[smpc] Prompted - Sam/Dean
Title: Prompted
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Wincest
A/N: Written for smpc! Thank you to my beta's oldbatj and theatregirl7299! Also for Sam_Dreams for the title idea! Huge shout out to pinkwithoutplot, firesign10 & ephermeralk for letting me reference their awesome fics! Links are embedded in the story!
Word Count: ~ 7500ish words
Summary: Sam gets more than he bargained for when he starts reading fanfiction.
Some Kind of Temporary Sanity by pinkwithoutplot
“Sammy!”
It comes out as a moan. Not at all as he intended, and he nearly bites through his own lip when Sam answers him by moaning around his shaft, sending vibrations down his length and making him hunch. He wants to move. He wants to fuck his little brother's mouth.
He looks down, his jaw slack, and is shocked to see Sam's eyes on him. He's flushed pink from the heat of the water and his lids are heavy. He looks like a painting. One of those Renaissance paintings - all cow eyes and soft, dewy flesh. And where the hell did that come from?
Sam lets his eyes fall shut, like he's actually enjoying this. And that can't be right because this is a whole new world of wrong. It's so wrong Dean can't wrap his head around it. There are still gazes on them through the steam. Dean can hear grunts and the slap of wet flesh on flesh over the rush of water, of his blood in his own ears, can see blurred shapes moving through the mist and knows what that means. He hears Sam slurp and suck, winces as a sharp edge of tooth snags him.
He's not stopping this. Why isn't he pushing Sam away? He tells himself he's too stunned to move. His brother - his baby brother - is giving him head. They have an audience. It's clumsy and sloppy and maybe a little too rough, but Dean's pretty sure he's never been so close to losing it so fast in his life. And that makes him so twisted he can't even fathom it.
Sam pulls off just long enough to say,
“You can come in my mouth.”
Dean laughs then. Full belly laughs. This must all be some sick dream. He exhales and says,
"Sam?"
Sam jumped, reaching forward with his right hand to click the 'x' at the corner of the page before slamming the laptop shut while his left hand flew away from his dick as if it had suddenly grown teeth. Two seconds later, Dean was around the dividing wall of the motel room they'd rented for the night, a bag of food in his hands and an amused grin on his face.
"Porn, Sammy? What was it...? ‘Busty Asian Beauties’ or ‘Hot Blondes and Their Moms’?"
Sam felt his cheeks flush even deeper than they already were and he tore his eyes away from Dean's face, shame, guilt and so much fucking need, threatening to choke him.
Silence was apparently the right answer because Dean just laughed and started to spread their food out on the table. "Bathroom's all yours if you need to go calm yourself down."
Dean's laughter followed him, even after he slammed the door.
Sam was so fucking screwed.
Sam wasn't sure how it had happened... One minute he was just as horrified as Dean to find out their lives were on display for the whole world to see-- or, well, read-- and that fans of the books had somehow decided it was a good idea to... ‘Embellish’ a few tales.
Fanfiction. Fiction about characters from popular literature and films written by the fans of said 'fandoms'. And who the fuck was Sam kidding... There was fanfiction for literally everything out there, popular or not. He'd actually looked, purely for research purposes of course.
He can still remember the look on Dean's face the day Sam had showed him the laptop and the archive site for the 'Supernatural Book Series Fans' and the link to ‘More Than Brothers’ and all of their fanfiction. He saw the look of disgust when he explained to Dean what a 'slash fic' was, and he was sure he'd felt the same. Hell, they were brothers, enjoyed the company of women, and...
And Jesus fucking Christ-- just the idea of slamming his brother's wet and naked body up against a shower wall and sucking him down had Sam's pants tightening and heat pooling deep in his belly.
He'd found himself just clicking around on the site, reading fan comments, building up an internal tally of how many women were 'Sam-girls' compared to 'Dean-girls' (which he was totally winning, by the way) when he saw it.
A fic rec claiming to have the inside scoop of what really happened at the prison. To be fair, it had been rated ‘explicit’, but Sam had honestly expected tits! It wasn't under any specific category, just under samlicker81 fic recs, and she said it was a 'MUST READ'. And then... Well, Sam decided as soon as he realized what the fuck he was reading that 'pinkwithoutplot' was a fucking lunatic who needed her goddamn head checked and shut that shit down mighty quick.
It took him two days before he clicked through the history to find it again.
It took him two hours to actually get through the entire thing-- battling nausea and confusion and want.
It took him two minutes to come, jacking off with his legs wide open in front of the computer, scrolling back up to the scene where he sucked Dean off in the prison shower.
It took him two months before he dared to read it again.
Fanfiction was ruining Sam’s life.
He found himself waiting until Dean was asleep, his heart jumping in ridiculous excitement whenever Dean offered to go out to get them beer or food, because with Dean gone or sleeping? Sam could read.
He made sure to clear out the history on both the laptop and his phone, sometimes even mid-read, just in case. There was no way in hell he would ever live it down or be able to talk his way out of the fact that he’d been sorting through fifteen pages of ‘Wincest’ stories as research. Dean wasn’t stupid.
Sam sighed as he lay his head back against the couch, Dean sitting beside him, their legs brushing against one another’s as they watched the game on TV. Sam felt his stomach churn, but not in an ‘I’m-so-going-to-vomit’ type of churning… more of a… ‘You-touched-me-let’s-fuck!’ kind of way. And if that wasn’t ten kinds of wrong…
Sam glanced over at his brother, Dean leaning slightly to the side, his legs splayed open, right knee brushing against Sam’s. He had an arm thrown over the back of the couch and Sam let his eyes trail over the spot, thinking of how perfect it would be if he could just slip under Dean’s arm and press himself up against his chest… Dean turned to him then, an eyebrow cocked, perfect emerald eyes shining back at him, pink plush lips just begging to be kissed and---
Sam was writing fucking fanfiction in his goddamn head.
“What is wrong with you?” Dean laughed, shaking his head as Sam suddenly bolted from the couch, grabbing their empty beer bottles and heading for the mini-fridge for two more.
“You don’t even want to know,” he muttered and shoved his head into the fridge, closing his eyes and trying to focus on the cool air hitting his face instead of the tightness of his jeans and the fact that he’d just gotten hard, sitting on the couch beside Dean, thinking about his fucking eyes as goddamn emeralds.
When he returned to the couch and met Dean’s eyes when his older brother thanked him for the beer, he couldn’t help thinking that those fanfiction writers didn’t even know the half of it. There was no way Carver Edlund had been able to capture just how stunning Dean’s eyes really were, no matter how many words he’d used.
Fucking emerald eyes and plush pink lips… Jesus!
Sam chose to ignore his cock twitching in his pants.
Locks of Love by firesign10
"C'mere..." Sam tugs him forward an inch or so--any closer, Dean's going to be sitting in Sam's lap. As it is, he spreads his legs to straddle Sam's gigantor limbs.
Sam runs his hand up and down Dean's cock, squeezing and running his thumb over the slit, smearing the pre-come around. Sam pulls the skimpy boxers halfway down Dean's thighs, then takes hold of his dick and strokes it firmly in one big hand. He kisses the tip again, licks all around the head and down the length, with one big lick all the way back up before he sucks the head into his sweet pink mouth.
Dean closes his eyes and thinks he'll never be able to smell juniper again without getting hard. The air in the small bathroom is redolent with it. His hand leaves the sink and plants itself in Sam's hair, anchoring there. His fingers curl in that silky mop, tugging gently, and fuck if Sam really isn't purring. Dean tugs a little harder, and Sam responds by sucking Dean all the way in, making him groan loudly.
He realizes that he's holding Sam's hair really tightly and releases it, breathing an apology. Sam shakes his head and lets go of Dean's cock. "I think you better hang on...this could be a rough ride." He waits until Dean's hand is gripping his hair again, then swallows Dean right now.
Dean yelps, so much hotwetdeep surrounding his dick. His fingers tighten reflexively, and Sam fucking swallows around his cock. Dean can feel Sam's saliva running down into his balls; it's a light, tickley feeling. Well, it is until Sam's fingers start spreading the saliva and pre-come all over his balls and fondling them. Then it just makes Dean ready to pound nails.
Sam groaned, biting down as he sucked his lower lip into his mouth to muffle the sound. He was leaning against his right arm, the side of his face pressed up against his forearm and head turned to where his hand was holding his phone out of the shower spray.
He hadn’t even made it to the good part yet before he’d blown his fucking load.
He clicked out of the screen, letting his phone fall to the pile his clothes and towel had made on the floor and stepped back under the spray, letting the warm water rinse away his release where it had clung to his stomach and hand.
He had a fascination with Dean’s dick. Last night he had a dream that he’d crawled into Dean’s bed and slowly stripped him down, and Dean moaned beneath his hands and his mouth as Sam tasted every single inch of his brother’s body.
He shouldn’t have a fascination with Dean’s dick, because Dean was his brother. It doesn’t seem to matter... his own words rang through his head. He chuckled to himself and focused his attention back on the shower, washing himself quickly even though it felt like his entire body was still singing from his orgasm.
When he shut off the spray and reached down for the towel, he could hear Dean singing to himself out in the room, probably pulling out his clothes for the day and getting ready to switch places with Sam to take his own shower. Images of his brother half asleep, hair sticking up in all directions, stepping naked underneath the spray Sam had just jacked off in had his dick twitching in interest.
