Fic: Bad Connection (Sam/Dean)
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: masturbation, dirty talk
Notes: I struggle with writing dirty talk, so this was a challenge I set for myself
Summary - Phonesex! That is all.
It’s cloudy and crisp-cool outside with the scent of coming rain on the air. But Sam’s not outside. He’s trapped in the motel room with the curtains shut, looking for lore on an obscure Malaysian water demon that’s been terrorizing the area. Why didn’t the water demon cases ever come up in the summer?
Metallic jangling splits the air and Sam catches the phone on the second ring, grateful for an excuse to take a break from researching. He’s hoping that Dean found something useful so he wouldn’t have to go back to trolling the internet for clues and his brain sputters right out from surprise when the first thing that comes across the line is,
"What are you wearing?"
He mentally double-checks himself - was there a context where Dean grilling him about his fashion choices made sense? No, definitely not - before he retorts back sharply.
"What!?"
"You heard me," Dean purrs, fucking purrs and - oh! Okay, now Sam gets it.
"No way, Dean, no way."
"Oh come on,” his brother whines petulantly, “staking out a damn ravine is fucking boring. Play with me, Sammy."
"I don't mind playing with you,” Sam realizes he’s gotten sucked into the game two beats too late, “but you want me to play with myself."
"Yeah, I do -" It’s the vocal equivalent with a leer, which if you’d asked Sam five minutes ago, didn’t even exist.
"Pervert."
"Oh c'mon, I bet you've done it with all your other boyfriends," Dean actually sounded like he was pouting.
"I've never had another boyf-" Sam stops dead. Had Dean really just said ‘boyfriend’? Dean was his boyfriend? Warmth pooled like strong whiskey in Sam’s gut - Dean was his boyfriend.
"What?" Dean asks, confusion clear in his voice.
"Nothing,” Sam valiantly represses the goddamn giggle that tries to bubble up. There’s no way he should be his excited over a stupid label. “Jeans, grey shirt, blue overshirt," he adds as an afterthought.
"What!?" Now Dean sounds really confused and Sam has to fight down a blush that not only is he DOING this, but he has to explain it too.
"You asked what I was wearing," he mumbles, hoping Dean caught that so he doesn’t have to repeat it too. His ears are already burning.
"Oh... Oh!” At least Sam’s not the only one a little slow on the uptake-, “Well, you should definitely be wearing less."
Sam sighs and scrubs his fingers through his hair. This seemed like a good idea about thirty seconds ago when he'd just discovered Dean was his 'boyfriend' - now his brain's had a minute to catch up and it has his whole body clenching nervously. He's not exactly a word guy when it comes to sex - Dean's always ragging on him about how Sam wants to talk about everything, but in bed his brother's the one who can't shut the fuck up.
"Um, okay, hang on," he says and buys himself a few seconds setting down the phone and stripping his shirts off. Now he just feels stupid, it's not like Dean can see him anyway. "Okay, just jeans now."
"Nice," Dean rumbles, and Sam can practically hear him palming himself. It shouldn't be as hot as it is. "They the ones with the rip at the knee?"
"Um, yeah." Sam picks at the aforementioned hole. He only had two pairs of jeans so it wasn't like it would have been hard to guess, but still, what the hell did Dean care which pants he wore?
"Mmm," Dean moans, "I like those. They sit all low on your hips, show off that little muscle."
And what's Sam supposed to say to that? 'Yeah'? 'Ok'? He settles for a Dean Winchester patented grunt.
"Love that fucking muscle. Makes me want to lick it wet and cradle my dick in it, grind myself off on you just like that."
Which, okay, Sam has to admit sounds really really good right now, especially when it's pouring out of Dean’s mouth like that. He settles himself back on the bed and presses the heel of his hand into his dick to relieve a little of the pressure the conversation has kicked up.
"Get your skin slick with my come then lick it off for you; let you taste it on my tongue."
A whisper of the moan floating at the top of his chest sneaks out while Sam's tearing at the fly of his jeans.
"Or maybe I'll just let it dry there on you, make you walk around with it under your clothes all day. Wear me on you. Would you like that, Sammy?"
Sam groans his affirmative over the line. This is so much better with his eyes closed, Dean's breath going ragged in his ear from somewhere across town.
"You hard for me, baby?"
"Yes," he gasps, barely restraining himself from just beating off fast and furious. "Fuck yes, so hard Dean."
Dean moans on the other end of the call again and Sam can hear him shifting around on the Impala's leather upholstery. He's jerking off in the car, his baby, all for Sam and that's so fucking hot he has to circle his thumb around in the mess of precome at his slit and tease himself just a little.
"Tell me what you like, Sammy," Dean breaks off on a gasp and Sam would kill to see what his brother is doing right now, "Tell me what you want to do to me."
The gritty pleasure is almost enough to overcome the nerves, but they still tighten up Sam's stomach and leave it roiling. The want and the hesitation is all swirling together as he strokes his fist up and down his aching length, pausing a little too long in the vain hope that maybe Dean will just take the hint and pick back up again. Instead Dean makes this little encouraging noise and Sam babbles the first thing that pops into his head, hoping maybe it'll be easier if he doesn't think about it.
"I want to fuck your mouth," he grinds out, twisting just under the head to help distract himself.
"Yeah?" Dean's voice is breathy and harsh, he's got to be getting close, "You want me to suck that sweet hard cock of yours or just lay back and take it, let you ride my throat?"
Sam cradles the phone between his shoulder and ear, sneaking his other hand down inside the jeans to roll his balls over his fingers.
"Want to hold your head still and push it all the way in," Sam urges on, hot, needy pressure building up at the base of his spine, "watch your lips wrapped tight around my dick and then when you look up at me - God, oh fuck, God Dean!"
Warmth spills over Sam's hand, splatters out on his jeans and he doesn't care. If his muscles hadn't all clamped down with the spike of ecstasy he would have dropped the phone but now he can hear Dean sputtering out his own completion - Sam's name mixed up in a flood of half-curses and gulped breaths. The line is filled with nothing but their heavy breathing for a few minutes.
"Still bored?" Sam asks after a while, his own voice gone deep and molasses-thick.
"No, man," he can hear Dean grinning contentedly - the cat who got the canary.
"Good, then get back to work, Boyfriend."
Sam snaps the phone closed before Dean has a chance to answer, lowering his head back into the pillows for a few minutes before picking up with the research.