[FIC] SPN, Sam/Dean (Adult) for mulanreflection
Title: Worth the Wait
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Sam
Rating: NC17
Spoilers/Timeline: Vague for season one. Takes place pre-series.
Summary: Dean comes back from a hunt.
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be.
Warnings: WINCEST. Takes place pre-Stanford, but Sam can be 18 if you want. :)
NOTE: Written for mulanreflection's request for Dean/Sam porn.
"Sammy."
Dean's hand was warm against his shoulder. "Sammy, wake up."
Sam blinked. He could make out Dean's face, barely; it was the middle of the night, light provided only by the street lamp outside his window. "You're not supposed to be back until tomorrow," Sam said, his voice slurred by sleep.
"Well, we finished up early. Move over."
Sam scooted back in the bed and pulled the sheet up in invitation. It was too hot for a blanket, almost too hot for a sheet, and Sam was wearing only an old pair of boxers. Dean shed his jeans and t-shirt quickly, throwing them over to his side of the room, before crawling in with Sam.
Dean threw a leg over Sam and straddled his hips. He moved down for a long kiss, his erection pushing into Sam's as he leaned forward, and when Sam gasped at the contact, he slipped his tongue between open lips. Sam pushed his face up, mashing their lips together, and Dean tried to pull back, to gentle the kiss, but Sam grabbed him by the back of his neck and held him still.
When the need for air became greater than his need for Dean, Sam pulled back, gasping, his head hitting the pillow below him. Dean rested his forehead on Sam's, and Sam felt each warm exhalation of breath. "You little shit," Dean said
"I'm glad you're back," Sam answered, not the least bit repentant. He tilted his chin up and Dean obliged him with another kiss.
Don't touch yourself until you come home, he'd whispered to Dean. You can't come until you're back with me. Dean had blinked up at him, startled, before giving him a tight smile. You can't, either, he whispered back, and Sam had scoffed, No, duh.
Dean settled on top of him, his cock grinding into Sam's stomach. He laced his fingers with Sam's and pulled them above Sam's head, pinning him lightly to the bed. Sam wriggled, a little, loving the way Dean's fingers tightened around his, the way Dean increased the pressure, holding him down. Sam knew a dozen ways to break the hold, but getting away was the last thing on his mind. He pushed his hips up into Dean's; Dean grabbed and held Sam's legs tightly with his own, and thrust back down. Both boys gasped at the contact.
Dean bent down for a long, hungry kiss, and gave another slow hip thrust. Sam couldn't help the low, keening moan, and Dean fastened his lips tight against Sam's to stifle it. "Dad's in the next room, idiot," he murmured.
"Been a week," Sam whispered. He wiggled his hips, wanting more contact, more friction, hating the barrier of his boxers between him and his brother. He thought about pushing Dean away and pulling his boxers off, but it was rare that Dean would initiate sex, even rarer that he would be aggressive, and Sam didn't want to spoil it. He knew Dean would back off at the first hint of real unwillingness, and Sam definitely didn't want that.
Dean seemed to get the message, anyway, and captured Sam's wrists with one hand, sliding his other hand between them. He pulled at Sam's boxers; Sam tried to help move them over his hips and down his legs, and kicked them off as soon as he was able. Dean stripped completely, as well, and Sam hissed when their naked erections brushed. Dean's eyes slid closed. "God, Sammy, I want..."
"Anything," Sam gasped. "Anything you want, Dean."
Dean gave him a tight smile and a hard kiss. "Someday I'm going to teach you why it's a bad idea to write blank checks." He pushed his hand between them, wrapped it around Sam's cock and started to jerk. "But not today."
I trust you, Sam wanted to say, but Dean's thumb brushed over the tip of his cock, over the moisture beginning to gather, and he started to smear pre-come down Sam's dick. "Fuck, yeah, like that, please, Dean, Jesus, that's good, I missed you, fuck," tumbled out, instead.
Dean chuckled. "Was thinking I might fuck you," he said.
"Yes. Now." His hips bucked into Dean's hand, and if he wasn't careful, this was going to be over way too quickly.
Dean's hand left him, and he bit back another whimper. Dean started to rummage under the mattress, each shift of his body causing their cocks to brush and grind, and Sam started doing quadratic equations in his head to keep from coming all over Dean's leg. With a soft cry of triumph, Dean pulled out the half-empty tube of lubrication and settled between his brother's legs.
"This isn't gonna be all soft and Harlequin, yeah?" It sounded sarcastic, but it was a real question, Sam knew. Dean was asking for permission to get a little rough, fast, and Sam let his legs fall further apart in answer.
The finger that slid inside was slow and gentle, though, until Sam finally lost patience and tried to force it in deeper. "C'mon, Dean, stop being such a pussy," he muttered.