Groaning, Sam wrapped his towel tightly around his waist and reached down for his sleep clothes, holding them in front of his crotch... just in case.
“Morning, Sammy,” Dean greeted when Sam stepped back into the room, and Sam was grateful for the blast of cold air the room provided after being in the small bathroom for the last half an hour. “Sleep well?”
“Uh, yeah,” Sam shrugged and slipped past Dean. He caught his brother’s scent as he passed, the cologne that still clung to his skin from the day before as well as last night’s whiskey, and he quickened his pace back over to his own bed.
“Good. Wanna grab breakfast on the road? I think I caught a case! Left the paper on the table.”
Sam nodded, pretending to look for clothes as he rooted through his duffel and only managed to relax when the door to the bathroom closed again.
“Fuck,” Sam swore, rubbing a hand over his face as he dropped his clothes onto the bed. He looked down at them and his heart stopped. He ripped them apart, shaking out each piece of clothing… searching. The sound of the shower turning on had his heart jumping again.
“Sam?” Dean opened the door, peeking around the corner, hiding half his body as he handed out Sam’s phone. The phone Sam stupidly left on the floor without clearing or exiting the fanfiction page. His heart was pounding and he crossed the room to grab the phone from Dean’s outstretched hand. Dean gave him a strange look and Sam realized he’d probably ripped the phone just a bit too hard out of Dean’s hands… but if Dean had looked…
Sam clicked the phone on, the screen clearly still displaying the fic, and he shut it down just as quick...
“You’re fucking weird this morning,” Dean shook his head and closed the bathroom door again.
Sam just nodded and cleared his history before dropping the phone to the bed and sinking down beside it.
Sam couldn’t keep doing this…
Dean was drinking.
Dean was happy, the ‘liquid of the gods’ flowing through his veins - Dean’s words, not Sam’s - and had the urge to take tomorrow off and stay up late watching horror movies.
“Sammy… it’s Halloween! We both know there isn’t any real shit that goes on during Halloween. Lets just… relax! Hang out! Drink!”
“I think you’ve drunk enough for the both of us…” Sam muttered, parking the Impala before their motel and getting out of the car. Dean was usually in control - he drank, but not to excess. Tonight? Sam was sure Dean had drunk the entire fucking place out of whiskey and beer. Dean snorted but followed after him. Sam dug into his pocket, looking for the key to their room, and stopped short when he saw the door already opening. Instantly, he was on guard, eyes flicking over to Dean quickly to see if he was going to have any kind of backup.
Dean was singing to himself and playing with a rock with his shoe. Yeah, no backup there... Sighing, Sam told Dean to wait for a second and stepped forward, his hand reaching behind his back for his gun.
“Mr. Grant?”
As Sam immediately shoved the gun back into his jeans, the motel manager stepped out of the door, “Oh, you’re back!”
“Yeah… Something wrong?” Sam asked slowly, looking over the man’s shoulders to their room.
“There’s been a problem,” the man started to explain, motioning Sam forward. “The woman next door decided to screw with the plumbing and well…” Mr. Grant grimaced as they walked into the room and Sam’s boots squished into the carpet. “But, we’re not at full vacancy so I can get you another room!”
“Yeah,” Sam sighed, heading to their beds to grab their duffels. He was glad he’d made Dean put away their weapons before they’d headed out to the bar that night.
“It’s a bit smaller though…”
“Oh, that’s fine.” Sam gave him a tight smile and threw a duffel to Dean who caught it, but almost fell over with the impact.
They were led to the other side of the strip building, the manager switching out their keys with a new one when they passed the reception area, and left them before their new door. When Sam opened the door he stopped short and Dean slammed into his back, swearing once before he shoved Sam hard. “Fuck, Sammy…”
Sam glanced at Dean quickly and then shook his head. “I’m going to have to tell him this isn’t going to work…”
“Why? ‘S like a sleepover!” Dean laughed, tossing his duffel to the bottom of the queen sized bed - the only bed- and kicking off his boots before he fell face forward onto the mattress. “Beer, Sammy. I need beer.” Dean’s voice was muffled into the pillow and Sam sighed, closing the door behind him.
“You don’t need more beer, Dean.”
“You’re never any fucking fun.”
Sam ignored him, heading to the small table in the room and pulling out his laptop. Dean spent the next half hour continuing to mutter how Sam was no fun, didn’t know how to not work, how he was a bitch, before he passed out, still on top of the covers.
Sam stalled. He looked up cases, played a few hands of solitaire and purposefully avoided anything and everything that had to do with fanfiction. Sighing, Sam looked at his watch and realized that it was closing in on three in the morning and unless he wanted to be completely dead in the morning he had to suck it up and get some sleep.
He closed the top of the laptop and moved over towards the bed, eyes trailing over Dean’s body as it was sprawled out over the top of the covers, legs splayed wide. He moved to the side of the bed and looked down. Dean’s eyelashes were fluttering softly against his skin, his mouth slightly open, cheek pressed up where it was squished against the pillow.
Sam wanted to reach out and brush the back of his hand against Dean’s cheek, back through his hair. He clenched his fist instead, taking a deep breath before he reached out and shook Dean’s shoulder.
“Dean! Dean! Come on… you’re taking up the whole bed.”
Dean groaned, rolling onto his back and lifting one arm to wipe at the corner of his mouth. He said something, but Sam couldn’t understand what it was for the life of him. Half asleep, Dean allowed himself to be manhandled over to one side of the bed and after a moment’s hesitation, Sam shook him again and helped Dean get himself out of his jeans so that he would be more comfortable.
Sam stripped his own jeans and boots off and carefully got into the bed, immediately lying on his side and hugging the edge of the bed. Every move Dean made had Sam’s heart jumping up into his throat - every turn, the struggle Dean had trying to get his leg free from the comforter, every goddamn fucking breath.
Sam didn’t know how the hell he was going to fall asleep like this. He forced his eyes closed and focused on his breathing, trying to ignore the soft sounds of sleep coming from his older brother. They’d slept in the same bed hundreds of times - every time they’d been on a hunt with their Dad and John was with them, whenever they were with other hunters or stayed at Bobby’s place when it was a full house. This wasn’t abnormal... it didn’t have to be weird!
Sam just needed to ignore the fact that earlier that morning he’d finished an Alpha/Omega fic that got everything about werewolves completely wrong but hit Sam in all the wrong-but-right places. Sam exhaled slowly…
Dean felt warm, a hot line pressed up against Sam’s back, his breath hot against Sam’s neck. Sam hummed softly, letting himself sink back into Dean’s embrace, shifting his leg back to fall between Dean’s legs. Dean shifted, his arm tightening around Sam’s stomach.
Sam smiled to himself, moving his hand to lay on top of Dean’s hand and trace over his fingers slowly. This was worth waking up to every morning…
Sam’s eyes flew open. Sunlight was pouring through the large window with the wide open curtains, which he’d neglected to close last night before he went to bed. And Dean? Dean was wrapped around his body. Sam threw Dean’s arm off of him and rolled out of the bed quickly. The quick motion jerked Dean awake and he looked at Sam in alarm, trying to blink the sleep out of his eyes.
“Fuck,” he groaned and Sam was surprised he could hear him over the rapid beating of his heart. “Feels like I got hit by a fucking bus…” Dean rolled over, the comforter falling low on his hips, his shirt scrunched up from rolling in his sleep and showing the cut of his left hip and the flat of his stomach.
Sam spun away from the bed. “Taking a shower... Aspirin in the bag...” he stammered.
He didn’t hear Dean’s grumbled response as he slammed the door shut.
Technicalities by ephermeralk
Then Sam licks his hole; a broad flat swipe which makes Dean stick his ass out even more. Anything to feel warm, wet heat against his body. Sam obliges readily, alternating between licking around his entrance and sticking his tongue inside, urging his inner walls to give up a bit of their tension. Encouraging them to make room for his dick. Dean can honestly say that Sam’s tongue makes a good argument. Rimming feels fucking fantastic.
By the time that Sam pulls his face away from his ass, Dean’s cock is emitting steady drops of pre-come, making a fair sized wet spot on the comforter.
“Pretty, good, huh?” Sam asks, pride evident in his voice.
“Not bad.”
“You’re fucking dripping.”
“So are you and my tongue isn’t up your ass.”
“Jerk.”
“Bitch.”
“Nah, I think that honor goes to you tonight, Dean.”
“You know. I’m starting to think that you’re scared of sticking it in me after that you’re going to love every minute of it speech you gave earlier. Worried you can’t get me off, little brother?”
Sam, of course, takes the challenge, and the loud squelch of lube coming out of the bottle resounds throughout the otherwise quiet room.
“I don’t want to hurt you, so we’re going slow tonight, whether you want it or not.”
“Well, don’t blame me if I fall aslee-” Dean doesn’t finish his sentence because the air gets knocked out of his lungs when Sam shoves two fingers in him.
Sam swallowed hard, staring at the screen before him, the passage highlighted by the cursor.
