Fic: SPN (Sam/Dean): Red Lace (Sequel) | NC-17 | 2285 words
Title: Red Lace (sequel to Age Is Just a Number)
Author: dragonspell
Series: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Warnings/Spoilers: Panty!kink.
Summary: Dean never thought that Sam would go through with it. He’d thought it was just one of those things-one of the random bits of filth that dropped out of Sam’s mouth whenever he was in the mood.
Word Count: 2285
A/N: Sequel to Age Is Just a Number. This might make more sense if you read that first, but it can probably stand alone.
Dean never thought that Sam would go through with it. He’d thought it was just one of those things-one of the random bits of filth that dropped out of Sam’s mouth whenever he was in the mood. For being such a “nice” boy, Sam had a damn dirty mouth on him when he was fucking. Given the reaction that Dean hadn’t been able to hide, though, he should have known. But he hadn’t. Hadn’t had a clue.
So yeah, Dean had been more than a little bit shocked to say the least when a week after Dean’s 30th birthday, Sam’d shown up at the motel room with more than just the new jeans he’d said he’d needed to buy. He’d shown up with the jeans, alright, but he’d also had a little something else in the bag hanging off his arm. Dean hadn’t realized that, though.
No, he’d been too busy fending his brother off when Sam’d all but attacked him after coming in the door. Okay, granted it was less like “attacked” and more like “mauled” and Dean’d enjoyed it immensely, jumping up to wrap his legs around Sam’s waist and moaning like a damn whore but hey. There’d still been a hell of a lot of manhandling.
Sam’d started off with fast, furious kisses, like he couldn’t get enough of Dean’s mouth and Dean could get on board with that. In no time flat, he’d been stripping off Dean’s clothes and Dean’d eagerly helped him because the faster they got naked, the faster they could move on to the main attraction, right? That’s what he’d thought.
Sam, though. Sam’d gotten Dean naked and then dropped him like a hot potato, bustling over to the plastic bag he’d brought home that Dean’d thought had only contained a pair of jeans, size Sasquatch. What Sam’d pulled out, though, hadn’t resembled jeans in any way shape or form.
Which leaves Dean at now, brain stalled in its tracks thinking over and over he really hadn’t thought Sam’d meant it. He means it’s great that Sam likes his body and all and finds him sexy even though Dean is heading over the hill but seriously? There is no fucking way Dean is wearing the scraps of red lace Sam is trying to hand him.
Except that Sam says, “Put them on,” in that low, growly voice he gets when it’s definitely not a request and damned if Dean’s not taking the lingerie out of Sam’s hands without even thinking twice. It’s instinctive at this point and it’s beyond his normal abilities to ignore that voice.
Of course, when Dean’s brain finally catches up to his libido, though, and gives it a swift kick to the head, Dean ends up staring at the lacey underwear in disbelief. “You can’t be serious, Sam,” he says.
Sam looks like he’s just about ready to lose it. He’s palming the thick dick tenting his jeans and already fucking panting for it. “Come on, Dean, just put the damn things on!” He grabs Dean and spins him around to face the wall, apparently not bothering with arguing anymore and just forcing Dean to do what he wants. The only reason he gets away with it is because Dean’s still too damned shocked to be thinking clearly. Or something.
That’s got to be it, because he just stands there while Sam put the itty bitty lace bra on him, doing up the clasp in the back. It slides so softly against his skin and Christ, how the Hell had Sam been able to guess Dean’s size? Dean swallows, trying to find it in him to be disturbed by that fact but getting more disturbed that he’s actually not. This has got to be a new kind of low for him, really because Dean’s all for indulging fantasies but usually he likes to be a little bit…manlier? “God, Dean,” Sam growls, sending a shiver down Dean’s spine straight to his dick. “Stop fighting and just put them on. I want to fuck you so bad…” With Sam’s big hands groping his tits-they’re now in a bra, Dean’s gonna call ‘em tits until they’re out of it again-fingers pulling at nipples under flimsy, abrasive lace and Sam’s jean covered dick rutting against Dean’s back, Dean just doesn’t have the wherewithal to point out that clothes do not necessarily help in the fucking process. That matter of fact, they kind of usually hinder. Instead, he just slips the little lace panties on one leg at a time and drags them up over his hips.
