Want Take Have
Title: Want Take Have
Pairing: robo!Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Medium: Fic
Word Count: 1335
Warnings: dub-con | somnophilia
Summary: Dean is pretty when he sleeps. Sam wants what they had before and he's tired of waiting for Dean to come around. Inspired by badbastion's art here but with slight deviations.
Dean is asleep. Or rather he’s still asleep. Sam’s been watching him for hours. He’s beautiful like this. Well Dean is always beautiful, but like this? And if there’s one thing Sam knows for certain is that you don’t need to have a soul to appreciate it. Usually when Dean sleeps Sam works. Or works out, or he works out. But sometimes he likes to watch.
It’s morning now. The light only just starting to filter through the gaps in the curtains. Dean makes no signs of getting up any time soon. Sam is bored, tired of watching. He wants to touch. Has done for quite some time now. Like they used to, before.
He knows that Dean wants to too. Despite the fact that he hasn’t, won’t. Especially not now he knows that Sam is soulless. Sam knows that Dean still calls out Sammy when he jerks off in the shower. And Sam doesn’t care that he cries afterwards. Still gets him off.
Sam pulls down the sheet covering his brother, knuckles dragging over the morning wood Dean is sporting, that’s poking out the slit in his black boxer briefs. Sam cups him over the warm material, Dean’s head twitches a little, his nose scrunching as he lets out a little sound.
Sam increases the pressure just that little bit to make sure Dean won’t stir. He’s not ready for that. Not yet. His thumb grazes the side of Dean’s shaft as he pushes it back through so it’s snug against his belly under the waistband. He leans over to tuck his hand round the back of Dean’s left knee to straighten the leg out, his palm gently caressing Dean’s calf. Sam lets his fingers skim the lip of Dean’s boxers, knuckles nudging at his sleep tee and with very deliberate care he tugs the boxers down and off.
Dean’s breath hitches. But he doesn’t rouse. Sam smirks as Dean’s skin prickles from the assault of air. With his thumb and middle finger he draws up the sides of Dean’s erection, lets his fingers dust over the tip. A spurt of precome dribbles out, some dripping down onto Dean’s belly, Sam smearing the rest over the sensitive cock head. He makes a very loose fist round the rigid flesh, stroking down and then up with a lazy flick of his wrist and then he lets go, the tiniest whimper emitting from Dean’s throat.
The back of Sam’s hand brushes against Dean’s hard-on as he lets it rest over his pelvic bone, using his other hand to ruck up Dean’s tee, feeling his way up Dean’s abdomen. Re-learning the contours. Sam follows Dean’s ribcage with both hands to push the sleep tee up under his pits. Dean’s brow furrows and un-furrows, his head very gently snapping back and forth before he rolls over onto his side towards Sam and the edge of the bed.
Sam runs his fingers through the come puddle on Dean’s happy trail and brings them to Dean’s lips giving them a light coating. He shucks his pants down far enough to set his own dick free, getting Dean’s lips nice and slick with his own precome as he slides the head across that plush mouth. His own mouth falls slack when Dean’s tongue skates out over the slit in one quick dart. Sam leans forward just that little bit, cock knocking Dean’s chin and bottom lip for entrance.
When Dean’s mouth opens up Sam pushes in, just the head, Dean’s lips close round as subconsciously he begins to suckle. Sam cups the side of Dean’s head, brushing his hand back through his hair to settle at the nape of his neck, pulling him just that little bit closer. That’s when Dean starts a little, his hand grabbing onto the first solid surface -Sam’s ass- for purchase, unwittingly taking in more of Sam’s cock as he jerks forward. Dean’s teeth very lightly scrape along the underside of Sam’s cock making Sam hiss and he stills Dean with a hand over his throbbing pulse point. Sam’s eyes lock with Dean’s still hooded ones as he says, “Relax.”
He wasn’t going to let this stop.
He sweeps his thumb over Dean’s cheek, “Just take it,” before taking a firm grasp of Dean’s cock letting his thumb tease over the slit, “You know you want it,” and then he lets go.
Dean opens his mouth wide to take a breath, saliva almost pouring out over Sam’s cock and Dean’s chin. Dean shuffles as close to the edge as he can without falling off and taking in as much of Sam as he can reach and the squeeze he gives Sam’s ass enough encouragement for Sam to start fucking Dean’s mouth with slow shallow thrusts to start him off. He picks up speed as Dean’s jaw slackens, cock gliding smoothly over Dean’s tongue. Sam inches closer to the bed and Dean starts to swallow when Sam hits the back of his throat, “Shit. Fuck, Dean.”
It feels better than he remembers. It’s the only thing he does.