Sam doesn’t read bottom!dean stories. He doesn’t think they’re realistic. You know, as realistic of him and Dean ever having a real romantic - okay, downright sexual--- relationship ever was going to be. Fanfiction was fantasy, sure, and as much as the idea of Dean submitting to him and letting Sam take care of him turned him on? Sam wanted his fantasy to be believable. That’s what made it so fucking hot. And dirty… and wrong… and…
Sam doesn’t read bottom!dean.
Sam never leaves up fanfiction. There could be a fucking demon heading towards him and Sam would make sure to hit the little fucking ‘x’ in the corner first. Nor does he highlight things as he reads them… That’s something Dean always does, ever since Sam made fun of him for changing the text size on the internet.
So if Sam didn’t leave it up, that meant…
“What are you doing?” Dean’s question was loud, his voice sharp, and Sam spun quickly in the chair to see his older brother standing right behind the chair, his eyes wide as he looked past Sam’s shoulder and onto the computer screen. “What… What’s that?”
Sam stared back at him, watching a range of emotions play out over Dean’s face as large, green eyes flicked back and forth between the screen and his younger brother.
“It was up.” Sam finally said, clearing his throat when half of the words got caught. He licked his lower lip and tried again. “It was just… there when I opened up the computer.”
“I need to shower,” Dean whispered spinning on his heel and Sam watched him go, despite the fact that Dean had just come out of the shower. Fuck, he still had a towel slung low around his waist. Sam stared at the closed door for a moment longer before he turned back to the screen.
Dean was reading fanfiction too.
With a shaking hand, Sam reached for the mouse and clicked the red ‘x’ on the screen and slowly pulled the lid of the laptop down. A million thoughts were racing around his head, fighting to dominate over the one thought that was still ringing through him. Dean was reading fanfiction too.
Part of Sam wanted to laugh-- he wasn’t the only one. There was no way in hell that Dean was ‘researching’ anything, they hadn’t had a case or hints towards anything to do with the books or Carver Edlund in weeks. Dean had chosen to read it, had found it on his own. Sam’s heart started beating faster.
The other part of Sam just wanted to cry. They were brothers. They were supposed to have each other’s backs, and not in that way. They were supposed to protect, defend and look out for one another. And here they were both lost in fucked up fantasies about being wrapped around each other once the lights went out.
Sam waited, half expecting to hear the spray of the shower returning so Dean could at least pretend he’d actually gone into the bathroom for a reason. It felt like hours that Sam sat in the plastic chair, staring down at the closed laptop and listening for any sign of life in the bathroom.
He tried to think of how he would have felt if he’d accidentally left something up on the computer and Dean had found it… Dean had seemed so calm, so put together. Though it wasn’t news to anyone that Sam was always the more outward emotional one. Sam turned his head to look towards the bathroom door once more.
Dean wasn’t going to be coming out on his own…
Slowly, Sam peeled himself out of the chair and crossed the room in four long strides, rapping his knuckles against the door.
“Dean?”
“Go away, Sammy. I’m busy,” Dean’s voice was muffled, thick with emotion, and it made Sam’s stomach clench.
“Dean… I’m not going anywhere. Come on, come out here and talk to me, please?” Sam sighed as he leaned his forehead against the door.
“There’s nothing to talk about!”
“Dean… come on! I saw it, okay? It’s just a little bit of fanfiction… I mean, it’s not what I would--”
The door suddenly flew open and Sam almost toppled forward into Dean’s chest. The expression on Dean’s face was shocking, and Sam felt his throat dry up.
“It’s just a little bit of fanfiction, Sammy?” Dean hissed, eyes wild. “Just a bit of fiction? You read it, so you know what I was reading. You know how fucked up this is?”
“Dean--”
“I don’t want to hear it, Sam, okay? I can’t hear it. I know it’s wrong, I know I shouldn’t be reading and thinking about that between you and me. And I never, ever wanted you to find out. But I can’t hear you tell me that. I can’t listen to you tell me that I’m worthless and broken. I’m messed up, Sam. I know that. I just can’t…” Dean trailed off, tearing his eyes away from Sam’s to look down at the floor, squeezing his eyes shut.
Sam didn’t know what possessed him them, but he chalked it up to reading too many fics as he reached forward and let his hand slide against Dean’s cheek, pulling his face back up. He felt Dean swallow hard against his palm, eyes searching Sam’s, and Sam closed the distance between them, pressing their lips together. Dean’s lips were warm and soft under Sam’s, and Sam felt Dean’s body stiffen.
“What I was going to say,” Sam whispered, pulling back slightly but keeping his hand and Dean’s face, “was that, that wasn’t the type of fiction I’ve been reading.”
Dean blinked once, confusion clouding his eyes as he searched Sam’s face. Sam watched as the comprehension of his words hit Dean and he nodded once, giving his brother a small smile.
“We’re so fucked up,” Dean whispered, a shaking hand reaching forward to press flat against Sam’s chest. “You know that, right?”
“Dean... I honestly don’t think I care,” Sam replied, shrugging his shoulders. Dean’s answering smirk was all Sam needed and he closed the distance between them again, turning Dean to press him against the door frame of the bathroom.
“Fuck,” Dean breathed out against Sam’s lips, his hands moving to circle Sam’s waist and pull him in. “Are we doing this?”
“Yes,” Sam answered, pressing his body against Dean’s and kissing him hard. Dean responded to the kiss, and between the nips and tongue and feeling of Dean’s hard, muscled body pressed against him, Sam hadn’t even realized they’d moved away from the bathroom until Dean’s legs hit the end of the bed and Sam had to grab him to keep him from falling over.
They broke the kiss, Dean’s lips were swollen and red and Sam ran his tongue over his own, wondering if they looked the same. Slowly, Dean reached down and grabbed the hem of Sam’s shirt, pulling the flannel and undershirt off in one tug. Then, they were tumbling down onto the bed, Dean pulling Sam down on top of him.
Sam let out a soft sigh as he landed, stretching himself out over Dean’s body and smiling against his brother’s lips when he felt Dean’s legs lock around the back of his calves, pulling Sam closer. Sam could feel Dean’s length, hot and hard beneath his towel and pressed against the bulge in Sam’s jeans. He moaned into Dean’s mouth, rolling his hips once to press down against Dean.
“Christ, Sammy,” Dean groaned, his entire back arching and pushing him harder against Sam’s body. Sam chuckled in response and moved away from Dean’s lips, kissing down the side of his face and down his throat. He ran his hands down Dean’s sides, fingertips hesitating once at the top of the towel before he met Dean’s eyes. Dean nodded, just a small jerk of his head, and that was all Sam needed to move forward.
Sam lifted his hips away from Dean and freed the edge of the towel, letting it fall flat to either side of his brother’s hips. His breath hitched as he let his gaze trail down the muscles of Dean’s chest and stomach, the cut of his hips, and his hard length lying heavy against his lower stomach.
None of the fiction Sam had ever read came close to actually seeing Dean in the flesh.
“Dean,” Sam whispered as he leaned forward, needing to taste and kiss every inch of Dean’s skin he could reach. Dean’s breath hitched as Sam’s teeth grazed a nipple... when Sam’s fingers dug into Dean’s thighs and pushed them apart... when his tongue laved each rippled plane of his stomach...
“Sam, please.” Dean’s cock throbbed with need, the velvet soft flesh brushing against Sam’s cheek and Sam found himself groaning and turning his head to let it brush against his lips. He let his tongue slip out to run along Dean’s length with just the barest amount of pressure. Dean’s hips lifted, and Sam smiled as he parted his lips and slid them around the tip of Dean’s cock and slid his hands to press Dean back down into the mattress.
Dean tasted salty, warm against his tongue and Sam let his tongue swirl around Dean’s shaft, slicking the way so he could suck Dean down. Dean moaned loudly, his hands falling down and twisting into Sam’s hair. His grip sent sharp pinpricks of both pain and pleasure radiating down Sam’s body and he groaned around Dean’s cock. Time seemed to slow, there was nothing else except their rocking hips, Dean’s swollen flesh, and Sam’s wet tongue, until Dean gasped Sam’s name and struggled to pull Sam back.
“Sam!”
Sam allowed himself to be pulled up and he crawled back up Dean’s body, finding his brother’s lips easily and sinking down against him. Dean’s hands flew to Sam’s belt and he made quick work of freeing Sam from his jeans and briefs. When they were both naked, they seemed to freeze, hearts beating wildly inside of their chests, rising and falling with each rapid breath as they locked eyes.
Even though he’d just had Dean’s dick halfway down his throat, this was different. There would be no going back, there couldn’t be any going back. Slowly, Sam lowered his hips and lined their bodies again, this time nothing between them. Dean’s legs lifted and immediately went to Sam’s hips, pulling him in tighter.
“God, Dean,” Sam whispered against Dean’s throat as he ground down. “I want you so fucking bad.”
“Yeah... Fuck, Sammy,” Dean answered, turning his head to give Sam better access to his neck. Sam bit down softly, sucking the sweat-slicked skin into his mouth, and then soothing the sting away with the flat of his tongue. Dean squirmed beneath him and pushed against Sam’s shoulder once to get space between them.
Sam pulled back and looked down at Dean just as his brother pressed a small bottle into Sam’s hands. Sam met his brother’s gaze, watching as Dean’s cheeks reddened from more than just arousal.
