Supernatural fic - (I) See You As A Descant Soul In The Setting Sun - NC-17
I did it!! I popped my Wincest cherry. Did you hear the bang? Did ya?
Title: (I) See You As A Descant Soul In The Setting Sun
Author: charli_macboyd
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Genre: Schmoop. But dirty schmoop.
Rating: NC-17.
Disclaimer: No possession, no profit, no shame.
Word Count: 1094
Summary: A very wet first time PWP.
A/N: Written for the lovely and patient milenaa for spn_holidays.
Title and cut lyrics by Newton Faulkner.
The water glides over Sam’s naked torso. Ripples over his taut muscles and rains on his scrunched up face. He has one hand on his hard cock and another against the wall, bracing himself.
And he imagines, not for the first time, that his hand is Dean’s. And it is Dean’s name on his lips and in his breathless gasps. And he knows its wrong in so many ways, but he can’t stop himself.
Dean sings in the shower.
Sam masturbates to mental images of his naked brother.
The shower, here, this place. This is his favourite place. A place to be alone, to be himself, to be the person he wants to be. To be a person who is in love with his brother. Only it’s not brotherly love.
Life on the road is long and lonely, and Sam finds it hard. He’s always looked up to Dean, but lately sibling hero worship has turned into something much more intimate.
Dean walks around naked. It doesn’t bother him. Shorts; no shorts; just a tee shirt. It bothers Sam. It arouses him when he sees the scarred tanned flesh. Lately it arouses him just to see the sunlight catching the soft golden hairs on Dean’s arms. To see Dean’s ridiculously long eyelashes flutter in dream sleep. To lie awake and listen to Dean as he fists his cock as quietly as he can under the covers, assuming, incorrectly, that Sam is asleep.
Sam wonders what Dean is thinking about when he masturbates. Not him.
Sam wonders what Dean is dreaming about when he moans “Sammy” in his restless sleep. Nightmare he supposes.
And here, in the steam of the shower, he wonders what it would be like to be fucked by Dean, as his cum sprays in hot white arcs patterning the screen door.
*
Dean knows.
He knows exactly the way Sam feels about him.
He sees it in the sideways glances, hears it in the heavy breathing at night, knows it from the ridiculous amount of time Sam spends in the shower.
And although he’s not entirely sure how he feels about it, he’s sure as shit not doing anything to stop it.
Any excuse to parade around naked, to flex his muscles, to stare hard at Sam as if he’s a meat bone and Dean is a hungry dog.
But Sam is Sam and he can’t see the look of starvation in his brother’s eyes. Because he’s too busy being weighed down by feelings of guilt.
Guilt is something Dean has never suffered from.
He has no problems imagining that his thumb and forefinger are Sam’s lips as he wraps them around his erect shaft and squeezes.
*
It’s been a long night. A hard won battle and they have the cuts and bruises to prove it. Especially Sam. He has a graze on his right cheek, he’s bleeding from a cut across his chest and there’s a gash running down his right thigh. That’s another shirt and another pair of jeans for the trash.
Dean has bloody knuckles and a shiner beginning to stand out on his left eye.
They’re both filthy and aching for a hot shower.
Dean looks at Sam, “Toss you for it.” And for a second Sam thinks…but no.
“Go ahead.” Sam offers, but Dean shakes his head and starts pulling off his clothes.
“You go first. You’re bloodier than I am; you’re starting to look like a nice rare steak.”
Dean loves rare steak…but no.
*
The hot water hits Sam’s body hard and he flinches. Mud and water swirling in the bottom of the shower stall. And in this, his favourite place, once again he is instantaneously hard.
He lathers the shampoo in his hair and ignores the ache in his cock.
Shampoo Mohawk.
And then a voice behind him says softly “Nice look.”
*
Sam goes rigid as a naked, dirty Dean slips into the shower behind him.
Sam can’t speak, can’t swallow, can’t move for fear of shattering the dream.