"Yeah, yeah, you're a real demanding bitch, you know that?" But Dean pushed another finger inside and began finger fucking him in earnest, brushing his prostate with almost every thrust of his fingers.
"Fuck, Dean," Sam moaned. "M'not a virgin, just get on with it." Or he'd come like that, on his brother's fingers instead of his cock, but he didn't say that out loud. Dean was a smart boy, he could figure it out.
"Whatever you want, Sammy-boy," Dean said, but Sam could hear the strain in his voice, belying his casual tone.
And then--finally--Dean slid inside, one long stroke. He stopped, then, giving Sam a moment to adjust, and Sam could see the tension in his back and shoulders. He spread his legs wider, wrapped his ankles tight around Dean's back and pulled him close. "C'mon," he urged.
Dean gave a short thrust, and Sam bit his lip to keep from crying out. He started to reach down, going for Sam's cock, but Sam batted his hand away. "Too...close..." he said from behind gritted teeth.
Dean smirked at him, before giving another hard thrust, hitting the magic spot just right, and had Sam's eyes rolling back in his head. He linked his fingers with Sam's instead and pressed him down into the mattress, and began to thrust in earnest.
Sam's eyes slid shut, everything narrowing and focusing on the feel of Dean's hands around his, Dean's cock inside him, Dean's breath across his chest, Dean's lips on his jaw. He turned his head into Dean's arm to try and muffle his whimpers, doing his best to stifle the traitorous sounds leaving his body without permission.
“God, you’re beautiful,” Dean mumbled, voice full of wonder. Sam's chest tightened, he forgot how to breathe, and then Dean bit his shoulder and he was coming all over their stomachs. He didn't have the words, didn't have the breath to get them out if he could, and Dean gave a couple more shallow thrusts before spilling inside him and collapsing.
Dean was heavy on top of him, but Sam didn’t care. He didn’t want Dean to move, ever. But Dean had to, of course, and pulled out slowly, apologizing at Sam’s wince. He rolled over onto his back and tucked his brother into his shoulder. He pressed a kiss against Sam’s forehead.
“I missed you, punk,” he said.
“Yeah, me too,” Sam said. His eyelids were heavy; he could feel himself falling back into sleep. “Everything go okay?”
“Well, yeah. Just a pissed off ghost. Coulda’ done it by myself.” He chuckled. “You shoulda’ seen the chick at the house, though...man, she was freaked, kept grabbing at Dad like he was John Wayne or something...”
Sam let his eyes drift shut as he listened to his brother, and fell asleep.
**END**
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Sam
Rating: NC17
Spoilers/Timeline: Vague for season one. Takes place pre-series.
Summary: Dean comes back from a hunt.
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be.
Warnings: WINCEST. Takes place pre-Stanford, but Sam can be 18 if you want. :)
NOTE: Written for mulanreflection's request for Dean/Sam porn.
"Sammy."
Dean's hand was warm against his shoulder. "Sammy, wake up."
Sam blinked. He could make out Dean's face, barely; it was the middle of the night, light provided only by the street lamp outside his window. "You're not supposed to be back until tomorrow," Sam said, his voice slurred by sleep.
"Well, we finished up early. Move over."
Sam scooted back in the bed and pulled the sheet up in invitation. It was too hot for a blanket, almost too hot for a sheet, and Sam was wearing only an old pair of boxers. Dean shed his jeans and t-shirt quickly, throwing them over to his side of the room, before crawling in with Sam.
Dean threw a leg over Sam and straddled his hips. He moved down for a long kiss, his erection pushing into Sam's as he leaned forward, and when Sam gasped at the contact, he slipped his tongue between open lips. Sam pushed his face up, mashing their lips together, and Dean tried to pull back, to gentle the kiss, but Sam grabbed him by the back of his neck and held him still.
When the need for air became greater than his need for Dean, Sam pulled back, gasping, his head hitting the pillow below him. Dean rested his forehead on Sam's, and Sam felt each warm exhalation of breath. "You little shit," Dean said
"I'm glad you're back," Sam answered, not the least bit repentant. He tilted his chin up and Dean obliged him with another kiss.
Don't touch yourself until you come home, he'd whispered to Dean. You can't come until you're back with me. Dean had blinked up at him, startled, before giving him a tight smile. You can't, either, he whispered back, and Sam had scoffed, No, duh.
Dean settled on top of him, his cock grinding into Sam's stomach. He laced his fingers with Sam's and pulled them above Sam's head, pinning him lightly to the bed. Sam wriggled, a little, loving the way Dean's fingers tightened around his, the way Dean increased the pressure, holding him down. Sam knew a dozen ways to break the hold, but getting away was the last thing on his mind. He pushed his hips up into Dean's; Dean grabbed and held Sam's legs tightly with his own, and thrust back down. Both boys gasped at the contact.
