FIC - Incubus Hunt Redux (for rozabellalove)
title: Incubus Hunt Redux
pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Prompt: for my girl rozabellalove who asked for more from my cross-dressing story I posted last night. Or, more specifically, at 2:00 this morning in response to a completely different prompt.
Warnings: wincest, explicit sex, bottom!Dean, Waffle House (that may only count if you live in Georgia)
Thank Chuck for Dean’s impeccable parallel parking skills, the walk from the club back to the car hadn’t been a long one, despite the desperate lack of actual parking lots. Dean had an almost magical talent for smoothly settling the Impala into street parking despite its considerable size.
Stumbling back into the Peachtree Super 8, Dean and Sam were still off and on giggling regardless of their complete sobriety. They’d taken care of the incubus that had been relentlessly picking off gay men on drag night at a Midtown Atlanta nightclub, but had turned their embarrassment from having to dress in drag into a stream of smart-ass banter and jokes about fake cleavage and the dreaded “walk of shame”.
Once they got back into the room, though, Dean’s mood seemed to have shifted a bit. As Sam had already rid himself of the dress, wig, shoes, and everything else he was wearing, he got a glimpse of what his brother was doing. Dean spent a few minutes just looking at himself in the crappy bathroom mirror before soaping up a thin washcloth to clean himself of his own makeup, plus the red lipstick Sam had smeared across half his face with the kiss he’d sprung on him on the sidewalk earlier.
Sam recognized this for what it was immediately. Dean didn’t get into a headspace like that very often, but the signs were clear enough, and Sam wasn’t about to let that moment slip away. Before he had a chance to raise the cloth to his eyes, Sam grabbed Dean’s wrist and spun him around.
“You know how pretty you look like this, baby?”
Dean flushed, looked down momentarily, then back up with a hopeful gaze.
“M’not pretty”, Dean replied in a voice small enough to be less than a whisper.
“Don’t be silly, you are. Turn around again.” Sam pulled Dean by the waist and twisted him until they were both facing the mirror. Sam touched his brother’s face, tenderly, kissed his temple, and continued. “Look at yourself. You’re beautiful. And you’re mine. Doesn’t that make me just the luckiest boy in the whole damn city?”, he asked, letting a bit of his Kansas drawl seep into his words.
Dean’s heart was fluttering and his stomach was doing triple-lindys, he knew where this was headed and he couldn’t be happier that his brother was so in tune with his most secret desires.
Sam moved his hand from Dean’s waist and started moving up his thigh, under the dress Dean was wearing, until he stopped with a gasp when he found something he didn’t expect. Not being in a particularly patient mood, he hiked Dean’s dress up with both hands and got a look at the lacy, silky, almost see-though black panties he had on underneath. Moving his hand toward the front, he could feel Dean’s erection straining against the delicate fabric and the first beads of pre-come already seeping through the material.
He couldn’t suppress the gasp that escaped his lips at this discovery, as he turned his brother again, this time facing him with the black dress hiked up to his waist and his back pressed against the counter.
“Wet for me already, Dean. Just like a girl. Like a pretty, pretty, girl. Tell me, baby. You need?”
No further explanation was required. Sam asking Dean that question meant only one thing.
Dean dipped his head again, his reddened cheek against Sam’s shoulder, and just nodded, saying again in a very soft voice, “Please Sammy”.
Far be it from Sam to deny his big brother what he wanted, especially since his desire for this particular kind of action was rare. Sam’s hands grabbed onto Dean’s waist and pulled him up so that he was perched on the edge of the bathroom counter. “I know, I got you De, gonna give you what you want.”
Sam was gentle at first, his hands on Dean’s cheeks, kissing him softly and reassuring him that everything was all right. After a minute or two, though, Sam moved his right hand back down to Dean’s crotch and cupped his dick, still leaking steadily through his panties. “Good girl, so wet, you want me inside?”
Dean could barely form any coherent words, but he thought he might have said something resembling agreement, or submission, or pure unadulterated need, because at that moment Sam ripped those delicate panties right off him and stuck two of his fingers into Dean’s mouth.
“Get ‘em good and wet, baby, gonna open you up just like you have a tight pussy, get you all ready to take me. You can do it, yeah?”
