Sam/Dean prompt post for January
All prompts and fills must have Sam/Dean as the main pairing, no exceptions.
Any other pairings must be in the past or with animals.
This is the post for characters over the age of 18!
***PROMPTING IS NOW CLOSED ***
**FILLS WILL BE OPEN BETWEEN JANUARY 1st - 22th **
PROMPTING
- Create a new comment under the current active prompt post.
- In the ( Read more... )
"Uh, God - Sammy. Don't, not s'pposed to - "
"You don't want me to suck your cock?" Sam asks, sounding as if he's already had Dean's dick buried in his throat.
Dean thrashes against his bonds. He nods and shakes his head, sobs. He isn't in any position to refuse a blowjob or beg for one, really. His mind is too muddled to process the words, the consequences of them, and his body is too sensitive and pliant to know if Sam's mouth would make things better or worse.
"I could make you come like that," Sam tells him, still fucking the toy in and out with brutal snaps of his wrist. "Suck you so far down, make you come so damn hard - "
"Yes. That, Sam. Make me come. Make me come."
Sam slows the thrusts of the vibe. Dean whimpers at the loss, but moans at the gain of Sam's tongue licking over more of his heated flesh.
Dean tastes so good: deep and dark like whiskey, the sour and musk of sweat that Sam basks in after a long, mind freeing run. Sam wants this to coat his mouth forever, wants to swallow and taste his brother.
He scoots forward on the bed to take Dean deeper into his mouth. He sucks hard, fucks hard, stilling himself in anticipation of Dean's exploding climax.
Dean doesn't come.
-
Books, parchments, ritual materials, and a graveyard of Coca Cola cans are spread across the kitchen table. Sam searches furiously through each piece.
Up the stairs, he can still hear his brother. Moaning, sobbing, crying for him. It's distracting, keeps Sam's hands trembling with the warmth of his brother's skin, keeps his brain stuttering on the sight and smell and taste of him.
He's half tempted to storm the stairs and throw Dean's body over his shoulder, carry him to the Impala and rush him back to the motel room.
He's more than tempted to storm the stairs and throw Dean's legs over his shoulders and fuck the orgasm that won't come out of him through sheer force. He knows Dean's ass would feel so, so good around his cock. Hot, all slick and sloppy and so open Sam could just slide right inside, easy as a hot blade through butter.
Dean would clench his wet, pretty pink hole tight as a vice around him, so hungry to keep Sam buried deep inside. He would cry and beg, eager and slutty, desperate. He would give it up so sweetly, take Sam's cock as prettily as he took the dildo. He would be so needy, so ready to let Sam do anything, as long as Sam could make him come.
Sam digs his fingers into a stack of scrap paper. He hears Dean call for him, promise to be good, so fuckin' good if Sammy will make him come -
Sam's eyes flit furious over page after page. He's growing as frantic as his brother, as desperate.
A symbol jumps at him. He pauses in his skimming, re-reads the paragraph before, and stops.
Binding. Sacrifices. Release.
Fuck.
-
Sam can't decide if fucking Dean to save his life is the same as Dean handing Sam's meat suit to an angel. He doesn't know if this makes them even, if this makes him worse.
Technically, Dean won't die if he doesn't come before Aphrodite hears the call; he'll just be her property. But he will be gone, and Sam is never letting Dean go again.
Those logistics aren't going to make sense to Dean's fevered brain, though, and Dean isn't in any place to refuse him or consent, so Sam doesn't offer a detailed explanation. Instead, he gives Dean the simplest words he can.
"You can't come if I don't."
Dean doesn't hesitate before snarling, "Then come, Sam. Jesus Christ."
Sam doesn't hesitate, either. They've left that the time for hesitation in the dust. They’ve left lying, pretending, which is just as deep of a deception. There can be only honesty and impulse now.
He strides fully into the room and snaps the cuff on Dean's left ankle.
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