Fic: A Helping Hand
Title: A Helping Hand
Author: Fiercelynormal
Pairings: Dean/Sam
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1085
Spoilers: Brief reference to 2x04
Summary: Sam’s frustrated by his broken arm. Dean helps. Pure PWP, really.
Disclaimer: Yeah, in my dreams.
Broken arms are a bitch. Sam’s had injuries more serious - with their line of work it’s practically a given. He’s even broken that same arm before, running from that bitch zombie in the graveyard a couple years back. But at least that time it was a simple fracture near the wrist - he wore a short arm cast for a few weeks but at least he had decent mobility. This time, though, he’s stuck in a long arm cast, the permanently crooked elbow ensuring that his right arm’s pretty much useless for anything but carrying a purse, as Dean so helpfully pointed out - the jerk.
A week of being relatively helpless and dependent on Dean is beginning to wear on Sam’s nerves. So is the forced celibacy. It would have to be his right arm that he broke, ensuring that, between the initial pain of the break and later the awkwardness of fumbling around with his left hand, even jerking off is more frustrating than it’s worth. But there are other ways to get relief, Sam knows. Better ways.
“Dean, c’mere,” he says. Dean doesn’t even spare a glance away from the TV. “Whataya want, Sam? I’m busy,” he mutters distractedly, lost in the re-run of Dr. Sexy, M.D. that he totally watches for the suspenseful plotlines.
“Dean, get over here,” Sam’s voice turns silky, a dark edge to it that Dean instantly recognizes. Dr. Sexy is forgotten as Dean responds to that tone the way he always does, hardening in his jeans as his breathing begins to quicken. He walks over to Sam who’s sprawled shirtless in the room’s only chair, sweatpants tented by his own erection.
“You need something, Sammy?” Dean smirks.
“Yeah, I need you.”Sam’s hand shoots out and grabs Dean by the wrist, pulling him down until he’s straddling Sam’s lap, hands landing on Sam’s shoulders. Sam crushes his mouth over Dean’s, wiping the smirk away as he licks and bites at Dean’s lips. Sam’s intensity always catches Dean a little by surprise, and he secretly hopes that never changes. Dean settles into the kiss, sucking eagerly on Sam’s tongue as it roams his mouth.
Dean slides his hands slowly down Sam’s chest, past his taut abs, to the impressive bulge of his cock. He squeezes lightly, teasingly as he tears his mouth away from Sam’s and asks “Oh yeah? You need me to help you with this?”
“Yeah,” Sam growls. “Take it out.” Dean obeys, drawing the action out into a caress as he tucks the elastic waistband behind Sam’s tightened balls. He wraps his hand around Sam’s hard cock, sliding it from base to tip where he catches the drops of Sam’s precome on his fingers, using it as lubrication for the next strokes. He tucks the fingers of his other hand beneath Sam’s balls and squeezes lightly, increasing the sensations. He dives back in for another kiss, drawing it out in a battle of tongues and teeth.
After long minutes of this Sam feels himself getting close to the edge but he doesn’t want to come yet; not this way. He pushes Dean’s hands away. Dean looks up questioningly.
“Suck me,” Sam demands. Dean considers refusing just to see what Sam will do, but by now his own cock is pressing painfully into his zipper and he decides it’s in his own best interest to move things along. He’d never admit it but he loves it when Sam gets all demanding. He’s pretty sure Sam knows, anyway. He slides backwards off Sam’s lap and onto his knees on the floor, flicking open the button on his jeans and sliding down his zipper as he goes. He sighs in relief as his cock is freed from the pressure.
Sam rests his broken arm against the table next to him and with his good hand grips his cock and rubs the velvety tip lightly against Dean’s lips, wet and swollen now from Sam’s kiss. Dean sticks his tongue out just slightly, tasting the precome that’s leaking more steadily out of Sam’s cock now. Slowly Sam feeds his cock into Dean’s mouth, all his focus on the moist heat around his sensitive cockhead.
