Fic: Why Teenage Girls Shouldn't Be Allowed On The Internet (Or Maybe Why They Should)
OMFG. First ever SPN fic, first ever porn, first ever beta.
I was such a big virgin before I started this :D
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: NC-17
Synopsis: While researching a spate of strange goings on, Sam and Dean encounter their enemy first-hand, in a way they never expected. Crack.
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Warnings: Incest (no kidding), strong language right from the get-go, sexings, oh, and there's a spoiler for episode 2.16 (Roadkill).
Dedications: This was a christmas present for my dearest slartibartfast, so it is dedicated to her :D
Massive, MASSIVE thank you to Valiant for being my beta, and being so wonderfully awesome about it <3
OMG. This fic is now available translated into Chinese, HOW COOL IS THAT?
Translation by Melody can be found here
“I wanna fuck you.”
The announcement came from nowhere; they’d been in the middle of researching the latest job when Dean had looked up from the archive file he’d been reading, opened his mouth and just said it.
And man, if he hadn’t been busy fixing Sam with that wide, horrified stare, he would have pissed himself laughing at the look on Sam’s face - like he couldn’t decide whether to be disgusted, horrified, or willing to do it just because his big brother asked.
Not that his big brother meant to ask.
“Shit, Sammy, I didn’t mean, I don’t know where…” Dean babbled, trying to take back the words.
Really, he had no idea where they’d come from, like something else had taken control of his mouth for a second.
“Wanna fuck you too,” Sam replied in a low voice, one that sent shivers right down Dean’s spine - and he was so not going there.
Sam’s eyes widened comically as soon as the words were out of his mouth and he shook his head frantically.
“I really don’t, Dean,” he promised quickly.
“What the hell is going on?” Dean asked, looking down at the file in front of him, as if it could give him some answers.
“I…I don’t know, I can’t…” Sam trailed off. Almost instinctively, as soon as he’d unwillingly spoken and therefore realised something was definitely up, his fingers had started typing - though without a destination. They’d just continued what they were doing, bringing up the dead girl’s website, and the bright colours had attracted his attention.
He fell silent for a moment as he scrolled through.
“…ah,” he said eventually, cheeks colouring.
“What, what is it?” Dean asked impatiently.
“Well… this girl wrote…uh… fanfic…”
“Right. What the fuck is that?”
“Well, it’s… stories that fans of certain things write about…Dean, are you even listening?”
“No.” Well, at least he was honest. “Skip to the part where I give a damn?”
“Right.” Sam sighed. “Well, you know what brought us here?”
Dean nodded. They’d been attracted to this nowhere town because, of course, strange and spooky things had been happening. They’d got as far as working out that it all kicked off after a hit-and-run about six months ago, and they were checking up the victim for any indication she was responsible.
“Look at these stories.” Sam angled the laptop so Dean could see, not that his brother made any effort to actually look, but it was the thought that counted.
“’What happens when House finally fails?’” he read out loud. “’Will he turn to Cuddy then?’ That Doctor three months ago, who suddenly turned antisocial, gained that mysterious limp, and became obsessed with solving some mysterious medical case that eventually foiled him, then had an affair with the hospital administrator… those people became the characters in her story.”
Dean raised an eyebrow.
“So, this chick’s…what, possessing people to act out these roles?”
“Pretty much…” He scanned through the list again. “All of these stories match events here in town.”
“Okay… so what about us?” Dean finally asks.
“I don’t know, I can’t…” Sam falls silent again, a few clicks later he makes a small noise of triumph.
“Right, here it is… show called …Supernatural … pair of brothers, fighting evil…” Sam raised an eyebrow. “That sounds creepily familiar. But anyway, it’s unfinished - she started it, posted a teaser, promised to write more… this entry is dated three days before she was killed.”
“So…what?”
“I think it’s like…unfinished business,” Sam finally ventured.
“Are you fucking kidding me? This chick refuses to pass on because she hadn’t finished some crappy story about two brothers screwing?”
“...yes, essentially.”
Sam would talk about great artists and playwrights and unfinished works and all that, but the fact was…Dean pretty much had it right. The stories might have been good - hell, they might have been great - but they were still just short stories on the internet, there were probably a million and one like them out there, and even more unfinished. This girl must have really loved her writing if she was willing to hold on for that.
