Fic: SPN (Sam/Dean): Dangerously Co-dependent | NC-17 | 2140 words
Title: Dangerously Co-dependent
Author: dragonspell
Series: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Warnings/Spoilers: Slight spoilers for episode 5.11
Summary: Sam's well aware of just how co-dependent and fucked-up they really are. Dean just doesn't want to admit it.
Word Count: 2140
Dean doesn’t want to admit it. Dean never wants to admit it. He’d rather bury his head in the sand or deny it until he’s blue in the face or, better yet, change the subject. He’s really good at changing the subject-gets you on a roll long before you ever realize what happened. By the time you realize just how skillfully he avoided it, though, you’re so set on trying to make your point that you don’t even care anymore.
Sam finds that he can’t mind it, though. Not when Dean’s way of changing the subject is just grabbing Sam’s cock and telling him to take off his clothes.
Yeah, Sam’s well aware of just how co-dependent and fucked-up they really are. So’s Dean. They just really don’t care. The shrink was right but he can go take a flying leap off a building for all that it matters to them. Sam kind of wonders what the guy would have said if he had known just how co-dependent they are. He wonders if the doctor’s jaw would have dropped if he knew that Sam and Dean had been fucking for years now.
Sam thinks he would have loved to have bent Dean over in front of the guy just for that look. At the moment, though, Sam’d been dealing with a particularly potent brand of crazy and so had other things on his mind. Like rage. Lots and lots of rage.
It’s not Sam’s fault that he’s so damn angry. Anyone in his situation, he thinks, would be. Like most people, he’s just a pawn of fate but unlike most, he’s actually aware of that fact. It doesn’t help that his fate seems to be particularly cruel. Something about his whole family. Something fucked up right from the get-go.
Sam’s overflowing with undirected, scapegoat-seeking wrath; Dean’s a shell of bluster surrounding a pitifully lonely child that’s convinced that everyone will leave him in the end; their father was a revenge-obsessed alcoholic; that only leaves their mother but Sam’s going to leave her alone. The entire Winchester Clan, though. Thoroughly fucked in the head.
Yeah, they’re a little closer than the average family relations. Comes with the territory of not being able to trust anyone but each other. Anyone else will just end up betraying them or getting killed.
Sam’s finally figured out that the whole ‘white picket fence’ thing is just not going to be his lot in life anymore. He’s stopped wanting it. He supposes that he didn’t even really want it in the first place-not really-he just hadn’t known what it was and so craved something to fill that lack. Sure, if his life could have been different, maybe he would have liked it but now, he just knows.
Doesn’t matter anyway. Because he’s not going anywhere without Dean. Can’t go anywhere without Dean.
Dean’s the only really loyal one of the family, Sam knows. Dean’s the only one that deserves anything at this point because at least he didn’t leave, at least he hunts for the right reason and besides the various vices, his only real flaw is that he wasn’t as strong as their father. He never could have been, though. He didn’t have that tight deathgrip on the idea of revenge to keep him focused.
It wasn’t until after their father died that Sam finally figured out just how damn similar he and his father turned out to be. Maybe that was why they fought so much-constantly at each other’s throats with only Dean keeping them from killing each other sometimes.
Which brings Sam right back to Dean. Dean, Dean, Dean. Dean, who’s currently gasping out Sam’s name as Sam holds him pinned against the wall, biting at Dean’s throat. Sam’s got his hands splayed possessively over Dean’s ass, fingers digging into the denim of Dean’s jeans because besides the wall and the fact that Dean’s got his legs wrapped around Sam’s waist, they’re the only thing keeping Dean upright.
Dean doesn’t want to admit it. Sam had tried to make him and Dean had effectively ended the conversation by grabbing Sam’s cock. Sam’s mind had blanked and he’d shoved Dean up against the nearest wall, ripping his T-shirt up over his head. Dean’d whined and jumped up to twine himself around Sam and Sam had just forgotten why he’d even wanted Dean to admit it.
Dean’s panting and giving breathy little moans that make Sam realize that there’s just no way he’s going to be able to make this last. Not with Dean surrendering this damn fully.