“Where did you...?”
“I was seeing what it would feel like,” Dean mumbled. “You know, with my fingers.”
“Jesus fucking Christ, Dean.” As if having Dean splayed out beneath him wasn’t hot enough… Sam surged forward, sealing their lips together once more, swallowing the soft moan from Dean as he parted his lips to let Sam in. Dean’s mouth was hot and sweet, his body pressed against every inch of Sam’s he could reach, and Sam felt like he was on fire.
“Did you think about me, Dean?” Sam whispered against Dean’s ear as he fumbled with long, shaking fingers to get the bottle open. “Did you pretend it was me inside you while you fucked yourself open?”
“Fuck, Sam. What have you been reading?” Dean rolled his hips, his cock throbbing against Sam’s stomach.
“Too much?” Sam asked, pausing and looking up to meet Dean’s eyes.
“No, not even close.” Dean laughed and shook his head. “God, the things you do to me Sammy, the things I’ve wanted you to do to me.”
Sam hissed in a breath and tipped the bottle, slicking his fingers. Dean shifted his hips beneath him, spreading his legs wider, his eyes trained on Sam's hands. Sam moved slowly, cautious and trying to fight back the fear and anticipation threatening to swallow him down. He had no experience in this, nothing more than what he had read, and Dean was the last person on Earth that he wanted to hurt, even a little bit. He watched as Dean's throat constricted as he swallowed hard, verdant eyes following Sam's movements, and he gave a small nod, accompanied by a quick intake of breath, when Sam slipped between his legs.
"I don't want to--"
"You won't." Dean voice was strained, his eyes wide as they met Sam's. "You won't," he repeated, softer and Sam nodded, pressing the pad of his finger against the tight muscle between Dean's cheeks. Sam had read hundreds of examples, ranging from drawn out and slow to quick and messy, depicting this exact moment. But none of those could have prepared him for the tight heat of Dean's body and the low grunt that came from Dean's throat. Sam moved slowly, circling his finger and working as if he were massaging the lube into Dean's muscle, his eyes trained on Dean's face the entire time to look for any sign of pain.
Dean looked uncomfortable. His eyes were closed, his tongue running along his lower lip and his brows furrowed as he flexed himself around Sam's finger. Every few seconds, Dean would whisper, "I'm okay, Sammy, keep going," like he knew exactly what was going through Sam's mind. Sam supposed he did: no one else knew him better than Dean, and that sent a surge of heat through his body and straight to his heart. Suddenly, Sam couldn't take it anymore and he leaned forward, crushing his lips to Dean, needing that connection.
Sam licked his way through Dean's mouth, distracting Dean as he added a second finger, twisting and pressing deep inside his brother's body. Sam couldn't pinpoint exactly when it happened, but soon Dean was bearing down against his fingers, muscle fluttering around the intrusion, and he was panting softly against Sam's lips. The soft noise Dean made when the pads of Sam's fingers brushed against the raised gland of Dean's prostate had Sam nearly coming apart himself.
"Jesus," Dean breathed out, eyes flying open as he met Sam's. "I'm good, I'm ready."
Sam nodded and twisted his fingers a few more times, pressing against his brother's sweet spot before he drew back. He reached for his discarded jeans and found his wallet, slipping out a condom and quickly rolling it over his length. Dean watched him, a strange expression on his face.
"We'll get tested," Sam said quickly, not wanting to have that conversation. They both knew they’d had other partners, but it wasn't anything he wanted to talk about now. Dean nodded once and reached for the bottle again to hand to Sam.
Sam poured a generous amount into his palm and slicked himself up, pressing the remaining lube into Dean’s entrance. “Are you ready?” Sam asked, meeting Dean’s eyes once more and at his brother’s nod, Sam lined up and slowly pushed in.
It was tight, tighter than Sam had imagined it would be, and he had to force himself to breathe out and move slow so he wouldn’t hurt Dean more than necessary. Dean’s eyes were closed again and Sam could feel him bearing down around the intrusion, trying to ease the way for Sam to slide into his body. Sam rocked his hips, slowly making way for his length, until he was finally seated completely in place, their hips flush together where they were joined.
“Dean,” Sam exhaled his name, a shudder going through his body as he fought back the urge to come right then and there. Dean flexed a few times around him, then lifted his legs to hook around Sam’s hips, pulling them even closer together.
“Move, Sammy.” Sam obliged and slowly pulled his hips back until he was nearly free, before driving home again in one swift, smooth motion. Dean made a soft sound and Sam paused, torn between wondering if he was the only one enjoying this or not when Dean said,“Again.”
Together, they set a slow pace, Sam driving his hips forward and Dean meeting each one with a rise of his own hips. He moved his arms from beside him on the bed, to rest onto Sam’s shoulders, giving himself the leverage he needed. It wasn’t long before Dean’s soft noises grew louder, and Sam had no doubt in his mind that they were from pleasure now.
Dean twisted his hand in the hair at the nape of Sam’s neck, tugging almost too hard as he pulled him forward to kiss him. It was hot, wet and sloppy, and everything Sam needed as he drilled his hips faster into Dean, chasing the heat that was building in his stomach and the sounds he was making Dean pant into his mouth.
Sam reached between them, slipping his arm behind Dean's knee so he could push it up higher. The change of angle had Sam's cock pressing right against Dean's prostate with each thrust and Dean cried out beneath him, ass clenching around Sam's dick and his fingers digging harder into Sam's shoulders.
"Fuck, yeah," Sam exhaled, fucking into Dean harder, feeling his orgasm steadily building.
Dean’s lips moved to Sam’s throat, biting and licking wherever he could reach. Sam felt his body responding, his balls draw up tighter to his body. The sounds of skin against skin, the breathless grunts and sighs coming from his older brother beneath him, were ringing through Sam’s head and he knew he wasn’t going to last long.
"Come on, Dean. Come for me,” he whispered, needing Dean to go first, wanting to feel and see Dean head over that edge.
"Sam-- Sammy!" Dean slammed his eyes shut, arched his hips and Sam rolled his own, grinding own against Dean’s sweet spot. With a shout, Dean came hard, spilling his release between their sweat-slicked bodies.
It hit Sam then, just like every clichéd fanfiction he'd ever read, that this was what he'd been missing. He couldn't think of anything else that had ever come close to feeling like this-- so complete, so absorbed and surrounded by another person, and as he came, buried deep inside of his brother's tight heat, he pressed his lips against Dean's and let it go.
"I love you, Dean... love you so much."
Sam collapsed against Dean’s chest, Dean’s arms circling around his back and holding him close as they steadied their breathing together.
“So good,” Sam whispered and shifted slightly so all of his weight wasn’t on his brother’s stomach and chest. He shifted his hips and slid free. Not ready to move yet, he let his head rest over Dean’s heart, focusing on the steady beating of it beneath his skin. A sense of calm washed over Sam as he laid there, breathing in deeply and surrounding himself with Dean and the scent of their love making. Then the words he’d uttered came back to him and he felt himself stiffen in Dean’s arms.
“Sam?” Dean asked softly and it made Sam’s heart skip a beat. He was ready for Dean to push him off and slap his ass, telling him that was a good time. Part of him wanted to laugh at just how correct all of the ‘first time’ stories he’d read had hit these feelings right on the fucking head. He felt his heart speed up again and he swallowed hard, trailing his gaze up to meet Dean’s eyes. “Did you mean it?”
Sam gave him a confused look; of course he meant it. It was probably the best sex he’d ever had in his entire life. He opened his mouth to say so when he caught the expression on Dean’s face -- eyes downcast, lower lip stuck between his teeth, and it hit Sam then what Dean had really meant.
“Oh!” He swallowed hard, and then nodded. “Yeah, Dean... I mean it.”
Dean’s eyes flicked up then and he surged forward to capture Sam in an unforgiving kiss. He rolled them over, arms still wrapped around Sam’s back, his knees pinning Sam against the bed.
“I love you too, Sammy.”
Sam woke up to an empty bed, and even though the events of yesterday had him falling asleep wrapped in his older brother’s arms and feeling happier than he ever had before, it didn’t stop the panic that washed over him. He turned to his side, heart pounding faster when he saw that Dean’s jacket was nowhere in sight, neither was his bag.
On the pillow where Dean’s head was supposed to be, a folded piece of paper lay and Sam’s stomach churned as he reached for it with shaking fingers.
Dean walked slowly towards the Impala, his baby, his pride and joy. He smiled as he ran his hand along her side, front to back, until he reached the trunk and popped it to throw in his bags. This ol’ girl was the most important thing in Dean’s life. He didn’t need much: a good bottle of whiskey, his pistol, his Impala and… Sammy.
Dean smirked as he let himself into the backseat of the car, unlocking the side door and knowing Sam would be following him out soon. It was a good thing the back of the motel parking lot was secluded -- if there was one thing he’d always wanted to do with Sammy, it was christen the backseat.
He’d left Sam a note, knew the sun would be waking him up soon, and Sam would be walking out any minute now-- once he got his heart rate under control.
So what the hell are you still doing reading this?
“Fucking Jerk,” Sam whispered, folding up Dean’s ‘fanfiction’ and swinging his legs over the bed. Dean had left him out clothes, but taken his bag, and Sam rushed to get outside. After all, Dean was waiting.
