Fic: Sleepless Nights (SPN, Dean/OFC, Sam/Dean, NC-17)
So, I didn't get anything written yesterday, because I worked yesterday am without sleeping the night before, so I was pretty worthless and ended up crashing early. Today, though, I pulled two things out of my WIP folder and made good progress on both, including finishing this one. I'm very happy about that.
Title: Sleepless Nights
Author: syrenslure
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/OFC (explicit), Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Word count:
Warnings: Contains het, slash and incest, for anyone wanting to avoid one of those. Voyeurism.
Summary: A dead-end in his research leads to Sam learning some things that he really didn't want to know.
Disclaimer: Supernatural and its characters are copyright
Author's Note: I originally started this for The Kink and Cliché challenge, where my prompt was "sleep and bedding themes," but ended up writing something else and putting this on the back burner. It was my first Supernatural story. 10_random : Sam/Dean Winchester : 05. Invisible.
Completed Mon, 26 Sep 11 (1837 words)
--------------------------------
The soft thud of the pillow bounced off his head in concert with a muffled curse from the next bed, but Sam wasn't willing to give up his pretense of feigned sleep. Even now, the warm, sleepy smell of Dean seemed to cling to his pillow, and was teasing his senses, reminding him of why his night was so restless to begin with. It was all his brother's fault and he felt a perverse satisfaction that Dean might be suffering as well, even if he didn't know what Sam had seen. It must have been his intention to torment Sam, anyway, or he would have been in his own damn bed, not writhing in Sam's sheets, creating visions that left the younger man restlessly tossing and turning as they played over and over in his head.
He couldn't give up on sleep now, or Dean would know that he had been faking it all along, and he'd bitch about it for hours, or worse yet, gloat about the perceived reasons for Sam's discomfort. Nightmares and terrors were common enough occurrences that Dean wouldn't be sure, wouldn't take the risk of acknowledging without some sort of hint from Sam. They were an even more taboo subject that the one currently curling around and twisting in his gut.
Technicolor images of his brother, a few hours ago, in this bed, fucking some random brown-haired waitress from the bar down the street, were even more terrifying to his psyche than any demon-sent visions, and harder to forget. The memories were causing him to challenge everything that he thought he knew about himself in ways that nursery fires and dead girlfriends couldn't begin to touch. Because, in that one moment, he hadn't known exactly who was the cause of the tight, clawing grip of jealousy in his chest - his brother, or the girl he was fucking.
His afternoon trip to the library had been a bust, and Sam was hoping that Dean had better luck with the locals, as he had headed back to their room. He'd planned to take a quick shower and spend a few hours on his laptop seeing if he could find a similar sighting, or catch Ash or Bobby on IM. He had already been thinking of places to search, as he towel-dried his hair, when he thought he heard the motel room's door open. He had been just about to call out to Dean, and ask him how his afternoon went, when a very feminine giggle caught his attention and stopped him in his tracks.
He had stood there, with his hand on the doorknob, frozen in place, while the other hand tightened around the knot in the towel around his waist. He couldn't move, couldn't go out there. Dean probably would have - he'd act all cocky and confident, with a charming smile and totally win over Sam's companion, sympathizing with her as she called Sam all sorts of names and stormed out in anger. Sam, on the other hand, couldn't think of a single way he could win in this situation. So he backed away from the door, and sat down heavily on the toilet, hoping that neither one would have to use the facilities before they were done.
He could hear them through the paper-thin walls and cheap door - the way she giggled, the low rumble of Dean's voice as he coaxed her to his desires. When Sam heard a deep moan come from the room, his curiosity got the better of him. He moved back over to the door, as silently as he could, and opened it a tiny crack.
It was just enough that he could see them, but they probably wouldn't notice him, caught up as they were. Dean was standing in profile, his chest bare and his jeans open around his hips, as his date knelt before him, in only a pink lace bra and boy-cut panties, just like Jess used to wear, sucking his dick like a pro. Dean was looking down at her, one hand resting comfortably on her face, while he occasionally ran his thumb over her cheek or lips, where they were stretched obscenely wide around his hard cock. Dean had murmured words of encouragement and brushed her hair back from her face, watching her swallow him down, and then tightened his fist around the strands as she took him down to the root. His head fell back in pleasure and another deep moan was torn from him. Sam swore he had seen the Adam's apple bobbing in the long exposed line of Dean's throat.