With a growl, Sam throws any thoughts of finesse or care to the wind and tosses Dean onto the nearest bed. It dips alarmingly beneath Dean but holds as he stares shocked and lust-dazed up at Sam. Sam’s on him in a heartbeat, stalking over and shucking his jeans in between steps before he kneels on to the bed and straddles Dean. Dean whispers, “Sammy,” and runs his flat palms up Sam’s chest, mapping each bit of contour as he heads towards Sam’s neck. Sam shivers, letting him, but when Dean finally reaches Sam’s throat, the hands curve, cupping the back of Sam’s neck and dragging him down. Sam meets Dean’s kiss and quickly takes over, fighting back Dean’s tongue and plunging his own into Dean’s mouth to show him exactly who’s in charge. Dean squirms eagerly, just like Sam knew he would.
Dean will never admit how much he likes this-not out loud, but Sam can read his body language loud and clear. Dean has no idea how many secrets his body has given away to Sam over the years-the fact that Dean likes this, that he loves orders, that he sometimes just wants to be shown his place and fucked. Sam’s read it all as easily as a map.
Dean wiggles, shoving down his pants and trying to get them off while he lies on the bed underneath Sam. Sam helps him, popping the button and tugging on the jeans while he lifts up, giving Dean room. In the blink of an eye, Dean’s naked, pulling them off and tossing them towards a corner, and then Dean takes advantage of Sam’s momentary unbalance. He shoves hard at Sam’s shoulder, sending him toppling to the side and, caught by surprise, Sam can’t stop himself from landing flat on his back. Dean climbs up on top, eyeing Sam predatorily, all dark eyes and challenges, before he drops his head to nose hungrily at Sam’s cock. Sam groans and arches, his eyes sliding closed and that’s all the encouragement Dean needs. He closes his lips around Sam’s cock, sucking it like a man dying of thirst.
Sam knots a fist in the sheets, twisting the fabric in his hold as he fights for control, fights back the urge to thrust. He’s not entirely successful and Dean’s little encouraging moans each time Sam’s hips pulse aren’t exactly helping. Sam raises his free hand and buries it in Dean’s hair, gripping the short strands between his fingers. Dean hums his approval and Sam finally throws his restraint out the damn window.
He snaps his hips upward into Dean’s wet and warm mouth. Dean chokes, recovers, and comes right back for more. Sam opens his eyes because no, he’s not going to miss this, and he uses his grip on Dean’s hair to tilt Dean’s head to just the right angle. Dean’s goes willingly and Sam sees him snake a hand down between his own thighs. Knowing just how much Dean’s getting off on it, Sam roughly thrusts into Dean’s willing mouth a few more times before he finally pulls him off. There’s a hint of teeth before Dean gives in to Sam’s coaxing and Sam growls. “Jerk,” he snarls as he rolls them, putting Dean on his back again and pinning him there.
Dean smirks, jutting out his chin. “Bitch,” he shoots back and Sam matches his grin.
“Not hardly,” Sam rasps and reaches down to spread Dean’s legs as he moves in between them. He holds Dean wide, loving how Dean looks on display and how Dean surrenders so damn sweetly. Dean’s panting and licking his lips-not begging for it, not just yet, but close.
Dean never wants to admit just how much he loves this. Or, more to the point, how much he needs this. Sam deliberately waits, just holding Dean spread and looking down at him, waiting until Dean squirms impatiently. “Take a damn picture,” Dean growls but there’s a desperate edge to it that makes Sam smile.
“Shut up,” Sam says and shoves two fingers into Dean’s mouth. Dean’s hips buck upwards, his cock jumping and Sam can’t help the thrust forward to grind his cock against Dean’s body. Dean whines and starts sucking on Sam’s fingers, wetting them as much as he can. Sam swirls his fingers inside Dean’s mouth, teasing before he pulls them back out. They come out of Dean’s mouth with a wet pop and Dean’s already lifting his hips up off the bed, anxious to get Sam inside him.
Not that he’d ever admit that.
He tosses his head to the side and closes his eyes when Sam presses in to him, muffling his short, rough groans in the pillows. His hips move in time with Sam’s hand, rising to meet each shallow push inside, mutely begging for it already.
Sam’s cock throbs and he reaches for the lube, unable to draw this out any longer. He slicks himself, pulls his fingers out, and presses his cock in, slow and sure. Dean’s eyes flutter open as he gasps, “Fuck, Sam!” but he keeps his legs spread wide and when Sam finally bottoms out, he wraps them around Sam’s waist again, holding Sam against him.
Sam presses a hand against Dean’s chest, pining him to the bed while he gives in to his instincts and slams forward into that warm, tight heat. Dean bites his lip, body jerking, and slides his hand back down to stroke his cock. He meets Sam thrust for thrust, finding his rhythm and matching it.
