Wonderland
Pairing: Wincest
Wordcount: 1,762
Warnings: mildly dub con
Tags: established relationship, late s3, somnophilia, rimming, hotdogging
A/N: Written for spnkinkbingo, thanks to beta nigeltde for her support and for sharing my love of angsty s3 brothers
Link to AO3
When Sam slept, his walls were down -- he couldn't overthink or fight, just breathe and dream -- and Dean got hard just thinking about that.
The cold medicine left a tacky blue ring on the bathroom counter. Dean hated the taste -- like cherries dipped in kerosene -- but his brother liked it, said it was one of the few things that helped him sleep.
It was a miserable ride that day. For two hundred miles, Sam was unable to sit still, a headache building behind his eyes. Dean reached out across the back of the seat and tangled his fingers in the curls along Sam's neck, rubbing the tight muscles underneath. Sam leaned into the touch but soon his eyes were pinched and squinting against the sun, and he pulled away when it became too much.
When they checked into the motel, Sam shuffled into the bathroom for a quick shower and to shoot back twice the normal dose of Nyquil.
As his brother slept, Dean watched. He sat on the second bed, cleaning their guns in the darkened room, soaking in the quiet. No tv, no police radio, just the rattle of the ancient air conditioner in the corner and the sound of Sam's steady breaths from the other bed.
They didn't get much quiet in their lives, and Dean's deal had the two of them on edge, itching to fight, to hunt, to argue. They fed off that uneasy undercurrent as much as the spark that jumps from wire to wire when they hotwire a stolen car. It was easy to throw themselves at cases or crash their bodies together just inside the motel room door. Nights were filled with the push of hard muscles and sharp tongues, where the frustrations of the day were worked out through a sweaty fight for dominance, and a quick sticky release.
But tonight? Dean wanted something different, something soft, to ease the ache inside him. As his days ticked by toward the inevitable and Sam was wearing himself down with worry, Dean wanted to take his time.
He wiped the remaining gun oil off Sam's Taurus and set it aside, shifting to stand between the two queen beds. Dean’s eyes traveled over his brother’s long body stretched out under the covers; a tuft of his dark hair curled against the white pillowcase, and a long pale foot peeked out under the blanket wrapped around his legs.
With one hand, Dean dragged the sheet down Sam's chest, and his lips twitched in a smile as Sam's nipples contracted in the suddenly cool air. The slow reveal of his brother’s muscular body, golden against the white sheets and still damp from the shower, was like unwrapping a present that was made just for him.
A stray lock of hair of Sam's hair rested on his cheek and Dean brushed it back, like he did when Sam was young enough to still follow Dean around Bobby’s salvage yard.
Looking down at the flushed cheeks and shiny lips, Dean couldn’t resist and leaned down to take a kiss. He sucked Sam's bottom lip into his mouth, and sure enough, a coating of cherry cough medicine was still there. He licked it off gently, before pressing his tongue inside Sam's mouth. Sam’s eyelashes fluttered at the intrusion and he shifted slightly before settling back against the pillow once again.
When Sam slept, his walls were down -- he couldn't overthink or fight, just breathe and dream -- and Dean got hard just thinking about that.
Slipping off his t-shirt and jeans, Dean stepped away from the wrinkled pile of clothes between the two beds. His cock throbbed in the open air and he stroked it a few times, groaning at the light pressure of his fingers. But it wasn’t what he was looking for, it wasn't enough for how he was feeling tonight.
Sinking one knee down on the edge of the mattress, Dean skimmed his hand along Sam's naked skin. He loved how Sam was filling in, the muscles growing broader and thick across his shoulders and chest. He rubbed his thumb over one of his exposed nipple, hard and brown, until the skin around it pebbled over in goosebumps.
The soft catch of breath from his brother’s mouth was perfect, and he wanted to capture more of those small sounds. Dean lean down to suck the nipple into his mouth, teasing it with teeth and tongue until Sam's small gasp become a low whine in the back of his throat. Dean soothed the abused nub with his tongue and blew on it until Sam squirmed beneath him, arching his back slightly as if chasing Dean’s mouth, before falling soft and pliant into the mattress once more.
His little brother was starting to wake up and Dean should feel bad about that, and let Sam get his sleep, but there would be plenty of time to sleep after.
Dean ran his hands down both side of Sam's ribcage to rest them on his waist, marveling that he could almost touch his thumbs together. The trail of fingerprints he left across Sam’s skin was soon followed by Dean’s lips. There were still small pink and red marks across his torso, the remains of two nights before when Dean had yanked Sam out of a bar and they hadn't made it past the back seat of the Impala.
