Fic: When The Day Is Done: Dean/Sam - NC-17
Title: When The Day Is Done
Author: mgbutterfly
Pairings: Dean/Sam
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: Sam and Dean are all mine! Oh, no. Wait. No they're not. Not mine and no profit. I am sad.
Beta!Bitch: sardonicsmiley. She is mine, I am hers. Our love is EPIC! oh, yeah. And? This is all her fault.
Summary: The moment the Winchester Brothers took over the deed to the old McKinny home, the entire neighborhood planned a "Welcome to the Neighborhood" party. At the house. Without either Sam or Dean knowing. They just showed up with food and, thank god, booze, and invited themselves in.
A/N: This was written for fluffandfold. My prompt was: A grateful woman they rescued from something or other, leaves Sam and Dean her house. This is future fic. It is also Humor!Fic, PWP!Fic, Desk!Porn!Fic and Slightly Schmoop!Fic. Also, in case you're curious, An Al is a creature from Armenian folklore that is half-human, half-animal with brass fingernails, long snakelike hair, a fiery single eye, iron teeth, and the tusks of a wild boar. Information taken from A Field Guide to Demons, Fairies, Fallen Angels, and Other Subversive Spirits by Carol K. Mack and Dinah Mack.
Sam leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms up over his head intertwining his fingers and inverting his hands. He inhaled deeply and released the breath slowly, letting some of the tension roll out of his shoulders. Rubbing his eyes, Sam pushed back from his desk and got up out of his chair. He stood at the desk looking down at the mess of folders which were the sickly yellow color of sallow skin, and heaved what could only be described as a tortured sigh.
Sam had absconded into the large office to escape the gaggle of people that had inundated their newly acquired abode. The moment the Winchester Brothers took over the deed to the old McKinny home, the entire neighborhood planned a "Welcome to the Neighborhood" party. At the house. Without either Sam or Dean knowing. They just showed up with food and, thank god, booze, and invited themselves in. The neighborhood was blessedly small, houses sitting on five acre lots, so at least there weren't that many people there.
Dean was downstairs dealing with the onslaught. Sam had taken it as long as he could, then politely excused himself to, "go over the paper work for the all the legal stuff." And after twenty minutes of trying to organize the mess that was Mrs. McKinny's record keeping, Sam was beginning to regret his decision.
Sam stood by the closed office door and listened for a moment, then quickly thought better of his regret. He walked back over to the monster of a desk - rich cherry wood, front panel (facing the door) reaching all the way to the floor, side "return" large enough for a Thanksgiving spread fit for twenty people, and a book hutch, complete with just about every Law book available, rising to the ceiling - and sat back down in the over-sized (quite possibly most comfortable ever) chair. He stretched his legs out under the desk, and it was a testament to the craftsmanship of the desk that Sam's legs, at full stretch, did not reach the wall of the front panel.
Sam simply sat quietly, listening to the crowd below him, and let a small smile touch his lips. He closed his eyes for a moment and when he opened them, Dean was leaning in the doorway. Sam pulled his legs back, sat forward in the chair and said, "I didn't even hear you open the door. How's it going down there?"
Dean smirked at Sam from the doorway, never moving out of his easy lean on the frame. He shrugged and said, "Not bad. Mr. Hines says the garden needs to be tilled. Mrs. Peters says the best way to winter proof the windows is heavy curtains. Mrs. Cummings says the best way to get rid of the gnome problem is to sprinkle cayenne pepper around the garden. And Mr. Saul told me I could use his garage any time for tune ups on the Impala." Dean pushed off the door sill and started walking toward the desk.
Sam closed one of the folders in front of him and leaned back into the chair once again. He looked up at Dean as he propped himself on the edge of the desk in front and to the left of Sam, "The Impala could use a tune up. It's been, wait. Did you say gnome problem?" Sam raised his eyebrows and cocked his head to the side.
"Yep. Apparently, this area is teaming with, um, interesting life. Mr. Saul said something about a Munuane down at the lake. So, you know, if we go fishing, don't take too much." Dean smirked and folded his arms across his chest.
