn't that.
Dean was on the bed on all fours, facing Sam. Sam stood in front of Dean and shoved his dick deep into Dean's throat. Neither had undressed, except Sam had removed Dean's shirt so he could hold his shoulders to better control Dean's position and movements. He thrust fast and hard; a straight shot from Dean's lips to deep in his throat.
If Dean was feeling ambitious he might try to hollow his cheeks to make his mouth tight for Sam, or use his tongue to special effect on the underside of his large shaft. Mostly, though, it was all Dean could do to keep his teeth out of the way and snatch a breath of air when he could, as his brother fucked his throat.
Sam needed this sometimes, raw and selfish. The "emo" persona he radiated was not an affectation, but neither did it encompass his nature. He had never had a one-night stand, and he was always respectful to the women he had dated (before he and Dean realized what had been right before their eyes all along). But those relationships fulfilled only a part of his desires, just as attending Stanford had sometimes made him feel he was living only half his life.
Sam didn't get Dean off during this particular type of sex; in fact, Dean wasn't even hard. When Sam was finished he toppled onto the bed and slept. Dean had learned early to get out of the way when his huge little brother began his exhausted descent.
Dean watched his brother sleep for a while, then got up and began to clean their various weapons and make an inventory of ammunition and other supplies they should stock up on.
Sam slept for only about 20 minutes. When he woke, he came to Dean and they kissed gently. "Shower?" Sam asked. "Yeah." In the shower Sam washed Dean's back, then his hair, making sure no shampoo got into his eyes. Dean luxuriated in the feel of Sam's fingers on his scalp.
When they finished, Sam called for a pizza to be delivered, tossed Dean a beer, and got one for himself. While they waited for the pizza Dean continued to work on the weapons, and Sam asked him if he had found any problems with the guns. They had both dropped one on their last job, when they were thrown against walls by a demon before they could lure it into the waiting devil's trap. The pizza arrived, and while they ate they discussed where, in this small town, they might find the supplies they needed.
Dean had hit the wall at an angle and wrenched his shoulder. Luckily there was no injury, but it was stiff and painful. Sam gave him a massage, working the muscles in his shoulder expertly. He gave him a thorough neck massage, then rubbed his thumbs down the sides of Dean's spine, stroking outward and working out any muscle tension he found.
There is no reciprocity here.
Nothing so simple. They rarely behaved this way toward each other, and even then, not necessarily in the same day, week, or even month.
When they were children Dean took care of Sam. He always made sure Sam got something special for his birthday, no matter what flavor of fucked up their lives were at the moment. He got school supplies for him every fall even if he had to steal them, but he tried to save up and buy them instead. Otherwise, each day Sam would experience another small reminder of their real lives rather than escape, for a while, into the normalcy of school. Dean gave Sam everything he needed that was within his power to give. As adults, that included Sam's occasional coarse sexual need, and it felt natural to give that as well.
No one had nurtured Dean when he was a child. His father taught him to survive, to fight, and usually provided food and a roof over his head, but barely acted as a parent to him. Of course, Dean no longer needed the same parental care a child would, but sometimes he felt that lack in his past. As the older brother he didn't usually accept care from Sam, but sometimes it felt right to both of them that Dean be the focus of attention, that he be given what he needed, that Sam outwardly express the love and appreciation that were always in his heart.
Echoes of their childhood had guided them today.
In the evening they made love with an intimacy few couples experience. Most people would say their love was wrong, but in their lives it was the closest they'd ever come to right.
It was only about 10:30, later, and they decided their afterglow would definitely be enhanced by cold pizza and tv.
Sam handed Dean the remote without argument.
(OK, maybe there's a little reciprocity.)
Author: Celtic_Forest
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Notes and Warnings: Set before season 4. Wincest. Odd combination of schmoop and anti-schmoop. Brotherly love and pop psychology.
Summary: Hotel room, cold pizza, and guns. It was all very sweet, really.
Word count: 877 I own nothing and make no money (too true).