“Hey, wait, where you going?” Sam asked, Dean already half out his chair and shrugging on his jacket.
“Well, in case you hadn’t noticed, Sammy, we have a dead girl trying to get us to fuck. I am going to burn her damn bones.”
“That…might be a problem…” And now Sam was getting hesitant, because he really didn’t want to say these next words to Dean.
“How so?” Dean asked between his teeth.
“She… she was cremated.”
“What?” Dean growled.
“It’s like Molly, that ghost from Highway 41, only I guess this girl probably realises she’s dead, but she’s still clinging on. Or maybe there’s something left of her somewhere, a lock of hair or something. The point is, we don’t know and we wouldn’t even know where to start looking.”
“What are you telling me, Sam?”
“I think… well, she’s only got this one bit of unfinished business. She needs to know how her story turns out.”
There was silence as Dean stared at Sam, face hard.
“Sammy... are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“I think we need to make love.”
“Aw, Sam, don’t even go there. One, you could’ve at least said ‘screw’, or ‘fuck’, hell I would’ve even accepted a crappy ‘sleep together’, but ‘make love’ - c’mon man. And two, no. Just, no.”
Sam sighed.
“Well, what do you suggest, Dean?”
“We find some way to burn her godamned bones.”
“And in the meantime?” Sam pointed out.
“What?”
“In the meantime, while we’re looking for remains to burn, while she’s spending the entire time trying to get us to screw?”
“I think I can fight off the spirit of a teenage girl, Sammy,” Dean scoffed.
“Oh yeah?” Sam challenged, looking down, drawing Dean’s attention to the fact that, while he’d been talking, he’d stepped closer, his hand resting over Sam’s and his thumb caressing lightly at his brother’s wrist.
“Shit.” Dean snatched his hand back like he’d been burnt.
“Dean, I don’t like it any more than you do, but it might be the best way. Look, the other people said it was like someone else taking control, so we just…let it happen, and metaphorically close our eyes and wait ‘till it’s all over.”
“And this is definitely the only way?” Dean asked.
“As far as I can see.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes, Dean, I’m sure. Let’s just get it over with already and we can start on the therapy.”
Eventually, Dean nodded.
“All right, so what do we do?”
“You can feel that little tug at the back of your mind, can’t you?” Dean nodded.
“Just… stop resisting it.”
There was a moment of silence, and Sam wasn’t sure if Dean had done it, until his brother suddenly got a look of uncharacteristic seriousness.
“Sammy, I…” He went quiet. “I have something to tell you.”
As he let the ghost girl take him over, somewhere in the back of his mind, Sam recognised the opening line from the snippet of story she’d started.
“What is it?” he asked Dean.
“We’ve been travelling together for months, and all that time we’ve been so close… closer than brothers…” he continued, stepping even closer to Sam.
“Dean… what are you trying to say?”
“Sammy, I… oh, this is just fuckin’ stupid.”
“Dean,” Sam whined, pulling himself from the grip of the ghost girl as well.
“No, Sammy, I’m not spouting that girly shit, that’s too far," he stated firmly. “She wants this story to happen, it’s going to damn well happen right.”
Sam barely had seconds to register Dean’s words, and even less time to work out what the hell his brother meant before Dean decided actions spoke louder than words and half-yanked him out of his chair to crush their lips together.
Sam was surprised to find the sensation not entirely repulsive, and it was almost automatically that he wound his arms around Dean’s neck and returned the kiss, tongue swiping hungrily across Dean’s lips, requesting entry.
Dean let him instinctively, too caught up in the sudden, bizarre frenzy of passion to think about it. If he had senses to think with, he surely would be blaming this on the ghost, but if either of them bothered to take a moment to feel for that ghostly presence, they would have found it lacking. (That’s not to say the ghost had gone, of course; she was damn well staying to watch.)
When Dean finally broke away from him, Sam was embarrassed to make a small whimper of need, fingers curling around his brother’s collar and already starting to tug him back in.
Dean allowed it, briefly, before pulling away again.
