Sam/Dean, "The Woods are Lovely, Dark, and Deep," (2/3)
"Shh, just let me," Dean said, carefully pulling Sam's shirts out of his jeans. He'd had to undo the button when his newly-female hips proved to be too wide for men's blue jeans, and the zipper was already starting to snick open the instant Dean's hand lighted on it.
Dean kept kissing him, and Sam tried to relax into it. It was feeling less and less like that time he'd been bodyswapped with Gary. This was starting to feel like it really was his body, just differently shaped, and he finally put his hands on Dean's shoulders and leaned more fully into the kiss.
"That's it," Dean murmured. He slid the zipper down and put his hands over Sam's hips. "Lift up for me."
Eyes tight shut, Sam did, squirming to help Dean shimmy the too-tight jeans over his oddly full hips and thighs. He didn't want to look down and see his missing dick, and so he protested when Dean started to turn him around so his back was to Dean's chest.
"Hey, it's all right." It was darker here under the trees than it had been on the road, and Sam could dimly see his face reflected in the passenger's side window. "Gonna make you feel good, Sammy, I promise."
He craned his head sideways, and Dean took the hint, kissing him as deeply as he could at the awkward angle. Sam tensed when he felt Dean's arm come around to hold him in place, but then his hand was slipping up inside Sam's shirt, and then he was gently kneading Sam's breasts, first one and then the other.
Sam let out a gasp that might have been too breathy, but Dean didn't tease him about it, just kept touching him. He let his head fall back against Dean's shoulder, feeling strangely small inside the curve of Dean's arm.
Dean pushed his shirt up, exposing his breasts before taking them both in his hands. "Lookin' good, little brother," he murmured into Sam's ear, dark and low.
Sam shivered at the words and the touch. "Feels good," he admitted.
"Good." Dean drew out the word into a purr. "Gonna feel even better."
When both of his thumbs flicked over Sam's nipples, Sam jolted. "Oh," he breathed out. In the window, all he could see was his face, unfamiliar in its softness and in the pleasure visible in his wide eyes and parted lips.
"Like that, huh?" Dean went back and forth, rubbing one nipple and then the other. Sam closed his eyes again, the anticipation part of the pleasure, not knowing which side Dean was going to touch next or how.
A sharp pinch had him kicking out in protest, his foot coming up against the car door. "Ow!"
"Sorry." Dean hauled him backwards, and that wasn't something he could ordinarily do so easily. Sam was astonished to find it was turning him on even more. He wriggled into Dean's embrace, lying back so he was sprawled across the front seat, Dean's back against the driver's side door. "There we go," Dean murmured, and then his hand slid down Sam's front, over his stomach and to the edge of his pubic hair.
Sam held his breath. Dean's head was tucked against his, stubble scraping his own smooth cheek, head bent downward as if to watch what he was doing. He started running his fingers through Sam's hair, moving in careful circles, farther and farther down, light touches with the occasional scrape of nail.
It felt good, but it was also teasing, and Sam lifted his hips impatiently. "Dean."
"Not so shy now, are we?" Dean teased. He smoothed his hand over Sam's inner thigh and then pushed. "C'mon, gimme some room here."
Sam's jeans were still around his knees, but he bent one leg sideways, leaving himself open and exposed. It's just like when Dean's prepping you, he tried to tell himself, but as Dean's hand came to rest over his groin, softly stimulating and yet not nearly enough, Sam realized it was nothing like that at all.
"Dean," he whined again, pressing his hips up into his brother's hand.
"It's okay, I've got you." So slowly that Sam could feel every millimeter, one finger slid downward.
Sam/Dean, "The Woods are Lovely, Dark, and Deep," (3/3)
Sam was strung like a piano wire with anticipation, and then Dean was right there, and Sam shouted and bucked upward as desire flooded through him. "Oh, God," he breathed out.
Dean chuckled in his ear. "Jackpot," he murmured, and then he was rubbing back and forth and Sam was flushing with heat and filling with need and feeling like there was something missing all at the same time. His hips were bucking like he had no control over them, breath coming faster, and when Dean went back to touching his breasts at the same time, Sam let out the kind of long, low moan that would have earned them a thump on the wall if they'd been in a motel room rather than the safe confines of the Impala.
Dean was shifting underneath him, and Sam craned his head back. "You were right," he murmured, his head falling to the side as another wave of pure desire washed over him. "Feels so good."