Dean bent down for a long, hungry kiss, and gave another slow hip thrust. Sam couldn't help the low, keening moan, and Dean fastened his lips tight against Sam's to stifle it. "Dad's in the next room, idiot," he murmured.
"Been a week," Sam whispered. He wiggled his hips, wanting more contact, more friction, hating the barrier of his boxers between him and his brother. He thought about pushing Dean away and pulling his boxers off, but it was rare that Dean would initiate sex, even rarer that he would be aggressive, and Sam didn't want to spoil it. He knew Dean would back off at the first hint of real unwillingness, and Sam definitely didn't want that.
Dean seemed to get the message, anyway, and captured Sam's wrists with one hand, sliding his other hand between them. He pulled at Sam's boxers; Sam tried to help move them over his hips and down his legs, and kicked them off as soon as he was able. Dean stripped completely, as well, and Sam hissed when their naked erections brushed. Dean's eyes slid closed. "God, Sammy, I want..."
"Anything," Sam gasped. "Anything you want, Dean."
Dean gave him a tight smile and a hard kiss. "Someday I'm going to teach you why it's a bad idea to write blank checks." He pushed his hand between them, wrapped it around Sam's cock and started to jerk. "But not today."
I trust you, Sam wanted to say, but Dean's thumb brushed over the tip of his cock, over the moisture beginning to gather, and he started to smear pre-come down Sam's dick. "Fuck, yeah, like that, please, Dean, Jesus, that's good, I missed you, fuck," tumbled out, instead.
Dean chuckled. "Was thinking I might fuck you," he said.
"Yes. Now." His hips bucked into Dean's hand, and if he wasn't careful, this was going to be over way too quickly.
Dean's hand left him, and he bit back another whimper. Dean started to rummage under the mattress, each shift of his body causing their cocks to brush and grind, and Sam started doing quadratic equations in his head to keep from coming all over Dean's leg. With a soft cry of triumph, Dean pulled out the half-empty tube of lubrication and settled between his brother's legs.
"This isn't gonna be all soft and Harlequin, yeah?" It sounded sarcastic, but it was a real question, Sam knew. Dean was asking for permission to get a little rough, fast, and Sam let his legs fall further apart in answer.
The finger that slid inside was slow and gentle, though, until Sam finally lost patience and tried to force it in deeper. "C'mon, Dean, stop being such a pussy," he muttered.
"Yeah, yeah, you're a real demanding bitch, you know that?" But Dean pushed another finger inside and began finger fucking him in earnest, brushing his prostate with almost every thrust of his fingers.
"Fuck, Dean," Sam moaned. "M'not a virgin, just get on with it." Or he'd come like that, on his brother's fingers instead of his cock, but he didn't say that out loud. Dean was a smart boy, he could figure it out.
"Whatever you want, Sammy-boy," Dean said, but Sam could hear the strain in his voice, belying his casual tone.
And then--finally--Dean slid inside, one long stroke. He stopped, then, giving Sam a moment to adjust, and Sam could see the tension in his back and shoulders. He spread his legs wider, wrapped his ankles tight around Dean's back and pulled him close. "C'mon," he urged.
Dean gave a short thrust, and Sam bit his lip to keep from crying out. He started to reach down, going for Sam's cock, but Sam batted his hand away. "Too...close..." he said from behind gritted teeth.
Dean smirked at him, before giving another hard thrust, hitting the magic spot just right, and had Sam's eyes rolling back in his head. He linked his fingers with Sam's instead and pressed him down into the mattress, and began to thrust in earnest.
Sam's eyes slid shut, everything narrowing and focusing on the feel of Dean's hands around his, Dean's cock inside him, Dean's breath across his chest, Dean's lips on his jaw. He turned his head into Dean's arm to try and muffle his whimpers, doing his best to stifle the traitorous sounds leaving his body without permission.
“God, you’re beautiful,” Dean mumbled, voice full of wonder. Sam's chest tightened, he forgot how to breathe, and then Dean bit his shoulder and he was coming all over their stomachs. He didn't have the words, didn't have the breath to get them out if he could, and Dean gave a couple more shallow thrusts before spilling inside him and collapsing.
Dean was heavy on top of him, but Sam didn’t care. He didn’t want Dean to move, ever. But Dean had to, of course, and pulled out slowly, apologizing at Sam’s wince. He rolled over onto his back and tucked his brother into his shoulder. He pressed a kiss against Sam’s forehead.
“I missed you, punk,” he said.
“Yeah, me too,” Sam said. His eyelids were heavy; he could feel himself falling back into sleep. “Everything go okay?”
“Well, yeah. Just a pissed off ghost. Coulda’ done it by myself.” He chuckled. “You shoulda’ seen the chick at the house, though...man, she was freaked, kept grabbing at Dad like he was John Wayne or something...”
Sam let his eyes drift shut as he listened to his brother, and fell asleep.
**END**