Untitled #5 (Slash, Adult)
Title: Untitled #5
Rating: Adult
Category: Pre-series slash (Wincest) oneshot
Word Count: 926
Characters: Dean/Sam, John, and Caleb
Spoilers: None
Summary: They stop at Caleb’s for an afternoon.
Warnings: Underage brother incest (Sam is about 17)
Author’s Notes: Mostly written in my head while on a bike ride one day through the pretty scenery of nearby farms. Rather messy little fic that was scribbled down and played with in a notebook instead of my computer.
Disclaimer: The following characters and situations are used without permission of the creators, owners, and further affiliates of the television show, Supernatural, to whom they rightly belong. I claim only what is mine, and I make no money off what is theirs.
- - - - -
Caleb lives in a farmhouse with a wraparound porch that overlooks green rolling fields where the corn grows tall. He greets the three of them with a smile and a friendly clap on the back for John. The shotgun on the porch is only to scare the deer away from the corn, Caleb explains. He hasn’t seen anything supernatural all month.
“It’s too early for deer,” John comments, squinting against the sun.
Caleb shakes his head. “They’re out there,” he says. “Trust me, I know they’re out there.” Caleb has always been more observant than anyone understands.
He offers John a beer, asks the boys if they want one too. Sam’s not legally old enough yet, but the drinking age is yet another law ignored by the hunting community. Like the brothers have been told before by many, if a boy can bring down a monster like a man, he deserves to drink like a man afterward. But both Sam and Dean decline Caleb’s offer anyway.
When Caleb emerges from the house moments later with two bottles in his hand, the flimsy screen door flaps shut behind him. He tells the boys they should go down the lane. See if there are any areas of flattened corn where the deer slept.
“We’ll let you know if we find anything,” Dean tells him, wiping his forehead with his arm. The air is thick and heavy without a breeze for relief; the tops of the corn are motionless beneath the afternoon sun.
Caleb uncaps one of the bottles and hands it to John, who is already sitting. After taking a drink of his own, Caleb grins. “You do that,” he says. “Take your time. We’ll be right here.”
The brothers turn and head down the graveled lane that disappears underneath the hill. Moving away, they can already hear the foreign laughter of Dad brought forth not just by the alcohol but by good friends. It has been too long since their father could relax.
As they walk, Sam and Dean let their fingers brush against one another’s. The touch-even so small-is pleasurable. Trapped in the car with Dad for the last few days, they have only been able to risk fleeting glances of want. Anything more is too dangerous.
Sam wraps his fingers, hot and sticky, around Dean’s wrist once he knows they are well out of sight. The sun is blazing in the sky above, and there are dots of perspiration on Dean’s face when he turns to look at Sam.
“Hey,” Sam breathes, extending one hand up to Dean’s face where he caresses skin unshaven with the pad of his thumb. “They won’t come looking for us, y’know.”
“No, no. Not here,” Dean replies. “I know where we can go.” He turns away to release Sam’s hold on him and walks into the corn. The stalks are taller than Sam, and the thick green will keep them safely hidden.
In a row between long drooping leaves and snarled silken ears, Dean reaches for Sam. “Now we’re good,” he says with a grin as he threads his fingers through Sam’s hair.
So eager and hard from sheer anticipation, Sam grunts when their lips violently meet. It’s messy and hurried. They kiss open-mouthed, and they pant desperately as their hands disappear beneath too heavy t-shirts in the summer heat.
They push and pull to lie down on the hard packed earth. Dean grimaces at first when his back meets the ground. Seeing Dean’s expression, Sam pulls off his shirt. While Dean shifts slightly, Sam folds the shirt to rest it beneath Dean for padding against the dirt below. Now shirtless, Sam undoes Dean’s jeans hurriedly.
“C’mon already,” Dean groans when Sam pulls out Dean’s cock with a rough twist of his hand.
“Yeah, yeah,” Sam gasps, unzipping his own pants. Shoving them down past his hips, he collapses on top of Dean to press their naked cocks together.
Biting off a moan, Dean jerks up, and he wraps a hand behind Sam’s neck. A line of sweat trickles down Sam’s curved spine as he arches into his brother. In the heat, Dean’s fingers stick to the bare skin on Sam.
Dean hooks his ankles around the backs of Sam’s and their boots knock clumsily. It’s been too long since they’ve been able to be together like this. Even if they both come now, the chance to simply be in such private intimacy will be worth it.
They move frantically, hips grinding and hands clutching. Above the corn tassels sway as they bump against the stalks, heedless to everything but each other. Dean brings his hands lower, curls his fingers over the curve of Sam’s ass to hold them close. When the brothers pause, teetering on the delicious brink, Sam closes his eyes and bites his lip.
“Jesus Christ, Sammy,” Dean whimpers, voice so perfectly broken. His kiss opens Sam’s eyes, and they thrust against each other once more.
In the farmhouse with a wraparound porch that overlooks green rolling fields where the corn grows tall, John nods in the direction of the horizon. “Guess you were right about those deer after all.” He pauses thoughtfully. “I wonder if Sam and Dean found anything.”
Caleb follows John’s gaze to where a patch of corn heads dance among a sea of silence. But Caleb, who has always been more observant than anyone understands, just shakes his head. He hides his amused smile by taking a long drink of his beer.
