Minutes, for spn_30snapshots
Title: Minutes
Author: verucasalt123
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Sam/Dean
Claim: Theme 07: Get Your Kink On
Theme: http://verucasalt123.livejournal.com/147817.html
Prompt(s): #22, Phone Sex
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: These boys do not belong to me.
Summary: Phone sex, for mandatorily
If there was anything Dean hated, even more than he hated diner cooks sneaking vegetables into his omelet, it was Sam being out on a hunt alone. This time, though, there was no choice. Dean was in the motel, angrily poking at buttons on the TV remote, his foot and ankle wrapped in that new whatever the fuck was being used now instead of plaster to immobilize broken bones.
And really, Sam wasn’t even out on a hunt. He was doing surveillance. Not that it made a difference, Sam was out there alone and Dean wouldn’t put it past him to jump out and do some stupid shit with no backup if he saw something he thought needed taking care of.
There was another thing Dean hated about this whole stupid situation. Being alone in bed, no Sammy there to hold him and kiss him and take his mind off the talus fracture, whatever, it was a broken ankle.
Turning off the television, he discarded the remote in favor of his phone. Sam was doing important work. Or whatever. Dean was bored, and horny, and those were higher priorities.
Sam picked up halfway through the first ring. “You okay, Dean? Did something happen?”
“I’m not okay, baby boy, something really bad happened”, Dean responded, suspecting his voice was giving him away already.
“Dean…”
“Aw, come on, Sammy. How much longer?”
“An hour, maybe, hour and a half, Christ, I’m not even two miles away. Are you really that fucking freaked out?”
“Of course I’m freaked out! Two miles away, at least an hour from being back here with me, and I’ve got this raging hard-on, seriously, this is a problem.”
His response was a half-sigh, half-hitched breath. Yeah. Oh hell yeah. This was totally going to work.
“I can’t wait that long, Sam. I’m gonna have to get myself off all alone. And do you know what I’m going to be thinking about?”
A moment of hesitation. And then, “What? Tell me what you’ll be thinking about.”
“About you, Sammy. You. Gonna pretend it’s your hand on my dick, your mouth wrapped around it…”
“You already have it out, don’t you? You’ve got your cock out, you’re touching it, thinking about what I’d do if I was there instead of here. I know it.”
Dean could only moan in response, because his brother was absolutely right.
Sam had absolutely no way to continue his surveillance at that point, because the image of Dean getting himself off on the other end of the line took over every bit of brain function he had.
“Stroke it, Dean. Just like I do, a little around the head and then all the way. Can you do that?” Sam asked, as he reached down and lifted his own suddenly heavy dick from his pants.
“Yeah, yeah, I can…”
“Push your nail against the slit, Dean, like I do, is it all wet?”
“Fuck, Sammy, yeah, it’s wet, it’s leaking, for you. For you.”
Fisting himself and stroking hard, Sam tried to keep up his own end of the conversation. “Taste it. Come on, lift up your finger and taste it, you know that’s what I would do, right?”
And goddamn if Dean didn’t do exactly as he was instructed, bringing his finger to his lips and sucking on the bitter taste of his own pre-come. He could tell, though, just from the sound of Sam’s voice, he wasn’t the only one getting off on this.
“You’re doing it too, you’re touching yourself. Right there in the car, are you under a streetlight?”
“No, I’m…fuck, Dean, I’m in the dark, there’s nothing happening here. Except this. I’m touching it too, wishing it was you.”
Dean’s hand started moving faster at this revelation. He knew it was going to be over so much more quickly than he intended, but the idea of his brother jerking himself off in the driver’s seat of the Impala was almost too much.
“Sam, Sammy, damn it, I’m - close…so close, what are you doing?”
“Fucking my fist, Dean, that’s what I’m doing, wishing it was your ass I was fucking.”
And that was it, just it, Dean let out a choked moan and came all over himself.
Just hearing it was enough to push Sam in the same direction, and he whispered his brother’s name as he spilled onto his hand and his jeans and boxers.
After a minute or two of silence, Dean heard another sound, one he knew well.
“Yes, there are napkins in the glove box, bitch. Clean yourself up and get the fuck back here.”
“Five minutes. Be glad we’re still young.”, he replied, closing his phone and breaking the connection. Sam had often resented Dean’s ‘I’m older than you’ schtick, but right now, being twenty three was working in Sam’s favor. He’d be ready to go again in record time, he thought, as he pulled the car back onto the road.
