Gift for dragonspell
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Wincest
Author’s note: OK, so I tried to incorporate most of the requests that I was given, I certainly hope that I have made dragonspell happy with this little story for spn_j2_xmas.
Hopefully, I’ve covered all the required pairings and warnings :)
Thanks to seolforan for the beta and the cheerleading.
Since they’d gotten themselves a place of their own, the Winchester brothers found there was more to their sexual relationship than just quick, desperate handjobs in the car or fucking in a motel bed after a particularly adrenaline-inducing hunt. Not that they didn’t still do those things - the fast and furious action or the hunting - but as time passed they began to realize there were intense emotions that were clearly delineated from the fierce instinct they’d always had to protect each other. Since they weren’t hunting as often, Dean and Sam both had time to explore those feelings and grow more comfortable with the domestic and, fuck, romantic, if there wasn’t a better word, aspect of what they had going on.
Dean worked during the day at a local auto body shop and earned enough money to pay the bills, along with Sam’s small income but generous health insurance benefits from his part-time job at Starbucks, supplemented by his hours spent tutoring Latin and philosophy for students at the nearby private school. Both of them marveled at the casual way parents handed over fifty bucks for an hour of Sam’s time just on the off chance it might get their kid into a better college than their neighbor’s kid.
They still took on the occasional supernatural job, but after everything they’d already endured, they were happy to leave the heavy work to the next crop of hunters.
On this particular night, it was time for Dean’s absolute least favorite part of their domestic routine - grocery shopping. Especially at this time of year, when it was cold outside and the stores were all mobbed, ridiculous Muzak-versions of Christmas carols piped in everywhere you went. Sam generally did it himself, but tonight he felt like having company and Dean had grudgingly agreed to go along.
“Sam, come on, these apples are identical. Seriously. Pick one and let’s get this done, for the love of Christ.”
“Fuji apples are not identical to Galas, Dean,” Sam replied, rolling his eyes. “I’m just trying to decide which one I’m in the mood for this week.”
“Glad you’re in the mood for apples, dude, ‘cause hanging out at the Kroger all night isn’t gonna put me in the mood for anything else.”
“Fuck off, man, like you’re ever not in the mood.”
“Don’t treat me like an object, Sammy. I’m not a sex machine.” He briefly reconsidered, then grinned lecherously. “Well, okay, maybe I am a sex machine.”
That comment earned him one of Sam’s exceptionally put-upon sighs, plus a bonus “you’re a total perv” bitchface.
Finally, (fucking finally, Dean thought), they were done, a cart full of dinner ingredients and snacks and beer and one copy of this month’s Road and Track magazine. The checkout girl was kind of cute, stealing glances at Dean as she was ringing up their purchases. Sam took a minute away from putting their bagged groceries into the cart as Dean was handing over their debit card to the cashier. She said something Sam couldn’t hear, giggled, and in return received one of Dean’s trademark chick-slaying grins, her face flushing bright pink as she lowered her eyes, still smiling.
Sam shot a smoldering at glare at his brother, who, to his credit, seemed properly chastised, but he wasn’t satisfied with just that. He moved back away from their shopping cart and slid his arm around Dean’s waist. “We’re done here, babe. Say goodbye to your friend.”
The girl’s eyed widened and she visibly stiffened under the weight of the tension that was almost palpable in the look between the two men. “Thank you, sirs, have a good night”, she mumbled, as she turned toward the next person in line.
They weren’t even out the door before Dean started in. “Way to get all caveman, Sammy. You didn’t have to scare the poor girl, she was just being nice.”
“You didn’t have to flirt with her. Right in front of me. Asshole.” Sam was practically throwing the bags of groceries into the Impala’s trunk.
Dean was running interference between himself, Sam, and the car. “Ease up, man, that bag’s got eggs in it. Calm down, dude. Don’t throw the detergent on top of the bread! Jesus. It’s not” and Dean was cut off right there with a withering look from his brother. For just a moment, he was quiet, but when Sam slammed down the trunk lid, that was it. “Hey! What the fuck?” he asked Sam’s back as he watched him walk to the passenger side of the car. He ran his hand lovingly over the top of the trunk and whispered, “He didn’t mean it, baby, sorry” as he made his way to the driver’s door and started the car.
