A Little Tenderness / wincest / nc-17
Title: A Little Tenderness
Author: Dolavine
Pairing: Sam and Dean
Rating: nc-17
Word count: 1,536
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the sexing.
Summary: Sam injured his arm and it's in a sling. Dean thinks he needs his rest and sleeps in his own room. Sam misses Dean, gets drunk and lets him know how much he misses his touches.
A/N: Written for badbastion's prompt: Badbastion’s prompt: I really wanna see some Wincest where Sam's still hurt with his arm in a sling, and they have to work around it! Thank you to memoonster for the beta
PDF: AO3
His arm still hurts like hell and the pain pills aren’t helping at all. Sam’s been lying awake for the last four hours, he’s not sure if he can’t sleep because Dean’s not beside him or if the pain is the reason, but whichever it is, he wishes he could get comfortable enough to just pass out.
He’s sick of staring at the thin patch of sun making a yellow light across the ceiling, and decides to get up. He holds his shoulder, and rolls out of bed. He adjusts the sling, wincing with pain as he repositions his arm.
The pain pills are on the nightstand along with Dean’s half-empty bottle of whiskey. He throws two pills into his mouth and downs them with a large chug of the bitter liquor.
Sam’s been trying to concentrate on research while he waits for Dean to get back. He hates that his injury has excluded him from the leg work of hunting. He misses Dean, but that started before he left. They haven’t slept in the same bed since the injury.
A few hours later, Sam’s downing two more pills with whiskey. He pours himself a half tumbler of the amber liquid and takes it with him to the computer.
He’s lost track of time as he finishes off the bottle, between the pain pills and the alcohol; he’s pretty out of it. He lets his mind wander as he thinks about how much he misses Dean, how he never asked him if he needed to sleep alone to be comfortable or if he wanted him to stay, just moved into the other bed, and abandoned him.
Sam’s phone goes off. It’s a text from Dean, to let him know that he’s only about an hour away. Sam grunts before answering. Hurry back, I miss you. His thumb lingers over the send button. He quickly erases it and retypes, Okay. He hits send, drops the phone, and takes another swallow of liquor.
By the time Dean comes in, Sam’s feeling no pain. He’s sitting in the overstuffed chair in the corner, watching porn on the laptop. He’s half-hard and trying to figure out how to jack-off while steadying the laptop on his knees.
“Hey,” Dean says throwing the keys on the table and putting down a fast food bag. “Dinner,” He grins but quickly changes his expression to surprise and disbelief. “What are you doing?” His words are bemused.
“Taking care of myself, or trying to.” His words are slurred and he’s slumped down in the chair, his head lulled off to the side. Truth be told, he’s barely paying attention to the screwing going on in the video.
“Sam, are you drunk?” He’s examining Sam’s body language. The empty whiskey bottle on the floor next to him is also a dead give away.
“And probably a lot stoned from the pain pills.” He can barely hold his head up.
“Damn-it, Sammy, what were you thinking?” he takes the laptop from him.
“Hey… I’m watching that.” Sam protests. His good arm flailing helplessly as the computer is taken away.
“What you need is food, and bed.” Dean’s pulling him up and helping him to the table, so that he’ll eat something.
“Bed… right.” Dean’s strong arm around him finishes off his erection and makes him rigid. “You don’t sleep with me anymore.”
Dean stops and snaps his head towards Sam. “You’re healing, you need your rest.”
“I’m not resting.” Sam fumbles to wrap his good arm around Dean’s shoulders.
They make it to the table and Dean eases him into a chair. “What do you mean you’re not resting?” He takes out a burger and puts it in front of Sam.
Sam looks at the burger but doesn’t feel like eating it. He looks up into Dean’s eyes and sighs. “I miss you.”
“But…your shoulder, the pain?”
“The pain is nothing to the cold loneliness of the empty side of the bed.” He pokes at his burger with his index finger. “I sometimes go to your room just to hear you breathing, but can’t go in.”
“You miss me?” It’s like he’s hearing words that he never thought he’d hear. “I miss you too.” Dean kneels down and puts his hands on Sam’s thighs. He looks up into Sam’s foggy gaze.
Sam cups the side of Dean’s face, rubs his thumb over the soft hairs at Dean’s temple. “I want you so much.”