Sam growls, losing it, and collapses on top of Dean, wrapping his arms around underneath while he attacks Dean’s neck again and pounds in harder, his desperation starting to show. Dean gasps and clings to Sam before turning his head to catch Sam’s lips in a sloppy kiss. Sam takes over again, plunging his tongue inside Dean’s mouth in time with the movement of his hips and holding onto Dean while he shudders. Neither one of them is going to last long and they both know it.
Moving a hand to grip Dean's cock, Sam bats Dean's own hand away, staking his claim and Dean whimpers, arching upwards. Sam moves his head to start whispering filth into Dean’s ear, like he knows Dean likes. “Fuck yeah, you like this. Just look at you, one step away from begging for it. Such a slut, Dean. You love me fucking you. Should see the way you look…”
A shiver runs through Dean’s body and with a choked back scream, he’s coming, spilling between them and all over himself. “Fuck…” Sam says and speeds up his thrusts even as he loses the rhythm because of how Dean tightens around him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…” He drops his head against Dean’s shoulder and shudders through his own orgasm.
Dean cards his fingers through Sam’s hair while Sam pumps inside him, waiting until Sam stops trembling and finally collapses fully against Dean. “Good?” Dean asks simply and somehow, Sam knows exactly what he’s not saying.
“Yeah,” he replies with a contented sigh. He rolls off as much as Dean will let him and tries to work up the ambition to get up and grab a wet cloth. Dean never wants to let him go but he also bitches if Sam doesn’t clean up afterward, either. Though there’s nothing more that Sam would like to do right now, than to snuggle up to Dean and fall asleep. Dean’d even let him, too, he knows. For a few brief moments, Sam feels nothing but peace and he’d love to wallow in it. He knows, too, that it’s all because of Dean and right now, judging by the happy smile on Dean’s face, Dean’s feeling the same as Sam. After all the shit they’ve been through, Sam figures that they deserve this.
He knows that it’s one of the very few things keeping him sane, keeping him from saying yes. He also knows that it goes both ways, too. ‘Dangerously co-dependent’ is right on the damn money, the doctor just hadn’t known how much. But fuck him because they need this.
Dean will never admit it. Sam thinks that’s okay, though, because they both already know.
Author: dragonspell
Series: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Warnings/Spoilers: Slight spoilers for episode 5.11
Summary: Sam's well aware of just how co-dependent and fucked-up they really are. Dean just doesn't want to admit it.
Word Count: 2140
Dean doesn’t want to admit it. Dean never wants to admit it. He’d rather bury his head in the sand or deny it until he’s blue in the face or, better yet, change the subject. He’s really good at changing the subject-gets you on a roll long before you ever realize what happened. By the time you realize just how skillfully he avoided it, though, you’re so set on trying to make your point that you don’t even care anymore.
Sam finds that he can’t mind it, though. Not when Dean’s way of changing the subject is just grabbing Sam’s cock and telling him to take off his clothes.
Yeah, Sam’s well aware of just how co-dependent and fucked-up they really are. So’s Dean. They just really don’t care. The shrink was right but he can go take a flying leap off a building for all that it matters to them. Sam kind of wonders what the guy would have said if he had known just how co-dependent they are. He wonders if the doctor’s jaw would have dropped if he knew that Sam and Dean had been fucking for years now.
Sam thinks he would have loved to have bent Dean over in front of the guy just for that look. At the moment, though, Sam’d been dealing with a particularly potent brand of crazy and so had other things on his mind. Like rage. Lots and lots of rage.
It’s not Sam’s fault that he’s so damn angry. Anyone in his situation, he thinks, would be. Like most people, he’s just a pawn of fate but unlike most, he’s actually aware of that fact. It doesn’t help that his fate seems to be particularly cruel. Something about his whole family. Something fucked up right from the get-go.
Sam’s overflowing with undirected, scapegoat-seeking wrath; Dean’s a shell of bluster surrounding a pitifully lonely child that’s convinced that everyone will leave him in the end; their father was a revenge-obsessed alcoholic; that only leaves their mother but Sam’s going to leave her alone. The entire Winchester Clan, though. Thoroughly fucked in the head.
Yeah, they’re a little closer than the average family relations. Comes with the territory of not being able to trust anyone but each other. Anyone else will just end up betraying them or getting killed.