“Dean,” Sam growled, low and needy, already feeling hot and bothered (and somewhere at the back of his mind, he noted that was why Dean seemed to have no trouble getting laid).
“Motel.” Dean barked out the one word, voice just as harsh with want as Sam’s, already pulling away from his brother to grab their stuff in a messy pile.
It got thrown onto the back seat of the Impala and Dean floored it all the way back to the motel, running at least two red lights and nearly taking out a good number of pedestrians, Sam panting in the seat next to him. It was a short drive. Sam only had enough time to think we shouldn’t be doing this… before Dean skidded into the parking lot and leaned over to kiss him again.
It had been a while for both of them (even Dean, who usually had no trouble on that front), jobs keeping them busy, and it was like that first touch had lit something, some burning need that neither of them had been aware of, but that needed taking care of urgently.
A rushed swiping of tongues, and then Dean was pushing Sam out the car, jumping out himself and grabbing hold of Sam’s hand to drag him towards their room.
As soon as they were in the hallway, Sam slammed him up against the wall so hard he almost dropped the room key, bringing their lips together once more.
Barely breaking contact, they managed to make it to their door, getting the key in and busting it open as they almost fell into the room.
Sam kicked it closed behind them, taking control as he pushed his brother towards the bed, shoving Dean’s shirt off his shoulders as he went.
He shoved Dean down onto the nearest bed, climbing on after him and straddling his hips, breaking their kiss briefly to pull his shirt up and over his head.
“Sammy, Sammy, we should…” Dean gasped, breathless from their kissing. He trailed off into a low moan as Sam ground his hips down, smirking down at his big brother.
“We should what, Dean?” he asked in a low voice, leaning down to push Dean’s t-shirt up his chest, hands skimming over skin lightly and making Dean writhe for more contact.
“We should hurry the fuck up,” Dean growled, yanking his shirt off himself and grabbing Sam’s belt buckle to pull him down and renew their kiss.
Of course, while his hand was there….
Agonisingly slowly, Dean inched his fingers down over the fabric. His touch was so slow that Sam let out a growl of frustration that was lost between their lips and reached down to push Dean’s hand to its destination.
Smirking into the kiss, Dean pressed his palm over Sam’s denim-clad erection, squeezing slightly and earning a startled moan in response.
Sam broke away to kiss down Dean’s neck as his brother massaged the bulge.
“God, Sammy,” Dean gasped. “Wanna feel you…”
Sam whined as Dean’s hand was taken away, but it turned into an appreciative moan when he realised Dean had moved his hand to start undoing Sam’s jeans.
Returning the favour, Sam reached down for Dean’s belt. The worked frantically, awkwardly, at the fastenings on each other’s jeans, until finally their hands reached in and closed around flesh at almost the exact same instant.
“Dean…” Sam gasped as his brother started stroking, almost too overwhelmed by sensation to reciprocate for a moment, until a nudge of Dean’s hips reminded him it was only polite, and he started moving his hand, matching his brother’s rhythm.
“Sammy…Sammy… wanna fuck you…” Dean panted out the words that had started this whole thing, and for a moment Sam was shocked back into logical thought. For a moment he was so horribly aware that they weren’t possessed, that they were really doing this, and then Dean did this… thing with his hand, this delicious little twist, and Sam moaned, all reason forgotten.
Dean pushed insistently at Sam’s jeans, and he moved back for a moment, both of them relinquishing contact as they quickly worked their way free of remaining clothing.
As soon as the jeans were out of the way, Dean returned his hands to his brother - this time not to his dick, but instead sliding round his thigh, brushing teasingly across the firm skin of Sam’s ass before finally finding the opening, running a finger over it as if exploring.
Sam leaned forward slightly, reaching past Dean to fumble at the bedside table, finally dropping a small bottle on Dean’s chest.
Dean removed his hand (and Sam most definitely did not whimper, honest) and picked up the bottle.
“Moisturiser? Sam, you fuckin’ girl.”
“We don’t have lube, save the insults for later and get on with it,” Sam half-whined.
Dean chuckled, flicking open the top and smearing some of the liquid over his hand, returning to massaging Sam’s hole. This time, with the aid of the moisturiser, he slid one finger in and Sam gasped, dropping his head down onto Dean’s shoulder.