"Yeah, I know it," Dean replied, gaze dark and hooded as it roamed up and down Sam's body.
His fingers were making slick sounds as they moved back and forth, and it took a moment for Sam to realize the wetness was coming from him. He couldn't control it, couldn't stop how this body was responding to Dean's careful touch in just the right place. He felt like he was going to fly apart, like he was about to shatter into pieces.
And then Dean pressed down harder as he rubbed, and Sam did fall apart.
It went on and on, longer than Sam had ever come before, clenching around nothing as his hips pumped and he shivered and writhed in Dean's arms. He dimly felt Dean thrusting against him from behind, and then Dean was grabbing Sam's arm and shuddering up against him. It usually took more than that to get Dean off, and the thought that just watching Sam come had been enough stirred a renewed wave of interest.
Sam turned around in Dean's arms, reaching up to kiss him long and slow and deep. He felt an unfamiliar wetness between his legs as be moved, and while the slick feeling could have been off-putting, it somehow turned him on even more. His thoughts flickered to Jess for a moment, thinking of how he'd managed to make her come twice or even three times over the course of the night, and he shivered to think of Dean doing the same with him.
Something suddenly occurred to him, and he broke their kiss to look at Dean. "How'd you know?" he asked.
Dean's eyebrows shot up. "How to get you off?"
"How it would feel," Sam said, narrowing his eyes.
He was close enough to see the warm satisfaction of afterglow in Dean's gaze shading into something more like embarrassment. "I've been with enough girls, Sammy, even if it's been a while."
"No, you sounded like you knew what it was like from the inside," Sam returned.
Dean's gaze cut away. "Don't know what you mean." He shifted forward to prop Sam up against the passenger seat. "If you have any complaints, though…"
"No, it's not that." Sam looked down at the wet crotch of Dean's jeans and smirked. "Clearly you don't, either."
"Wait till we find ourselves a motel, then I'll show you how few complaints I have," Dean leered.
Sam jerked his head towards the back seat, allowing the subject change for now. "If there was room enough back there for us before, there's definitely enough room now."
Dean's responding grin was absolutely filthy. "Loser goes down on the other first."
Even with his jeans tripping him up, somehow, Sam wasn't surprised when he was the first one to make it to the back seat.
"Shh, just let me," Dean said, carefully pulling Sam's shirts out of his jeans. He'd had to undo the button when his newly-female hips proved to be too wide for men's blue jeans, and the zipper was already starting to snick open the instant Dean's hand lighted on it.
Dean kept kissing him, and Sam tried to relax into it. It was feeling less and less like that time he'd been bodyswapped with Gary. This was starting to feel like it really was his body, just differently shaped, and he finally put his hands on Dean's shoulders and leaned more fully into the kiss.
"That's it," Dean murmured. He slid the zipper down and put his hands over Sam's hips. "Lift up for me."
Eyes tight shut, Sam did, squirming to help Dean shimmy the too-tight jeans over his oddly full hips and thighs. He didn't want to look down and see his missing dick, and so he protested when Dean started to turn him around so his back was to Dean's chest.
"Hey, it's all right." It was darker here under the trees than it had been on the road, and Sam could dimly see his face reflected in the passenger's side window. "Gonna make you feel good, Sammy, I promise."
He craned his head sideways, and Dean took the hint, kissing him as deeply as he could at the awkward angle. Sam tensed when he felt Dean's arm come around to hold him in place, but then his hand was slipping up inside Sam's shirt, and then he was gently kneading Sam's breasts, first one and then the other.
Sam let out a gasp that might have been too breathy, but Dean didn't tease him about it, just kept touching him. He let his head fall back against Dean's shoulder, feeling strangely small inside the curve of Dean's arm.
Dean pushed his shirt up, exposing his breasts before taking them both in his hands. "Lookin' good, little brother," he murmured into Sam's ear, dark and low.
Sam shivered at the words and the touch. "Feels good," he admitted.
"Good." Dean drew out the word into a purr. "Gonna feel even better."
When both of his thumbs flicked over Sam's nipples, Sam jolted. "Oh," he breathed out. In the window, all he could see was his face, unfamiliar in its softness and in the pleasure visible in his wide eyes and parted lips.
"Like that, huh?" Dean went back and forth, rubbing one nipple and then the other. Sam closed his eyes again, the anticipation part of the pleasure, not knowing which side Dean was going to touch next or how.
A sharp pinch had him kicking out in protest, his foot coming up against the car door. "Ow!"