Sam puts his hand over Dean’s and moves it to the top of his sweat pants. Dean takes the hint, slips his hand down beneath the soft grey cotton, fingers dipping into Sam’s crack as he drew them down. Dean’s eyebrow shot up when his two fingers slid in with ease and Sam shot it back down with a particularly rough snap of his hips, making Dean splutter around his mouthful. Sam had worked himself open earlier in anticipation. Didn’t want to waste any time once they got started. Nothing else had been able to get him off in the last few weeks. He knew what he needed and he was going to take it.
He rolls his hips another couple of times, Dean sucking him for all he’s worth, and pushes back onto Dean’s fingers that are no where near good enough. He pulls out of Dean’s mouth, slides his dick across Dean’s cheek and then shoves his pants down to the floor pushing Dean back onto his back. Sam steps out of his pants and kneels up on the bed throwing one leg over Dean to straddle him, reaching behind himself to take hold of Dean’s cock without any preamble, and he guides it to his hole.
Lifting his hips just so he drops down onto it, relishing the burn and he shoves his fist into Dean’s mouth to stop him from saying anything. The sharpness of his bite only serves to heighten Sam’s arousal and he takes more in, sliding down a little further. His thigh muscles tensing through the small controlled movements as he hitches himself up just so and back down as he inches himself down until his ass is flush with Dean’s balls.
And Dean bites down hard on Sam’s hand when he does, but not enough for Sam to take his hand back. Sam pushes his free hand back through Dean’s hair, words pass silently between their eyes and Sam eases his fist out but a fraction of an inch, allowing Dean to breathe a little better. Won’t be nearly as fun if he’s dead. When Sam feels Dean’s hands on his thighs that’s when he begins to move, pulling almost all the way off, before he drops back down and Dean jerks his hips up to meet Sam’s ass, the smack loud over Dean’s gargled breathing.
But Sam sets the rhythm taking Dean along for the ride. Sam bites down on his lip as he rolls his hips, manipulating the angle ‘til he gets it just right. Fuck. His hand slips from Dean’s mouth as his desperation drives him and falls forward pinning Dean’s hands above his head, Sam’s own closing tight round Dean’s wrists. And he comes hard. Harder than he has since before he can really remember. His come painting Dean’s torso as Dean coats his insides.
And if Dean cries afterwards.
Sam doesn’t care.
He still got off.
Pairing: robo!Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Medium: Fic
Word Count: 1335
Warnings: dub-con | somnophilia
Summary: Dean is pretty when he sleeps. Sam wants what they had before and he's tired of waiting for Dean to come around. Inspired by badbastion's art here but with slight deviations.
Dean is asleep. Or rather he’s still asleep. Sam’s been watching him for hours. He’s beautiful like this. Well Dean is always beautiful, but like this? And if there’s one thing Sam knows for certain is that you don’t need to have a soul to appreciate it. Usually when Dean sleeps Sam works. Or works out, or he works out. But sometimes he likes to watch.
It’s morning now. The light only just starting to filter through the gaps in the curtains. Dean makes no signs of getting up any time soon. Sam is bored, tired of watching. He wants to touch. Has done for quite some time now. Like they used to, before.
He knows that Dean wants to too. Despite the fact that he hasn’t, won’t. Especially not now he knows that Sam is soulless. Sam knows that Dean still calls out Sammy when he jerks off in the shower. And Sam doesn’t care that he cries afterwards. Still gets him off.
Sam pulls down the sheet covering his brother, knuckles dragging over the morning wood Dean is sporting, that’s poking out the slit in his black boxer briefs. Sam cups him over the warm material, Dean’s head twitches a little, his nose scrunching as he lets out a little sound.
Sam increases the pressure just that little bit to make sure Dean won’t stir. He’s not ready for that. Not yet. His thumb grazes the side of Dean’s shaft as he pushes it back through so it’s snug against his belly under the waistband. He leans over to tuck his hand round the back of Dean’s left knee to straighten the leg out, his palm gently caressing Dean’s calf. Sam lets his fingers skim the lip of Dean’s boxers, knuckles nudging at his sleep tee and with very deliberate care he tugs the boxers down and off.
Dean’s breath hitches. But he doesn’t rouse. Sam smirks as Dean’s skin prickles from the assault of air. With his thumb and middle finger he draws up the sides of Dean’s erection, lets his fingers dust over the tip. A spurt of precome dribbles out, some dripping down onto Dean’s belly, Sam smearing the rest over the sensitive cock head. He makes a very loose fist round the rigid flesh, stroking down and then up with a lazy flick of his wrist and then he lets go, the tiniest whimper emitting from Dean’s throat.