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Wincest
A/N: Written for smpc! Thank you to my beta's oldbatj and theatregirl7299! Also for Sam_Dreams for the title idea! Huge shout out to pinkwithoutplot, firesign10 & ephermeralk for letting me reference their awesome fics! Links are embedded in the story!
Word Count: ~ 7500ish words
Summary: Sam gets more than he bargained for when he starts reading fanfiction.
Some Kind of Temporary Sanity by pinkwithoutplot
“Sammy!”
It comes out as a moan. Not at all as he intended, and he nearly bites through his own lip when Sam answers him by moaning around his shaft, sending vibrations down his length and making him hunch. He wants to move. He wants to fuck his little brother's mouth.
He looks down, his jaw slack, and is shocked to see Sam's eyes on him. He's flushed pink from the heat of the water and his lids are heavy. He looks like a painting. One of those Renaissance paintings - all cow eyes and soft, dewy flesh. And where the hell did that come from?
Sam lets his eyes fall shut, like he's actually enjoying this. And that can't be right because this is a whole new world of wrong. It's so wrong Dean can't wrap his head around it. There are still gazes on them through the steam. Dean can hear grunts and the slap of wet flesh on flesh over the rush of water, of his blood in his own ears, can see blurred shapes moving through the mist and knows what that means. He hears Sam slurp and suck, winces as a sharp edge of tooth snags him.
He's not stopping this. Why isn't he pushing Sam away? He tells himself he's too stunned to move. His brother - his baby brother - is giving him head. They have an audience. It's clumsy and sloppy and maybe a little too rough, but Dean's pretty sure he's never been so close to losing it so fast in his life. And that makes him so twisted he can't even fathom it.
Sam pulls off just long enough to say,
“You can come in my mouth.”
Dean laughs then. Full belly laughs. This must all be some sick dream. He exhales and says,
"Sam?"
Sam jumped, reaching forward with his right hand to click the 'x' at the corner of the page before slamming the laptop shut while his left hand flew away from his dick as if it had suddenly grown teeth. Two seconds later, Dean was around the dividing wall of the motel room they'd rented for the night, a bag of food in his hands and an amused grin on his face.
"Porn, Sammy? What was it...? ‘Busty Asian Beauties’ or ‘Hot Blondes and Their Moms’?"
Sam felt his cheeks flush even deeper than they already were and he tore his eyes away from Dean's face, shame, guilt and so much fucking need, threatening to choke him.
Silence was apparently the right answer because Dean just laughed and started to spread their food out on the table. "Bathroom's all yours if you need to go calm yourself down."
Dean's laughter followed him, even after he slammed the door.
Sam was so fucking screwed.
Sam wasn't sure how it had happened... One minute he was just as horrified as Dean to find out their lives were on display for the whole world to see-- or, well, read-- and that fans of the books had somehow decided it was a good idea to... ‘Embellish’ a few tales.
Fanfiction. Fiction about characters from popular literature and films written by the fans of said 'fandoms'. And who the fuck was Sam kidding... There was fanfiction for literally everything out there, popular or not. He'd actually looked, purely for research purposes of course.
He can still remember the look on Dean's face the day Sam had showed him the laptop and the archive site for the 'Supernatural Book Series Fans' and the link to ‘More Than Brothers’ and all of their fanfiction. He saw the look of disgust when he explained to Dean what a 'slash fic' was, and he was sure he'd felt the same. Hell, they were brothers, enjoyed the company of women, and...
And Jesus fucking Christ-- just the idea of slamming his brother's wet and naked body up against a shower wall and sucking him down had Sam's pants tightening and heat pooling deep in his belly.
He'd found himself just clicking around on the site, reading fan comments, building up an internal tally of how many women were 'Sam-girls' compared to 'Dean-girls' (which he was totally winning, by the way) when he saw it.
A fic rec claiming to have the inside scoop of what really happened at the prison. To be fair, it had been rated ‘explicit’, but Sam had honestly expected tits! It wasn't under any specific category, just under samlicker81 fic recs, and she said it was a 'MUST READ'. And then... Well, Sam decided as soon as he realized what the fuck he was reading that 'pinkwithoutplot' was a fucking lunatic who needed her goddamn head checked and shut that shit down mighty quick.
It took him two days before he clicked through the history to find it again.
It took him two hours to actually get through the entire thing-- battling nausea and confusion and want.
It took him two minutes to come, jacking off with his legs wide open in front of the computer, scrolling back up to the scene where he sucked Dean off in the prison shower.
It took him two months before he dared to read it again.
Fanfiction was ruining Sam’s life.
He found himself waiting until Dean was asleep, his heart jumping in ridiculous excitement whenever Dean offered to go out to get them beer or food, because with Dean gone or sleeping? Sam could read.
He made sure to clear out the history on both the laptop and his phone, sometimes even mid-read, just in case. There was no way in hell he would ever live it down or be able to talk his way out of the fact that he’d been sorting through fifteen pages of ‘Wincest’ stories as research. Dean wasn’t stupid.
Sam sighed as he lay his head back against the couch, Dean sitting beside him, their legs brushing against one another’s as they watched the game on TV. Sam felt his stomach churn, but not in an ‘I’m-so-going-to-vomit’ type of churning… more of a… ‘You-touched-me-let’s-fuck!’ kind of way. And if that wasn’t ten kinds of wrong…
Sam glanced over at his brother, Dean leaning slightly to the side, his legs splayed open, right knee brushing against Sam’s. He had an arm thrown over the back of the couch and Sam let his eyes trail over the spot, thinking of how perfect it would be if he could just slip under Dean’s arm and press himself up against his chest… Dean turned to him then, an eyebrow cocked, perfect emerald eyes shining back at him, pink plush lips just begging to be kissed and---
Sam was writing fucking fanfiction in his goddamn head.
“What is wrong with you?” Dean laughed, shaking his head as Sam suddenly bolted from the couch, grabbing their empty beer bottles and heading for the mini-fridge for two more.
“You don’t even want to know,” he muttered and shoved his head into the fridge, closing his eyes and trying to focus on the cool air hitting his face instead of the tightness of his jeans and the fact that he’d just gotten hard, sitting on the couch beside Dean, thinking about his fucking eyes as goddamn emeralds.
When he returned to the couch and met Dean’s eyes when his older brother thanked him for the beer, he couldn’t help thinking that those fanfiction writers didn’t even know the half of it. There was no way Carver Edlund had been able to capture just how stunning Dean’s eyes really were, no matter how many words he’d used.
Fucking emerald eyes and plush pink lips… Jesus!
Sam chose to ignore his cock twitching in his pants.
Locks of Love by firesign10
"C'mere..." Sam tugs him forward an inch or so--any closer, Dean's going to be sitting in Sam's lap. As it is, he spreads his legs to straddle Sam's gigantor limbs.
Sam runs his hand up and down Dean's cock, squeezing and running his thumb over the slit, smearing the pre-come around. Sam pulls the skimpy boxers halfway down Dean's thighs, then takes hold of his dick and strokes it firmly in one big hand. He kisses the tip again, licks all around the head and down the length, with one big lick all the way back up before he sucks the head into his sweet pink mouth.
Dean closes his eyes and thinks he'll never be able to smell juniper again without getting hard. The air in the small bathroom is redolent with it. His hand leaves the sink and plants itself in Sam's hair, anchoring there. His fingers curl in that silky mop, tugging gently, and fuck if Sam really isn't purring. Dean tugs a little harder, and Sam responds by sucking Dean all the way in, making him groan loudly.
He realizes that he's holding Sam's hair really tightly and releases it, breathing an apology. Sam shakes his head and lets go of Dean's cock. "I think you better hang on...this could be a rough ride." He waits until Dean's hand is gripping his hair again, then swallows Dean right now.
Dean yelps, so much hotwetdeep surrounding his dick. His fingers tighten reflexively, and Sam fucking swallows around his cock. Dean can feel Sam's saliva running down into his balls; it's a light, tickley feeling. Well, it is until Sam's fingers start spreading the saliva and pre-come all over his balls and fondling them. Then it just makes Dean ready to pound nails.
Sam groaned, biting down as he sucked his lower lip into his mouth to muffle the sound. He was leaning against his right arm, the side of his face pressed up against his forearm and head turned to where his hand was holding his phone out of the shower spray.
He hadn’t even made it to the good part yet before he’d blown his fucking load.
He clicked out of the screen, letting his phone fall to the pile his clothes and towel had made on the floor and stepped back under the spray, letting the warm water rinse away his release where it had clung to his stomach and hand.
He had a fascination with Dean’s dick. Last night he had a dream that he’d crawled into Dean’s bed and slowly stripped him down, and Dean moaned beneath his hands and his mouth as Sam tasted every single inch of his brother’s body.
He shouldn’t have a fascination with Dean’s dick, because Dean was his brother. It doesn’t seem to matter... his own words rang through his head. He chuckled to himself and focused his attention back on the shower, washing himself quickly even though it felt like his entire body was still singing from his orgasm.
When he shut off the spray and reached down for the towel, he could hear Dean singing to himself out in the room, probably pulling out his clothes for the day and getting ready to switch places with Sam to take his own shower. Images of his brother half asleep, hair sticking up in all directions, stepping naked underneath the spray Sam had just jacked off in had his dick twitching in interest.