Dean’s hands are on his shoulders and caressing the nape of his neck. Sam closes his eyes and slowly turns around. And then Dean’s lips are on his, and those lips are oh so soft and then they part slightly and the tip of Dean’s tongue is gently working its way into Sam’s mouth. And Sam falls into the kiss.
As they pull apart to breathe once again, Dean grabs the shower gel and starts lathering himself up, washing away the grime and dried blood so he can be as clean as Sam.
There’s no talking, no sound apart from the fall of the water and skin on skin. Their cocks, both hard, are each seeking the other out, bumping together, and the touch is electric. And then, as Dean finishes washing himself, he’s kissing Sam again and turning him around to face the wall and running his hands all over Sam’s body.
Dean bites Sam’s neck cautiously, teasing little bites that arouse Sam in a way he never dreamed about. Sam leans forwards, palms flat against the wall, letting the water rain down his neck and back.
And Dean is back with the shower gel; soapy hands caressing Sam, sliding their way down his chest and around to his ass. And then, as if a thousand shower moments were coming true for him all at once, Dean’s finger slides into Sam’s ass.
And when, finally, Dean’s hot wet cock gently eases its way inside him, Sam knows they have crossed a bridge, across which they can never go back. And not a bit of him is sorry.
*
Slick with cum and soap, they rinse themselves down and rub each other briskly with the hard dry towels the motel provides, and race back into the room to fall together onto one of the rumpled beds.
They are a tangle of naked limbs and damp hair. They smell fresh and clean and they smell of each other. It’s comforting and arousing and for the first time in forever, it feels like coming home.
Sam rolls onto his side and Dean presses into his back and strokes Sam’s arm, the curve of his hip, runs his fingers through Sam’s damp curls.
“Sammy?”
“Yeah?”
“Can I tell you something?”
“Sure Dean.”
And Dean leans over and puts his lips close to Sam’s ear so that Sam can feel Dean’s hot breath as he says “I want to feel your cock in my ass.”
And Sam rolls over and presses his face into the pillow, grinning like a lunatic.
THE END.
Title: (I) See You As A Descant Soul In The Setting Sun
Author: charli_macboyd
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Genre: Schmoop. But dirty schmoop.
Rating: NC-17.
Disclaimer: No possession, no profit, no shame.
Word Count: 1094
Summary: A very wet first time PWP.
A/N: Written for the lovely and patient milenaa for spn_holidays.
Title and cut lyrics by Newton Faulkner.
The water glides over Sam’s naked torso. Ripples over his taut muscles and rains on his scrunched up face. He has one hand on his hard cock and another against the wall, bracing himself.
And he imagines, not for the first time, that his hand is Dean’s. And it is Dean’s name on his lips and in his breathless gasps. And he knows its wrong in so many ways, but he can’t stop himself.
Dean sings in the shower.
Sam masturbates to mental images of his naked brother.
The shower, here, this place. This is his favourite place. A place to be alone, to be himself, to be the person he wants to be. To be a person who is in love with his brother. Only it’s not brotherly love.
Life on the road is long and lonely, and Sam finds it hard. He’s always looked up to Dean, but lately sibling hero worship has turned into something much more intimate.
Dean walks around naked. It doesn’t bother him. Shorts; no shorts; just a tee shirt. It bothers Sam. It arouses him when he sees the scarred tanned flesh. Lately it arouses him just to see the sunlight catching the soft golden hairs on Dean’s arms. To see Dean’s ridiculously long eyelashes flutter in dream sleep. To lie awake and listen to Dean as he fists his cock as quietly as he can under the covers, assuming, incorrectly, that Sam is asleep.
Sam wonders what Dean is thinking about when he masturbates. Not him.
Sam wonders what Dean is dreaming about when he moans “Sammy” in his restless sleep. Nightmare he supposes.
And here, in the steam of the shower, he wonders what it would be like to be fucked by Dean, as his cum sprays in hot white arcs patterning the screen door.
