[FIC]: Morning Glory (Sam/Dean, Adult)
Title: Morning Glory
Author: nyoka @ chocolate_muse
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Count: 1,260
Disclaimer: Supernatural belongs to the CW and Kripke. I own nothing and no one.
Warnings: pre-series schmoop; pwp; underage sexuality [16/20]
Notes: Dedicated to my PiC maerhys on the occasion of her birthday. ♥
Summary: Summer means being curled up with Dean on a morning that stretches long and perfect.
---
Summer means being curled up with Dean on a morning that stretches long and perfect. They're spooned together in the amber puddle of early light, sunk deep in the middle of an old, sagging mattress. Sam's been awake for more than an hour, enjoying the feel of Dean's warmth wrapped all around him. Even in sleep, Dean's fingers trace the length of Sam's thigh, his lips nuzzle against the silken hairs on the back of Sam's neck, his cock nudges into the swale of Sam's ass.
The room's cool and drafty, and Sam shivers despite Dean's body heat. They're both bare-assed and goose-pimpled, sheets and pillows kicked to the floor sometime in the heat of night. Neither of them noticed though, too warm inside each other.
"Sammy?" Always Dean's first word when waking up. Sam can feel Dean's chest moving against his back as Dean shifts awake, yawning wide, warm breath ruffling the hair along the nape of Sam's neck. Sam smiles, burrows closer in answer, and Dean wraps himself tighter around him, big spoon to Sam's only slightly smaller spoon.
Sam breathes his brother in deep, whispers, "Morning."
"S'early," Deans whispers, pressing dry lips against Sam's neck. Dean's hand slowly skims over Sam's hip, coming to rest on his thigh. Sam reaches out, brings Dean's hand up to his chest, spreading Dean's fingers over his nipples. Dean catches on, chuckles softly before sweeping his thumb slowly over the hardening nubs, tweaking them until Sam squirms, heat and sensation coiling through his half-awake body. Sam's cock twitches, and he whimpers softly, needing his brother's hands on him now, everywhere, everything, always.
"More, Dean," Sam says, his voice breaking on his brother's name. Sam cants his hips forward to give Dean better access to the full length of him. Dean shifts closer, his hard cock sliding along the crease of Sam's ass as he presses a firm hand against Sam's belly. Sam shivers at the cool, feather-light touch, and Dean's hand moves lower and lower until he's twining his fingers in the course hair surrounding Sam's swelling cock.
"Sammy," Dean whispers, his voice drawling sleep-thick and lazy-slow. "Tell me what you want."
Sam closes his eyes, breathes in deep; his body is humming with Dean's every touch, reveling in the feel of Dean surrounding him. "Just want you," Sam says, rolling his hips, grinding his ass back against Dean's erection. "Want your hands on me."
Dean responds by wrapping a rough palm around Sam's blood-thick cock, fingers nudging gently against Sam's balls. Sam sucks in another gulp of air, hips lifting up, cock jumping in Dean's hand as his brother begins to jack him, setting a fast, hypnotic rhythm.
"Like this?" Dean asks, voice gone low and guttural, breath blowing warm against Sam's ear. "Gonna come for me?"
"God, Dean," Sam breathes, his ass and thighs tensing, his cock jerking hard in Dean's tunneled fists. Sam can't even think, can't think at all; his head is too full of Dean, his touch, his heat, his smell. Full of the feel of Dean's calloused palm bringing him deep pleasure, the ratcheting rhythm of his heart, and his quick, ragged breathing. Sam whimpers as Dean presses his mouth to the back of his neck, licking, biting, and smiling against Sam's sensitive skin as he gets Sam off.
Sam's chest tightens, the ache builds in his balls. He closes his eyes and drops his head back, resting it against Dean's shoulder as Dean's hand circles the head of his cock one more time. Dean's grip is firm and steady around Sam's prick when he whispers, "Come for me, Sammy."
Gasping, Sam's body instinctively obeys. He comes with a shudder, face screwed up tight with the pressure of it, arching up off the bed as he spills into Dean's waiting palm. Sam lets out a soft whine, his entire body trembling as Dean's mouth brushes over the nape of his neck. "Shhh," Dean whispers, his fingers dripping and trembling around Sam's softening cock. "I've got you."
Dean drops a kiss to Sam's shoulderblade as Sam's breathing slowly settles down. Sam still can't think, can't do much else but breathe in and out, his mind filled with so much white noise and light, with so much of Dean. Times like this, Sam's world is reduced to everything between him and his brother: the matched cadence of their breathing, the musky smells they make together, the sliding rhythm of their warm, sticky skin, all those threads of come linking them together.
"Love you, Sammy," Dean breathes, voice gone liquid, his soft words pressed against the vulnerable skin of Sam's neck. "Love you, too," Sam whispers, scooting closer so that Dean can ride his still-hard cock down through the clench of Sam's asschecks.