Dean’s so good at this, and Sam loves it, rocking his hips up into Dean’s mouth as Dean hollows his cheeks and sucks Sam down until his tip touches the back of Dean’s throat and Dean’s nose is buried in Sam’s pubic hair. Dean slides his mouth up and down Sam’s rigid length, occasionally swallowing around it just to hear Sam moan. He grips Sam’s shaft with one hand, stroking the base while his mouth works the rest. With his free hand he strokes himself at the same pace.
As Sam gets closer to the edge he grips the seat of the chair till his fingers turn white, trying to hold back. Dean’s having none of that, though, and pulls out all the stops, releasing his own cock to grip Sam’s balls in his hand, rolling them between his fingers. Sam is lost then and comes with a shout, shooting his release in hard pulses down Dean’s throat. Deans works him through the orgasm, suckling gently until Sam begins to soften, then pulling away slowly and licking the last drop of Sam’s come from his lips, causing Sam’s cock to twitch in a last burst of pleasure at the sight.
“Get up here,” Sam growls, pulling Dean back up onto his lap. “Finish yourself off for me.” He pulls Dean forward into another eating kiss, tasting himself on Dean’s tongue. Dean’s desperate for his own relief, and immediately resumes stroking himself, rubbing the wet tip of his cock on Sam’s abdomen. Sam slides his hand between himself and Dean, grabbing Dean’s balls in his freakishly huge hand and squeezing firmly. Dean finally convulses and his come splatters over his own fingers and Sam’s stomach as he moans into Sam’s mouth.
Sam gradually gentles his kiss and slides his hand up until it rests possessively on the back of Dean’s neck. After taking a few moments for them both to recover he pushes Dean off his lap and towards the bed, pulling up his sweatpants with his good hand as he follows. He lies down and grunts as Dean sprawls across him, pillowing his head in the crook of Sam’s neck and throwing a leg over Sam’s. Sam begins to relax, the built up tension of the last week finally easing away.
Maybe a broken arm isn’t that bad.
Author: Fiercelynormal
Pairings: Dean/Sam
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1085
Spoilers: Brief reference to 2x04
Summary: Sam’s frustrated by his broken arm. Dean helps. Pure PWP, really.
Disclaimer: Yeah, in my dreams.
Broken arms are a bitch. Sam’s had injuries more serious - with their line of work it’s practically a given. He’s even broken that same arm before, running from that bitch zombie in the graveyard a couple years back. But at least that time it was a simple fracture near the wrist - he wore a short arm cast for a few weeks but at least he had decent mobility. This time, though, he’s stuck in a long arm cast, the permanently crooked elbow ensuring that his right arm’s pretty much useless for anything but carrying a purse, as Dean so helpfully pointed out - the jerk.
A week of being relatively helpless and dependent on Dean is beginning to wear on Sam’s nerves. So is the forced celibacy. It would have to be his right arm that he broke, ensuring that, between the initial pain of the break and later the awkwardness of fumbling around with his left hand, even jerking off is more frustrating than it’s worth. But there are other ways to get relief, Sam knows. Better ways.
“Dean, c’mere,” he says. Dean doesn’t even spare a glance away from the TV. “Whataya want, Sam? I’m busy,” he mutters distractedly, lost in the re-run of Dr. Sexy, M.D. that he totally watches for the suspenseful plotlines.
“Dean, get over here,” Sam’s voice turns silky, a dark edge to it that Dean instantly recognizes. Dr. Sexy is forgotten as Dean responds to that tone the way he always does, hardening in his jeans as his breathing begins to quicken. He walks over to Sam who’s sprawled shirtless in the room’s only chair, sweatpants tented by his own erection.
“You need something, Sammy?” Dean smirks.