Author: verucasalt123
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Sam/Dean
Claim: Theme 07: Get Your Kink On
Theme: http://verucasalt123.livejournal.com/147817.html
Prompt(s): #22, Phone Sex
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: These boys do not belong to me.
Summary: Phone sex, for mandatorily
If there was anything Dean hated, even more than he hated diner cooks sneaking vegetables into his omelet, it was Sam being out on a hunt alone. This time, though, there was no choice. Dean was in the motel, angrily poking at buttons on the TV remote, his foot and ankle wrapped in that new whatever the fuck was being used now instead of plaster to immobilize broken bones.
And really, Sam wasn’t even out on a hunt. He was doing surveillance. Not that it made a difference, Sam was out there alone and Dean wouldn’t put it past him to jump out and do some stupid shit with no backup if he saw something he thought needed taking care of.
There was another thing Dean hated about this whole stupid situation. Being alone in bed, no Sammy there to hold him and kiss him and take his mind off the talus fracture, whatever, it was a broken ankle.
Turning off the television, he discarded the remote in favor of his phone. Sam was doing important work. Or whatever. Dean was bored, and horny, and those were higher priorities.
Sam picked up halfway through the first ring. “You okay, Dean? Did something happen?”
“I’m not okay, baby boy, something really bad happened”, Dean responded, suspecting his voice was giving him away already.
“Dean…”
“Aw, come on, Sammy. How much longer?”
“An hour, maybe, hour and a half, Christ, I’m not even two miles away. Are you really that fucking freaked out?”
“Of course I’m freaked out! Two miles away, at least an hour from being back here with me, and I’ve got this raging hard-on, seriously, this is a problem.”
His response was a half-sigh, half-hitched breath. Yeah. Oh hell yeah. This was totally going to work.
“I can’t wait that long, Sam. I’m gonna have to get myself off all alone. And do you know what I’m going to be thinking about?”
A moment of hesitation. And then, “What? Tell me what you’ll be thinking about.”
“About you, Sammy. You. Gonna pretend it’s your hand on my dick, your mouth wrapped around it…”
“You already have it out, don’t you? You’ve got your cock out, you’re touching it, thinking about what I’d do if I was there instead of here. I know it.”
Dean could only moan in response, because his brother was absolutely right.
Sam had absolutely no way to continue his surveillance at that point, because the image of Dean getting himself off on the other end of the line took over every bit of brain function he had.
“Stroke it, Dean. Just like I do, a little around the head and then all the way. Can you do that?” Sam asked, as he reached down and lifted his own suddenly heavy dick from his pants.
“Yeah, yeah, I can…”
“Push your nail against the slit, Dean, like I do, is it all wet?”
“Fuck, Sammy, yeah, it’s wet, it’s leaking, for you. For you.”
Fisting himself and stroking hard, Sam tried to keep up his own end of the conversation. “Taste it. Come on, lift up your finger and taste it, you know that’s what I would do, right?”
And goddamn if Dean didn’t do exactly as he was instructed, bringing his finger to his lips and sucking on the bitter taste of his own pre-come. He could tell, though, just from the sound of Sam’s voice, he wasn’t the only one getting off on this.
“You’re doing it too, you’re touching yourself. Right there in the car, are you under a streetlight?”
“No, I’m…fuck, Dean, I’m in the dark, there’s nothing happening here. Except this. I’m touching it too, wishing it was you.”
Dean’s hand started moving faster at this revelation. He knew it was going to be over so much more quickly than he intended, but the idea of his brother jerking himself off in the driver’s seat of the Impala was almost too much.
“Sam, Sammy, damn it, I’m - close…so close, what are you doing?”
“Fucking my fist, Dean, that’s what I’m doing, wishing it was your ass I was fucking.”
And that was it, just it, Dean let out a choked moan and came all over himself.
Just hearing it was enough to push Sam in the same direction, and he whispered his brother’s name as he spilled onto his hand and his jeans and boxers.
After a minute or two of silence, Dean heard another sound, one he knew well.
“Yes, there are napkins in the glove box, bitch. Clean yourself up and get the fuck back here.”
“Five minutes. Be glad we’re still young.”, he replied, closing his phone and breaking the connection. Sam had often resented Dean’s ‘I’m older than you’ schtick, but right now, being twenty three was working in Sam’s favor. He’d be ready to go again in record time, he thought, as he pulled the car back onto the road.