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.
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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jeeeesus, this was so fucking hot. i'm squirming over here. AMAZING JOB.
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