Down On My Knees - NC-17 - Dean/Sam
Title: Down On My Knees
Author: mgbutterfly
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Dean/Sam
Disclaimer: If they belonged to me, I would bake them proper birthday cakes and give them a warm bed with clean sheets to sleep in.
Summary: Dean turns 30
Beta!Bitch:sardonicsmiley. If she were anymore awesome, I would spontaneously combust. I die of hot every day for having her in my life.
Author's Notes: This is birthday fic for gestaltrose who asked for Sam/Dean, Cake and Ice cream. And porn. I hope this is what she wanted.
There's a circular spot of burnt icing on top of the cinnamon bun where Sam dropped the match. He stares at it, stares at the charred blackness surrounded by moistly glistening white.
A cinnamon bun isn't much of a birthday cake, but it was all the gas station-slash-convenience store had to offer. Sam had stepped out as soon as Dean left for his jog. He figured he had at least thirty minutes before Dean would come back to the room, sweaty and sated from stretching his legs. Luckily, the motel of the week was next door to a nice, big gas station, so Sam made a quick job of it. He had flashed the clerk a smile as he walked in and headed for the display of "Fresh Pastries and Donuts" behind a plastic case. The cinnamon buns had looked the freshest, and honestly, the tastiest. Sam had grabbed one and headed down the emergency supply row, grabbing a box of white, short emergency candles. As an afterthought, Sam had decided that birthday cake was nothing without ice cream, so he'd perused the freezer section and chosen a small bucket of strawberry. At the check out, the clerk, a pretty girl with dark hair and dark eyes, had given Sam a knowing grin and stuck two spoons in the bag with the goodies.
The ice in the sink settles some more and the noise breaks Sam out of his reverie.
Now, back at the room, comfortably showered and in pajama pants, Sam waits at the rickety table by the window for Dean to return. The ice in the sink is slowly melting, but the ice cream seems to be holding up alright. Sam puts the bun on a paper plate and sets it on the table, lighting another match, touching the flame to the wick of the emergency candle stuck down into the center of the bun.
Sam hears the key turn in the lock. He picks up the bun and holds it out as Dean steps through the door. Dean's sweating through his gray shirt and breathing heavily and when he sees Sam with the sugary confection he says, "What's all this?"
Sam just smiles, holds the plate out and says, "Happy birthday, Dean."
Dean makes a face and Sam's smile falters for just a second. Dean closes the door, props one foot on a chair and starts unlacing his shoes. "Why? Dude, we've never celebrated birthdays."
Sam rolls his eyes, "You're thirty, Dean."
"Yeah. So?"
"Dean. You're thirty."
Sam watches Dean go still. He's frozen in the middle of his movements and Sam can see that Dean is starting to get the picture. Dean looks up, meeting Sam's eyes and it's almost as if Dean is looking right through Sam. There's a moment where Sam has no idea where his brother is because he's certainly not in the room anymore. Then Dean's eyes clear and Sam holds the plate out once again, saying, "Make a wish."
Dean's eyes never leave Sam's. Sam watches Dean inhale slowly, like he's drawing strength or life or something vital from the air around him, then gently blowing out the flame. Then he just walks away. Sam is left standing with a soggy cinnamon bun with a light spattering of wax from a half burnt emergency candle in a motel room that reeks of sweat and exhaustion while his brother - his thirty-year-old brother - closes himself in the bathroom and turn the shower on.
Well, Sam figures that could have gone a lot worse.
~ -|- ~
Sam is sitting at the table when Dean comes out of the bathroom, steam billowing out behind him and towel wrapped around waist. Dean grabs the ice cream out of the sink and saunters over to the table. The mini bucket has gone soggy from sitting in melting ice and Sam is pretty sure that when they open it, the ice cream inside will be fairly mushy and slightly warm.
Dean sits down, opens the bucket and grabs a spoon. His lips quirk up into a grin as he shovels a spoonful of gooey ice cream into his mouth. Sam can't help but smile.