The back of Sam’s hand brushes against Dean’s hard-on as he lets it rest over his pelvic bone, using his other hand to ruck up Dean’s tee, feeling his way up Dean’s abdomen. Re-learning the contours. Sam follows Dean’s ribcage with both hands to push the sleep tee up under his pits. Dean’s brow furrows and un-furrows, his head very gently snapping back and forth before he rolls over onto his side towards Sam and the edge of the bed.
Sam runs his fingers through the come puddle on Dean’s happy trail and brings them to Dean’s lips giving them a light coating. He shucks his pants down far enough to set his own dick free, getting Dean’s lips nice and slick with his own precome as he slides the head across that plush mouth. His own mouth falls slack when Dean’s tongue skates out over the slit in one quick dart. Sam leans forward just that little bit, cock knocking Dean’s chin and bottom lip for entrance.
When Dean’s mouth opens up Sam pushes in, just the head, Dean’s lips close round as subconsciously he begins to suckle. Sam cups the side of Dean’s head, brushing his hand back through his hair to settle at the nape of his neck, pulling him just that little bit closer. That’s when Dean starts a little, his hand grabbing onto the first solid surface -Sam’s ass- for purchase, unwittingly taking in more of Sam’s cock as he jerks forward. Dean’s teeth very lightly scrape along the underside of Sam’s cock making Sam hiss and he stills Dean with a hand over his throbbing pulse point. Sam’s eyes lock with Dean’s still hooded ones as he says, “Relax.”
He wasn’t going to let this stop.
He sweeps his thumb over Dean’s cheek, “Just take it,” before taking a firm grasp of Dean’s cock letting his thumb tease over the slit, “You know you want it,” and then he lets go.
Dean opens his mouth wide to take a breath, saliva almost pouring out over Sam’s cock and Dean’s chin. Dean shuffles as close to the edge as he can without falling off and taking in as much of Sam as he can reach and the squeeze he gives Sam’s ass enough encouragement for Sam to start fucking Dean’s mouth with slow shallow thrusts to start him off. He picks up speed as Dean’s jaw slackens, cock gliding smoothly over Dean’s tongue. Sam inches closer to the bed and Dean starts to swallow when Sam hits the back of his throat, “Shit. Fuck, Dean.”
It feels better than he remembers. It’s the only thing he does.
Sam puts his hand over Dean’s and moves it to the top of his sweat pants. Dean takes the hint, slips his hand down beneath the soft grey cotton, fingers dipping into Sam’s crack as he drew them down. Dean’s eyebrow shot up when his two fingers slid in with ease and Sam shot it back down with a particularly rough snap of his hips, making Dean splutter around his mouthful. Sam had worked himself open earlier in anticipation. Didn’t want to waste any time once they got started. Nothing else had been able to get him off in the last few weeks. He knew what he needed and he was going to take it.
He rolls his hips another couple of times, Dean sucking him for all he’s worth, and pushes back onto Dean’s fingers that are no where near good enough. He pulls out of Dean’s mouth, slides his dick across Dean’s cheek and then shoves his pants down to the floor pushing Dean back onto his back. Sam steps out of his pants and kneels up on the bed throwing one leg over Dean to straddle him, reaching behind himself to take hold of Dean’s cock without any preamble, and he guides it to his hole.
Lifting his hips just so he drops down onto it, relishing the burn and he shoves his fist into Dean’s mouth to stop him from saying anything. The sharpness of his bite only serves to heighten Sam’s arousal and he takes more in, sliding down a little further. His thigh muscles tensing through the small controlled movements as he hitches himself up just so and back down as he inches himself down until his ass is flush with Dean’s balls.
And Dean bites down hard on Sam’s hand when he does, but not enough for Sam to take his hand back. Sam pushes his free hand back through Dean’s hair, words pass silently between their eyes and Sam eases his fist out but a fraction of an inch, allowing Dean to breathe a little better. Won’t be nearly as fun if he’s dead. When Sam feels Dean’s hands on his thighs that’s when he begins to move, pulling almost all the way off, before he drops back down and Dean jerks his hips up to meet Sam’s ass, the smack loud over Dean’s gargled breathing.
But Sam sets the rhythm taking Dean along for the ride. Sam bites down on his lip as he rolls his hips, manipulating the angle ‘til he gets it just right. Fuck. His hand slips from Dean’s mouth as his desperation drives him and falls forward pinning Dean’s hands above his head, Sam’s own closing tight round Dean’s wrists. And he comes hard. Harder than he has since before he can really remember. His come painting Dean’s torso as Dean coats his insides.
And if Dean cries afterwards.
Sam doesn’t care.
He still got off.