“I want you too, but…” He runs his hand over the blue cotton sling holding Sam’s arm in a bent position. “The sling.”
“We can work around it.” He grips his fingers along Dean’s hairline and leans down to kiss him and Dean stretches up to meet his mouth.
It’s warm and tender. Sam presses harder for a more fevered exchange. His tongue slips through Dean’s lips to taste the saltiness of fries that he had stolen from the food bag on the drive home. He likes it. Dean’s hand moves up Sam’s injured shoulder to caress the side of his neck, letting his fingers tangle in the soft tendrils hanging just above his shoulder.
Sam’s heart is racing like a scared rabbit, his cock is pressing against the confines of his sweatpants. He arches up for some pressure, hoping that Dean’s knee is close enough to grind against, but it isn’t. He whimpers against Dean’s mouth.
“Sorry,” Dean whispers against hot breath and moves his body back a little bit.
“No,” Sam groans and pulls him closer still, pulling him up to drag him across his lap. Dean doesn’t protest, just follows his prompts.
He’s careful not to push on the injury but he wants this, wants Sam so much he can taste it. He switches positions so that he’s straddling Sam’s lap. His hands grope around between them as he pushes Sam’s pants down, finding that he has no underwear on and his hard cock pushes up between them. It’s slick with precome that makes a line across the palm of Dean’s hand as he slides up over it.
“Yes,” Sam moans out breathlessly. He arches into Dean, his arm slung around Dean’s shoulder for purchase. He’s still blurry from the drink and the pills but Dean’s warmth is bringing him too, sobering him up as he feels Dean’s rough callused fingers dragging over his sensitive cock.
“God, I’ve missed your skin.” Dean rucks Sam’s t-shirt up enough to pepper his pert nipple with kisses. Sam arches, pushes into Dean’s body, almost lifting both of them off of the chair. His had squeezes Sam’s dick, smears the gathering fluid over the head. “Make you feel so good little brother.”
Sam’s head falls back and he makes some pleasurable unintelligible sounds. Dean rocks his hips into him as he’s stroking over his hard flesh. The breath hitches in Dean’s chest at the sounds coming out of Sam.
“Fuck,” Dean, whispers. His cock is impossibly hard and the tiny bit of friction between them is just enough to keep him on edge.
They’re moving together, Sam clutching onto Dean as they rock and gyrate in unison. Dean’s hot breath tickles Sam’s neck as he carefully nuzzles into it.
“You okay?” the hot words sear into Sam’s flesh.
Sam swallows hard and pushes the word out. “Yeah.” He squeezes his eyes tight and digs his fingers into Dean’s back; he fists the soft flannel shirt pulled tight across the smooth muscles of his back. “Christ,” his voice is strained as he pumps his hips faster against Dean’s tight grip. He’s not sure if it’s the alcohol or how much he’s missed Dean’s touch but he can’t hold back. He shoots out a thick pearly stream. It lands across his belly and paints his brother’s palm. His legs are shaking from Dean’s weight and the much needed orgasm.
“You’re so beautiful when you fall over that edge,” Dean keeps stroking Sam, keeps popping his own hips against Sam’s lap and his own wrist. The mild friction between them and the sight of Sam’s perfect O face sends a shockwave of pleasure through him that makes his belly hot and his balls pull up to his body. He holds his breath and buries his face in Sam’s neck as he lets out a muffled groan and comes hot and wet inside of his own boxer shorts.
They’re spent and both are a creamy mess of their own jizz.
“Damn, Sammy.” Dean’s breathless whisper ghosts over Sam’s skin. He sits up and tries to regain some kind of composure.
Sam lets go of Dean’s shirt, releases the strong one armed hug holding him impossibly close and looks into his brothers watery green lust blown eyes. “You’re sleeping with me tonight, right?”
He can’t refuse Sam, can’t deny him the affections of their night-time snuggling and groping anymore. “Of course,” he kisses Sam’s injured shoulder as he runs his hand down over the sling to Sam’s dangling fingertips and strokes over them. “It’s all good now,” he says, a sweet smile crossing his lips as he looks tenderly into Sam’s eyes.
“Good, cause I’m exhausted.” Sam grips Dean’s fingertips with his own as they kiss softly.