They eat the cinnamon bun and ice cream in silence. Every now and then Sam will look up and catch Dean staring at him. When Sam puts his spoon down, as full of sweetness as he can stand, he watches Dean scrape the bottom of the ice cream container. Dean looks up after swallowing the last bite from the cardboard bucket and smiles. He's got pink ice cream in the corners of his mouth and a smear of frosting on his chin and Sam takes a moment to let the image permanently etch itself into his mind.
Dean tosses the ice cream container in the trashcan and turns back to Sam, "Thanks."
Sam smiles, reaching across the table to pick the icing off of Dean's chin. The smile fades from Dean's face as he grabs Sam's wrist, effectively stopping the icing retrieval op.
The silence spreads around them until Sam is sure he's gone deaf. Sam can feel his pulse beneath Dean's fingers, quick and thready, and hopes that Dean isn't paying attention to the way it's speeding up.
There's a moment of stillness and then it's broken, both Sam and Dean rising from the table, locked at Sam's wrist. Dean pulls Sam against him and Sam offers no resistance. Sam grabs Dean's shoulder with the hand not being held in place by Dean and when their lips meet, the kiss is anything but graceful. It's teeth and tongue and bruising pressure, full of need and desperate want.
Sam pushes Dean backward, pressing him against the door. Sam starts at Dean's jaw, nibbles a line across rough stubble that leave his lips raw and swollen. Sam licks down Dean's neck, across his shoulder, kissing a trail down over Dean's chest. He pauses at each of Dean's nipples, taking the time to draw each one into his mouth, to swirl his tongue around the dull points, pulling off with a sharp bite.
Dean moans with each press of tooth against the tender flesh.
Sam drops to his knees, pulling Dean's towel off as he goes. Dean's back is against the motel room door and Sam holds him there, hands on Dean's waist. Sam kisses across Dean's hips, runs his tongue up the line of Dean's thigh, sucks a bruise into the tender skin there.
Dean threads his fingers into Sam's hair, tugging gently. Sam looks up, lips swollen from kissing, mouth hanging open in want, pupils blown wide.
Dean lets his head fall back against the door, says Sam's name in a whisper and tries to pull Sam up. Sam twists his head so that Dean's fingers slip just slightly and mouths the skin below Dean's navel.
Sam smiles when he hears Dean sigh. Sam kisses around the soft flesh, dips his tongue into the little depression of Dean's belly button. He bites and sucks and licks his way all around Dean's lower body, careful to leave Dean's leaking cock alone. He wants Dean to squirm. He wants Dean to need it so bad he aches. And from the sounds Dean is making, Sam is very much succeeding.
Dean flexes his fingers in Sam's hair, says Sam's name again, and Sam relents.
Sam breathes a warm breeze over Dean's cock, lets his lips just barely touch the tender skin. He feels Dean tense, can almost feel the restraint Dean is using to keep from fisting Sam's hair to the point of pain. Sam traces his lips over the tip, darts his tongue out to lap at the hole seeping with pre-come.
Sam slides his hands down Dean's sides. He brings them to rest on the outside of Dean's thighs then slides them around. As Sam cups Dean's ass, he takes Dean's cock into his mouth, one smooth movement that has Dean thrusting and tensing.
Sam hums around Dean, keeps still until Dean relaxes. Dean slumps back against the wall and lets one hand fall from Sam's head onto his shoulder. Dean works his other hand around to the back of Sam's head and Sam starts to move.
Sam's movements are slow and long. He works his tongue around the tip of Dean's cock, tracing patterns that could mean nothing. Could mean everything. Sam's hands are firm on Dean's ass, not gripping, but holding Dean in place. He slides his mouth almost completely off of Dean, then slowly takes Dean's full length. Sam's lips are so wet, so full of Dean, that tendrils of spit are sliding out and down Dean's cock.