Sam didn’t speak the whole ride home, so Dean kept his mouth shut too. Partly because he thought Sam was being a dick, and partly because he didn’t really want Sam to be any more mad than he already was. Stupidly mad, mad for absolutely no reason at all, but still, mad. Which was a situation Dean generally tried to avoid, because Sam’s moods were unpredictable at best, and there was just never any way to know how they would manifest.
When they got back to their little house on the outskirts of town, Sam grabbed as many bags as he could from the trunk and Dean told him he’d get the rest, hoping to spare his baby another trunk-lid-slamming. Once all the groceries were inside, Sam grabbed what he needed to make their dinner and said “Put the rest of this shit away.”
So Dean put the rest of that shit away, then wandered back to his brother’s side and asked if he could help. Sam didn’t raise his eyes from the vegetables he was chopping on the counter and said, “Kitchen table. Sit down and stay there.”
Dean felt like an idiot, like Sam had just sent him to timeout or something, but he walked over to the kitchen table and pulled out his chair. He sat down. And he stayed there. He suspiciously eyed the little snowman ornament that Sam's co-worker had given him, as if Frosty were going to be mad at him too.
After a little while, Sam brought their dinner out to the table, and they ate in complete silence. Dean started gathering dishes and brought them into the kitchen, only to find Sam right behind him at the counter by the sink. “Go upstairs to the bedroom, Dean. I’ll take care of the dishes.”
“What do you want me to do?” Dean asked, a little breathless from Sam’s tone and his own guilty feelings of having made his brother angry.
“Sit down and stay there.”
Dean trudged up to their bedroom and sat in the armchair by the far wall near the window. He didn’t turn on the television or look for a book to read, he just did what Sam had told him to do, sat down and stayed there. It seemed like an interminable amount of time before his brother walked through the door to the room, his hands a bit pink from dish-washing, and his cheeks a bit pink from…well, as far as Dean could tell, it was because he was still kind of pissed off. For no good reason. At all. But he didn’t say anything, just waited. He knew Sam was going to spout off any second.
“You had to flirt with some random grocery cashier while I was standing right there? Really? No control over that, Dean?”
“Sam. Come on, don’t be like that, baby. You know I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“What do you think that girl thought you meant by it? Making some sly comment to you, and getting your tried-and-true Dean Winchester grin turned on her? Huh? What do you think she was thinking?”
“She wasn’t thinking a goddamn thing, Sam, after your little dominance display in the checkout line. Christ, you could have just let it go, you couldn’t possibly think I was trying to”
“Enough, Dean. Get up and take off your clothes. All of them.”
As per usual when Sam was like this (Dean secretly described it in his head as PMS but never said it out loud), he did as he was told. Standing up from the chair, he pulled off his shirt, toed off his shoes and socks, and tugged his jeans and boxers down, stepping out of them and standing in the middle of the room buck naked, looking expectantly at his still fully clothed brother.
Again, as if he thought it would get him anywhere, he asked, “What do you want me to do, Sam?”
“Edge of the bed. Sit down and stay there.” Dean quickly complied, leaving only enough of his body on the bed to keep him balanced and not falling off. He watched as Sam moved casually through the room. First stop, drawer in the nightstand. A bottle of lube landed next to him as Sam tossed it onto the bed. Next stop, box in the bottom of the closet. Shit. There was a whole lot of stuff in there. But Sam turned back toward Dean with just a simple pair of cuffs in his hand. Those got tossed next to the bottle of lube, and Sam got on his knees on the floor, spreading Dean’s legs to make room for him.
Yeah, this wasn’t really what Dean thought was going to happen, but he wasn’t complaining.
“Dean. Do you know that I don’t like seeing you get flirty with other people?”
