Sam/Dean prompt post for January

[spn_dirtyboys]

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

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• In the

Comments

Fill: nothing was the same, 6/10

[anonymous]

His brother raises his head, watches him with blown eyes and hazy comprehension. "What're you…? Thought you said - I needed you to, to - "

"You do," Sam answers, undoing the other cuff. Dean makes a hurt noise as he bends his legs fully, twisting and pushing them against one another. "You can't come until I do, so you need me to come."

"Yeah," Dean pants in hazy agreement. Sam doesn't know if he even understands the words. But then Dean adds, "Need you to come, Sammy," and Sam doesn't know anything that isn't the feeling of Dean trembling under his palms.

Sam removes his hands from Dean's calf only long enough to strip himself. He does it quickly, no time for patience. He needs to be in Dean a decade ago.

Sam slides his hands along Dean's legs, the cut of his hips, his sides, as he moves over Dean's body.

"Sam? Wha - ah."

Sam matches the helpless hiss of Dean's moan as he settles his shoulders between Dean's thighs, pushing forward so Dean's trembling legs bend towards his chest.

Sam runs his fingertips down the back of Dean's soft, soft thighs. Sam watches his fingers paint shivers through the sweet skin, wants to feel them on his tongue, his teeth. He could plant a garden here, mottled purple and lover red, just mark the skin until Dean couldn't wear his favorite tight jeans anymore for the way they squeezed his bruised thighs.

"Sammy?"

His brother is staring at him with eyes wide and vulnerable. They beg Sam to hold the fragile things he finds gently, to take care of the softness inside.

Sam drops one hand to Dean's hip, rubs his fingers against Dean's smooth skin then cards them through the thick dark of Dean's pubic hair. Dean arches into the touch.

Sam gives him a little of what he wants - a little relief, a little release - by wrapping his hand loosely around the base of Dean's cock. Dean cries his name, and Sam rubs his thumb along the length of Dean's dick, savoring the silky heat against his skin.

He doesn't give Dean everything he wants, though. Not yet.

"S-stop fuckin' 'round. Need you to come, Sam, c'mon."

"I'm gonna come in your ass," Sam grits, tightening his grip on Dean's pretty, pitiful cock.

His face heats with the words. He's only heard lines like that in the pornos Dean watches. But he wants Dean to know, needs Dean to understand, what's going to happen. And that is what's going to happen, because Sam coming any other way that wasn't with his cock buried into that deep, hurting place inside Dean's ass would be a lie, a pretend.

Dean shakes his head, as if there are any other options, as if there ever have been. But Sam can't duck into the bathroom and rub one out while his brother lies needy and desperate and so fucking beautiful on the bed.

Even if Sam could, he wouldn't. He's not lying anymore.

There's no need for extra prep. Sam is thicker than the toy, longer, but Dean's hole is so fucked out, opened so damn easy for the two, Sam could probably fuck his dick and the vibrator inside.

Sam brushes his fingers over Dean's balls, then his ass, rubs the pads over Dean's slick rim. It's hot enough to burn Sam's skin.

He pushes two fingers into Dean's asshole, easiest and sloppiest slide he's ever felt. Adding a third finger, he begins to thrust. He wriggles his fingers inside of his brother, pushes in then pulls out. Dean's cock, still that mottled red, deep and delicious, slaps wetly against his belly.

"So fucking pretty.” Dean whines as Sam wraps his free fist around Dean's dick in a firm, dry grasp. "Even your dick is pretty." Dean twists in his grip, and Sam lets him. He focuses on rubbing his thumb over the nearly purple head, gathering drizzles of pre-come.

"So sensitive." Sam eases the pressure of his grip, of his thumb, moving in feather light circles around Dean's slit. "Is it always like this?" He releases the hold only to run his knuckles along the silky length. "Is your cock always so sensitive? Are you always this easy?”

Dean doesn't answer. Sam suspects that between the caress and the quick jabs of his fingers, Dean can't.