Sam shook his head in disbelief. After so many years of hunting, it was humans that surprised Sam the most. They'd been in this house for three days. Mrs. McKinny died a little over a week before and in her will were very specific instructions as to who the house and land would go to. All her kin were dead. Sam and Dean had helped her with a particularly nasty Al that had taken up residence in her basement. Sam supposed it wasn't such a leap that she would leave them the house. But considering that the Al incident had been five years ago, he (and Dean) had been pretty surprised when they got the call.
Sam grinned and said, "Did you ever think we'd have our own house? This is, I don't know. I feel like I'm gonna wake up any minute now. I'm forty. Forty, Dean. I never thought I'd make it past thirty. And all that shit with the crossroads demon? We are some lucky sons of bitches."
Dean smiled, really smiled, and said, "That we are. And you, Sam, are even luckier that you think." Dean pushed himself off the edge of the desk and placed his hands on the arms of Sam's chair. Leaning over Sam, Dean's lips only inches from Sam's, he whispered, "The guests are all occupied downstairs, you and me got this big office all to ourselves, and this desk? Well, I'm pretty sure I can just slide right under it and no one would know I was down there."
Sam pulled his bottom lip through his teeth and sucked in a breath as Dean went to his knees. When he spoke, his voice cracked, "Dean. No, Dean. Anyone could walk in. And I'm working. Just. Let's just wait until everyone's gone."
It was clear to Sam, as a kneeling Dean started to un-do Sam's pants, that Dean was not listening. Sam rolled his eyes and said, "Dean. Door's open, man. Stop."
Dean looked up at Sam and Sam's breath caught in his throat. Dean's eyes dark with lust, his lips wet with spit and his hands so smoothly working the button, and then the zipper, on Sam's pants were too much for Sam to take in at one time. He figured his brain must have overloaded. There was no other explanation for his lack of action as Dean pulled his pants down below his knees. Dean grinned up at Sam, something smug and teasing, and Sam sighed in submission.
Sam was already half hard from Dean's work on his pants, so when Dean flicked his tongue over the head of Sam's cock, any blood left in Sam's brain immediately rushed south. Dean grinned again and pulled Sam by the knees until Dean was completely concealed by the desk along with Sam's lower body.
Dean ran his hands up Sam's thighs, gently brushing along the hard line of Sam's cock with his thumbs. Sam relaxed back in the chair realizing that there was no more need to argue. And besides, Sam was about to get a blow job. Why should he argue?
Sam closed his eyes as Dean's lips brushed lightly over the head of his cock. He couldn't see his brother beneath the desk, but he could imagine what his face looked like. Sam knew Dean's eyes were open, but half-lidded with lust, he knew Dean's lips were swollen and pink. Sam could imagine Dean's tongue flicking out to wet his lips in a slow, languorous movement and the thought brought a moan to Sam's throat. He bucked his hips only slightly and Dean took the opportunity to slide his mouth over Sam's dick.
Sam released a sigh and let his head fall limp against the back of the chair. Dean's mouth started working slowly up and down Sam's length, and the wet heat made Sam lightheaded. When Dean swirled his tongue around the head, Sam gripped the arms of the chair and the sound that escaped his lips made Dean's hands tighten on his thighs. Sam felt one of Dean's hands disappear from his leg and a second later Sam heard Dean's zipper being undone.
A noise distracted Sam from his reverie and when he opened his eyes, there was an old woman standing in the doorway. Sam sat upright so quickly he nearly fell out of the chair. Dean made a choking noise under the desk and Sam quickly coughed to cover it up. He put his hands on the top of the desk and leaned forward a little bit and said, "Mrs. Peters? Hi. Um... is everything okay? Can I get you something?" Beneath the desk, Dean pulled his teeth gently along Sam's cock and Sam cleared his throat with a whine.