Despite the cool of the air conditioning, Sam was throwing off waves of heat, and Dean nuzzled his cheek against the warmth. He nudged his nose at the dark cotton briefs, taking in the smell of Ivory soap and Sam, then used his fingers to pull at them, revealing the ridge of hipbones below. If Dean had to name a favorite part of Sam's body, it was this, where the soft skin of abdomen met the sharpness of hips.
No one saw this part, not anymore, just Dean. It was his alone. For two more months.
Another whine came from Sam as Dean peeled the black briefs down his legs, throwing them on the floor next to Dean's clothes.
Sam's cock lay half full against his thigh, and Dean couldn’t resist lifting it and taking the tip in his mouth. His mouth watered at the taste as he slid the length along his tongue, wrapping his lips around it.
“De?” Sam's thick, sleepy voice called down from the top of the bed and his fingers searched blindly for the top of Dean's head.
“Shhh, Sam.” He gave another kiss to the tip before he looked up and smiled. “It's okay. I got you, little brother.”
With those words, Sam gave a satisfied sigh and relaxed under Dean's touch. He swung Sam’s leg in front of him and rolled him onto his stomach. His brother muttered at the change of position, and grabbed a pillow with both hands, rubbing his face into it.
Looking at Sam from this angle, Dean knew he was wrong - the hipbones weren't his favorite body part. Sammy's ass was a work of art.
He smoothed his hands over his cheeks, impossibly round and high. Sam could try to hide it beneath his baggy jeans or the wool of their cheap suits, but Dean had seen the looks his brother got from men and women at gas stations or dive bars. And the miracle was that Sam was unaware of the eyes on him as they moved through these small towns and backroads.
But Dean? Dean was aware of all those eyes and stared them down until they walked away.
He pulled Sam’s cheeks apart with his thumbs, looking at the skin that ran along his crease. No matter how much older or bigger Sam got, or how hard they went at it the night before, Sam was tight and pink like some virginal schoolgirl, which only made Dean want to go another round the next day, to claim it again. He ran a thumbpad across the puckered skin, and then leaned down to dragged his tongue rough and wet across it.
Sam let out a surprised yelp, no longer doped up and drowsy, and he pushed out his ass as Dean continued to lick. Dean dipped the tip of his tongue in and out of the hole and sucked along the pink rim, causing Sam to keen and squirm. But Dean wasn't going to let him go anywhere, and wrapped his arms around Sam’s thighs and hauling him up off the mattress and onto his knees. He continued to lick sloppy passes over the already shiny hole and Sam had no choice but to take it.
“Fuck, Dean, fuck yeah, just like that.” Sam’s fingers clenched and released at the bed sheets like they were a lifeline.
Dean reached between Sam's legs with one hand, to pull down on his balls, while he paused nose-deep to nibble along his rim, pulling the most desperate noises from his brother's throat.
“You like that?” His lips smiled against Sam’s sensitive skin. “Or do you want more?”
Some of the saliva dripped down and Dean ran his fingers through it, ghosting past Sam’s balls to where his cock hung hard, swaying as Sam’s body kept rocking in pleasure. Dean wrapped his wet fingers around it and began to strip his brother’s cock. It wasn't long before Sam stopped squirming and began to tremble, his words becoming incoherent as he spilled over the bedsheets below.
“So beautiful for me, Sammy.”
Dean straightened up, setting the heavy weight of his cock between Sam's cheeks. Saliva slicked his way, and Dean held the round flesh tightly together, watching his cock head slide in and out from between Sam’s flesh.
When one of Dean's thrusts caught his rim, Sam moaned and pushed himself up on his elbows, turning his head to search for Dean like a flower following the sun.
“Kiss me. Now.” Sam's face was flushed pink, whether from orgasm or sickness Dean didn't know, but it was one of the most gorgeous things he had ever seen.
The feeling of his cock against Sam, wet and sloppy and warm, felt good. He squeezed the skin tighter, and pumped himself a few more times before coming all over Sam's back.
Sam collapsed on the mattress. Dean reached down and grabbed his t-shirt off the floor to clean his brother off carefully. He rolled Sam on his side and snuggled up like a big spoon.
“How’s your headache?” Dean asked, placing a kiss on the back of his neck.
Sam let out a tired snort. “What headache?” He pulled Dean's arm around him and settled quickly into sleep.
Dean pulled him in even closer and took comfort in the quiet.