Groaning, Sam wrapped his towel tightly around his waist and reached down for his sleep clothes, holding them in front of his crotch... just in case.
“Morning, Sammy,” Dean greeted when Sam stepped back into the room, and Sam was grateful for the blast of cold air the room provided after being in the small bathroom for the last half an hour. “Sleep well?”
“Uh, yeah,” Sam shrugged and slipped past Dean. He caught his brother’s scent as he passed, the cologne that still clung to his skin from the day before as well as last night’s whiskey, and he quickened his pace back over to his own bed.
“Good. Wanna grab breakfast on the road? I think I caught a case! Left the paper on the table.”
Sam nodded, pretending to look for clothes as he rooted through his duffel and only managed to relax when the door to the bathroom closed again.
“Fuck,” Sam swore, rubbing a hand over his face as he dropped his clothes onto the bed. He looked down at them and his heart stopped. He ripped them apart, shaking out each piece of clothing… searching. The sound of the shower turning on had his heart jumping again.
“Sam?” Dean opened the door, peeking around the corner, hiding half his body as he handed out Sam’s phone. The phone Sam stupidly left on the floor without clearing or exiting the fanfiction page. His heart was pounding and he crossed the room to grab the phone from Dean’s outstretched hand. Dean gave him a strange look and Sam realized he’d probably ripped the phone just a bit too hard out of Dean’s hands… but if Dean had looked…
Sam clicked the phone on, the screen clearly still displaying the fic, and he shut it down just as quick...
“You’re fucking weird this morning,” Dean shook his head and closed the bathroom door again.
Sam just nodded and cleared his history before dropping the phone to the bed and sinking down beside it.
Sam couldn’t keep doing this…
Dean was drinking.
Dean was happy, the ‘liquid of the gods’ flowing through his veins - Dean’s words, not Sam’s - and had the urge to take tomorrow off and stay up late watching horror movies.
“Sammy… it’s Halloween! We both know there isn’t any real shit that goes on during Halloween. Lets just… relax! Hang out! Drink!”
“I think you’ve drunk enough for the both of us…” Sam muttered, parking the Impala before their motel and getting out of the car. Dean was usually in control - he drank, but not to excess. Tonight? Sam was sure Dean had drunk the entire fucking place out of whiskey and beer. Dean snorted but followed after him. Sam dug into his pocket, looking for the key to their room, and stopped short when he saw the door already opening. Instantly, he was on guard, eyes flicking over to Dean quickly to see if he was going to have any kind of backup.
Dean was singing to himself and playing with a rock with his shoe. Yeah, no backup there... Sighing, Sam told Dean to wait for a second and stepped forward, his hand reaching behind his back for his gun.
“Mr. Grant?”
As Sam immediately shoved the gun back into his jeans, the motel manager stepped out of the door, “Oh, you’re back!”
“Yeah… Something wrong?” Sam asked slowly, looking over the man’s shoulders to their room.
“There’s been a problem,” the man started to explain, motioning Sam forward. “The woman next door decided to screw with the plumbing and well…” Mr. Grant grimaced as they walked into the room and Sam’s boots squished into the carpet. “But, we’re not at full vacancy so I can get you another room!”
“Yeah,” Sam sighed, heading to their beds to grab their duffels. He was glad he’d made Dean put away their weapons before they’d headed out to the bar that night.
“It’s a bit smaller though…”
“Oh, that’s fine.” Sam gave him a tight smile and threw a duffel to Dean who caught it, but almost fell over with the impact.
They were led to the other side of the strip building, the manager switching out their keys with a new one when they passed the reception area, and left them before their new door. When Sam opened the door he stopped short and Dean slammed into his back, swearing once before he shoved Sam hard. “Fuck, Sammy…”
Sam glanced at Dean quickly and then shook his head. “I’m going to have to tell him this isn’t going to work…”
“Why? ‘S like a sleepover!” Dean laughed, tossing his duffel to the bottom of the queen sized bed - the only bed- and kicking off his boots before he fell face forward onto the mattress. “Beer, Sammy. I need beer.” Dean’s voice was muffled into the pillow and Sam sighed, closing the door behind him.
“You don’t need more beer, Dean.”
“You’re never any fucking fun.”
Sam ignored him, heading to the small table in the room and pulling out his laptop. Dean spent the next half hour continuing to mutter how Sam was no fun, didn’t know how to not work, how he was a bitch, before he passed out, still on top of the covers.
Sam stalled. He looked up cases, played a few hands of solitaire and purposefully avoided anything and everything that had to do with fanfiction. Sighing, Sam looked at his watch and realized that it was closing in on three in the morning and unless he wanted to be completely dead in the morning he had to suck it up and get some sleep.
He closed the top of the laptop and moved over towards the bed, eyes trailing over Dean’s body as it was sprawled out over the top of the covers, legs splayed wide. He moved to the side of the bed and looked down. Dean’s eyelashes were fluttering softly against his skin, his mouth slightly open, cheek pressed up where it was squished against the pillow.
Sam wanted to reach out and brush the back of his hand against Dean’s cheek, back through his hair. He clenched his fist instead, taking a deep breath before he reached out and shook Dean’s shoulder.
“Dean! Dean! Come on… you’re taking up the whole bed.”
Dean groaned, rolling onto his back and lifting one arm to wipe at the corner of his mouth. He said something, but Sam couldn’t understand what it was for the life of him. Half asleep, Dean allowed himself to be manhandled over to one side of the bed and after a moment’s hesitation, Sam shook him again and helped Dean get himself out of his jeans so that he would be more comfortable.
Sam stripped his own jeans and boots off and carefully got into the bed, immediately lying on his side and hugging the edge of the bed. Every move Dean made had Sam’s heart jumping up into his throat - every turn, the struggle Dean had trying to get his leg free from the comforter, every goddamn fucking breath.
Sam didn’t know how the hell he was going to fall asleep like this. He forced his eyes closed and focused on his breathing, trying to ignore the soft sounds of sleep coming from his older brother. They’d slept in the same bed hundreds of times - every time they’d been on a hunt with their Dad and John was with them, whenever they were with other hunters or stayed at Bobby’s place when it was a full house. This wasn’t abnormal... it didn’t have to be weird!
Sam just needed to ignore the fact that earlier that morning he’d finished an Alpha/Omega fic that got everything about werewolves completely wrong but hit Sam in all the wrong-but-right places. Sam exhaled slowly…
Dean felt warm, a hot line pressed up against Sam’s back, his breath hot against Sam’s neck. Sam hummed softly, letting himself sink back into Dean’s embrace, shifting his leg back to fall between Dean’s legs. Dean shifted, his arm tightening around Sam’s stomach.
Sam smiled to himself, moving his hand to lay on top of Dean’s hand and trace over his fingers slowly. This was worth waking up to every morning…
Sam’s eyes flew open. Sunlight was pouring through the large window with the wide open curtains, which he’d neglected to close last night before he went to bed. And Dean? Dean was wrapped around his body. Sam threw Dean’s arm off of him and rolled out of the bed quickly. The quick motion jerked Dean awake and he looked at Sam in alarm, trying to blink the sleep out of his eyes.
“Fuck,” he groaned and Sam was surprised he could hear him over the rapid beating of his heart. “Feels like I got hit by a fucking bus…” Dean rolled over, the comforter falling low on his hips, his shirt scrunched up from rolling in his sleep and showing the cut of his left hip and the flat of his stomach.
Sam spun away from the bed. “Taking a shower... Aspirin in the bag...” he stammered.
He didn’t hear Dean’s grumbled response as he slammed the door shut.
Technicalities by ephermeralk
Then Sam licks his hole; a broad flat swipe which makes Dean stick his ass out even more. Anything to feel warm, wet heat against his body. Sam obliges readily, alternating between licking around his entrance and sticking his tongue inside, urging his inner walls to give up a bit of their tension. Encouraging them to make room for his dick. Dean can honestly say that Sam’s tongue makes a good argument. Rimming feels fucking fantastic.
By the time that Sam pulls his face away from his ass, Dean’s cock is emitting steady drops of pre-come, making a fair sized wet spot on the comforter.
“Pretty, good, huh?” Sam asks, pride evident in his voice.
“Not bad.”
“You’re fucking dripping.”
“So are you and my tongue isn’t up your ass.”
“Jerk.”
“Bitch.”
“Nah, I think that honor goes to you tonight, Dean.”
“You know. I’m starting to think that you’re scared of sticking it in me after that you’re going to love every minute of it speech you gave earlier. Worried you can’t get me off, little brother?”
Sam, of course, takes the challenge, and the loud squelch of lube coming out of the bottle resounds throughout the otherwise quiet room.
“I don’t want to hurt you, so we’re going slow tonight, whether you want it or not.”
“Well, don’t blame me if I fall aslee-” Dean doesn’t finish his sentence because the air gets knocked out of his lungs when Sam shoves two fingers in him.
Sam swallowed hard, staring at the screen before him, the passage highlighted by the cursor.