He barely had time to contemplate what he was doing watching this, because a moment later, Dean pulled away and urged the girl to her feet, only to lead her to Sam's bed and to spread her out across his sheets. It wasn't an accident of landing haphazardly on the nearest bed. Dean had led the waitress right past his own empty bed to pull Sam's large duffel off of the bed and dump it onto the floor.
For a second, he was incredibly pissed, ready to forget his reservations and storm out there, but luckily the small remaining bit of his sanity reminded him why he was still standing in the bathroom, and his inability to explain why he was still there. Then the softly spoken rumble of the filthy things that Dean was saying to the waitress began to filter back to him, as he saw Dean slide her panties down her long, smooth legs, and his brain began to white out, absorbed by the erotic scene in front of him. This was nothing like the cheesy porn Dean liked to watch on crappy motel TVs. It was… beautiful. And hot as hell, as Dean knelt between her spread legs, hiking one of her knees up over his hip and sliding his jeans down a little further to get better leverage.
Sam felt his breath hitch, and reached down to squeeze his own hard length, as Dean rolled on a condom, and slid deep inside of her, with one smooth roll of his hips. Same held back a groan, not believing that he was watching this. It wasn't the first time that he'd been in the vicinity when Dean was getting his rocks off with some random chick. Dean wasn't exactly discrete, and he liked to push Sam's buttons, but this is the first time he felt like he had a ringside seat, and he wasn't pretending not to watch what was going on in front of him.
Dean had opened the snaps on the front of her polyester uniform and pulled down her bra, to give himself access to her large breasts. He was going to town, licking, and sucking, and nipping at one then the other, while his hand squeezed and teased whichever one wasn't occupying his mouth. Her moans began to grow louder in the small room, echoing into the small space that Sam was occupying, and Dean rose up, lifting her hips a little higher, the muscles in his ass flexing, as he began to pound into her, harder and faster.
She was almost squealing in response, until Dean reached in and rubbed at her clit with his thumb, and she came with a strange giggling moan, squeezing her legs against Dean's back. He followed her a few moments later, his back arching, and his head thrown back, with a deep moan. It was as sexy as anything Sam had ever witnessed and he bit his lip to hold back his own cry, as he came all over his own hand.
Dean was making soothing little noises at the brunette now, drawing lazy patterns on her skin, and Sam knew that he had to get out of here - fast. He knelt down to pick up the towel that had pooled at his feet, and quickly cleaned himself up. He threw on his dirty clothes from before his shower, as quickly and as silently as he could, and then walked over to the window over the sink.
He had cracked it open, to air the room out a bit before his shower, so he knew it would open, but the question was whether he could get it open far enough to squeeze through, and whether he could get through it without 'a' killing himself, 'b' breaking the toilet or sink, neither of which would really hold his weight, and 'c' making enough noise that Dean would come investigate and find him half hanging out of the bathroom window.
He was running out of time, as the waitress had begun making noises about getting cleaned up and getting back to the bar. Dean was half-heatedly trying to convince her not to run off, but Sam could tell that he was insincere. With nothing left to lose, he eased to window up all the way as quietly as he could. He carefully balanced on the edge of the tub, pushed off, and levered himself through the tight opening. He tried to twist as he worked his way through, but there wasn't quite enough room, and he crashed inelegantly on the other side of the wall. His thigh and wrist hurting, along with his pride, but he was out.
He stood up and carefully lowered the window some, and then sunk back onto the ground below the window, content to just sit there and catch his breath. He was resolved to NOT think about the fact that he just jerked off to Dean fucking some random girl in 'his' bed. He didn't do so well without.
Dean had called him out on his weirdness and preoccupation over greasy cheeseburgers and fries for dinner. It hadn't helped that they were back at that same bar, and Dean had been making smirky, flirty eyes with the waitress - Kelli - and all Sam could see was the image of Dean's ass flexing as he pumped in and out of her earlier, and he giggly flirting reminded him of the sounds she had made as she had come around his brother's cock.
He'd left early, pleading tiredness, and here he was - stuck, pretending to sleep, afraid of the visions behind his closed eyes, and scared of the dreams that might come. Wondering if his mind would provide the images he kept thinking of. Would he dream himself stretched out on this same bed, the scent and feel of Dean around him, as it was his ass that Dean pumped into, until he came, and Dean arched back and moaned as he did the same? Would he talk in his sleep, begging for more, telling Dean how good it would feel? Would Dean hear him? Would he be turned on? Disgusted?