And damned if just like Rhonda Hurley all those years ago in an incident that Dean is never telling anyone, Dean kind of likes it.
…Maybe a little too much. He’s immediately hard in the little scrap of lace covering his dick and unlike with Rhonda, this is ten times worse because Dean feels even dirtier with Sam groping him through the bra. Jesus Christ, Dean’s wearing a freaking BRA.
He opens his mouth to tell Sam that this is so not happening but all that comes out is a very distressing moan. He’s so fucking screwed.
Sam’s pressing open-mouthed kisses alongside Dean’s neck, tongue laving the skin and his gigantic, mammoth-sized paws are everywhere, running over Dean’s chest and stomach and-oh fuck-crotch as he pants filth in Dean’s ear. “God Dean, so fucking hot, you’re so fucking hot in your little bra and panties. Love that you’re wearing them for me. God, gonna fuck you so hard, make you come all over them-”
Dean whines, getting into the image Sam’s painting in his mind and Sam shoves him down on to the bed. “God Dean, turn the fuck over, I need to fucking see…” Sam pants as he rips off his shirt and pushes down his jeans, nearly falling over in his haste to get naked. Dean doesn’t need to be told twice-he flips himself over, even spreading his legs like a good little bitch because he knows how much Sam wants to see him on display. At Sam’s desperate moan, Dean arches his back and palms his dick in its lacey prison, trying so hard not to come. Fuck but Sam’s voice is like hardwired into his body, like he’s almost trained to come on command. “Dean...” Sam says right before he dives on top him, all heavy weight, roving hands and wet mouth.
Sam’s tongue is wet against Dean’s skin as Sam drools his way down to Dean’s new bra and Dean can’t help the little jerk his hips give or the pathetic mewl coming out of his throat. “So damn hot, baby, gonna treat you so good,” Sam whispers. His mouth latches onto Dean’s nipple in the lace, sucking on both the nub and the fabric at the same time and soaking them.
“Sammy!” Dean arches into Sam’s greedily pulling mouth, rubbing his leaking dick against the hard thigh Sam shoves between his legs. Dean buries his hands into Sam’s hair-why does he have to be the one dressing up, Sam’s the one with the hair for it-and hauls Sam up for a wet, sloppy kiss. Sam’s usually all passion and not so much finesse even on good days and now he’s dropped any hint of a technique in his desperation. Dean, though, can’t find it anything but hot.
Sam’s hands are freaking everywhere, stroking down Dean’s face, his neck, across his shoulders to snap the thin straps of the bra against his skin. The hands scrape over his arms and his belly before clamping on to his hips, holding him still as Sam positions himself completely between the wide open V of Dean’s thighs. And then Sam’s hauling himself down there, shoving his face against Dean’s lace covered dick and breathing deep before he starts to mouth it. “Fuck!” Dean shouts, jerking into that delicious heat.
“Easy, baby, easy,” Sam murmurs like that’s even fucking possible right now. “Treat you so good, Dean…” He wraps his big fingers in the underside of the panties, just below Dean’s balls and hauls it off to the side, baring Dean’s hole. Dean whimpers and then Sam’s tongue is totally there, licking him out with desperate, hard swipes.
“Christ…” Dean whines, his hands shooting up over his head to dig into the comforter. His entire body is drawing itself into a thin, taunt line, like a rubber band stretched too far and God, he’s gonna fucking snap. Sam shoves his tongue deeper into Dean’s ass, wiggling it around and Dean starts humping his face. “Not gonna last, not gonna last, God Sammy, ya got a fuck me, I’m not gonna last!”
“Christ,” Sam says, echoing Dean’s earlier profanity with even more emphasis and Dean writhes impatiently. Sam doesn’t keep him waiting, though, after a quick lean away to grab the lube, he snaps back and starts pressing slick fingers into Dean’s ass.