Sam doesn’t read bottom!dean stories. He doesn’t think they’re realistic. You know, as realistic of him and Dean ever having a real romantic - okay, downright sexual--- relationship ever was going to be. Fanfiction was fantasy, sure, and as much as the idea of Dean submitting to him and letting Sam take care of him turned him on? Sam wanted his fantasy to be believable. That’s what made it so fucking hot. And dirty… and wrong… and…
Sam doesn’t read bottom!dean.
Sam never leaves up fanfiction. There could be a fucking demon heading towards him and Sam would make sure to hit the little fucking ‘x’ in the corner first. Nor does he highlight things as he reads them… That’s something Dean always does, ever since Sam made fun of him for changing the text size on the internet.
So if Sam didn’t leave it up, that meant…
“What are you doing?” Dean’s question was loud, his voice sharp, and Sam spun quickly in the chair to see his older brother standing right behind the chair, his eyes wide as he looked past Sam’s shoulder and onto the computer screen. “What… What’s that?”
Sam stared back at him, watching a range of emotions play out over Dean’s face as large, green eyes flicked back and forth between the screen and his younger brother.
“It was up.” Sam finally said, clearing his throat when half of the words got caught. He licked his lower lip and tried again. “It was just… there when I opened up the computer.”
“I need to shower,” Dean whispered spinning on his heel and Sam watched him go, despite the fact that Dean had just come out of the shower. Fuck, he still had a towel slung low around his waist. Sam stared at the closed door for a moment longer before he turned back to the screen.
Dean was reading fanfiction too.
With a shaking hand, Sam reached for the mouse and clicked the red ‘x’ on the screen and slowly pulled the lid of the laptop down. A million thoughts were racing around his head, fighting to dominate over the one thought that was still ringing through him. Dean was reading fanfiction too.
Part of Sam wanted to laugh-- he wasn’t the only one. There was no way in hell that Dean was ‘researching’ anything, they hadn’t had a case or hints towards anything to do with the books or Carver Edlund in weeks. Dean had chosen to read it, had found it on his own. Sam’s heart started beating faster.
The other part of Sam just wanted to cry. They were brothers. They were supposed to have each other’s backs, and not in that way. They were supposed to protect, defend and look out for one another. And here they were both lost in fucked up fantasies about being wrapped around each other once the lights went out.
Sam waited, half expecting to hear the spray of the shower returning so Dean could at least pretend he’d actually gone into the bathroom for a reason. It felt like hours that Sam sat in the plastic chair, staring down at the closed laptop and listening for any sign of life in the bathroom.
He tried to think of how he would have felt if he’d accidentally left something up on the computer and Dean had found it… Dean had seemed so calm, so put together. Though it wasn’t news to anyone that Sam was always the more outward emotional one. Sam turned his head to look towards the bathroom door once more.
Dean wasn’t going to be coming out on his own…
Slowly, Sam peeled himself out of the chair and crossed the room in four long strides, rapping his knuckles against the door.
“Dean?”
“Go away, Sammy. I’m busy,” Dean’s voice was muffled, thick with emotion, and it made Sam’s stomach clench.
“Dean… I’m not going anywhere. Come on, come out here and talk to me, please?” Sam sighed as he leaned his forehead against the door.
“There’s nothing to talk about!”
“Dean… come on! I saw it, okay? It’s just a little bit of fanfiction… I mean, it’s not what I would--”
The door suddenly flew open and Sam almost toppled forward into Dean’s chest. The expression on Dean’s face was shocking, and Sam felt his throat dry up.
“It’s just a little bit of fanfiction, Sammy?” Dean hissed, eyes wild. “Just a bit of fiction? You read it, so you know what I was reading. You know how fucked up this is?”
“Dean--”
“I don’t want to hear it, Sam, okay? I can’t hear it. I know it’s wrong, I know I shouldn’t be reading and thinking about that between you and me. And I never, ever wanted you to find out. But I can’t hear you tell me that. I can’t listen to you tell me that I’m worthless and broken. I’m messed up, Sam. I know that. I just can’t…” Dean trailed off, tearing his eyes away from Sam’s to look down at the floor, squeezing his eyes shut.
Sam didn’t know what possessed him them, but he chalked it up to reading too many fics as he reached forward and let his hand slide against Dean’s cheek, pulling his face back up. He felt Dean swallow hard against his palm, eyes searching Sam’s, and Sam closed the distance between them, pressing their lips together. Dean’s lips were warm and soft under Sam’s, and Sam felt Dean’s body stiffen.
“What I was going to say,” Sam whispered, pulling back slightly but keeping his hand and Dean’s face, “was that, that wasn’t the type of fiction I’ve been reading.”
Dean blinked once, confusion clouding his eyes as he searched Sam’s face. Sam watched as the comprehension of his words hit Dean and he nodded once, giving his brother a small smile.
“We’re so fucked up,” Dean whispered, a shaking hand reaching forward to press flat against Sam’s chest. “You know that, right?”
“Dean... I honestly don’t think I care,” Sam replied, shrugging his shoulders. Dean’s answering smirk was all Sam needed and he closed the distance between them again, turning Dean to press him against the door frame of the bathroom.
“Fuck,” Dean breathed out against Sam’s lips, his hands moving to circle Sam’s waist and pull him in. “Are we doing this?”
“Yes,” Sam answered, pressing his body against Dean’s and kissing him hard. Dean responded to the kiss, and between the nips and tongue and feeling of Dean’s hard, muscled body pressed against him, Sam hadn’t even realized they’d moved away from the bathroom until Dean’s legs hit the end of the bed and Sam had to grab him to keep him from falling over.
They broke the kiss, Dean’s lips were swollen and red and Sam ran his tongue over his own, wondering if they looked the same. Slowly, Dean reached down and grabbed the hem of Sam’s shirt, pulling the flannel and undershirt off in one tug. Then, they were tumbling down onto the bed, Dean pulling Sam down on top of him.
Sam let out a soft sigh as he landed, stretching himself out over Dean’s body and smiling against his brother’s lips when he felt Dean’s legs lock around the back of his calves, pulling Sam closer. Sam could feel Dean’s length, hot and hard beneath his towel and pressed against the bulge in Sam’s jeans. He moaned into Dean’s mouth, rolling his hips once to press down against Dean.
“Christ, Sammy,” Dean groaned, his entire back arching and pushing him harder against Sam’s body. Sam chuckled in response and moved away from Dean’s lips, kissing down the side of his face and down his throat. He ran his hands down Dean’s sides, fingertips hesitating once at the top of the towel before he met Dean’s eyes. Dean nodded, just a small jerk of his head, and that was all Sam needed to move forward.
Sam lifted his hips away from Dean and freed the edge of the towel, letting it fall flat to either side of his brother’s hips. His breath hitched as he let his gaze trail down the muscles of Dean’s chest and stomach, the cut of his hips, and his hard length lying heavy against his lower stomach.
None of the fiction Sam had ever read came close to actually seeing Dean in the flesh.
“Dean,” Sam whispered as he leaned forward, needing to taste and kiss every inch of Dean’s skin he could reach. Dean’s breath hitched as Sam’s teeth grazed a nipple... when Sam’s fingers dug into Dean’s thighs and pushed them apart... when his tongue laved each rippled plane of his stomach...
“Sam, please.” Dean’s cock throbbed with need, the velvet soft flesh brushing against Sam’s cheek and Sam found himself groaning and turning his head to let it brush against his lips. He let his tongue slip out to run along Dean’s length with just the barest amount of pressure. Dean’s hips lifted, and Sam smiled as he parted his lips and slid them around the tip of Dean’s cock and slid his hands to press Dean back down into the mattress.
Dean tasted salty, warm against his tongue and Sam let his tongue swirl around Dean’s shaft, slicking the way so he could suck Dean down. Dean moaned loudly, his hands falling down and twisting into Sam’s hair. His grip sent sharp pinpricks of both pain and pleasure radiating down Sam’s body and he groaned around Dean’s cock. Time seemed to slow, there was nothing else except their rocking hips, Dean’s swollen flesh, and Sam’s wet tongue, until Dean gasped Sam’s name and struggled to pull Sam back.
“Sam!”
Sam allowed himself to be pulled up and he crawled back up Dean’s body, finding his brother’s lips easily and sinking down against him. Dean’s hands flew to Sam’s belt and he made quick work of freeing Sam from his jeans and briefs. When they were both naked, they seemed to freeze, hearts beating wildly inside of their chests, rising and falling with each rapid breath as they locked eyes.
Even though he’d just had Dean’s dick halfway down his throat, this was different. There would be no going back, there couldn’t be any going back. Slowly, Sam lowered his hips and lined their bodies again, this time nothing between them. Dean’s legs lifted and immediately went to Sam’s hips, pulling him in tighter.
“God, Dean,” Sam whispered against Dean’s throat as he ground down. “I want you so fucking bad.”
“Yeah... Fuck, Sammy,” Dean answered, turning his head to give Sam better access to his neck. Sam bit down softly, sucking the sweat-slicked skin into his mouth, and then soothing the sting away with the flat of his tongue. Dean squirmed beneath him and pushed against Sam’s shoulder once to get space between them.
Sam pulled back and looked down at Dean just as his brother pressed a small bottle into Sam’s hands. Sam met his brother’s gaze, watching as Dean’s cheeks reddened from more than just arousal.
“Where did you...?”