"Sorry." Dean hauled him backwards, and that wasn't something he could ordinarily do so easily. Sam was astonished to find it was turning him on even more. He wriggled into Dean's embrace, lying back so he was sprawled across the front seat, Dean's back against the driver's side door. "There we go," Dean murmured, and then his hand slid down Sam's front, over his stomach and to the edge of his pubic hair.
Sam held his breath. Dean's head was tucked against his, stubble scraping his own smooth cheek, head bent downward as if to watch what he was doing. He started running his fingers through Sam's hair, moving in careful circles, farther and farther down, light touches with the occasional scrape of nail.
It felt good, but it was also teasing, and Sam lifted his hips impatiently. "Dean."
"Not so shy now, are we?" Dean teased. He smoothed his hand over Sam's inner thigh and then pushed. "C'mon, gimme some room here."
Sam's jeans were still around his knees, but he bent one leg sideways, leaving himself open and exposed. It's just like when Dean's prepping you, he tried to tell himself, but as Dean's hand came to rest over his groin, softly stimulating and yet not nearly enough, Sam realized it was nothing like that at all.
"Dean," he whined again, pressing his hips up into his brother's hand.
"It's okay, I've got you." So slowly that Sam could feel every millimeter, one finger slid downward.
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Sam was strung like a piano wire with anticipation, and then Dean was right there, and Sam shouted and bucked upward as desire flooded through him. "Oh, God," he breathed out.
Dean chuckled in his ear. "Jackpot," he murmured, and then he was rubbing back and forth and Sam was flushing with heat and filling with need and feeling like there was something missing all at the same time. His hips were bucking like he had no control over them, breath coming faster, and when Dean went back to touching his breasts at the same time, Sam let out the kind of long, low moan that would have earned them a thump on the wall if they'd been in a motel room rather than the safe confines of the Impala.
Dean was shifting underneath him, and Sam craned his head back. "You were right," he murmured, his head falling to the side as another wave of pure desire washed over him. "Feels so good."
"Yeah, I know it," Dean replied, gaze dark and hooded as it roamed up and down Sam's body.
His fingers were making slick sounds as they moved back and forth, and it took a moment for Sam to realize the wetness was coming from him. He couldn't control it, couldn't stop how this body was responding to Dean's careful touch in just the right place. He felt like he was going to fly apart, like he was about to shatter into pieces.
And then Dean pressed down harder as he rubbed, and Sam did fall apart.
It went on and on, longer than Sam had ever come before, clenching around nothing as his hips pumped and he shivered and writhed in Dean's arms. He dimly felt Dean thrusting against him from behind, and then Dean was grabbing Sam's arm and shuddering up against him. It usually took more than that to get Dean off, and the thought that just watching Sam come had been enough stirred a renewed wave of interest.
Sam turned around in Dean's arms, reaching up to kiss him long and slow and deep. He felt an unfamiliar wetness between his legs as be moved, and while the slick feeling could have been off-putting, it somehow turned him on even more. His thoughts flickered to Jess for a moment, thinking of how he'd managed to make her come twice or even three times over the course of the night, and he shivered to think of Dean doing the same with him.
Something suddenly occurred to him, and he broke their kiss to look at Dean. "How'd you know?" he asked.
Dean's eyebrows shot up. "How to get you off?"
"How it would feel," Sam said, narrowing his eyes.
He was close enough to see the warm satisfaction of afterglow in Dean's gaze shading into something more like embarrassment. "I've been with enough girls, Sammy, even if it's been a while."
"No, you sounded like you knew what it was like from the inside," Sam returned.
Dean's gaze cut away. "Don't know what you mean." He shifted forward to prop Sam up against the passenger seat. "If you have any complaints, though…"
"No, it's not that." Sam looked down at the wet crotch of Dean's jeans and smirked. "Clearly you don't, either."
"Wait till we find ourselves a motel, then I'll show you how few complaints I have," Dean leered.
Sam jerked his head towards the back seat, allowing the subject change for now. "If there was room enough back there for us before, there's definitely enough room now."
Dean's responding grin was absolutely filthy. "Loser goes down on the other first."
Even with his jeans tripping him up, somehow, Sam wasn't surprised when he was the first one to make it to the back seat.
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YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS, LET HIM, SAMMY, LET HIM :DDDDDDDDD
Eeeeeeeeeeeeeee YOU ARE PERFECT *humps your brain*
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*brain dribbles out of ears*
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:)
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