Dean whimpers and fucks himself down on them because GOD yes and Sam only gives him a few wonderfully sweet thrusts before he apparently decides that it’s good enough and moves to start pushing his cock in. Dean’s totally on the same page, though, bearing down on Sam all by himself because it’s just that awesome to have Sam inside him.
“Gonna fuck you so damn good, you’re not even going to remember your name, Dean,” Sam promises though Dean doesn’t know how that’s possible with Sam constantly repeating his name over and over like his own personal mantra. If anyone could do it, though, Dean’s sure it’s Sam and his monster cock. Goddamn but he’s so big… Sam thrusts all the way in and Dean’s mouth catches on a silent scream as his back arches. God fucking damn. Sam’s dick is dragging against the lace of the panties, pulling it across his cock and balls and Dean writhes on the bed, trying to escape the sensation and get closer at the same damn time. The elastic slips just far enough for Dean’s cock to jump free and Dean sobs as his leaking tip touches the cold air.
Sam’s hands come down on Dean’s tits again, squeezing and massaging and fucking rolling the nipples between his thumb and index finger. “God, Dean,” Sam says as Dean pants uncontrollably, “so fucking hot. Christ, should make you wear them everyday ‘cept we’d never be able to get out of bed. You’d just have to keep your legs spread for me, stay open and wide because God, how you look...” Dean’s breath hitches and for one terrifying second, he’s afraid he’s going to suffocate but the air rushes back when Sam snaps his hips to Dean’s. Their hips meet with a solid thwack of skin on skin and Dean jerks to the side, unable stop the jump when Sam’s dick slams into his prostate. He doesn’t know where he’s fucking going just that-Christ-he can’t stay still. When Sam pulls out again, his dick drags against the panties, pulling them across Dean’s already over-stimulated skin.
“Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck…” Dean pants, trying not to come. Fireworks are shooting through him, though, making it just about damn near impossible because Sam’s starting to fuck him in earnest, all hard demanding strokes, nothing soft or gentle about it as Sam loses all control. “Goddamn it!” Dean shouts and Sam pushes up the bra just far enough to bite at Dean’s right nipple, hand viciously twisting the other one. With an “oh fuck, SAM!” Dean comes untouched, dick shooting over his chest. He jerks as each spurt is wrenched out of him with such a force it verges on painful and he knows-he KNOWS-that his spunk is hitting Sam’s face where he’s still sucking on Dean’s tit. It drags out his orgasm longer than normal.
“God, Dean,” Sam groans, slamming his dick into Dean faster and rougher than before. He sits up to get a better angle for the pounding pace he’s setting. One hand pushes at Dean’s thigh, making him spread wider, and the other settles onto Dean’s over-sensitized dick, still twitching under the lace.
Dean bucks with the sensation, gasping and babbling for Sam to “please, oh God, please, Sammy…” What he’s pleading for, Dean’s not quite sure, but it sends Sam over the edge and he’s pulsing deep into Dean’s ass.
At the liquid warmth filling him, Dean moans, pushing his hips up against Sam’s. Sam curls over him, panting raggedly as his eyes flutter open. Dean meets his eyes and nods at him, breathing deeply because fuuuuuck... Sam huffs a laugh and moves his hand off Dean’s dick to feel where he’s joined to Dean. Sam fingers where Dean’s hole is stretched around Sam’s cock, making Dean shudder before he shifts over to dragging on the lace of the panties that’s still pushed to the side. Sam clears his throat and Dean sighs, closing his eyes. Fuck but he’s worn out now. His dick twitches weakly in an aftershock.
“We’re keeping them,” Sam says, sudden and final and Dean doesn’t even try to fight him on it. He just nods. Because, Christ, if dressing up in women’s lingerie gives him orgasms like that, while it makes him just a little sicker than he thought, he’s certainly not going to say no.
His nipples, though, feel like they’ve been caught in a vice and his tentatively runs a hand over one. His hisses with the residual pain but his hips are jerking as pleasure jolts down his spine. Sam chuckles and leans down to kiss Dean’s chest. “Told you so.”