The End
Author: Dolavine
Pairing: Sam and Dean
Rating: nc-17
Word count: 1,536
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the sexing.
Summary: Sam injured his arm and it's in a sling. Dean thinks he needs his rest and sleeps in his own room. Sam misses Dean, gets drunk and lets him know how much he misses his touches.
A/N: Written for badbastion's prompt: Badbastion’s prompt: I really wanna see some Wincest where Sam's still hurt with his arm in a sling, and they have to work around it! Thank you to memoonster for the beta
PDF: AO3
His arm still hurts like hell and the pain pills aren’t helping at all. Sam’s been lying awake for the last four hours, he’s not sure if he can’t sleep because Dean’s not beside him or if the pain is the reason, but whichever it is, he wishes he could get comfortable enough to just pass out.
He’s sick of staring at the thin patch of sun making a yellow light across the ceiling, and decides to get up. He holds his shoulder, and rolls out of bed. He adjusts the sling, wincing with pain as he repositions his arm.
The pain pills are on the nightstand along with Dean’s half-empty bottle of whiskey. He throws two pills into his mouth and downs them with a large chug of the bitter liquor.
Sam’s been trying to concentrate on research while he waits for Dean to get back. He hates that his injury has excluded him from the leg work of hunting. He misses Dean, but that started before he left. They haven’t slept in the same bed since the injury.
A few hours later, Sam’s downing two more pills with whiskey. He pours himself a half tumbler of the amber liquid and takes it with him to the computer.
He’s lost track of time as he finishes off the bottle, between the pain pills and the alcohol; he’s pretty out of it. He lets his mind wander as he thinks about how much he misses Dean, how he never asked him if he needed to sleep alone to be comfortable or if he wanted him to stay, just moved into the other bed, and abandoned him.
Sam’s phone goes off. It’s a text from Dean, to let him know that he’s only about an hour away. Sam grunts before answering. Hurry back, I miss you. His thumb lingers over the send button. He quickly erases it and retypes, Okay. He hits send, drops the phone, and takes another swallow of liquor.
By the time Dean comes in, Sam’s feeling no pain. He’s sitting in the overstuffed chair in the corner, watching porn on the laptop. He’s half-hard and trying to figure out how to jack-off while steadying the laptop on his knees.
“Hey,” Dean says throwing the keys on the table and putting down a fast food bag. “Dinner,” He grins but quickly changes his expression to surprise and disbelief. “What are you doing?” His words are bemused.
“Taking care of myself, or trying to.” His words are slurred and he’s slumped down in the chair, his head lulled off to the side. Truth be told, he’s barely paying attention to the screwing going on in the video.
“Sam, are you drunk?” He’s examining Sam’s body language. The empty whiskey bottle on the floor next to him is also a dead give away.
“And probably a lot stoned from the pain pills.” He can barely hold his head up.
“Damn-it, Sammy, what were you thinking?” he takes the laptop from him.
“Hey… I’m watching that.” Sam protests. His good arm flailing helplessly as the computer is taken away.
“What you need is food, and bed.” Dean’s pulling him up and helping him to the table, so that he’ll eat something.
“Bed… right.” Dean’s strong arm around him finishes off his erection and makes him rigid. “You don’t sleep with me anymore.”
Dean stops and snaps his head towards Sam. “You’re healing, you need your rest.”
“I’m not resting.” Sam fumbles to wrap his good arm around Dean’s shoulders.
They make it to the table and Dean eases him into a chair. “What do you mean you’re not resting?” He takes out a burger and puts it in front of Sam.
Sam looks at the burger but doesn’t feel like eating it. He looks up into Dean’s eyes and sighs. “I miss you.”
“But…your shoulder, the pain?”
“The pain is nothing to the cold loneliness of the empty side of the bed.” He pokes at his burger with his index finger. “I sometimes go to your room just to hear you breathing, but can’t go in.”
“You miss me?” It’s like he’s hearing words that he never thought he’d hear. “I miss you too.” Dean kneels down and puts his hands on Sam’s thighs. He looks up into Sam’s foggy gaze.
Sam cups the side of Dean’s face, rubs his thumb over the soft hairs at Dean’s temple. “I want you so much.”