Sam rolls his hips back as Dean presses forward, slipping and sliding against Sam, the head of his dick steadily nudging against Sam's hole. "Sam," Dean breaths, fingering the grooved muscles along Sam's waist, holding on tight. "Sammy," he cries again, working his hips, thrusting hard and fast, until he's shooting thick, creamy ropes down along Sam’s asscrack, soaking Sam's back and his own belly.
Neither of them move for the longest time. Sam simply sinks into the warmth of Dean's embrace, loving the way Dean's moist lips press against the skin of his shoulders, his neck, his chin. When they turn to face each other, they tumble and roll to the center of the bed, their spent cocks pressing warmly against their wet bellies.
Sam closes his eyes as Dean rubs their bodies together, chests and hips and dicks sliding in a slow, hazy blur, making a sweet, dreamlike friction. Sam's hands work their way down Dean's back, gripping and massaging into the tender flesh of Dean's ass, pushing their oversensitive groins even closer together, warm skin against skin.
Sam runs his lips along the short bristles of hair dusting Dean's chin before angling his mouth against Dean's own, their lips meeting in soft synchrony. They kiss, open-mouthed and lingering, tongues dancing between breaths. They kiss, time slowing down, bodies slowing down.
When they break apart, Sam shifts so that he's tucked under Dean's chin, his legs tangling with Dean's own, his hand brushing Dean's chest in a slow caress. They drift for a time, cozy and sated, while the warmth of the morning folds all around them. For a while, Sam listens to his brother's heartbeat, a rhythm matching his own.
Most days Sam tries to ignore the raw ache of Dad being gone. The ache of being sixteen, long limbs and big hands and cherished secrets. He lives for these early morning rituals, the way Dean holds him close, holds his heart. Like when they were kids and went to bed so wrapped in each other they would wake in the middle of the night starry-eyed and sleep-drunk, wet with each other's essences. That was before they learned the pleasure hands and mouths could bring when applied deliberately.
Sam glances toward the window, blinks against the bright early morning sunlight filtering through the blinds. They're castaway in a pay-by-the-week motel in downtown Asheville. Outside, the summer rolls in heavy, a spitfire sun snuffing out the remaining night, warming the new day. But inside this tiny room, it's just the two of them. Two brothers intrinsically bound together, two sides of a single coin: yin and yang, night and day, Sam and Dean.
Two brothers, but so much more.
-fin-
Author: nyoka @ chocolate_muse
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Count: 1,260
Disclaimer: Supernatural belongs to the CW and Kripke. I own nothing and no one.
Warnings: pre-series schmoop; pwp; underage sexuality [16/20]
Notes: Dedicated to my PiC maerhys on the occasion of her birthday. ♥
Summary: Summer means being curled up with Dean on a morning that stretches long and perfect.
---
Summer means being curled up with Dean on a morning that stretches long and perfect. They're spooned together in the amber puddle of early light, sunk deep in the middle of an old, sagging mattress. Sam's been awake for more than an hour, enjoying the feel of Dean's warmth wrapped all around him. Even in sleep, Dean's fingers trace the length of Sam's thigh, his lips nuzzle against the silken hairs on the back of Sam's neck, his cock nudges into the swale of Sam's ass.
The room's cool and drafty, and Sam shivers despite Dean's body heat. They're both bare-assed and goose-pimpled, sheets and pillows kicked to the floor sometime in the heat of night. Neither of them noticed though, too warm inside each other.
"Sammy?" Always Dean's first word when waking up. Sam can feel Dean's chest moving against his back as Dean shifts awake, yawning wide, warm breath ruffling the hair along the nape of Sam's neck. Sam smiles, burrows closer in answer, and Dean wraps himself tighter around him, big spoon to Sam's only slightly smaller spoon.
Sam breathes his brother in deep, whispers, "Morning."
"S'early," Deans whispers, pressing dry lips against Sam's neck. Dean's hand slowly skims over Sam's hip, coming to rest on his thigh. Sam reaches out, brings Dean's hand up to his chest, spreading Dean's fingers over his nipples. Dean catches on, chuckles softly before sweeping his thumb slowly over the hardening nubs, tweaking them until Sam squirms, heat and sensation coiling through his half-awake body. Sam's cock twitches, and he whimpers softly, needing his brother's hands on him now, everywhere, everything, always.
"More, Dean," Sam says, his voice breaking on his brother's name. Sam cants his hips forward to give Dean better access to the full length of him. Dean shifts closer, his hard cock sliding along the crease of Sam's ass as he presses a firm hand against Sam's belly. Sam shivers at the cool, feather-light touch, and Dean's hand moves lower and lower until he's twining his fingers in the course hair surrounding Sam's swelling cock.