Sam’s finally figured out that the whole ‘white picket fence’ thing is just not going to be his lot in life anymore. He’s stopped wanting it. He supposes that he didn’t even really want it in the first place-not really-he just hadn’t known what it was and so craved something to fill that lack. Sure, if his life could have been different, maybe he would have liked it but now, he just knows.
Doesn’t matter anyway. Because he’s not going anywhere without Dean. Can’t go anywhere without Dean.
Dean’s the only really loyal one of the family, Sam knows. Dean’s the only one that deserves anything at this point because at least he didn’t leave, at least he hunts for the right reason and besides the various vices, his only real flaw is that he wasn’t as strong as their father. He never could have been, though. He didn’t have that tight deathgrip on the idea of revenge to keep him focused.
It wasn’t until after their father died that Sam finally figured out just how damn similar he and his father turned out to be. Maybe that was why they fought so much-constantly at each other’s throats with only Dean keeping them from killing each other sometimes.
Which brings Sam right back to Dean. Dean, Dean, Dean. Dean, who’s currently gasping out Sam’s name as Sam holds him pinned against the wall, biting at Dean’s throat. Sam’s got his hands splayed possessively over Dean’s ass, fingers digging into the denim of Dean’s jeans because besides the wall and the fact that Dean’s got his legs wrapped around Sam’s waist, they’re the only thing keeping Dean upright.
Dean doesn’t want to admit it. Sam had tried to make him and Dean had effectively ended the conversation by grabbing Sam’s cock. Sam’s mind had blanked and he’d shoved Dean up against the nearest wall, ripping his T-shirt up over his head. Dean’d whined and jumped up to twine himself around Sam and Sam had just forgotten why he’d even wanted Dean to admit it.
Dean’s panting and giving breathy little moans that make Sam realize that there’s just no way he’s going to be able to make this last. Not with Dean surrendering this damn fully.
With a growl, Sam throws any thoughts of finesse or care to the wind and tosses Dean onto the nearest bed. It dips alarmingly beneath Dean but holds as he stares shocked and lust-dazed up at Sam. Sam’s on him in a heartbeat, stalking over and shucking his jeans in between steps before he kneels on to the bed and straddles Dean. Dean whispers, “Sammy,” and runs his flat palms up Sam’s chest, mapping each bit of contour as he heads towards Sam’s neck. Sam shivers, letting him, but when Dean finally reaches Sam’s throat, the hands curve, cupping the back of Sam’s neck and dragging him down. Sam meets Dean’s kiss and quickly takes over, fighting back Dean’s tongue and plunging his own into Dean’s mouth to show him exactly who’s in charge. Dean squirms eagerly, just like Sam knew he would.
Dean will never admit how much he likes this-not out loud, but Sam can read his body language loud and clear. Dean has no idea how many secrets his body has given away to Sam over the years-the fact that Dean likes this, that he loves orders, that he sometimes just wants to be shown his place and fucked. Sam’s read it all as easily as a map.
Dean wiggles, shoving down his pants and trying to get them off while he lies on the bed underneath Sam. Sam helps him, popping the button and tugging on the jeans while he lifts up, giving Dean room. In the blink of an eye, Dean’s naked, pulling them off and tossing them towards a corner, and then Dean takes advantage of Sam’s momentary unbalance. He shoves hard at Sam’s shoulder, sending him toppling to the side and, caught by surprise, Sam can’t stop himself from landing flat on his back. Dean climbs up on top, eyeing Sam predatorily, all dark eyes and challenges, before he drops his head to nose hungrily at Sam’s cock. Sam groans and arches, his eyes sliding closed and that’s all the encouragement Dean needs. He closes his lips around Sam’s cock, sucking it like a man dying of thirst.
Sam knots a fist in the sheets, twisting the fabric in his hold as he fights for control, fights back the urge to thrust. He’s not entirely successful and Dean’s little encouraging moans each time Sam’s hips pulse aren’t exactly helping. Sam raises his free hand and buries it in Dean’s hair, gripping the short strands between his fingers. Dean hums his approval and Sam finally throws his restraint out the damn window.
He snaps his hips upward into Dean’s wet and warm mouth. Dean chokes, recovers, and comes right back for more. Sam opens his eyes because no, he’s not going to miss this, and he uses his grip on Dean’s hair to tilt Dean’s head to just the right angle. Dean’s goes willingly and Sam sees him snake a hand down between his own thighs. Knowing just how much Dean’s getting off on it, Sam roughly thrusts into Dean’s willing mouth a few more times before he finally pulls him off. There’s a hint of teeth before Dean gives in to Sam’s coaxing and Sam growls. “Jerk,” he snarls as he rolls them, putting Dean on his back again and pinning him there.