Author: dragonspell
Series: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Warnings/Spoilers: Panty!kink.
Summary: Dean never thought that Sam would go through with it. He’d thought it was just one of those things-one of the random bits of filth that dropped out of Sam’s mouth whenever he was in the mood.
Word Count: 2285
A/N: Sequel to Age Is Just a Number. This might make more sense if you read that first, but it can probably stand alone.
Dean never thought that Sam would go through with it. He’d thought it was just one of those things-one of the random bits of filth that dropped out of Sam’s mouth whenever he was in the mood. For being such a “nice” boy, Sam had a damn dirty mouth on him when he was fucking. Given the reaction that Dean hadn’t been able to hide, though, he should have known. But he hadn’t. Hadn’t had a clue.
So yeah, Dean had been more than a little bit shocked to say the least when a week after Dean’s 30th birthday, Sam’d shown up at the motel room with more than just the new jeans he’d said he’d needed to buy. He’d shown up with the jeans, alright, but he’d also had a little something else in the bag hanging off his arm. Dean hadn’t realized that, though.
No, he’d been too busy fending his brother off when Sam’d all but attacked him after coming in the door. Okay, granted it was less like “attacked” and more like “mauled” and Dean’d enjoyed it immensely, jumping up to wrap his legs around Sam’s waist and moaning like a damn whore but hey. There’d still been a hell of a lot of manhandling.
Sam’d started off with fast, furious kisses, like he couldn’t get enough of Dean’s mouth and Dean could get on board with that. In no time flat, he’d been stripping off Dean’s clothes and Dean’d eagerly helped him because the faster they got naked, the faster they could move on to the main attraction, right? That’s what he’d thought.
Sam, though. Sam’d gotten Dean naked and then dropped him like a hot potato, bustling over to the plastic bag he’d brought home that Dean’d thought had only contained a pair of jeans, size Sasquatch. What Sam’d pulled out, though, hadn’t resembled jeans in any way shape or form.
Which leaves Dean at now, brain stalled in its tracks thinking over and over he really hadn’t thought Sam’d meant it. He means it’s great that Sam likes his body and all and finds him sexy even though Dean is heading over the hill but seriously? There is no fucking way Dean is wearing the scraps of red lace Sam is trying to hand him.
Except that Sam says, “Put them on,” in that low, growly voice he gets when it’s definitely not a request and damned if Dean’s not taking the lingerie out of Sam’s hands without even thinking twice. It’s instinctive at this point and it’s beyond his normal abilities to ignore that voice.
Of course, when Dean’s brain finally catches up to his libido, though, and gives it a swift kick to the head, Dean ends up staring at the lacey underwear in disbelief. “You can’t be serious, Sam,” he says.
Sam looks like he’s just about ready to lose it. He’s palming the thick dick tenting his jeans and already fucking panting for it. “Come on, Dean, just put the damn things on!” He grabs Dean and spins him around to face the wall, apparently not bothering with arguing anymore and just forcing Dean to do what he wants. The only reason he gets away with it is because Dean’s still too damned shocked to be thinking clearly. Or something.
That’s got to be it, because he just stands there while Sam put the itty bitty lace bra on him, doing up the clasp in the back. It slides so softly against his skin and Christ, how the Hell had Sam been able to guess Dean’s size? Dean swallows, trying to find it in him to be disturbed by that fact but getting more disturbed that he’s actually not. This has got to be a new kind of low for him, really because Dean’s all for indulging fantasies but usually he likes to be a little bit…manlier? “God, Dean,” Sam growls, sending a shiver down Dean’s spine straight to his dick. “Stop fighting and just put them on. I want to fuck you so bad…” With Sam’s big hands groping his tits-they’re now in a bra, Dean’s gonna call ‘em tits until they’re out of it again-fingers pulling at nipples under flimsy, abrasive lace and Sam’s jean covered dick rutting against Dean’s back, Dean just doesn’t have the wherewithal to point out that clothes do not necessarily help in the fucking process. That matter of fact, they kind of usually hinder. Instead, he just slips the little lace panties on one leg at a time and drags them up over his hips.