The only response he got was his brother enthusiastically sucking on his fingers, dripping spit all over them and getting them as wet as he possibly could. When Sam pulled them out, Dean shivered, and waited for what came next. Sam teased his hole just for a moment, then shoved both fingers deep inside Dean’s entrance as Dean whined and choked back what might have been almost a sob. Sam pushed in relentlessly, crooking the tips of his fingers forward and hitting Dean’s prostate, almost causing Dean to slip from the edge of the bathroom counter. Luckily, Sam still had a god hold on him with one strong muscled arm, which was all it took to keep him in place. After a minute or two of minimal prep, Sam removed his fingers and coated them in the liberal amount of pre-come that was leaking from Dean, moving quickly to slick his cock with the moisture. His grip on Dean’s waist got tighter, and Sam moved in close to his ear, lining up his cock at Dean’s hole and asking “You ready for me, baby? Want me inside you? You’re so wet for me, I think you want it but I need you to say it.”
Dean hitched in a breath and exhaled quickly. “Please, please, inside me Sammy, fuck me, pleasepleaseplease…”
Sam had no reason to hold out on his brother. He shoved in with one fast steady stroke, pulled Dean closer to him and waited for the inevitable relaxing of his brother’s relaxing around his dick. He started moving then, knowing neither of them would last very long in this situation. Sam was panting, groaning with the pleasure of the heat around him and Dean was hanging on to his brother’s shoulders for dear life as he didn’t even try to make his soft whining sound manly. He was past caring at this point.
It only took a few minutes before Dean tensed, pushed his head hard into Sam’s chest and keened as his orgasm tore through him from nothing more than Sam’s cock hitting his prostate relentlessly. When Dean came, his muscles clenched so tight around Sam that he couldn’t hold back any longer either, letting go and filling his brother while whispering “Baby, so beautiful, mine, so pretty, fuck, fuck, fuck, baby…”
After they’d both regained some semblance of brain function, Sam pulled out and eased Dean’s legs down so that his feet were touching the floor, kissing the top of his head and still holding on tight.
He whispered into his brother’s ear sweetly, “Get cleaned up and come to bed, baby. You’re so good for me. I’m going to take you for hashbrowns across the street in the morning.”
“Waffles too?”, Dean asked, looking up at his brother with his own version of the puppy eyes of doom, which Sam had always thought of as the fluttering eyelashes of doom.
“Waffles, too, baby. Anything you want.”
And he meant it. Not just right this second, not just tonight. Anything he wanted, Sam would give him. For always.
pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Prompt: for my girl rozabellalove who asked for more from my cross-dressing story I posted last night. Or, more specifically, at 2:00 this morning in response to a completely different prompt.
Warnings: wincest, explicit sex, bottom!Dean, Waffle House (that may only count if you live in Georgia)
Thank Chuck for Dean’s impeccable parallel parking skills, the walk from the club back to the car hadn’t been a long one, despite the desperate lack of actual parking lots. Dean had an almost magical talent for smoothly settling the Impala into street parking despite its considerable size.
Stumbling back into the Peachtree Super 8, Dean and Sam were still off and on giggling regardless of their complete sobriety. They’d taken care of the incubus that had been relentlessly picking off gay men on drag night at a Midtown Atlanta nightclub, but had turned their embarrassment from having to dress in drag into a stream of smart-ass banter and jokes about fake cleavage and the dreaded “walk of shame”.
Once they got back into the room, though, Dean’s mood seemed to have shifted a bit. As Sam had already rid himself of the dress, wig, shoes, and everything else he was wearing, he got a glimpse of what his brother was doing. Dean spent a few minutes just looking at himself in the crappy bathroom mirror before soaping up a thin washcloth to clean himself of his own makeup, plus the red lipstick Sam had smeared across half his face with the kiss he’d sprung on him on the sidewalk earlier.
Sam recognized this for what it was immediately. Dean didn’t get into a headspace like that very often, but the signs were clear enough, and Sam wasn’t about to let that moment slip away. Before he had a chance to raise the cloth to his eyes, Sam grabbed Dean’s wrist and spun him around.
“You know how pretty you look like this, baby?”
Dean flushed, looked down momentarily, then back up with a hopeful gaze.
“M’not pretty”, Dean replied in a voice small enough to be less than a whisper.
“Don’t be silly, you are. Turn around again.” Sam pulled Dean by the waist and twisted him until they were both facing the mirror. Sam touched his brother’s face, tenderly, kissed his temple, and continued. “Look at yourself. You’re beautiful. And you’re mine. Doesn’t that make me just the luckiest boy in the whole damn city?”, he asked, letting a bit of his Kansas drawl seep into his words.