When Sam and Dean make love it may sate a desperate hunger for one another, or be tender and loving, or they might play a new game that leaves them laughing but with even more knowledge of each other - hundreds of possibilities. All passionate, all expressions of their mutual feelings of love, respect, and affection for one another. This wasn't that.
Dean was on the bed on all fours, facing Sam. Sam stood in front of Dean and shoved his dick deep into Dean's throat. Neither had undressed, except Sam had removed Dean's shirt so he could hold his shoulders to better control Dean's position and movements. He thrust fast and hard; a straight shot from Dean's lips to deep in his throat.
If Dean was feeling ambitious he might try to hollow his cheeks to make his mouth tight for Sam, or use his tongue to special effect on the underside of his large shaft. Mostly, though, it was all Dean could do to keep his teeth out of the way and snatch a breath of air when he could, as his brother fucked his throat.
Sam needed this sometimes, raw and selfish. The "emo" persona he radiated was not an affectation, but neither did it encompass his nature. He had never had a one-night stand, and he was always respectful to the women he had dated (before he and Dean realized what had been right before their eyes all along). But those relationships fulfilled only a part of his desires, just as attending Stanford had sometimes made him feel he was living only half his life.
Sam didn't get Dean off during this particular type of sex; in fact, Dean wasn't even hard. When Sam was finished he toppled onto the bed and slept. Dean had learned early to get out of the way when his huge little brother began his exhausted descent.
Dean watched his brother sleep for a while, then got up and began to clean their various weapons and make an inventory of ammunition and other supplies they should stock up on.
Sam slept for only about 20 minutes. When he woke, he came to Dean and they kissed gently. "Shower?" Sam asked. "Yeah." In the shower Sam washed Dean's back, then his hair, making sure no shampoo got into his eyes. Dean luxuriated in the feel of Sam's fingers on his scalp.
When they finished, Sam called for a pizza to be delivered, tossed Dean a beer, and got one for himself. While they waited for the pizza Dean continued to work on the weapons, and Sam asked him if he had found any problems with the guns. They had both dropped one on their last job, when they were thrown against walls by a demon before they could lure it into the waiting devil's trap. The pizza arrived, and while they ate they discussed where, in this small town, they might find the supplies they needed.
Dean had hit the wall at an angle and wrenched his shoulder. Luckily there was no injury, but it was stiff and painful. Sam gave him a massage, working the muscles in his shoulder expertly. He gave him a thorough neck massage, then rubbed his thumbs down the sides of Dean's spine, stroking outward and working out any muscle tension he found.
There is no reciprocity here.
Nothing so simple. They rarely behaved this way toward each other, and even then, not necessarily in the same day, week, or even month.
When they were children Dean took care of Sam. He always made sure Sam got something special for his birthday, no matter what flavor of fucked up their lives were at the moment. He got school supplies for him every fall even if he had to steal them, but he tried to save up and buy them instead. Otherwise, each day Sam would experience another small reminder of their real lives rather than escape, for a while, into the normalcy of school. Dean gave Sam everything he needed that was within his power to give. As adults, that included Sam's occasional coarse sexual need, and it felt natural to give that as well.
No one had nurtured Dean when he was a child. His father taught him to survive, to fight, and usually provided food and a roof over his head, but barely acted as a parent to him. Of course, Dean no longer needed the same parental care a child would, but sometimes he felt that lack in his past. As the older brother he didn't usually accept care from Sam, but sometimes it felt right to both of them that Dean be the focus of attention, that he be given what he needed, that Sam outwardly express the love and appreciation that were always in his heart.
Echoes of their childhood had guided them today.
In the evening they made love with an intimacy few couples experience. Most people would say their love was wrong, but in their lives it was the closest they'd ever come to right.
It was only about 10:30, later, and they decided their afterglow would definitely be enhanced by cold pizza and tv.
Sam handed Dean the remote without argument.
(OK, maybe there's a little reciprocity.)