Wordcount: 1,762
Warnings: mildly dub con
Tags: established relationship, late s3, somnophilia, rimming, hotdogging
A/N: Written for spnkinkbingo, thanks to beta nigeltde for her support and for sharing my love of angsty s3 brothers
Link to AO3
When Sam slept, his walls were down -- he couldn't overthink or fight, just breathe and dream -- and Dean got hard just thinking about that.
The cold medicine left a tacky blue ring on the bathroom counter. Dean hated the taste -- like cherries dipped in kerosene -- but his brother liked it, said it was one of the few things that helped him sleep.
It was a miserable ride that day. For two hundred miles, Sam was unable to sit still, a headache building behind his eyes. Dean reached out across the back of the seat and tangled his fingers in the curls along Sam's neck, rubbing the tight muscles underneath. Sam leaned into the touch but soon his eyes were pinched and squinting against the sun, and he pulled away when it became too much.
When they checked into the motel, Sam shuffled into the bathroom for a quick shower and to shoot back twice the normal dose of Nyquil.
As his brother slept, Dean watched. He sat on the second bed, cleaning their guns in the darkened room, soaking in the quiet. No tv, no police radio, just the rattle of the ancient air conditioner in the corner and the sound of Sam's steady breaths from the other bed.
They didn't get much quiet in their lives, and Dean's deal had the two of them on edge, itching to fight, to hunt, to argue. They fed off that uneasy undercurrent as much as the spark that jumps from wire to wire when they hotwire a stolen car. It was easy to throw themselves at cases or crash their bodies together just inside the motel room door. Nights were filled with the push of hard muscles and sharp tongues, where the frustrations of the day were worked out through a sweaty fight for dominance, and a quick sticky release.
But tonight? Dean wanted something different, something soft, to ease the ache inside him. As his days ticked by toward the inevitable and Sam was wearing himself down with worry, Dean wanted to take his time.
He wiped the remaining gun oil off Sam's Taurus and set it aside, shifting to stand between the two queen beds. Dean’s eyes traveled over his brother’s long body stretched out under the covers; a tuft of his dark hair curled against the white pillowcase, and a long pale foot peeked out under the blanket wrapped around his legs.
With one hand, Dean dragged the sheet down Sam's chest, and his lips twitched in a smile as Sam's nipples contracted in the suddenly cool air. The slow reveal of his brother’s muscular body, golden against the white sheets and still damp from the shower, was like unwrapping a present that was made just for him.
A stray lock of hair of Sam's hair rested on his cheek and Dean brushed it back, like he did when Sam was young enough to still follow Dean around Bobby’s salvage yard.
Looking down at the flushed cheeks and shiny lips, Dean couldn’t resist and leaned down to take a kiss. He sucked Sam's bottom lip into his mouth, and sure enough, a coating of cherry cough medicine was still there. He licked it off gently, before pressing his tongue inside Sam's mouth. Sam’s eyelashes fluttered at the intrusion and he shifted slightly before settling back against the pillow once again.
When Sam slept, his walls were down -- he couldn't overthink or fight, just breathe and dream -- and Dean got hard just thinking about that.
Slipping off his t-shirt and jeans, Dean stepped away from the wrinkled pile of clothes between the two beds. His cock throbbed in the open air and he stroked it a few times, groaning at the light pressure of his fingers. But it wasn’t what he was looking for, it wasn't enough for how he was feeling tonight.
Sinking one knee down on the edge of the mattress, Dean skimmed his hand along Sam's naked skin. He loved how Sam was filling in, the muscles growing broader and thick across his shoulders and chest. He rubbed his thumb over one of his exposed nipple, hard and brown, until the skin around it pebbled over in goosebumps.
The soft catch of breath from his brother’s mouth was perfect, and he wanted to capture more of those small sounds. Dean lean down to suck the nipple into his mouth, teasing it with teeth and tongue until Sam's small gasp become a low whine in the back of his throat. Dean soothed the abused nub with his tongue and blew on it until Sam squirmed beneath him, arching his back slightly as if chasing Dean’s mouth, before falling soft and pliant into the mattress once more.
His little brother was starting to wake up and Dean should feel bad about that, and let Sam get his sleep, but there would be plenty of time to sleep after.
Dean ran his hands down both side of Sam's ribcage to rest them on his waist, marveling that he could almost touch his thumbs together. The trail of fingerprints he left across Sam’s skin was soon followed by Dean’s lips. There were still small pink and red marks across his torso, the remains of two nights before when Dean had yanked Sam out of a bar and they hadn't made it past the back seat of the Impala.