Dean smirks, jutting out his chin. “Bitch,” he shoots back and Sam matches his grin.
“Not hardly,” Sam rasps and reaches down to spread Dean’s legs as he moves in between them. He holds Dean wide, loving how Dean looks on display and how Dean surrenders so damn sweetly. Dean’s panting and licking his lips-not begging for it, not just yet, but close.
Dean never wants to admit just how much he loves this. Or, more to the point, how much he needs this. Sam deliberately waits, just holding Dean spread and looking down at him, waiting until Dean squirms impatiently. “Take a damn picture,” Dean growls but there’s a desperate edge to it that makes Sam smile.
“Shut up,” Sam says and shoves two fingers into Dean’s mouth. Dean’s hips buck upwards, his cock jumping and Sam can’t help the thrust forward to grind his cock against Dean’s body. Dean whines and starts sucking on Sam’s fingers, wetting them as much as he can. Sam swirls his fingers inside Dean’s mouth, teasing before he pulls them back out. They come out of Dean’s mouth with a wet pop and Dean’s already lifting his hips up off the bed, anxious to get Sam inside him.
Not that he’d ever admit that.
He tosses his head to the side and closes his eyes when Sam presses in to him, muffling his short, rough groans in the pillows. His hips move in time with Sam’s hand, rising to meet each shallow push inside, mutely begging for it already.
Sam’s cock throbs and he reaches for the lube, unable to draw this out any longer. He slicks himself, pulls his fingers out, and presses his cock in, slow and sure. Dean’s eyes flutter open as he gasps, “Fuck, Sam!” but he keeps his legs spread wide and when Sam finally bottoms out, he wraps them around Sam’s waist again, holding Sam against him.
Sam presses a hand against Dean’s chest, pining him to the bed while he gives in to his instincts and slams forward into that warm, tight heat. Dean bites his lip, body jerking, and slides his hand back down to stroke his cock. He meets Sam thrust for thrust, finding his rhythm and matching it.
Sam growls, losing it, and collapses on top of Dean, wrapping his arms around underneath while he attacks Dean’s neck again and pounds in harder, his desperation starting to show. Dean gasps and clings to Sam before turning his head to catch Sam’s lips in a sloppy kiss. Sam takes over again, plunging his tongue inside Dean’s mouth in time with the movement of his hips and holding onto Dean while he shudders. Neither one of them is going to last long and they both know it.
Moving a hand to grip Dean's cock, Sam bats Dean's own hand away, staking his claim and Dean whimpers, arching upwards. Sam moves his head to start whispering filth into Dean’s ear, like he knows Dean likes. “Fuck yeah, you like this. Just look at you, one step away from begging for it. Such a slut, Dean. You love me fucking you. Should see the way you look…”
A shiver runs through Dean’s body and with a choked back scream, he’s coming, spilling between them and all over himself. “Fuck…” Sam says and speeds up his thrusts even as he loses the rhythm because of how Dean tightens around him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…” He drops his head against Dean’s shoulder and shudders through his own orgasm.
Dean cards his fingers through Sam’s hair while Sam pumps inside him, waiting until Sam stops trembling and finally collapses fully against Dean. “Good?” Dean asks simply and somehow, Sam knows exactly what he’s not saying.
“Yeah,” he replies with a contented sigh. He rolls off as much as Dean will let him and tries to work up the ambition to get up and grab a wet cloth. Dean never wants to let him go but he also bitches if Sam doesn’t clean up afterward, either. Though there’s nothing more that Sam would like to do right now, than to snuggle up to Dean and fall asleep. Dean’d even let him, too, he knows. For a few brief moments, Sam feels nothing but peace and he’d love to wallow in it. He knows, too, that it’s all because of Dean and right now, judging by the happy smile on Dean’s face, Dean’s feeling the same as Sam. After all the shit they’ve been through, Sam figures that they deserve this.
He knows that it’s one of the very few things keeping him sane, keeping him from saying yes. He also knows that it goes both ways, too. ‘Dangerously co-dependent’ is right on the damn money, the doctor just hadn’t known how much. But fuck him because they need this.
Dean will never admit it. Sam thinks that’s okay, though, because they both already know.