were_lemur
in
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Day 23: Magic Fingers (Supernatural)
Title: Magic Fingers
Author: were_lemur
Fandom: Supernatural
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: ~700
Warnings: none
Summary: Dean is temporarily blinded by a curse. Sam provides some much-needed distraction.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
"How long did Bobby say this stupid curse was going to last, again?"
"Three days and three night." Sam fights to keep the annoyance out of his voice, but doesn't quite succeed, and he feels bad about that. He's sure if he were the one blinded, he wouldn't be in a particularly good mood, either.
"Friggin' witches," Dean mutters, for what has to be the eightieth time since they left the cave where the coven had been hiding.
Sam tosses the bag with their breakfast into Dean's lap. "Hotel's not far. I called ahead to make sure they had Magic Fingers."
He'd been hoping that would cheer Dean up, but the only response is an annoyed grunt.
They check in, and he realizes he should have made sure they were on the ground floor. But it's too late now; by the time he gets back to the Impala Dean is already out and fumbling to open the trunk. When Sam pulls out the duffel with their weapons, Dean grabs it from him and hoists it onto his shoulder. "Not helpless."
"Definitely not," Sam says. "The witches didn't know what hit them." They'd counted Dean out of the fight, but he'd taken down two of the three while Sam was still fighting his way out of the net they'd dropped on him.
Dean smirks, and doesn't protest when Sam guides him to the stairs. Once he's got the hand on the railing, he's fine; Sam grabs their clothes and the food and follows, then steps around him to open the door to room 207. Dean doesn't stumble at the threshold, and after he's handed off the duffel to Sam, he starts to pace out the room, learning its dimensions.
Once he's satisfied himself that he can find the bathroom on his own, he devours his breakfast burrito (the option that Sam had thought was the easiest) and flops down on his bed. Sam is more than happy to provide him with a supply of quarters for the Magic Fingers, and he's content for the twenty minutes it takes for boredom to set in.
"What are you doing?" Dean calls, twenty-one minutes later.
"Looking for a case."
"What kind of case?"
"Any kind of case."
Thirty seconds of silence pass, and then, "This sucks."
Sam starts to massage his temples.
"What am I supposed to do now?" Dean asks.
"Sleep?"
"I'm not tired."
"Look, I'm just gonna take a walk, and you can -- " Sam makes a vague gesture with one hand, before remembering that Dean can't see it. " -- do what you're gonna do."
"I'm not in the mood."
"So get in the mood."
"How? Read a porno? Watch a little Casa Erotica on pay-per-view? Oh, wait -- " Dean flops back on his bed, hands beneath his head, sulking.
Sam really can't blame him. And maybe he has an idea. He leans over Dean, kisses him gently. Pulls Dean's hands out, and brings them to his waist. "You don't need to see this."
Dean grins, and tugs Sam's shirttails up so that he can press his hands against Sam's skin. He traces his way up Sam's chest, pushing fabric out of his way as he does so. Finally he gets impatient, and pulls both shirts over Sam's head. His fingertips graze over Sam's nipples, but his hands are already moving back down.
He feels his way to Sam's belt buckle, and undoes it, then unbuttons his jeans. Presses the flat of his hand against Sam's stomach and slides his fingers down below the edge of Sam's briefs.
Sam can't help the whimper that works its way up his throat, as Dean's fingers wrap around his cock. Dean pushes his jeans and briefs down enough to pull his cock out, and begins to stroke it. Sam grinds into Dean's hand. Dean arches up toward him, but he's heading in the wrong direction. Sam meets him halfway, and kisses him slow and easy, but then Dean pulls away.
"I'm in the mood now, Sammy," he says, and slides his free hand into his own pants. "If you still want to take that walk."
Sam kicks his jeans the rest of the way off, and turns his attention to his brother's clothes. "Actually, I think I'm in the mood to stay in."
Author: were_lemur
Fandom: Supernatural
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: ~700
Warnings: none
Summary: Dean is temporarily blinded by a curse. Sam provides some much-needed distraction.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
"How long did Bobby say this stupid curse was going to last, again?"
"Three days and three night." Sam fights to keep the annoyance out of his voice, but doesn't quite succeed, and he feels bad about that. He's sure if he were the one blinded, he wouldn't be in a particularly good mood, either.
"Friggin' witches," Dean mutters, for what has to be the eightieth time since they left the cave where the coven had been hiding.
Sam tosses the bag with their breakfast into Dean's lap. "Hotel's not far. I called ahead to make sure they had Magic Fingers."
He'd been hoping that would cheer Dean up, but the only response is an annoyed grunt.
They check in, and he realizes he should have made sure they were on the ground floor. But it's too late now; by the time he gets back to the Impala Dean is already out and fumbling to open the trunk. When Sam pulls out the duffel with their weapons, Dean grabs it from him and hoists it onto his shoulder. "Not helpless."
"Definitely not," Sam says. "The witches didn't know what hit them." They'd counted Dean out of the fight, but he'd taken down two of the three while Sam was still fighting his way out of the net they'd dropped on him.
Dean smirks, and doesn't protest when Sam guides him to the stairs. Once he's got the hand on the railing, he's fine; Sam grabs their clothes and the food and follows, then steps around him to open the door to room 207. Dean doesn't stumble at the threshold, and after he's handed off the duffel to Sam, he starts to pace out the room, learning its dimensions.
Once he's satisfied himself that he can find the bathroom on his own, he devours his breakfast burrito (the option that Sam had thought was the easiest) and flops down on his bed. Sam is more than happy to provide him with a supply of quarters for the Magic Fingers, and he's content for the twenty minutes it takes for boredom to set in.
"What are you doing?" Dean calls, twenty-one minutes later.
"Looking for a case."
"What kind of case?"
"Any kind of case."
Thirty seconds of silence pass, and then, "This sucks."
Sam starts to massage his temples.
"What am I supposed to do now?" Dean asks.
"Sleep?"
"I'm not tired."
"Look, I'm just gonna take a walk, and you can -- " Sam makes a vague gesture with one hand, before remembering that Dean can't see it. " -- do what you're gonna do."
"I'm not in the mood."
"So get in the mood."
"How? Read a porno? Watch a little Casa Erotica on pay-per-view? Oh, wait -- " Dean flops back on his bed, hands beneath his head, sulking.
Sam really can't blame him. And maybe he has an idea. He leans over Dean, kisses him gently. Pulls Dean's hands out, and brings them to his waist. "You don't need to see this."
Dean grins, and tugs Sam's shirttails up so that he can press his hands against Sam's skin. He traces his way up Sam's chest, pushing fabric out of his way as he does so. Finally he gets impatient, and pulls both shirts over Sam's head. His fingertips graze over Sam's nipples, but his hands are already moving back down.
He feels his way to Sam's belt buckle, and undoes it, then unbuttons his jeans. Presses the flat of his hand against Sam's stomach and slides his fingers down below the edge of Sam's briefs.
Sam can't help the whimper that works its way up his throat, as Dean's fingers wrap around his cock. Dean pushes his jeans and briefs down enough to pull his cock out, and begins to stroke it. Sam grinds into Dean's hand. Dean arches up toward him, but he's heading in the wrong direction. Sam meets him halfway, and kisses him slow and easy, but then Dean pulls away.
"I'm in the mood now, Sammy," he says, and slides his free hand into his own pants. "If you still want to take that walk."
Sam kicks his jeans the rest of the way off, and turns his attention to his brother's clothes. "Actually, I think I'm in the mood to stay in."