Mrs. Peters grinned and straightened her lavender blouse, "No, Sam. I was just looking for Dean. I suppose he's busy though. He said he was going to check on you and then take care of something in the basement," Sam was sure his face was red, he was positive that Mrs. Peters knew exactly what was going on. And it didn't make him feel any better about the situation when Dean, again, swirled his tongue around the head of Sam's dick and then slipped his wet, warm lips back over the head, taking the full length in one fluid movement. Sam beat his fist on the top of the desk and scrunched his eyes closed. When he opened them again, Mrs. Peters raised her white eyebrows in something that, to Sam, looked like amusement, "I guess he's in the basement now. I'll just wait for him to come back downstairs," Mrs. Peters put a hand to her lips as her eyes widened and said, "Oh, I mean upstairs." She pulled the door closed behind her as she left.
Sam exhaled a heavy breath and relaxed back into the chair. Under the desk, Sam could feel Dean grinning around his cock. All thoughts of reprimand quickly left Sam's head as Dean started his meticulous work on Sam's dick. Dean moved slowly. So slowly it was almost torturous. Sam's hands returned to the arms of the chair and he listened as Dean sucked him off. The wet sound of Dean's lips sliding up and down Sam's cock, the unmistakable noise of Dean's hand working his own cock, the sharp sound of Dean's breathing and the rhythmic sound of Sam's own; all these things were beginning to overload Sam's senses.
The final straw was the little aching noise Dean made as he came in his own hand. Sam felt Dean's mouth go stiff for a moment and then relax as his brother's orgasm peaked. Sam tensed up for a brief second before his vision whited out and he closed his eyes, coming down Dean's throat in a hot mess of much needed release. Sam's mouth went slack and he scrunched his eyes in time to each sweet spasm as they ripped through his body. Beneath the desk, Dean worked Sam through with a gentle mouth, swallowing everything Sam had to give.
Sam felt Dean pull his mouth off his cock and moaned at the loss. When the cool air hit the moist flesh, Sam sucked in a breath and pushed the chair back away from the desk. He peeked underneath then and saw Dean straightening his own pants with a wicked grin on his face. Dean crawled out from beneath the desk and stood in front of Sam, his ass resting on the edge of the desk, "Nice desk, Sammy."
Sam grinned, open mouthed, and shook his head in mock annoyance, "Yeah. It is. But you know what's even better? Have you seen the master bedroom?" Sam smirked and pulled his pants up, buttoning and zipping as he grinned at Dean.
Dean laughed and pushed himself off the desk, "I should get back down to the party. I'm sure Mrs. Peters has something to say." Dean looked around the room for a moment before Sam realized what he was looking for. Dean started to turn away, holding his right hand up in front of him away from his body. Sam grabbed Dean by the forearm before he could get too far and brought Dean's right hand to his lips. With one, long swipe of his tongue, Sam licked some of the come off of Dean's hand. Dean's mouth opened in a surprised O as he sucked in a breath.
Sam grinned, opened one of the top drawers and pulled out a box of tissues. Dean grabbed a few and started wiping the rest of the come off his hands. When he had finished, he tossed them into the garbage pail and said, "You gonna come back downstairs? I'm thinking we should wrap this up soon. It's gonna be dark soon and I'd like some dinner, you know?"
Sam pushed himself up off the chair and said, "Yeah. I'll come down with you. Besides, I think I'd like to sit outside for a while."
Once everyone had left, with hardly any persuasion from either Sam or Dean, (and a few knowing looks from Mrs. Peters and Mrs. Hines) Sam went out onto the back porch and sat in one of the old, wooden chairs. He propped his legs on the railing and surveyed their land. They had a full acre of workable field, a little overgrown now, flanked to the north by two acres of forest. The house sat on a small hill and from the back porch, Sam could see the small lake about a half mile down the dirt road. The sun was just beginning to set and the colors reflected off the surface of the lake like fire. Dean joined Sam outside a few minutes later with a couple of beers. He offered one to Sam and Sam took a long pull from the bottle. Dean sat down next to him and said, "I think I could get used to this, Sammy."
Sam smiled, and as the fireflies started to come out, flickering just above the tall grass in the field, Sam thought, Yeah. I could get used to this, too.