Dean’s heart was fluttering and his stomach was doing triple-lindys, he knew where this was headed and he couldn’t be happier that his brother was so in tune with his most secret desires.
Sam moved his hand from Dean’s waist and started moving up his thigh, under the dress Dean was wearing, until he stopped with a gasp when he found something he didn’t expect. Not being in a particularly patient mood, he hiked Dean’s dress up with both hands and got a look at the lacy, silky, almost see-though black panties he had on underneath. Moving his hand toward the front, he could feel Dean’s erection straining against the delicate fabric and the first beads of pre-come already seeping through the material.
He couldn’t suppress the gasp that escaped his lips at this discovery, as he turned his brother again, this time facing him with the black dress hiked up to his waist and his back pressed against the counter.
“Wet for me already, Dean. Just like a girl. Like a pretty, pretty, girl. Tell me, baby. You need?”
No further explanation was required. Sam asking Dean that question meant only one thing.
Dean dipped his head again, his reddened cheek against Sam’s shoulder, and just nodded, saying again in a very soft voice, “Please Sammy”.
Far be it from Sam to deny his big brother what he wanted, especially since his desire for this particular kind of action was rare. Sam’s hands grabbed onto Dean’s waist and pulled him up so that he was perched on the edge of the bathroom counter. “I know, I got you De, gonna give you what you want.”
Sam was gentle at first, his hands on Dean’s cheeks, kissing him softly and reassuring him that everything was all right. After a minute or two, though, Sam moved his right hand back down to Dean’s crotch and cupped his dick, still leaking steadily through his panties. “Good girl, so wet, you want me inside?”
Dean could barely form any coherent words, but he thought he might have said something resembling agreement, or submission, or pure unadulterated need, because at that moment Sam ripped those delicate panties right off him and stuck two of his fingers into Dean’s mouth.
“Get ‘em good and wet, baby, gonna open you up just like you have a tight pussy, get you all ready to take me. You can do it, yeah?”
The only response he got was his brother enthusiastically sucking on his fingers, dripping spit all over them and getting them as wet as he possibly could. When Sam pulled them out, Dean shivered, and waited for what came next. Sam teased his hole just for a moment, then shoved both fingers deep inside Dean’s entrance as Dean whined and choked back what might have been almost a sob. Sam pushed in relentlessly, crooking the tips of his fingers forward and hitting Dean’s prostate, almost causing Dean to slip from the edge of the bathroom counter. Luckily, Sam still had a god hold on him with one strong muscled arm, which was all it took to keep him in place. After a minute or two of minimal prep, Sam removed his fingers and coated them in the liberal amount of pre-come that was leaking from Dean, moving quickly to slick his cock with the moisture. His grip on Dean’s waist got tighter, and Sam moved in close to his ear, lining up his cock at Dean’s hole and asking “You ready for me, baby? Want me inside you? You’re so wet for me, I think you want it but I need you to say it.”
Dean hitched in a breath and exhaled quickly. “Please, please, inside me Sammy, fuck me, pleasepleaseplease…”
Sam had no reason to hold out on his brother. He shoved in with one fast steady stroke, pulled Dean closer to him and waited for the inevitable relaxing of his brother’s relaxing around his dick. He started moving then, knowing neither of them would last very long in this situation. Sam was panting, groaning with the pleasure of the heat around him and Dean was hanging on to his brother’s shoulders for dear life as he didn’t even try to make his soft whining sound manly. He was past caring at this point.
It only took a few minutes before Dean tensed, pushed his head hard into Sam’s chest and keened as his orgasm tore through him from nothing more than Sam’s cock hitting his prostate relentlessly. When Dean came, his muscles clenched so tight around Sam that he couldn’t hold back any longer either, letting go and filling his brother while whispering “Baby, so beautiful, mine, so pretty, fuck, fuck, fuck, baby…”
After they’d both regained some semblance of brain function, Sam pulled out and eased Dean’s legs down so that his feet were touching the floor, kissing the top of his head and still holding on tight.
He whispered into his brother’s ear sweetly, “Get cleaned up and come to bed, baby. You’re so good for me. I’m going to take you for hashbrowns across the street in the morning.”
“Waffles too?”, Dean asked, looking up at his brother with his own version of the puppy eyes of doom, which Sam had always thought of as the fluttering eyelashes of doom.
“Waffles, too, baby. Anything you want.”
And he meant it. Not just right this second, not just tonight. Anything he wanted, Sam would give him. For always.