Sam pulls his mouth off of Dean's cock with an obscene pop. He can feel the heat in his cheeks, the blood in his lips, and can only imagine what Dean sees when Sam says, "Fuck my mouth, Dean. I want you to fuck my mouth."
Dean closes his eyes and his lips part in a sex-dazed grin. Sam's lips are parted, waiting, and Dean slides his cock between them while guiding Sam's head. Sam opens his throat and takes him, takes everything Dean gives him.
They say like that for a small moment; still, full.
Sam takes one hand off of Dean's ass and slinks it down into his own pants to grip his cock. Dean starts moving, slowly at first, then speeding up, cock red and rock hard against the softness of Sam's lips.
Sam starts pumping his fist, his own need for release making him lightheaded and dizzy. Sam is barely aware of Dean's hands as they guide him along his brother's cock. Sam turns his eyes up to look at Dean and is met with Dean's intense gaze. Dean is watching him, watching Sam suck him off, and the sight of Dean's dark eyes sends Sam over an edge like water falling over a cliff.
Sam closes his eyes and comes, pumping into his own fist as Dean fucks his mouth.
As Sam comes down, Dean's hands tighten on his shoulder and in his hair. Sam can feel Dean get harder in his mouth, knows it's only moments now before Dean tumbles over the same, high ledge. Sam looks up again, sees Dean's eyes closed and hums around Dean's cock.
Dean's fist tightens to the point of pain in Sam's hair and as Sam hums again, Dean comes hot and fast down his throat. The bitter warmth spreads out through Sam's chest and belly as he swallows his brother's spunk.
Sam slides his mouth from Dean's cock, pressing a kiss against the inside of Dean's thigh and glances up. Dean is grinning.
Sam pushes himself away from Dean, angling his body back to better see Dean's face. Dean slides down the wall, takes Sam's face in his hands, pulling Sam against him. Dean presses their lips together and moans as Sam slips his tongue inside. Sam tastes Dean, all Dean, and smiles through the kiss.
Dean pulls away, says, "God Damn, Sam."
Sam grins, "Happy Birthday, Dean."
Author: mgbutterfly
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Dean/Sam
Disclaimer: If they belonged to me, I would bake them proper birthday cakes and give them a warm bed with clean sheets to sleep in.
Summary: Dean turns 30
Beta!Bitch:sardonicsmiley. If she were anymore awesome, I would spontaneously combust. I die of hot every day for having her in my life.
Author's Notes: This is birthday fic for gestaltrose who asked for Sam/Dean, Cake and Ice cream. And porn. I hope this is what she wanted.
There's a circular spot of burnt icing on top of the cinnamon bun where Sam dropped the match. He stares at it, stares at the charred blackness surrounded by moistly glistening white.
A cinnamon bun isn't much of a birthday cake, but it was all the gas station-slash-convenience store had to offer. Sam had stepped out as soon as Dean left for his jog. He figured he had at least thirty minutes before Dean would come back to the room, sweaty and sated from stretching his legs. Luckily, the motel of the week was next door to a nice, big gas station, so Sam made a quick job of it. He had flashed the clerk a smile as he walked in and headed for the display of "Fresh Pastries and Donuts" behind a plastic case. The cinnamon buns had looked the freshest, and honestly, the tastiest. Sam had grabbed one and headed down the emergency supply row, grabbing a box of white, short emergency candles. As an afterthought, Sam had decided that birthday cake was nothing without ice cream, so he'd perused the freezer section and chosen a small bucket of strawberry. At the check out, the clerk, a pretty girl with dark hair and dark eyes, had given Sam a knowing grin and stuck two spoons in the bag with the goodies.
The ice in the sink settles some more and the noise breaks Sam out of his reverie.
Now, back at the room, comfortably showered and in pajama pants, Sam waits at the rickety table by the window for Dean to return. The ice in the sink is slowly melting, but the ice cream seems to be holding up alright. Sam puts the bun on a paper plate and sets it on the table, lighting another match, touching the flame to the wick of the emergency candle stuck down into the center of the bun.