~ -|- ~
Author: mgbutterfly
Pairings: Dean/Sam
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: Sam and Dean are all mine! Oh, no. Wait. No they're not. Not mine and no profit. I am sad.
Beta!Bitch: sardonicsmiley. She is mine, I am hers. Our love is EPIC! oh, yeah. And? This is all her fault.
Summary: The moment the Winchester Brothers took over the deed to the old McKinny home, the entire neighborhood planned a "Welcome to the Neighborhood" party. At the house. Without either Sam or Dean knowing. They just showed up with food and, thank god, booze, and invited themselves in.
A/N: This was written for fluffandfold. My prompt was: A grateful woman they rescued from something or other, leaves Sam and Dean her house. This is future fic. It is also Humor!Fic, PWP!Fic, Desk!Porn!Fic and Slightly Schmoop!Fic. Also, in case you're curious, An Al is a creature from Armenian folklore that is half-human, half-animal with brass fingernails, long snakelike hair, a fiery single eye, iron teeth, and the tusks of a wild boar. Information taken from A Field Guide to Demons, Fairies, Fallen Angels, and Other Subversive Spirits by Carol K. Mack and Dinah Mack.
Sam leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms up over his head intertwining his fingers and inverting his hands. He inhaled deeply and released the breath slowly, letting some of the tension roll out of his shoulders. Rubbing his eyes, Sam pushed back from his desk and got up out of his chair. He stood at the desk looking down at the mess of folders which were the sickly yellow color of sallow skin, and heaved what could only be described as a tortured sigh.
Sam had absconded into the large office to escape the gaggle of people that had inundated their newly acquired abode. The moment the Winchester Brothers took over the deed to the old McKinny home, the entire neighborhood planned a "Welcome to the Neighborhood" party. At the house. Without either Sam or Dean knowing. They just showed up with food and, thank god, booze, and invited themselves in. The neighborhood was blessedly small, houses sitting on five acre lots, so at least there weren't that many people there.
Dean was downstairs dealing with the onslaught. Sam had taken it as long as he could, then politely excused himself to, "go over the paper work for the all the legal stuff." And after twenty minutes of trying to organize the mess that was Mrs. McKinny's record keeping, Sam was beginning to regret his decision.
Sam stood by the closed office door and listened for a moment, then quickly thought better of his regret. He walked back over to the monster of a desk - rich cherry wood, front panel (facing the door) reaching all the way to the floor, side "return" large enough for a Thanksgiving spread fit for twenty people, and a book hutch, complete with just about every Law book available, rising to the ceiling - and sat back down in the over-sized (quite possibly most comfortable ever) chair. He stretched his legs out under the desk, and it was a testament to the craftsmanship of the desk that Sam's legs, at full stretch, did not reach the wall of the front panel.
Sam simply sat quietly, listening to the crowd below him, and let a small smile touch his lips. He closed his eyes for a moment and when he opened them, Dean was leaning in the doorway. Sam pulled his legs back, sat forward in the chair and said, "I didn't even hear you open the door. How's it going down there?"
Dean smirked at Sam from the doorway, never moving out of his easy lean on the frame. He shrugged and said, "Not bad. Mr. Hines says the garden needs to be tilled. Mrs. Peters says the best way to winter proof the windows is heavy curtains. Mrs. Cummings says the best way to get rid of the gnome problem is to sprinkle cayenne pepper around the garden. And Mr. Saul told me I could use his garage any time for tune ups on the Impala." Dean pushed off the door sill and started walking toward the desk.
Sam closed one of the folders in front of him and leaned back into the chair once again. He looked up at Dean as he propped himself on the edge of the desk in front and to the left of Sam, "The Impala could use a tune up. It's been, wait. Did you say gnome problem?" Sam raised his eyebrows and cocked his head to the side.
"Yep. Apparently, this area is teaming with, um, interesting life. Mr. Saul said something about a Munuane down at the lake. So, you know, if we go fishing, don't take too much." Dean smirked and folded his arms across his chest.