Sam didn't know. He didn't even know for sure that's what he wanted, but he wasn't ready to face the consequences of his desires right now. Another sleepless night wouldn't kill him; Dean rejecting him might.
Title: Sleepless Nights
Author: syrenslure
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/OFC (explicit), Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Word count:
Warnings: Contains het, slash and incest, for anyone wanting to avoid one of those. Voyeurism.
Summary: A dead-end in his research leads to Sam learning some things that he really didn't want to know.
Disclaimer: Supernatural and its characters are copyright
Author's Note: I originally started this for The Kink and Cliché challenge, where my prompt was "sleep and bedding themes," but ended up writing something else and putting this on the back burner. It was my first Supernatural story. 10_random : Sam/Dean Winchester : 05. Invisible.
Completed Mon, 26 Sep 11 (1837 words)
--------------------------------
The soft thud of the pillow bounced off his head in concert with a muffled curse from the next bed, but Sam wasn't willing to give up his pretense of feigned sleep. Even now, the warm, sleepy smell of Dean seemed to cling to his pillow, and was teasing his senses, reminding him of why his night was so restless to begin with. It was all his brother's fault and he felt a perverse satisfaction that Dean might be suffering as well, even if he didn't know what Sam had seen. It must have been his intention to torment Sam, anyway, or he would have been in his own damn bed, not writhing in Sam's sheets, creating visions that left the younger man restlessly tossing and turning as they played over and over in his head.
He couldn't give up on sleep now, or Dean would know that he had been faking it all along, and he'd bitch about it for hours, or worse yet, gloat about the perceived reasons for Sam's discomfort. Nightmares and terrors were common enough occurrences that Dean wouldn't be sure, wouldn't take the risk of acknowledging without some sort of hint from Sam. They were an even more taboo subject that the one currently curling around and twisting in his gut.
Technicolor images of his brother, a few hours ago, in this bed, fucking some random brown-haired waitress from the bar down the street, were even more terrifying to his psyche than any demon-sent visions, and harder to forget. The memories were causing him to challenge everything that he thought he knew about himself in ways that nursery fires and dead girlfriends couldn't begin to touch. Because, in that one moment, he hadn't known exactly who was the cause of the tight, clawing grip of jealousy in his chest - his brother, or the girl he was fucking.
His afternoon trip to the library had been a bust, and Sam was hoping that Dean had better luck with the locals, as he had headed back to their room. He'd planned to take a quick shower and spend a few hours on his laptop seeing if he could find a similar sighting, or catch Ash or Bobby on IM. He had already been thinking of places to search, as he towel-dried his hair, when he thought he heard the motel room's door open. He had been just about to call out to Dean, and ask him how his afternoon went, when a very feminine giggle caught his attention and stopped him in his tracks.
He had stood there, with his hand on the doorknob, frozen in place, while the other hand tightened around the knot in the towel around his waist. He couldn't move, couldn't go out there. Dean probably would have - he'd act all cocky and confident, with a charming smile and totally win over Sam's companion, sympathizing with her as she called Sam all sorts of names and stormed out in anger. Sam, on the other hand, couldn't think of a single way he could win in this situation. So he backed away from the door, and sat down heavily on the toilet, hoping that neither one would have to use the facilities before they were done.
He could hear them through the paper-thin walls and cheap door - the way she giggled, the low rumble of Dean's voice as he coaxed her to his desires. When Sam heard a deep moan come from the room, his curiosity got the better of him. He moved back over to the door, as silently as he could, and opened it a tiny crack.
It was just enough that he could see them, but they probably wouldn't notice him, caught up as they were. Dean was standing in profile, his chest bare and his jeans open around his hips, as his date knelt before him, in only a pink lace bra and boy-cut panties, just like Jess used to wear, sucking his dick like a pro. Dean was looking down at her, one hand resting comfortably on her face, while he occasionally ran his thumb over her cheek or lips, where they were stretched obscenely wide around his hard cock. Dean had murmured words of encouragement and brushed her hair back from her face, watching her swallow him down, and then tightened his fist around the strands as she took him down to the root. His head fell back in pleasure and another deep moan was torn from him. Sam swore he had seen the Adam's apple bobbing in the long exposed line of Dean's throat.
He barely had time to contemplate what he was doing watching this, because a moment later, Dean pulled away and urged the girl to her feet, only to lead her to Sam's bed and to spread her out across his sheets. It wasn't an accident of landing haphazardly on the nearest bed. Dean had led the waitress right past his own empty bed to pull Sam's large duffel off of the bed and dump it onto the floor.