Sam hears the key turn in the lock. He picks up the bun and holds it out as Dean steps through the door. Dean's sweating through his gray shirt and breathing heavily and when he sees Sam with the sugary confection he says, "What's all this?"
Sam just smiles, holds the plate out and says, "Happy birthday, Dean."
Dean makes a face and Sam's smile falters for just a second. Dean closes the door, props one foot on a chair and starts unlacing his shoes. "Why? Dude, we've never celebrated birthdays."
Sam rolls his eyes, "You're thirty, Dean."
"Yeah. So?"
"Dean. You're thirty."
Sam watches Dean go still. He's frozen in the middle of his movements and Sam can see that Dean is starting to get the picture. Dean looks up, meeting Sam's eyes and it's almost as if Dean is looking right through Sam. There's a moment where Sam has no idea where his brother is because he's certainly not in the room anymore. Then Dean's eyes clear and Sam holds the plate out once again, saying, "Make a wish."
Dean's eyes never leave Sam's. Sam watches Dean inhale slowly, like he's drawing strength or life or something vital from the air around him, then gently blowing out the flame. Then he just walks away. Sam is left standing with a soggy cinnamon bun with a light spattering of wax from a half burnt emergency candle in a motel room that reeks of sweat and exhaustion while his brother - his thirty-year-old brother - closes himself in the bathroom and turn the shower on.
Well, Sam figures that could have gone a lot worse.
~ -|- ~
Sam is sitting at the table when Dean comes out of the bathroom, steam billowing out behind him and towel wrapped around waist. Dean grabs the ice cream out of the sink and saunters over to the table. The mini bucket has gone soggy from sitting in melting ice and Sam is pretty sure that when they open it, the ice cream inside will be fairly mushy and slightly warm.
Dean sits down, opens the bucket and grabs a spoon. His lips quirk up into a grin as he shovels a spoonful of gooey ice cream into his mouth. Sam can't help but smile.
They eat the cinnamon bun and ice cream in silence. Every now and then Sam will look up and catch Dean staring at him. When Sam puts his spoon down, as full of sweetness as he can stand, he watches Dean scrape the bottom of the ice cream container. Dean looks up after swallowing the last bite from the cardboard bucket and smiles. He's got pink ice cream in the corners of his mouth and a smear of frosting on his chin and Sam takes a moment to let the image permanently etch itself into his mind.
Dean tosses the ice cream container in the trashcan and turns back to Sam, "Thanks."
Sam smiles, reaching across the table to pick the icing off of Dean's chin. The smile fades from Dean's face as he grabs Sam's wrist, effectively stopping the icing retrieval op.
The silence spreads around them until Sam is sure he's gone deaf. Sam can feel his pulse beneath Dean's fingers, quick and thready, and hopes that Dean isn't paying attention to the way it's speeding up.
There's a moment of stillness and then it's broken, both Sam and Dean rising from the table, locked at Sam's wrist. Dean pulls Sam against him and Sam offers no resistance. Sam grabs Dean's shoulder with the hand not being held in place by Dean and when their lips meet, the kiss is anything but graceful. It's teeth and tongue and bruising pressure, full of need and desperate want.
Sam pushes Dean backward, pressing him against the door. Sam starts at Dean's jaw, nibbles a line across rough stubble that leave his lips raw and swollen. Sam licks down Dean's neck, across his shoulder, kissing a trail down over Dean's chest. He pauses at each of Dean's nipples, taking the time to draw each one into his mouth, to swirl his tongue around the dull points, pulling off with a sharp bite.
Dean moans with each press of tooth against the tender flesh.
Sam drops to his knees, pulling Dean's towel off as he goes. Dean's back is against the motel room door and Sam holds him there, hands on Dean's waist. Sam kisses across Dean's hips, runs his tongue up the line of Dean's thigh, sucks a bruise into the tender skin there.