Sam shook his head in disbelief. After so many years of hunting, it was humans that surprised Sam the most. They'd been in this house for three days. Mrs. McKinny died a little over a week before and in her will were very specific instructions as to who the house and land would go to. All her kin were dead. Sam and Dean had helped her with a particularly nasty Al that had taken up residence in her basement. Sam supposed it wasn't such a leap that she would leave them the house. But considering that the Al incident had been five years ago, he (and Dean) had been pretty surprised when they got the call.
Sam grinned and said, "Did you ever think we'd have our own house? This is, I don't know. I feel like I'm gonna wake up any minute now. I'm forty. Forty, Dean. I never thought I'd make it past thirty. And all that shit with the crossroads demon? We are some lucky sons of bitches."
Dean smiled, really smiled, and said, "That we are. And you, Sam, are even luckier that you think." Dean pushed himself off the edge of the desk and placed his hands on the arms of Sam's chair. Leaning over Sam, Dean's lips only inches from Sam's, he whispered, "The guests are all occupied downstairs, you and me got this big office all to ourselves, and this desk? Well, I'm pretty sure I can just slide right under it and no one would know I was down there."
Sam pulled his bottom lip through his teeth and sucked in a breath as Dean went to his knees. When he spoke, his voice cracked, "Dean. No, Dean. Anyone could walk in. And I'm working. Just. Let's just wait until everyone's gone."
It was clear to Sam, as a kneeling Dean started to un-do Sam's pants, that Dean was not listening. Sam rolled his eyes and said, "Dean. Door's open, man. Stop."
Dean looked up at Sam and Sam's breath caught in his throat. Dean's eyes dark with lust, his lips wet with spit and his hands so smoothly working the button, and then the zipper, on Sam's pants were too much for Sam to take in at one time. He figured his brain must have overloaded. There was no other explanation for his lack of action as Dean pulled his pants down below his knees. Dean grinned up at Sam, something smug and teasing, and Sam sighed in submission.
Sam was already half hard from Dean's work on his pants, so when Dean flicked his tongue over the head of Sam's cock, any blood left in Sam's brain immediately rushed south. Dean grinned again and pulled Sam by the knees until Dean was completely concealed by the desk along with Sam's lower body.
Dean ran his hands up Sam's thighs, gently brushing along the hard line of Sam's cock with his thumbs. Sam relaxed back in the chair realizing that there was no more need to argue. And besides, Sam was about to get a blow job. Why should he argue?
Sam closed his eyes as Dean's lips brushed lightly over the head of his cock. He couldn't see his brother beneath the desk, but he could imagine what his face looked like. Sam knew Dean's eyes were open, but half-lidded with lust, he knew Dean's lips were swollen and pink. Sam could imagine Dean's tongue flicking out to wet his lips in a slow, languorous movement and the thought brought a moan to Sam's throat. He bucked his hips only slightly and Dean took the opportunity to slide his mouth over Sam's dick.
Sam released a sigh and let his head fall limp against the back of the chair. Dean's mouth started working slowly up and down Sam's length, and the wet heat made Sam lightheaded. When Dean swirled his tongue around the head, Sam gripped the arms of the chair and the sound that escaped his lips made Dean's hands tighten on his thighs. Sam felt one of Dean's hands disappear from his leg and a second later Sam heard Dean's zipper being undone.
A noise distracted Sam from his reverie and when he opened his eyes, there was an old woman standing in the doorway. Sam sat upright so quickly he nearly fell out of the chair. Dean made a choking noise under the desk and Sam quickly coughed to cover it up. He put his hands on the top of the desk and leaned forward a little bit and said, "Mrs. Peters? Hi. Um... is everything okay? Can I get you something?" Beneath the desk, Dean pulled his teeth gently along Sam's cock and Sam cleared his throat with a whine.
