SPN: Sam/Dean, R
Title: Everything
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: light R
Word Count: 483
Summary: Sam copes with being on the road with Dean again.
Notes: This is set in my Everything 'Verse, so you might want to read the others stories first. This was written for 15minuteficlets and beta'd by neroli66.
Sam can’t live on memory alone. He’s tried that before. He tried being with someone who wasn’t the person he really needed. Sure, he loved Jess. He really fucking loved her; loved her in a way that could have led to ring, house, kids. It still hadn’t been enough. Jess’s small, fragile hands hadn’t been enough to wipe clear Sam’s memories of what passion could be, how he should be loved.
It had nothing to do with Jess and everything to do with Dean.
Even before Jess, every time Sam had run his hands over his skin, wrapped long fingers around his cock and stroked in long, sweet strokes, he’d felt Dean’s hands on him. Dean’s fingers, all warmth except for the cool band of his ring, were burned into Sam’s flesh. It was hard for him to come without a strangled “Dean” tumbling out of his mouth. He’d managed with Jess, bitten into pillows or his lower lip, calling out to his brother in his head.
But now that Jess was gone, now that it was back to the two of them, Sam couldn’t bring himself to remember. He spent countless nights on his back, staring up at yet another motel ceiling while Dean lay mere feet from him. He would lie there, listening to the Dean’s even breathing, unable to fall asleep and unable to touch himself.
Sam hadn’t jerked off in weeks, and it was really starting to get to him.
Dean called him on it one morning, stood outside the bathroom and said, “You don’t take long showers anymore.” Sam had just blinked and pulled the towel tighter around his waist.
“Forget it,” Sam muttered, pushing past Dean and heading towards his duffle bag. He didn’t need it, didn’t need any touch but his own. He’d gotten by for years on that alone, and Dean’s hands no longer had the power to take everything away, make the world right again. They weren’t teenagers, huddled in a motel bed, frantically jerking each other off while they bit down on their lips in an effort to not wake their father. No, things were different now.
But when Dean manhandled him onto the bed and those hands, more calloused than he’d remembered, pushed his towel aside and stroked circles across his thighs, Sam figured that things weren’t all that different after all.
Except this time he didn’t have to stifle his moans. He whimpered opening onto the dimly lit motel room when Dean’s hand wrapped around him, pumping in quick, rough strokes. Sam let himself shout, “Dean!” when he came, spilling his seed over familiar hands. And when Dean brought his hands up to his mouth, licking away all traces of Sam’s come, Sam figured that yeah, he couldn’t live on memory alone.
But this? This feeling of alive, and new, and best of all Dean. He could live on this forever.
Prompt: memory
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: light R
Word Count: 483
Summary: Sam copes with being on the road with Dean again.
Notes: This is set in my Everything 'Verse, so you might want to read the others stories first. This was written for 15minuteficlets and beta'd by neroli66.
Sam can’t live on memory alone. He’s tried that before. He tried being with someone who wasn’t the person he really needed. Sure, he loved Jess. He really fucking loved her; loved her in a way that could have led to ring, house, kids. It still hadn’t been enough. Jess’s small, fragile hands hadn’t been enough to wipe clear Sam’s memories of what passion could be, how he should be loved.
It had nothing to do with Jess and everything to do with Dean.
Even before Jess, every time Sam had run his hands over his skin, wrapped long fingers around his cock and stroked in long, sweet strokes, he’d felt Dean’s hands on him. Dean’s fingers, all warmth except for the cool band of his ring, were burned into Sam’s flesh. It was hard for him to come without a strangled “Dean” tumbling out of his mouth. He’d managed with Jess, bitten into pillows or his lower lip, calling out to his brother in his head.
But now that Jess was gone, now that it was back to the two of them, Sam couldn’t bring himself to remember. He spent countless nights on his back, staring up at yet another motel ceiling while Dean lay mere feet from him. He would lie there, listening to the Dean’s even breathing, unable to fall asleep and unable to touch himself.
Sam hadn’t jerked off in weeks, and it was really starting to get to him.
Dean called him on it one morning, stood outside the bathroom and said, “You don’t take long showers anymore.” Sam had just blinked and pulled the towel tighter around his waist.
“Forget it,” Sam muttered, pushing past Dean and heading towards his duffle bag. He didn’t need it, didn’t need any touch but his own. He’d gotten by for years on that alone, and Dean’s hands no longer had the power to take everything away, make the world right again. They weren’t teenagers, huddled in a motel bed, frantically jerking each other off while they bit down on their lips in an effort to not wake their father. No, things were different now.
But when Dean manhandled him onto the bed and those hands, more calloused than he’d remembered, pushed his towel aside and stroked circles across his thighs, Sam figured that things weren’t all that different after all.
Except this time he didn’t have to stifle his moans. He whimpered opening onto the dimly lit motel room when Dean’s hand wrapped around him, pumping in quick, rough strokes. Sam let himself shout, “Dean!” when he came, spilling his seed over familiar hands. And when Dean brought his hands up to his mouth, licking away all traces of Sam’s come, Sam figured that yeah, he couldn’t live on memory alone.
But this? This feeling of alive, and new, and best of all Dean. He could live on this forever.
Prompt: memory