And damned if just like Rhonda Hurley all those years ago in an incident that Dean is never telling anyone, Dean kind of likes it.
…Maybe a little too much. He’s immediately hard in the little scrap of lace covering his dick and unlike with Rhonda, this is ten times worse because Dean feels even dirtier with Sam groping him through the bra. Jesus Christ, Dean’s wearing a freaking BRA.
He opens his mouth to tell Sam that this is so not happening but all that comes out is a very distressing moan. He’s so fucking screwed.
Sam’s pressing open-mouthed kisses alongside Dean’s neck, tongue laving the skin and his gigantic, mammoth-sized paws are everywhere, running over Dean’s chest and stomach and-oh fuck-crotch as he pants filth in Dean’s ear. “God Dean, so fucking hot, you’re so fucking hot in your little bra and panties. Love that you’re wearing them for me. God, gonna fuck you so hard, make you come all over them-”
Dean whines, getting into the image Sam’s painting in his mind and Sam shoves him down on to the bed. “God Dean, turn the fuck over, I need to fucking see…” Sam pants as he rips off his shirt and pushes down his jeans, nearly falling over in his haste to get naked. Dean doesn’t need to be told twice-he flips himself over, even spreading his legs like a good little bitch because he knows how much Sam wants to see him on display. At Sam’s desperate moan, Dean arches his back and palms his dick in its lacey prison, trying so hard not to come. Fuck but Sam’s voice is like hardwired into his body, like he’s almost trained to come on command. “Dean...” Sam says right before he dives on top him, all heavy weight, roving hands and wet mouth.
Sam’s tongue is wet against Dean’s skin as Sam drools his way down to Dean’s new bra and Dean can’t help the little jerk his hips give or the pathetic mewl coming out of his throat. “So damn hot, baby, gonna treat you so good,” Sam whispers. His mouth latches onto Dean’s nipple in the lace, sucking on both the nub and the fabric at the same time and soaking them.
“Sammy!” Dean arches into Sam’s greedily pulling mouth, rubbing his leaking dick against the hard thigh Sam shoves between his legs. Dean buries his hands into Sam’s hair-why does he have to be the one dressing up, Sam’s the one with the hair for it-and hauls Sam up for a wet, sloppy kiss. Sam’s usually all passion and not so much finesse even on good days and now he’s dropped any hint of a technique in his desperation. Dean, though, can’t find it anything but hot.
Sam’s hands are freaking everywhere, stroking down Dean’s face, his neck, across his shoulders to snap the thin straps of the bra against his skin. The hands scrape over his arms and his belly before clamping on to his hips, holding him still as Sam positions himself completely between the wide open V of Dean’s thighs. And then Sam’s hauling himself down there, shoving his face against Dean’s lace covered dick and breathing deep before he starts to mouth it. “Fuck!” Dean shouts, jerking into that delicious heat.
“Easy, baby, easy,” Sam murmurs like that’s even fucking possible right now. “Treat you so good, Dean…” He wraps his big fingers in the underside of the panties, just below Dean’s balls and hauls it off to the side, baring Dean’s hole. Dean whimpers and then Sam’s tongue is totally there, licking him out with desperate, hard swipes.
“Christ…” Dean whines, his hands shooting up over his head to dig into the comforter. His entire body is drawing itself into a thin, taunt line, like a rubber band stretched too far and God, he’s gonna fucking snap. Sam shoves his tongue deeper into Dean’s ass, wiggling it around and Dean starts humping his face. “Not gonna last, not gonna last, God Sammy, ya got a fuck me, I’m not gonna last!”
“Christ,” Sam says, echoing Dean’s earlier profanity with even more emphasis and Dean writhes impatiently. Sam doesn’t keep him waiting, though, after a quick lean away to grab the lube, he snaps back and starts pressing slick fingers into Dean’s ass.