Mrs. Peters grinned and straightened her lavender blouse, "No, Sam. I was just looking for Dean. I suppose he's busy though. He said he was going to check on you and then take care of something in the basement," Sam was sure his face was red, he was positive that Mrs. Peters knew exactly what was going on. And it didn't make him feel any better about the situation when Dean, again, swirled his tongue around the head of Sam's dick and then slipped his wet, warm lips back over the head, taking the full length in one fluid movement. Sam beat his fist on the top of the desk and scrunched his eyes closed. When he opened them again, Mrs. Peters raised her white eyebrows in something that, to Sam, looked like amusement, "I guess he's in the basement now. I'll just wait for him to come back downstairs," Mrs. Peters put a hand to her lips as her eyes widened and said, "Oh, I mean upstairs." She pulled the door closed behind her as she left.
Sam exhaled a heavy breath and relaxed back into the chair. Under the desk, Sam could feel Dean grinning around his cock. All thoughts of reprimand quickly left Sam's head as Dean started his meticulous work on Sam's dick. Dean moved slowly. So slowly it was almost torturous. Sam's hands returned to the arms of the chair and he listened as Dean sucked him off. The wet sound of Dean's lips sliding up and down Sam's cock, the unmistakable noise of Dean's hand working his own cock, the sharp sound of Dean's breathing and the rhythmic sound of Sam's own; all these things were beginning to overload Sam's senses.
The final straw was the little aching noise Dean made as he came in his own hand. Sam felt Dean's mouth go stiff for a moment and then relax as his brother's orgasm peaked. Sam tensed up for a brief second before his vision whited out and he closed his eyes, coming down Dean's throat in a hot mess of much needed release. Sam's mouth went slack and he scrunched his eyes in time to each sweet spasm as they ripped through his body. Beneath the desk, Dean worked Sam through with a gentle mouth, swallowing everything Sam had to give.
Sam felt Dean pull his mouth off his cock and moaned at the loss. When the cool air hit the moist flesh, Sam sucked in a breath and pushed the chair back away from the desk. He peeked underneath then and saw Dean straightening his own pants with a wicked grin on his face. Dean crawled out from beneath the desk and stood in front of Sam, his ass resting on the edge of the desk, "Nice desk, Sammy."
Sam grinned, open mouthed, and shook his head in mock annoyance, "Yeah. It is. But you know what's even better? Have you seen the master bedroom?" Sam smirked and pulled his pants up, buttoning and zipping as he grinned at Dean.
Dean laughed and pushed himself off the desk, "I should get back down to the party. I'm sure Mrs. Peters has something to say." Dean looked around the room for a moment before Sam realized what he was looking for. Dean started to turn away, holding his right hand up in front of him away from his body. Sam grabbed Dean by the forearm before he could get too far and brought Dean's right hand to his lips. With one, long swipe of his tongue, Sam licked some of the come off of Dean's hand. Dean's mouth opened in a surprised O as he sucked in a breath.
Sam grinned, opened one of the top drawers and pulled out a box of tissues. Dean grabbed a few and started wiping the rest of the come off his hands. When he had finished, he tossed them into the garbage pail and said, "You gonna come back downstairs? I'm thinking we should wrap this up soon. It's gonna be dark soon and I'd like some dinner, you know?"
Sam pushed himself up off the chair and said, "Yeah. I'll come down with you. Besides, I think I'd like to sit outside for a while."
Once everyone had left, with hardly any persuasion from either Sam or Dean, (and a few knowing looks from Mrs. Peters and Mrs. Hines) Sam went out onto the back porch and sat in one of the old, wooden chairs. He propped his legs on the railing and surveyed their land. They had a full acre of workable field, a little overgrown now, flanked to the north by two acres of forest. The house sat on a small hill and from the back porch, Sam could see the small lake about a half mile down the dirt road. The sun was just beginning to set and the colors reflected off the surface of the lake like fire. Dean joined Sam outside a few minutes later with a couple of beers. He offered one to Sam and Sam took a long pull from the bottle. Dean sat down next to him and said, "I think I could get used to this, Sammy."
Sam smiled, and as the fireflies started to come out, flickering just above the tall grass in the field, Sam thought, Yeah. I could get used to this, too.
~ -|- ~