“Y-yeah, yes, I know. I didn’t mean - I’m sorry, Sam.”
“Don’t waste your time on sorry. Just do not let me see it. Ever. Again. You got that?”
“Got it, babe, honest, I didn’t mean to upset you, don’t be mad, please.”
“This isn’t about me being mad, Dean. This is me showing you why you need to tame that instinct to give that look to anyone else. That look is for me. Just me. Not a crime scene witness, not a stranger in a bar, not a fucking grocery clerk. Me.”
“Okay, Sam, I know, I didn’t think about it at the time, it was thoughtless and you know I love you. Don’t be angry with me, please.”
“Shut up. And be still. Not another word.” And that was the last thing Dean registered before he felt himself being pulled forward, ass hanging half off the edge of their bed, before Sam’s tongue was licking across his hole. Dean held onto the blankets as hard as he could, his eyes rolling back and unable to stop the groan that escaped his lips. Sam continued licking at him, opening him up with his tongue, forcing it past his muscles and inside of him, then sliding a finger in next to it.
Dean was gone, gone, gone with the incredible sensation, until it stopped. Sam kept a finger teasing gently around his asshole, but moved his mouth upward so that he could suck Dean down all the way, causing a full-body shake that Dean could not control. His hips shifted up instinctively until Sam’s hand landed on his hip, holding him still.
Right. Sam was running this show, and Dean was more than happy to take what he was getting. Sam’s mouth was performing some kind of Vegas-caliber magic trick up and down his cock and Dean was practically hyperventilating from his inability to move back up against it.
Since he was half out of his mind already, it took him by surprise when Sam pulled off and manhandled him from the edge of the bed to the top, landing Dean’s head on the pillows and still kneeling between his legs, but no longer on the floor.
Sam reached to his right and grabbed the cuffs, binding Dean’s wrists before he even realized what was happening and pulling his cuffed hands above his head. “Keep them there”, Sam instructed, and Dean wasn’t about to do anything else. The next thing he knew, Sam had pushed his own jeans and boxers down and was slicking up his cock with a generous amount of lube and pressing against Dean’s entrance.
“Mine” was the only thing Sam said as he pushed all the way in to his brother, one swift movement that left Dean moaning and breathless. It hurt, but Dean was okay with it, knowing that it would only hurt for a minute.
After just a few seconds of letting Dean adjust, Sam pulled almost all the way out of him then slammed back in with a force that sent Dean an inch or so closer to the head of the bed. A brutal pace was set, and Dean welcomed every thrust. Sam was quiet, none of his usual grunting or moaning, just a loop of “Mine. You. Are. Mine. Mine, mine, mine,” he continued, fucking into Dean like his life depended on it. “Say it.”
“Yours, Sammy, I’m yours, only yours, for always, believe me, please, I swear, I’m only yours.”
Before too long, Sam’s hips started to lose their rhythm and stuttered a bit, as he placed his hand around Dean’s dick and jerked in time with his own movements. Within a minute or two, Sam couldn’t resist any longer, and his last litany of “mine” was drawn out and punctuated with a low, deep moan as he bit into Dean’s neck, leaving a mark and drawing a little blood while he shot his load inside of his brother’s ass. It wasn’t more than thirty seconds before Dean was spilling his own orgasm over Sam’s hand, all over the place between them.
They took a few minutes to catch their breath, and Sam removed the cuffs, throwing them onto the floor.
Dean was the first to speak, kissing Sam on the top of his head, which was laying contentedly on his chest. “OK, Sam. I get it. I’ll try harder, I swear. I know I’m yours. Please tell me you know I’m yours. Please?”
“Yeah”, Sam replied, “I know. Sometimes I just think I have to remind you. Or maybe remind myself.”
The post-coital sleep was closing in fast.
“I love you baby boy, there’s no one else for me, not ever, I swear.”
Sam sighed and yawned, tightening his hold across Dean’s chest. “I know. Promise.”