Dean whimpers and fucks himself down on them because GOD yes and Sam only gives him a few wonderfully sweet thrusts before he apparently decides that it’s good enough and moves to start pushing his cock in. Dean’s totally on the same page, though, bearing down on Sam all by himself because it’s just that awesome to have Sam inside him.
“Gonna fuck you so damn good, you’re not even going to remember your name, Dean,” Sam promises though Dean doesn’t know how that’s possible with Sam constantly repeating his name over and over like his own personal mantra. If anyone could do it, though, Dean’s sure it’s Sam and his monster cock. Goddamn but he’s so big… Sam thrusts all the way in and Dean’s mouth catches on a silent scream as his back arches. God fucking damn. Sam’s dick is dragging against the lace of the panties, pulling it across his cock and balls and Dean writhes on the bed, trying to escape the sensation and get closer at the same damn time. The elastic slips just far enough for Dean’s cock to jump free and Dean sobs as his leaking tip touches the cold air.
Sam’s hands come down on Dean’s tits again, squeezing and massaging and fucking rolling the nipples between his thumb and index finger. “God, Dean,” Sam says as Dean pants uncontrollably, “so fucking hot. Christ, should make you wear them everyday ‘cept we’d never be able to get out of bed. You’d just have to keep your legs spread for me, stay open and wide because God, how you look...” Dean’s breath hitches and for one terrifying second, he’s afraid he’s going to suffocate but the air rushes back when Sam snaps his hips to Dean’s. Their hips meet with a solid thwack of skin on skin and Dean jerks to the side, unable stop the jump when Sam’s dick slams into his prostate. He doesn’t know where he’s fucking going just that-Christ-he can’t stay still. When Sam pulls out again, his dick drags against the panties, pulling them across Dean’s already over-stimulated skin.
“Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck…” Dean pants, trying not to come. Fireworks are shooting through him, though, making it just about damn near impossible because Sam’s starting to fuck him in earnest, all hard demanding strokes, nothing soft or gentle about it as Sam loses all control. “Goddamn it!” Dean shouts and Sam pushes up the bra just far enough to bite at Dean’s right nipple, hand viciously twisting the other one. With an “oh fuck, SAM!” Dean comes untouched, dick shooting over his chest. He jerks as each spurt is wrenched out of him with such a force it verges on painful and he knows-he KNOWS-that his spunk is hitting Sam’s face where he’s still sucking on Dean’s tit. It drags out his orgasm longer than normal.
“God, Dean,” Sam groans, slamming his dick into Dean faster and rougher than before. He sits up to get a better angle for the pounding pace he’s setting. One hand pushes at Dean’s thigh, making him spread wider, and the other settles onto Dean’s over-sensitized dick, still twitching under the lace.
Dean bucks with the sensation, gasping and babbling for Sam to “please, oh God, please, Sammy…” What he’s pleading for, Dean’s not quite sure, but it sends Sam over the edge and he’s pulsing deep into Dean’s ass.
At the liquid warmth filling him, Dean moans, pushing his hips up against Sam’s. Sam curls over him, panting raggedly as his eyes flutter open. Dean meets his eyes and nods at him, breathing deeply because fuuuuuck... Sam huffs a laugh and moves his hand off Dean’s dick to feel where he’s joined to Dean. Sam fingers where Dean’s hole is stretched around Sam’s cock, making Dean shudder before he shifts over to dragging on the lace of the panties that’s still pushed to the side. Sam clears his throat and Dean sighs, closing his eyes. Fuck but he’s worn out now. His dick twitches weakly in an aftershock.
“We’re keeping them,” Sam says, sudden and final and Dean doesn’t even try to fight him on it. He just nods. Because, Christ, if dressing up in women’s lingerie gives him orgasms like that, while it makes him just a little sicker than he thought, he’s certainly not going to say no.
His nipples, though, feel like they’ve been caught in a vice and his tentatively runs a hand over one. His hisses with the residual pain but his hips are jerking as pleasure jolts down his spine. Sam chuckles and leans down to kiss Dean’s chest. “Told you so.”