Despite the cool of the air conditioning, Sam was throwing off waves of heat, and Dean nuzzled his cheek against the warmth. He nudged his nose at the dark cotton briefs, taking in the smell of Ivory soap and Sam, then used his fingers to pull at them, revealing the ridge of hipbones below. If Dean had to name a favorite part of Sam's body, it was this, where the soft skin of abdomen met the sharpness of hips.
No one saw this part, not anymore, just Dean. It was his alone. For two more months.
Another whine came from Sam as Dean peeled the black briefs down his legs, throwing them on the floor next to Dean's clothes.
Sam's cock lay half full against his thigh, and Dean couldn’t resist lifting it and taking the tip in his mouth. His mouth watered at the taste as he slid the length along his tongue, wrapping his lips around it.
“De?” Sam's thick, sleepy voice called down from the top of the bed and his fingers searched blindly for the top of Dean's head.
“Shhh, Sam.” He gave another kiss to the tip before he looked up and smiled. “It's okay. I got you, little brother.”
With those words, Sam gave a satisfied sigh and relaxed under Dean's touch. He swung Sam’s leg in front of him and rolled him onto his stomach. His brother muttered at the change of position, and grabbed a pillow with both hands, rubbing his face into it.
Looking at Sam from this angle, Dean knew he was wrong - the hipbones weren't his favorite body part. Sammy's ass was a work of art.
He smoothed his hands over his cheeks, impossibly round and high. Sam could try to hide it beneath his baggy jeans or the wool of their cheap suits, but Dean had seen the looks his brother got from men and women at gas stations or dive bars. And the miracle was that Sam was unaware of the eyes on him as they moved through these small towns and backroads.
But Dean? Dean was aware of all those eyes and stared them down until they walked away.
He pulled Sam’s cheeks apart with his thumbs, looking at the skin that ran along his crease. No matter how much older or bigger Sam got, or how hard they went at it the night before, Sam was tight and pink like some virginal schoolgirl, which only made Dean want to go another round the next day, to claim it again. He ran a thumbpad across the puckered skin, and then leaned down to dragged his tongue rough and wet across it.
Sam let out a surprised yelp, no longer doped up and drowsy, and he pushed out his ass as Dean continued to lick. Dean dipped the tip of his tongue in and out of the hole and sucked along the pink rim, causing Sam to keen and squirm. But Dean wasn't going to let him go anywhere, and wrapped his arms around Sam’s thighs and hauling him up off the mattress and onto his knees. He continued to lick sloppy passes over the already shiny hole and Sam had no choice but to take it.
“Fuck, Dean, fuck yeah, just like that.” Sam’s fingers clenched and released at the bed sheets like they were a lifeline.
Dean reached between Sam's legs with one hand, to pull down on his balls, while he paused nose-deep to nibble along his rim, pulling the most desperate noises from his brother's throat.
“You like that?” His lips smiled against Sam’s sensitive skin. “Or do you want more?”
Some of the saliva dripped down and Dean ran his fingers through it, ghosting past Sam’s balls to where his cock hung hard, swaying as Sam’s body kept rocking in pleasure. Dean wrapped his wet fingers around it and began to strip his brother’s cock. It wasn't long before Sam stopped squirming and began to tremble, his words becoming incoherent as he spilled over the bedsheets below.
“So beautiful for me, Sammy.”
Dean straightened up, setting the heavy weight of his cock between Sam's cheeks. Saliva slicked his way, and Dean held the round flesh tightly together, watching his cock head slide in and out from between Sam’s flesh.
When one of Dean's thrusts caught his rim, Sam moaned and pushed himself up on his elbows, turning his head to search for Dean like a flower following the sun.
“Kiss me. Now.” Sam's face was flushed pink, whether from orgasm or sickness Dean didn't know, but it was one of the most gorgeous things he had ever seen.
The feeling of his cock against Sam, wet and sloppy and warm, felt good. He squeezed the skin tighter, and pumped himself a few more times before coming all over Sam's back.
Sam collapsed on the mattress. Dean reached down and grabbed his t-shirt off the floor to clean his brother off carefully. He rolled Sam on his side and snuggled up like a big spoon.
“How’s your headache?” Dean asked, placing a kiss on the back of his neck.
Sam let out a tired snort. “What headache?” He pulled Dean's arm around him and settled quickly into sleep.
Dean pulled him in even closer and took comfort in the quiet.