They didn’t bother cleaning up. It could wait til morning. Hanging on to each other like this, physically hanging on, was the top priority.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Wincest
Author’s note: OK, so I tried to incorporate most of the requests that I was given, I certainly hope that I have made dragonspell happy with this little story for spn_j2_xmas.
Hopefully, I’ve covered all the required pairings and warnings :)
Thanks to seolforan for the beta and the cheerleading.
Since they’d gotten themselves a place of their own, the Winchester brothers found there was more to their sexual relationship than just quick, desperate handjobs in the car or fucking in a motel bed after a particularly adrenaline-inducing hunt. Not that they didn’t still do those things - the fast and furious action or the hunting - but as time passed they began to realize there were intense emotions that were clearly delineated from the fierce instinct they’d always had to protect each other. Since they weren’t hunting as often, Dean and Sam both had time to explore those feelings and grow more comfortable with the domestic and, fuck, romantic, if there wasn’t a better word, aspect of what they had going on.
Dean worked during the day at a local auto body shop and earned enough money to pay the bills, along with Sam’s small income but generous health insurance benefits from his part-time job at Starbucks, supplemented by his hours spent tutoring Latin and philosophy for students at the nearby private school. Both of them marveled at the casual way parents handed over fifty bucks for an hour of Sam’s time just on the off chance it might get their kid into a better college than their neighbor’s kid.
They still took on the occasional supernatural job, but after everything they’d already endured, they were happy to leave the heavy work to the next crop of hunters.
On this particular night, it was time for Dean’s absolute least favorite part of their domestic routine - grocery shopping. Especially at this time of year, when it was cold outside and the stores were all mobbed, ridiculous Muzak-versions of Christmas carols piped in everywhere you went. Sam generally did it himself, but tonight he felt like having company and Dean had grudgingly agreed to go along.
“Sam, come on, these apples are identical. Seriously. Pick one and let’s get this done, for the love of Christ.”
“Fuji apples are not identical to Galas, Dean,” Sam replied, rolling his eyes. “I’m just trying to decide which one I’m in the mood for this week.”
“Glad you’re in the mood for apples, dude, ‘cause hanging out at the Kroger all night isn’t gonna put me in the mood for anything else.”
“Fuck off, man, like you’re ever not in the mood.”
“Don’t treat me like an object, Sammy. I’m not a sex machine.” He briefly reconsidered, then grinned lecherously. “Well, okay, maybe I am a sex machine.”
That comment earned him one of Sam’s exceptionally put-upon sighs, plus a bonus “you’re a total perv” bitchface.
Finally, (fucking finally, Dean thought), they were done, a cart full of dinner ingredients and snacks and beer and one copy of this month’s Road and Track magazine. The checkout girl was kind of cute, stealing glances at Dean as she was ringing up their purchases. Sam took a minute away from putting their bagged groceries into the cart as Dean was handing over their debit card to the cashier. She said something Sam couldn’t hear, giggled, and in return received one of Dean’s trademark chick-slaying grins, her face flushing bright pink as she lowered her eyes, still smiling.
Sam shot a smoldering at glare at his brother, who, to his credit, seemed properly chastised, but he wasn’t satisfied with just that. He moved back away from their shopping cart and slid his arm around Dean’s waist. “We’re done here, babe. Say goodbye to your friend.”
The girl’s eyed widened and she visibly stiffened under the weight of the tension that was almost palpable in the look between the two men. “Thank you, sirs, have a good night”, she mumbled, as she turned toward the next person in line.
They weren’t even out the door before Dean started in. “Way to get all caveman, Sammy. You didn’t have to scare the poor girl, she was just being nice.”
“You didn’t have to flirt with her. Right in front of me. Asshole.” Sam was practically throwing the bags of groceries into the Impala’s trunk.
Dean was running interference between himself, Sam, and the car. “Ease up, man, that bag’s got eggs in it. Calm down, dude. Don’t throw the detergent on top of the bread! Jesus. It’s not” and Dean was cut off right there with a withering look from his brother. For just a moment, he was quiet, but when Sam slammed down the trunk lid, that was it. “Hey! What the fuck?” he asked Sam’s back as he watched him walk to the passenger side of the car. He ran his hand lovingly over the top of the trunk and whispered, “He didn’t mean it, baby, sorry” as he made his way to the driver’s door and started the car.