For a second, he was incredibly pissed, ready to forget his reservations and storm out there, but luckily the small remaining bit of his sanity reminded him why he was still standing in the bathroom, and his inability to explain why he was still there. Then the softly spoken rumble of the filthy things that Dean was saying to the waitress began to filter back to him, as he saw Dean slide her panties down her long, smooth legs, and his brain began to white out, absorbed by the erotic scene in front of him. This was nothing like the cheesy porn Dean liked to watch on crappy motel TVs. It was… beautiful. And hot as hell, as Dean knelt between her spread legs, hiking one of her knees up over his hip and sliding his jeans down a little further to get better leverage.
Sam felt his breath hitch, and reached down to squeeze his own hard length, as Dean rolled on a condom, and slid deep inside of her, with one smooth roll of his hips. Same held back a groan, not believing that he was watching this. It wasn't the first time that he'd been in the vicinity when Dean was getting his rocks off with some random chick. Dean wasn't exactly discrete, and he liked to push Sam's buttons, but this is the first time he felt like he had a ringside seat, and he wasn't pretending not to watch what was going on in front of him.
Dean had opened the snaps on the front of her polyester uniform and pulled down her bra, to give himself access to her large breasts. He was going to town, licking, and sucking, and nipping at one then the other, while his hand squeezed and teased whichever one wasn't occupying his mouth. Her moans began to grow louder in the small room, echoing into the small space that Sam was occupying, and Dean rose up, lifting her hips a little higher, the muscles in his ass flexing, as he began to pound into her, harder and faster.
She was almost squealing in response, until Dean reached in and rubbed at her clit with his thumb, and she came with a strange giggling moan, squeezing her legs against Dean's back. He followed her a few moments later, his back arching, and his head thrown back, with a deep moan. It was as sexy as anything Sam had ever witnessed and he bit his lip to hold back his own cry, as he came all over his own hand.
Dean was making soothing little noises at the brunette now, drawing lazy patterns on her skin, and Sam knew that he had to get out of here - fast. He knelt down to pick up the towel that had pooled at his feet, and quickly cleaned himself up. He threw on his dirty clothes from before his shower, as quickly and as silently as he could, and then walked over to the window over the sink.
He had cracked it open, to air the room out a bit before his shower, so he knew it would open, but the question was whether he could get it open far enough to squeeze through, and whether he could get through it without 'a' killing himself, 'b' breaking the toilet or sink, neither of which would really hold his weight, and 'c' making enough noise that Dean would come investigate and find him half hanging out of the bathroom window.
He was running out of time, as the waitress had begun making noises about getting cleaned up and getting back to the bar. Dean was half-heatedly trying to convince her not to run off, but Sam could tell that he was insincere. With nothing left to lose, he eased to window up all the way as quietly as he could. He carefully balanced on the edge of the tub, pushed off, and levered himself through the tight opening. He tried to twist as he worked his way through, but there wasn't quite enough room, and he crashed inelegantly on the other side of the wall. His thigh and wrist hurting, along with his pride, but he was out.
He stood up and carefully lowered the window some, and then sunk back onto the ground below the window, content to just sit there and catch his breath. He was resolved to NOT think about the fact that he just jerked off to Dean fucking some random girl in 'his' bed. He didn't do so well without.
Dean had called him out on his weirdness and preoccupation over greasy cheeseburgers and fries for dinner. It hadn't helped that they were back at that same bar, and Dean had been making smirky, flirty eyes with the waitress - Kelli - and all Sam could see was the image of Dean's ass flexing as he pumped in and out of her earlier, and he giggly flirting reminded him of the sounds she had made as she had come around his brother's cock.
He'd left early, pleading tiredness, and here he was - stuck, pretending to sleep, afraid of the visions behind his closed eyes, and scared of the dreams that might come. Wondering if his mind would provide the images he kept thinking of. Would he dream himself stretched out on this same bed, the scent and feel of Dean around him, as it was his ass that Dean pumped into, until he came, and Dean arched back and moaned as he did the same? Would he talk in his sleep, begging for more, telling Dean how good it would feel? Would Dean hear him? Would he be turned on? Disgusted?
Sam didn't know. He didn't even know for sure that's what he wanted, but he wasn't ready to face the consequences of his desires right now. Another sleepless night wouldn't kill him; Dean rejecting him might.