*
Dean knows.
He knows exactly the way Sam feels about him.
He sees it in the sideways glances, hears it in the heavy breathing at night, knows it from the ridiculous amount of time Sam spends in the shower.
And although he’s not entirely sure how he feels about it, he’s sure as shit not doing anything to stop it.
Any excuse to parade around naked, to flex his muscles, to stare hard at Sam as if he’s a meat bone and Dean is a hungry dog.
But Sam is Sam and he can’t see the look of starvation in his brother’s eyes. Because he’s too busy being weighed down by feelings of guilt.
Guilt is something Dean has never suffered from.
He has no problems imagining that his thumb and forefinger are Sam’s lips as he wraps them around his erect shaft and squeezes.
*
It’s been a long night. A hard won battle and they have the cuts and bruises to prove it. Especially Sam. He has a graze on his right cheek, he’s bleeding from a cut across his chest and there’s a gash running down his right thigh. That’s another shirt and another pair of jeans for the trash.
Dean has bloody knuckles and a shiner beginning to stand out on his left eye.
They’re both filthy and aching for a hot shower.
Dean looks at Sam, “Toss you for it.” And for a second Sam thinks…but no.
“Go ahead.” Sam offers, but Dean shakes his head and starts pulling off his clothes.
“You go first. You’re bloodier than I am; you’re starting to look like a nice rare steak.”
Dean loves rare steak…but no.
*
The hot water hits Sam’s body hard and he flinches. Mud and water swirling in the bottom of the shower stall. And in this, his favourite place, once again he is instantaneously hard.
He lathers the shampoo in his hair and ignores the ache in his cock.
Shampoo Mohawk.
And then a voice behind him says softly “Nice look.”
*
Sam goes rigid as a naked, dirty Dean slips into the shower behind him.
Sam can’t speak, can’t swallow, can’t move for fear of shattering the dream.
Dean’s hands are on his shoulders and caressing the nape of his neck. Sam closes his eyes and slowly turns around. And then Dean’s lips are on his, and those lips are oh so soft and then they part slightly and the tip of Dean’s tongue is gently working its way into Sam’s mouth. And Sam falls into the kiss.
As they pull apart to breathe once again, Dean grabs the shower gel and starts lathering himself up, washing away the grime and dried blood so he can be as clean as Sam.
There’s no talking, no sound apart from the fall of the water and skin on skin. Their cocks, both hard, are each seeking the other out, bumping together, and the touch is electric. And then, as Dean finishes washing himself, he’s kissing Sam again and turning him around to face the wall and running his hands all over Sam’s body.
Dean bites Sam’s neck cautiously, teasing little bites that arouse Sam in a way he never dreamed about. Sam leans forwards, palms flat against the wall, letting the water rain down his neck and back.
And Dean is back with the shower gel; soapy hands caressing Sam, sliding their way down his chest and around to his ass. And then, as if a thousand shower moments were coming true for him all at once, Dean’s finger slides into Sam’s ass.
And when, finally, Dean’s hot wet cock gently eases its way inside him, Sam knows they have crossed a bridge, across which they can never go back. And not a bit of him is sorry.
*
Slick with cum and soap, they rinse themselves down and rub each other briskly with the hard dry towels the motel provides, and race back into the room to fall together onto one of the rumpled beds.
They are a tangle of naked limbs and damp hair. They smell fresh and clean and they smell of each other. It’s comforting and arousing and for the first time in forever, it feels like coming home.
Sam rolls onto his side and Dean presses into his back and strokes Sam’s arm, the curve of his hip, runs his fingers through Sam’s damp curls.
“Sammy?”
“Yeah?”
“Can I tell you something?”
“Sure Dean.”
And Dean leans over and puts his lips close to Sam’s ear so that Sam can feel Dean’s hot breath as he says “I want to feel your cock in my ass.”
And Sam rolls over and presses his face into the pillow, grinning like a lunatic.
THE END.