Sam didn’t speak the whole ride home, so Dean kept his mouth shut too. Partly because he thought Sam was being a dick, and partly because he didn’t really want Sam to be any more mad than he already was. Stupidly mad, mad for absolutely no reason at all, but still, mad. Which was a situation Dean generally tried to avoid, because Sam’s moods were unpredictable at best, and there was just never any way to know how they would manifest.
When they got back to their little house on the outskirts of town, Sam grabbed as many bags as he could from the trunk and Dean told him he’d get the rest, hoping to spare his baby another trunk-lid-slamming. Once all the groceries were inside, Sam grabbed what he needed to make their dinner and said “Put the rest of this shit away.”
So Dean put the rest of that shit away, then wandered back to his brother’s side and asked if he could help. Sam didn’t raise his eyes from the vegetables he was chopping on the counter and said, “Kitchen table. Sit down and stay there.”
Dean felt like an idiot, like Sam had just sent him to timeout or something, but he walked over to the kitchen table and pulled out his chair. He sat down. And he stayed there. He suspiciously eyed the little snowman ornament that Sam's co-worker had given him, as if Frosty were going to be mad at him too.
After a little while, Sam brought their dinner out to the table, and they ate in complete silence. Dean started gathering dishes and brought them into the kitchen, only to find Sam right behind him at the counter by the sink. “Go upstairs to the bedroom, Dean. I’ll take care of the dishes.”
“What do you want me to do?” Dean asked, a little breathless from Sam’s tone and his own guilty feelings of having made his brother angry.
“Sit down and stay there.”
Dean trudged up to their bedroom and sat in the armchair by the far wall near the window. He didn’t turn on the television or look for a book to read, he just did what Sam had told him to do, sat down and stayed there. It seemed like an interminable amount of time before his brother walked through the door to the room, his hands a bit pink from dish-washing, and his cheeks a bit pink from…well, as far as Dean could tell, it was because he was still kind of pissed off. For no good reason. At all. But he didn’t say anything, just waited. He knew Sam was going to spout off any second.
“You had to flirt with some random grocery cashier while I was standing right there? Really? No control over that, Dean?”
“Sam. Come on, don’t be like that, baby. You know I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“What do you think that girl thought you meant by it? Making some sly comment to you, and getting your tried-and-true Dean Winchester grin turned on her? Huh? What do you think she was thinking?”
“She wasn’t thinking a goddamn thing, Sam, after your little dominance display in the checkout line. Christ, you could have just let it go, you couldn’t possibly think I was trying to”
“Enough, Dean. Get up and take off your clothes. All of them.”
As per usual when Sam was like this (Dean secretly described it in his head as PMS but never said it out loud), he did as he was told. Standing up from the chair, he pulled off his shirt, toed off his shoes and socks, and tugged his jeans and boxers down, stepping out of them and standing in the middle of the room buck naked, looking expectantly at his still fully clothed brother.
Again, as if he thought it would get him anywhere, he asked, “What do you want me to do, Sam?”
“Edge of the bed. Sit down and stay there.” Dean quickly complied, leaving only enough of his body on the bed to keep him balanced and not falling off. He watched as Sam moved casually through the room. First stop, drawer in the nightstand. A bottle of lube landed next to him as Sam tossed it onto the bed. Next stop, box in the bottom of the closet. Shit. There was a whole lot of stuff in there. But Sam turned back toward Dean with just a simple pair of cuffs in his hand. Those got tossed next to the bottle of lube, and Sam got on his knees on the floor, spreading Dean’s legs to make room for him.
Yeah, this wasn’t really what Dean thought was going to happen, but he wasn’t complaining.
“Dean. Do you know that I don’t like seeing you get flirty with other people?”