“I want you too, but…” He runs his hand over the blue cotton sling holding Sam’s arm in a bent position. “The sling.”
“We can work around it.” He grips his fingers along Dean’s hairline and leans down to kiss him and Dean stretches up to meet his mouth.
It’s warm and tender. Sam presses harder for a more fevered exchange. His tongue slips through Dean’s lips to taste the saltiness of fries that he had stolen from the food bag on the drive home. He likes it. Dean’s hand moves up Sam’s injured shoulder to caress the side of his neck, letting his fingers tangle in the soft tendrils hanging just above his shoulder.
Sam’s heart is racing like a scared rabbit, his cock is pressing against the confines of his sweatpants. He arches up for some pressure, hoping that Dean’s knee is close enough to grind against, but it isn’t. He whimpers against Dean’s mouth.
“Sorry,” Dean whispers against hot breath and moves his body back a little bit.
“No,” Sam groans and pulls him closer still, pulling him up to drag him across his lap. Dean doesn’t protest, just follows his prompts.
He’s careful not to push on the injury but he wants this, wants Sam so much he can taste it. He switches positions so that he’s straddling Sam’s lap. His hands grope around between them as he pushes Sam’s pants down, finding that he has no underwear on and his hard cock pushes up between them. It’s slick with precome that makes a line across the palm of Dean’s hand as he slides up over it.
“Yes,” Sam moans out breathlessly. He arches into Dean, his arm slung around Dean’s shoulder for purchase. He’s still blurry from the drink and the pills but Dean’s warmth is bringing him too, sobering him up as he feels Dean’s rough callused fingers dragging over his sensitive cock.
“God, I’ve missed your skin.” Dean rucks Sam’s t-shirt up enough to pepper his pert nipple with kisses. Sam arches, pushes into Dean’s body, almost lifting both of them off of the chair. His had squeezes Sam’s dick, smears the gathering fluid over the head. “Make you feel so good little brother.”
Sam’s head falls back and he makes some pleasurable unintelligible sounds. Dean rocks his hips into him as he’s stroking over his hard flesh. The breath hitches in Dean’s chest at the sounds coming out of Sam.
“Fuck,” Dean, whispers. His cock is impossibly hard and the tiny bit of friction between them is just enough to keep him on edge.
They’re moving together, Sam clutching onto Dean as they rock and gyrate in unison. Dean’s hot breath tickles Sam’s neck as he carefully nuzzles into it.
“You okay?” the hot words sear into Sam’s flesh.
Sam swallows hard and pushes the word out. “Yeah.” He squeezes his eyes tight and digs his fingers into Dean’s back; he fists the soft flannel shirt pulled tight across the smooth muscles of his back. “Christ,” his voice is strained as he pumps his hips faster against Dean’s tight grip. He’s not sure if it’s the alcohol or how much he’s missed Dean’s touch but he can’t hold back. He shoots out a thick pearly stream. It lands across his belly and paints his brother’s palm. His legs are shaking from Dean’s weight and the much needed orgasm.
“You’re so beautiful when you fall over that edge,” Dean keeps stroking Sam, keeps popping his own hips against Sam’s lap and his own wrist. The mild friction between them and the sight of Sam’s perfect O face sends a shockwave of pleasure through him that makes his belly hot and his balls pull up to his body. He holds his breath and buries his face in Sam’s neck as he lets out a muffled groan and comes hot and wet inside of his own boxer shorts.
They’re spent and both are a creamy mess of their own jizz.
“Damn, Sammy.” Dean’s breathless whisper ghosts over Sam’s skin. He sits up and tries to regain some kind of composure.
Sam lets go of Dean’s shirt, releases the strong one armed hug holding him impossibly close and looks into his brothers watery green lust blown eyes. “You’re sleeping with me tonight, right?”
He can’t refuse Sam, can’t deny him the affections of their night-time snuggling and groping anymore. “Of course,” he kisses Sam’s injured shoulder as he runs his hand down over the sling to Sam’s dangling fingertips and strokes over them. “It’s all good now,” he says, a sweet smile crossing his lips as he looks tenderly into Sam’s eyes.
“Good, cause I’m exhausted.” Sam grips Dean’s fingertips with his own as they kiss softly.
The End