“I’m sure,” Caleb replies, “that they found something.”
End
Rating: Adult
Category: Pre-series slash (Wincest) oneshot
Word Count: 926
Characters: Dean/Sam, John, and Caleb
Spoilers: None
Summary: They stop at Caleb’s for an afternoon.
Warnings: Underage brother incest (Sam is about 17)
Author’s Notes: Mostly written in my head while on a bike ride one day through the pretty scenery of nearby farms. Rather messy little fic that was scribbled down and played with in a notebook instead of my computer.
Disclaimer: The following characters and situations are used without permission of the creators, owners, and further affiliates of the television show, Supernatural, to whom they rightly belong. I claim only what is mine, and I make no money off what is theirs.
- - - - -
Caleb lives in a farmhouse with a wraparound porch that overlooks green rolling fields where the corn grows tall. He greets the three of them with a smile and a friendly clap on the back for John. The shotgun on the porch is only to scare the deer away from the corn, Caleb explains. He hasn’t seen anything supernatural all month.
“It’s too early for deer,” John comments, squinting against the sun.
Caleb shakes his head. “They’re out there,” he says. “Trust me, I know they’re out there.” Caleb has always been more observant than anyone understands.
He offers John a beer, asks the boys if they want one too. Sam’s not legally old enough yet, but the drinking age is yet another law ignored by the hunting community. Like the brothers have been told before by many, if a boy can bring down a monster like a man, he deserves to drink like a man afterward. But both Sam and Dean decline Caleb’s offer anyway.
When Caleb emerges from the house moments later with two bottles in his hand, the flimsy screen door flaps shut behind him. He tells the boys they should go down the lane. See if there are any areas of flattened corn where the deer slept.
“We’ll let you know if we find anything,” Dean tells him, wiping his forehead with his arm. The air is thick and heavy without a breeze for relief; the tops of the corn are motionless beneath the afternoon sun.
Caleb uncaps one of the bottles and hands it to John, who is already sitting. After taking a drink of his own, Caleb grins. “You do that,” he says. “Take your time. We’ll be right here.”
The brothers turn and head down the graveled lane that disappears underneath the hill. Moving away, they can already hear the foreign laughter of Dad brought forth not just by the alcohol but by good friends. It has been too long since their father could relax.
As they walk, Sam and Dean let their fingers brush against one another’s. The touch-even so small-is pleasurable. Trapped in the car with Dad for the last few days, they have only been able to risk fleeting glances of want. Anything more is too dangerous.
Sam wraps his fingers, hot and sticky, around Dean’s wrist once he knows they are well out of sight. The sun is blazing in the sky above, and there are dots of perspiration on Dean’s face when he turns to look at Sam.
“Hey,” Sam breathes, extending one hand up to Dean’s face where he caresses skin unshaven with the pad of his thumb. “They won’t come looking for us, y’know.”
“No, no. Not here,” Dean replies. “I know where we can go.” He turns away to release Sam’s hold on him and walks into the corn. The stalks are taller than Sam, and the thick green will keep them safely hidden.
In a row between long drooping leaves and snarled silken ears, Dean reaches for Sam. “Now we’re good,” he says with a grin as he threads his fingers through Sam’s hair.
So eager and hard from sheer anticipation, Sam grunts when their lips violently meet. It’s messy and hurried. They kiss open-mouthed, and they pant desperately as their hands disappear beneath too heavy t-shirts in the summer heat.
They push and pull to lie down on the hard packed earth. Dean grimaces at first when his back meets the ground. Seeing Dean’s expression, Sam pulls off his shirt. While Dean shifts slightly, Sam folds the shirt to rest it beneath Dean for padding against the dirt below. Now shirtless, Sam undoes Dean’s jeans hurriedly.
“C’mon already,” Dean groans when Sam pulls out Dean’s cock with a rough twist of his hand.
“Yeah, yeah,” Sam gasps, unzipping his own pants. Shoving them down past his hips, he collapses on top of Dean to press their naked cocks together.
Biting off a moan, Dean jerks up, and he wraps a hand behind Sam’s neck. A line of sweat trickles down Sam’s curved spine as he arches into his brother. In the heat, Dean’s fingers stick to the bare skin on Sam.
Dean hooks his ankles around the backs of Sam’s and their boots knock clumsily. It’s been too long since they’ve been able to be together like this. Even if they both come now, the chance to simply be in such private intimacy will be worth it.
They move frantically, hips grinding and hands clutching. Above the corn tassels sway as they bump against the stalks, heedless to everything but each other. Dean brings his hands lower, curls his fingers over the curve of Sam’s ass to hold them close. When the brothers pause, teetering on the delicious brink, Sam closes his eyes and bites his lip.
“Jesus Christ, Sammy,” Dean whimpers, voice so perfectly broken. His kiss opens Sam’s eyes, and they thrust against each other once more.
In the farmhouse with a wraparound porch that overlooks green rolling fields where the corn grows tall, John nods in the direction of the horizon. “Guess you were right about those deer after all.” He pauses thoughtfully. “I wonder if Sam and Dean found anything.”
Caleb follows John’s gaze to where a patch of corn heads dance among a sea of silence. But Caleb, who has always been more observant than anyone understands, just shakes his head. He hides his amused smile by taking a long drink of his beer.
“I’m sure,” Caleb replies, “that they found something.”
End