“Y-yeah, yes, I know. I didn’t mean - I’m sorry, Sam.”
“Don’t waste your time on sorry. Just do not let me see it. Ever. Again. You got that?”
“Got it, babe, honest, I didn’t mean to upset you, don’t be mad, please.”
“This isn’t about me being mad, Dean. This is me showing you why you need to tame that instinct to give that look to anyone else. That look is for me. Just me. Not a crime scene witness, not a stranger in a bar, not a fucking grocery clerk. Me.”
“Okay, Sam, I know, I didn’t think about it at the time, it was thoughtless and you know I love you. Don’t be angry with me, please.”
“Shut up. And be still. Not another word.” And that was the last thing Dean registered before he felt himself being pulled forward, ass hanging half off the edge of their bed, before Sam’s tongue was licking across his hole. Dean held onto the blankets as hard as he could, his eyes rolling back and unable to stop the groan that escaped his lips. Sam continued licking at him, opening him up with his tongue, forcing it past his muscles and inside of him, then sliding a finger in next to it.
Dean was gone, gone, gone with the incredible sensation, until it stopped. Sam kept a finger teasing gently around his asshole, but moved his mouth upward so that he could suck Dean down all the way, causing a full-body shake that Dean could not control. His hips shifted up instinctively until Sam’s hand landed on his hip, holding him still.
Right. Sam was running this show, and Dean was more than happy to take what he was getting. Sam’s mouth was performing some kind of Vegas-caliber magic trick up and down his cock and Dean was practically hyperventilating from his inability to move back up against it.
Since he was half out of his mind already, it took him by surprise when Sam pulled off and manhandled him from the edge of the bed to the top, landing Dean’s head on the pillows and still kneeling between his legs, but no longer on the floor.
Sam reached to his right and grabbed the cuffs, binding Dean’s wrists before he even realized what was happening and pulling his cuffed hands above his head. “Keep them there”, Sam instructed, and Dean wasn’t about to do anything else. The next thing he knew, Sam had pushed his own jeans and boxers down and was slicking up his cock with a generous amount of lube and pressing against Dean’s entrance.
“Mine” was the only thing Sam said as he pushed all the way in to his brother, one swift movement that left Dean moaning and breathless. It hurt, but Dean was okay with it, knowing that it would only hurt for a minute.
After just a few seconds of letting Dean adjust, Sam pulled almost all the way out of him then slammed back in with a force that sent Dean an inch or so closer to the head of the bed. A brutal pace was set, and Dean welcomed every thrust. Sam was quiet, none of his usual grunting or moaning, just a loop of “Mine. You. Are. Mine. Mine, mine, mine,” he continued, fucking into Dean like his life depended on it. “Say it.”
“Yours, Sammy, I’m yours, only yours, for always, believe me, please, I swear, I’m only yours.”
Before too long, Sam’s hips started to lose their rhythm and stuttered a bit, as he placed his hand around Dean’s dick and jerked in time with his own movements. Within a minute or two, Sam couldn’t resist any longer, and his last litany of “mine” was drawn out and punctuated with a low, deep moan as he bit into Dean’s neck, leaving a mark and drawing a little blood while he shot his load inside of his brother’s ass. It wasn’t more than thirty seconds before Dean was spilling his own orgasm over Sam’s hand, all over the place between them.
They took a few minutes to catch their breath, and Sam removed the cuffs, throwing them onto the floor.
Dean was the first to speak, kissing Sam on the top of his head, which was laying contentedly on his chest. “OK, Sam. I get it. I’ll try harder, I swear. I know I’m yours. Please tell me you know I’m yours. Please?”
“Yeah”, Sam replied, “I know. Sometimes I just think I have to remind you. Or maybe remind myself.”
The post-coital sleep was closing in fast.
“I love you baby boy, there’s no one else for me, not ever, I swear.”
Sam sighed and yawned, tightening his hold across Dean’s chest. “I know. Promise.”
They didn’t bother cleaning up. It could wait til morning. Hanging on to each other like this, physically hanging on, was the top priority.