“Yeah, I need you.”Sam’s hand shoots out and grabs Dean by the wrist, pulling him down until he’s straddling Sam’s lap, hands landing on Sam’s shoulders. Sam crushes his mouth over Dean’s, wiping the smirk away as he licks and bites at Dean’s lips. Sam’s intensity always catches Dean a little by surprise, and he secretly hopes that never changes. Dean settles into the kiss, sucking eagerly on Sam’s tongue as it roams his mouth.
Dean slides his hands slowly down Sam’s chest, past his taut abs, to the impressive bulge of his cock. He squeezes lightly, teasingly as he tears his mouth away from Sam’s and asks “Oh yeah? You need me to help you with this?”
“Yeah,” Sam growls. “Take it out.” Dean obeys, drawing the action out into a caress as he tucks the elastic waistband behind Sam’s tightened balls. He wraps his hand around Sam’s hard cock, sliding it from base to tip where he catches the drops of Sam’s precome on his fingers, using it as lubrication for the next strokes. He tucks the fingers of his other hand beneath Sam’s balls and squeezes lightly, increasing the sensations. He dives back in for another kiss, drawing it out in a battle of tongues and teeth.
After long minutes of this Sam feels himself getting close to the edge but he doesn’t want to come yet; not this way. He pushes Dean’s hands away. Dean looks up questioningly.
“Suck me,” Sam demands. Dean considers refusing just to see what Sam will do, but by now his own cock is pressing painfully into his zipper and he decides it’s in his own best interest to move things along. He’d never admit it but he loves it when Sam gets all demanding. He’s pretty sure Sam knows, anyway. He slides backwards off Sam’s lap and onto his knees on the floor, flicking open the button on his jeans and sliding down his zipper as he goes. He sighs in relief as his cock is freed from the pressure.
Sam rests his broken arm against the table next to him and with his good hand grips his cock and rubs the velvety tip lightly against Dean’s lips, wet and swollen now from Sam’s kiss. Dean sticks his tongue out just slightly, tasting the precome that’s leaking more steadily out of Sam’s cock now. Slowly Sam feeds his cock into Dean’s mouth, all his focus on the moist heat around his sensitive cockhead.
Dean’s so good at this, and Sam loves it, rocking his hips up into Dean’s mouth as Dean hollows his cheeks and sucks Sam down until his tip touches the back of Dean’s throat and Dean’s nose is buried in Sam’s pubic hair. Dean slides his mouth up and down Sam’s rigid length, occasionally swallowing around it just to hear Sam moan. He grips Sam’s shaft with one hand, stroking the base while his mouth works the rest. With his free hand he strokes himself at the same pace.
As Sam gets closer to the edge he grips the seat of the chair till his fingers turn white, trying to hold back. Dean’s having none of that, though, and pulls out all the stops, releasing his own cock to grip Sam’s balls in his hand, rolling them between his fingers. Sam is lost then and comes with a shout, shooting his release in hard pulses down Dean’s throat. Deans works him through the orgasm, suckling gently until Sam begins to soften, then pulling away slowly and licking the last drop of Sam’s come from his lips, causing Sam’s cock to twitch in a last burst of pleasure at the sight.
“Get up here,” Sam growls, pulling Dean back up onto his lap. “Finish yourself off for me.” He pulls Dean forward into another eating kiss, tasting himself on Dean’s tongue. Dean’s desperate for his own relief, and immediately resumes stroking himself, rubbing the wet tip of his cock on Sam’s abdomen. Sam slides his hand between himself and Dean, grabbing Dean’s balls in his freakishly huge hand and squeezing firmly. Dean finally convulses and his come splatters over his own fingers and Sam’s stomach as he moans into Sam’s mouth.
Sam gradually gentles his kiss and slides his hand up until it rests possessively on the back of Dean’s neck. After taking a few moments for them both to recover he pushes Dean off his lap and towards the bed, pulling up his sweatpants with his good hand as he follows. He lies down and grunts as Dean sprawls across him, pillowing his head in the crook of Sam’s neck and throwing a leg over Sam’s. Sam begins to relax, the built up tension of the last week finally easing away.
Maybe a broken arm isn’t that bad.