Dean threads his fingers into Sam's hair, tugging gently. Sam looks up, lips swollen from kissing, mouth hanging open in want, pupils blown wide.
Dean lets his head fall back against the door, says Sam's name in a whisper and tries to pull Sam up. Sam twists his head so that Dean's fingers slip just slightly and mouths the skin below Dean's navel.
Sam smiles when he hears Dean sigh. Sam kisses around the soft flesh, dips his tongue into the little depression of Dean's belly button. He bites and sucks and licks his way all around Dean's lower body, careful to leave Dean's leaking cock alone. He wants Dean to squirm. He wants Dean to need it so bad he aches. And from the sounds Dean is making, Sam is very much succeeding.
Dean flexes his fingers in Sam's hair, says Sam's name again, and Sam relents.
Sam breathes a warm breeze over Dean's cock, lets his lips just barely touch the tender skin. He feels Dean tense, can almost feel the restraint Dean is using to keep from fisting Sam's hair to the point of pain. Sam traces his lips over the tip, darts his tongue out to lap at the hole seeping with pre-come.
Sam slides his hands down Dean's sides. He brings them to rest on the outside of Dean's thighs then slides them around. As Sam cups Dean's ass, he takes Dean's cock into his mouth, one smooth movement that has Dean thrusting and tensing.
Sam hums around Dean, keeps still until Dean relaxes. Dean slumps back against the wall and lets one hand fall from Sam's head onto his shoulder. Dean works his other hand around to the back of Sam's head and Sam starts to move.
Sam's movements are slow and long. He works his tongue around the tip of Dean's cock, tracing patterns that could mean nothing. Could mean everything. Sam's hands are firm on Dean's ass, not gripping, but holding Dean in place. He slides his mouth almost completely off of Dean, then slowly takes Dean's full length. Sam's lips are so wet, so full of Dean, that tendrils of spit are sliding out and down Dean's cock.
Sam pulls his mouth off of Dean's cock with an obscene pop. He can feel the heat in his cheeks, the blood in his lips, and can only imagine what Dean sees when Sam says, "Fuck my mouth, Dean. I want you to fuck my mouth."
Dean closes his eyes and his lips part in a sex-dazed grin. Sam's lips are parted, waiting, and Dean slides his cock between them while guiding Sam's head. Sam opens his throat and takes him, takes everything Dean gives him.
They say like that for a small moment; still, full.
Sam takes one hand off of Dean's ass and slinks it down into his own pants to grip his cock. Dean starts moving, slowly at first, then speeding up, cock red and rock hard against the softness of Sam's lips.
Sam starts pumping his fist, his own need for release making him lightheaded and dizzy. Sam is barely aware of Dean's hands as they guide him along his brother's cock. Sam turns his eyes up to look at Dean and is met with Dean's intense gaze. Dean is watching him, watching Sam suck him off, and the sight of Dean's dark eyes sends Sam over an edge like water falling over a cliff.
Sam closes his eyes and comes, pumping into his own fist as Dean fucks his mouth.
As Sam comes down, Dean's hands tighten on his shoulder and in his hair. Sam can feel Dean get harder in his mouth, knows it's only moments now before Dean tumbles over the same, high ledge. Sam looks up again, sees Dean's eyes closed and hums around Dean's cock.
Dean's fist tightens to the point of pain in Sam's hair and as Sam hums again, Dean comes hot and fast down his throat. The bitter warmth spreads out through Sam's chest and belly as he swallows his brother's spunk.
Sam slides his mouth from Dean's cock, pressing a kiss against the inside of Dean's thigh and glances up. Dean is grinning.
Sam pushes himself away from Dean, angling his body back to better see Dean's face. Dean slides down the wall, takes Sam's face in his hands, pulling Sam against him. Dean presses their lips together and moans as Sam slips his tongue inside. Sam tastes Dean, all Dean, and smiles through the kiss.
Dean pulls away, says, "God Damn, Sam."
Sam grins, "Happy Birthday, Dean."