"Sammy," Dean whispers, his voice drawling sleep-thick and lazy-slow. "Tell me what you want."
Sam closes his eyes, breathes in deep; his body is humming with Dean's every touch, reveling in the feel of Dean surrounding him. "Just want you," Sam says, rolling his hips, grinding his ass back against Dean's erection. "Want your hands on me."
Dean responds by wrapping a rough palm around Sam's blood-thick cock, fingers nudging gently against Sam's balls. Sam sucks in another gulp of air, hips lifting up, cock jumping in Dean's hand as his brother begins to jack him, setting a fast, hypnotic rhythm.
"Like this?" Dean asks, voice gone low and guttural, breath blowing warm against Sam's ear. "Gonna come for me?"
"God, Dean," Sam breathes, his ass and thighs tensing, his cock jerking hard in Dean's tunneled fists. Sam can't even think, can't think at all; his head is too full of Dean, his touch, his heat, his smell. Full of the feel of Dean's calloused palm bringing him deep pleasure, the ratcheting rhythm of his heart, and his quick, ragged breathing. Sam whimpers as Dean presses his mouth to the back of his neck, licking, biting, and smiling against Sam's sensitive skin as he gets Sam off.
Sam's chest tightens, the ache builds in his balls. He closes his eyes and drops his head back, resting it against Dean's shoulder as Dean's hand circles the head of his cock one more time. Dean's grip is firm and steady around Sam's prick when he whispers, "Come for me, Sammy."
Gasping, Sam's body instinctively obeys. He comes with a shudder, face screwed up tight with the pressure of it, arching up off the bed as he spills into Dean's waiting palm. Sam lets out a soft whine, his entire body trembling as Dean's mouth brushes over the nape of his neck. "Shhh," Dean whispers, his fingers dripping and trembling around Sam's softening cock. "I've got you."
Dean drops a kiss to Sam's shoulderblade as Sam's breathing slowly settles down. Sam still can't think, can't do much else but breathe in and out, his mind filled with so much white noise and light, with so much of Dean. Times like this, Sam's world is reduced to everything between him and his brother: the matched cadence of their breathing, the musky smells they make together, the sliding rhythm of their warm, sticky skin, all those threads of come linking them together.
"Love you, Sammy," Dean breathes, voice gone liquid, his soft words pressed against the vulnerable skin of Sam's neck. "Love you, too," Sam whispers, scooting closer so that Dean can ride his still-hard cock down through the clench of Sam's asschecks.
Sam rolls his hips back as Dean presses forward, slipping and sliding against Sam, the head of his dick steadily nudging against Sam's hole. "Sam," Dean breaths, fingering the grooved muscles along Sam's waist, holding on tight. "Sammy," he cries again, working his hips, thrusting hard and fast, until he's shooting thick, creamy ropes down along Sam’s asscrack, soaking Sam's back and his own belly.
Neither of them move for the longest time. Sam simply sinks into the warmth of Dean's embrace, loving the way Dean's moist lips press against the skin of his shoulders, his neck, his chin. When they turn to face each other, they tumble and roll to the center of the bed, their spent cocks pressing warmly against their wet bellies.
Sam closes his eyes as Dean rubs their bodies together, chests and hips and dicks sliding in a slow, hazy blur, making a sweet, dreamlike friction. Sam's hands work their way down Dean's back, gripping and massaging into the tender flesh of Dean's ass, pushing their oversensitive groins even closer together, warm skin against skin.
Sam runs his lips along the short bristles of hair dusting Dean's chin before angling his mouth against Dean's own, their lips meeting in soft synchrony. They kiss, open-mouthed and lingering, tongues dancing between breaths. They kiss, time slowing down, bodies slowing down.
When they break apart, Sam shifts so that he's tucked under Dean's chin, his legs tangling with Dean's own, his hand brushing Dean's chest in a slow caress. They drift for a time, cozy and sated, while the warmth of the morning folds all around them. For a while, Sam listens to his brother's heartbeat, a rhythm matching his own.
Most days Sam tries to ignore the raw ache of Dad being gone. The ache of being sixteen, long limbs and big hands and cherished secrets. He lives for these early morning rituals, the way Dean holds him close, holds his heart. Like when they were kids and went to bed so wrapped in each other they would wake in the middle of the night starry-eyed and sleep-drunk, wet with each other's essences. That was before they learned the pleasure hands and mouths could bring when applied deliberately.
Sam glances toward the window, blinks against the bright early morning sunlight filtering through the blinds. They're castaway in a pay-by-the-week motel in downtown Asheville. Outside, the summer rolls in heavy, a spitfire sun snuffing out the remaining night, warming the new day. But inside this tiny room, it's just the two of them. Two brothers intrinsically bound together, two sides of a single coin: yin and yang, night and day, Sam and Dean.
Two brothers, but so much more.
-fin-