“I was seeing what it would feel like,” Dean mumbled. “You know, with my fingers.”
“Jesus fucking Christ, Dean.” As if having Dean splayed out beneath him wasn’t hot enough… Sam surged forward, sealing their lips together once more, swallowing the soft moan from Dean as he parted his lips to let Sam in. Dean’s mouth was hot and sweet, his body pressed against every inch of Sam’s he could reach, and Sam felt like he was on fire.
“Did you think about me, Dean?” Sam whispered against Dean’s ear as he fumbled with long, shaking fingers to get the bottle open. “Did you pretend it was me inside you while you fucked yourself open?”
“Fuck, Sam. What have you been reading?” Dean rolled his hips, his cock throbbing against Sam’s stomach.
“Too much?” Sam asked, pausing and looking up to meet Dean’s eyes.
“No, not even close.” Dean laughed and shook his head. “God, the things you do to me Sammy, the things I’ve wanted you to do to me.”
Sam hissed in a breath and tipped the bottle, slicking his fingers. Dean shifted his hips beneath him, spreading his legs wider, his eyes trained on Sam's hands. Sam moved slowly, cautious and trying to fight back the fear and anticipation threatening to swallow him down. He had no experience in this, nothing more than what he had read, and Dean was the last person on Earth that he wanted to hurt, even a little bit. He watched as Dean's throat constricted as he swallowed hard, verdant eyes following Sam's movements, and he gave a small nod, accompanied by a quick intake of breath, when Sam slipped between his legs.
"I don't want to--"
"You won't." Dean voice was strained, his eyes wide as they met Sam's. "You won't," he repeated, softer and Sam nodded, pressing the pad of his finger against the tight muscle between Dean's cheeks. Sam had read hundreds of examples, ranging from drawn out and slow to quick and messy, depicting this exact moment. But none of those could have prepared him for the tight heat of Dean's body and the low grunt that came from Dean's throat. Sam moved slowly, circling his finger and working as if he were massaging the lube into Dean's muscle, his eyes trained on Dean's face the entire time to look for any sign of pain.
Dean looked uncomfortable. His eyes were closed, his tongue running along his lower lip and his brows furrowed as he flexed himself around Sam's finger. Every few seconds, Dean would whisper, "I'm okay, Sammy, keep going," like he knew exactly what was going through Sam's mind. Sam supposed he did: no one else knew him better than Dean, and that sent a surge of heat through his body and straight to his heart. Suddenly, Sam couldn't take it anymore and he leaned forward, crushing his lips to Dean, needing that connection.
Sam licked his way through Dean's mouth, distracting Dean as he added a second finger, twisting and pressing deep inside his brother's body. Sam couldn't pinpoint exactly when it happened, but soon Dean was bearing down against his fingers, muscle fluttering around the intrusion, and he was panting softly against Sam's lips. The soft noise Dean made when the pads of Sam's fingers brushed against the raised gland of Dean's prostate had Sam nearly coming apart himself.
"Jesus," Dean breathed out, eyes flying open as he met Sam's. "I'm good, I'm ready."
Sam nodded and twisted his fingers a few more times, pressing against his brother's sweet spot before he drew back. He reached for his discarded jeans and found his wallet, slipping out a condom and quickly rolling it over his length. Dean watched him, a strange expression on his face.
"We'll get tested," Sam said quickly, not wanting to have that conversation. They both knew they’d had other partners, but it wasn't anything he wanted to talk about now. Dean nodded once and reached for the bottle again to hand to Sam.
Sam poured a generous amount into his palm and slicked himself up, pressing the remaining lube into Dean’s entrance. “Are you ready?” Sam asked, meeting Dean’s eyes once more and at his brother’s nod, Sam lined up and slowly pushed in.
It was tight, tighter than Sam had imagined it would be, and he had to force himself to breathe out and move slow so he wouldn’t hurt Dean more than necessary. Dean’s eyes were closed again and Sam could feel him bearing down around the intrusion, trying to ease the way for Sam to slide into his body. Sam rocked his hips, slowly making way for his length, until he was finally seated completely in place, their hips flush together where they were joined.
“Dean,” Sam exhaled his name, a shudder going through his body as he fought back the urge to come right then and there. Dean flexed a few times around him, then lifted his legs to hook around Sam’s hips, pulling them even closer together.
“Move, Sammy.” Sam obliged and slowly pulled his hips back until he was nearly free, before driving home again in one swift, smooth motion. Dean made a soft sound and Sam paused, torn between wondering if he was the only one enjoying this or not when Dean said,“Again.”
Together, they set a slow pace, Sam driving his hips forward and Dean meeting each one with a rise of his own hips. He moved his arms from beside him on the bed, to rest onto Sam’s shoulders, giving himself the leverage he needed. It wasn’t long before Dean’s soft noises grew louder, and Sam had no doubt in his mind that they were from pleasure now.
Dean twisted his hand in the hair at the nape of Sam’s neck, tugging almost too hard as he pulled him forward to kiss him. It was hot, wet and sloppy, and everything Sam needed as he drilled his hips faster into Dean, chasing the heat that was building in his stomach and the sounds he was making Dean pant into his mouth.
Sam reached between them, slipping his arm behind Dean's knee so he could push it up higher. The change of angle had Sam's cock pressing right against Dean's prostate with each thrust and Dean cried out beneath him, ass clenching around Sam's dick and his fingers digging harder into Sam's shoulders.
"Fuck, yeah," Sam exhaled, fucking into Dean harder, feeling his orgasm steadily building.
Dean’s lips moved to Sam’s throat, biting and licking wherever he could reach. Sam felt his body responding, his balls draw up tighter to his body. The sounds of skin against skin, the breathless grunts and sighs coming from his older brother beneath him, were ringing through Sam’s head and he knew he wasn’t going to last long.
"Come on, Dean. Come for me,” he whispered, needing Dean to go first, wanting to feel and see Dean head over that edge.
"Sam-- Sammy!" Dean slammed his eyes shut, arched his hips and Sam rolled his own, grinding own against Dean’s sweet spot. With a shout, Dean came hard, spilling his release between their sweat-slicked bodies.
It hit Sam then, just like every clichéd fanfiction he'd ever read, that this was what he'd been missing. He couldn't think of anything else that had ever come close to feeling like this-- so complete, so absorbed and surrounded by another person, and as he came, buried deep inside of his brother's tight heat, he pressed his lips against Dean's and let it go.
"I love you, Dean... love you so much."
Sam collapsed against Dean’s chest, Dean’s arms circling around his back and holding him close as they steadied their breathing together.
“So good,” Sam whispered and shifted slightly so all of his weight wasn’t on his brother’s stomach and chest. He shifted his hips and slid free. Not ready to move yet, he let his head rest over Dean’s heart, focusing on the steady beating of it beneath his skin. A sense of calm washed over Sam as he laid there, breathing in deeply and surrounding himself with Dean and the scent of their love making. Then the words he’d uttered came back to him and he felt himself stiffen in Dean’s arms.
“Sam?” Dean asked softly and it made Sam’s heart skip a beat. He was ready for Dean to push him off and slap his ass, telling him that was a good time. Part of him wanted to laugh at just how correct all of the ‘first time’ stories he’d read had hit these feelings right on the fucking head. He felt his heart speed up again and he swallowed hard, trailing his gaze up to meet Dean’s eyes. “Did you mean it?”
Sam gave him a confused look; of course he meant it. It was probably the best sex he’d ever had in his entire life. He opened his mouth to say so when he caught the expression on Dean’s face -- eyes downcast, lower lip stuck between his teeth, and it hit Sam then what Dean had really meant.
“Oh!” He swallowed hard, and then nodded. “Yeah, Dean... I mean it.”
Dean’s eyes flicked up then and he surged forward to capture Sam in an unforgiving kiss. He rolled them over, arms still wrapped around Sam’s back, his knees pinning Sam against the bed.
“I love you too, Sammy.”
Sam woke up to an empty bed, and even though the events of yesterday had him falling asleep wrapped in his older brother’s arms and feeling happier than he ever had before, it didn’t stop the panic that washed over him. He turned to his side, heart pounding faster when he saw that Dean’s jacket was nowhere in sight, neither was his bag.
On the pillow where Dean’s head was supposed to be, a folded piece of paper lay and Sam’s stomach churned as he reached for it with shaking fingers.
Dean walked slowly towards the Impala, his baby, his pride and joy. He smiled as he ran his hand along her side, front to back, until he reached the trunk and popped it to throw in his bags. This ol’ girl was the most important thing in Dean’s life. He didn’t need much: a good bottle of whiskey, his pistol, his Impala and… Sammy.
Dean smirked as he let himself into the backseat of the car, unlocking the side door and knowing Sam would be following him out soon. It was a good thing the back of the motel parking lot was secluded -- if there was one thing he’d always wanted to do with Sammy, it was christen the backseat.
He’d left Sam a note, knew the sun would be waking him up soon, and Sam would be walking out any minute now-- once he got his heart rate under control.
So what the hell are you still doing reading this?
“Fucking Jerk,” Sam whispered, folding up Dean’s ‘fanfiction’ and swinging his legs over the bed. Dean had left him out clothes, but taken his bag, and Sam rushed to get outside. After all, Dean was waiting.