“Oh god, Dean…” he murmured, nipping at Dean’s neck as his brother starting to move his finger slowly, getting impatient quickly and adding a second, earning another low moan from Sam.
“Dean…Dean just fuck me, please…” Sam begged into the sweat-slick skin of Dean’s neck.
“Don’t wanna hurt you, Sammy,” Dean murmured back.
Sam made a small noise of irritation and grabbed the moisturiser from Dean’s chest, pouring a generous amount onto his hand he decided to take control, taking hold of Dean’s erection, he coated it liberally with a few firm strokes that made Dean moan, then shoved his big brother’s hand away and lifted himself, slowly sitting himself down onto Dean’s cock. He hissed at the discomfort, but didn’t stop.
“Sammy…” Dean gasped, biting back a moan “Oh god, feels so good…”
Sam finally stopped, breathing deeply, getting used to the feeling of being filled. By your brother a little voice in the back of his head pointed out, but he ignored it, leaning down to kiss Dean again, as their lips met, he started to move his hips. Dean moaned into his mouth, jerking his own hips in time with Sam’s.
They stayed like that for a moment, then apparently Dean got impatient with Sam’s pace, and rolled them over (nearly rolling them off the bed in his eagerness), reversing their positions and beginning to thrust into Sam in earnest.
Sam was about to complain, until the new angle made him see stars.
Dean grinned at the helpless moaning he drew from Sam with every thrust - trust Dean to get triumphant because he could make his brother moan like that.
Sam was going to find some way of getting payback, to make his brother gasp and groan like he was doing, but then Dean’s fingers closed around his dick, hand moving in time to his thrusts, and Sam just lost it; within moments he was coming, hard.
Dean smirked, looking like the cat that got the cream (literally), and leant down to lick a wet trail up Sam’s chest, licking up some of the come that covered it. If it were physically possible, Sam would’ve come again just watching him do that.
He tasted himself on Dean’s lips as they kissed again, awkward and teeth-clacky as Dean’s thrusts became more erratic, only a few more before he came with a moan of Sam’s name, half collapsing onto his brother’s chest.
They stayed like that for a long moment, just bathing in the post-orgasmic glow of satisfaction.
As they lay there, they felt more than heard the girlish whisper of thanks, before sensing that she’d gone, even though they’d barely felt her there.
Dean’s body stiffened at that, and Sam bit his lip, almost wishing he hadn’t suggested this because the fallout was going to be bad, but the sex had just been so good…
“Dean…” he said slowly, wincing as Dean pulled away from him, and that made it twenty times more awkward because Dean was still in him and the drying come between them made their skin sticky and it wasn’t all that easy to separate.
“Sammy, I’m sorry…” Dean turned away from him, and Sam decided it was time for action. Or, words, which was Sam’s version of action.
He sat up.
“Look, Dean. We can pretend we were possessed, just put this behind us and chalk it up to a really perverted ghost, or…”
“Or what, Sammy?” Dean rounded on him, looking angry. His anger melted when he saw the vulnerable look on Sam’s face, though somewhere inside he was damning those puppy eyes.
“Like our life isn’t fucked up enough already, what difference is this going to make?” Sam asked him.
“It makes a lot of difference, Sam, we can’t-“
Sam cut him off, surging forward to crush their lips together.
He wanted Dean, he wanted that mind-blowing sex again and again. He wanted to be intimate with the person he loved most. He almost wanted to thank that ghost for making him see that, but he’d wait to see how Dean reacted first.
When Sam broke away, panting, he caught Dean’s gaze and held it, questioning.
Dean turned away.
“I’m going to take a shower,” Dean muttered, turning away and heading towards the bathroom.
Sam bit his lip. Had he completely fucked everything up, beyond all hope of rectifying it?
Dean turned back, glancing over his shoulder with a wicked glint in his eye.
“You coming?” he asked Sam.
Hell yes, he was.
I was such a big virgin before I started this :D
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: NC-17
Synopsis: While researching a spate of strange goings on, Sam and Dean encounter their enemy first-hand, in a way they never expected. Crack.
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Warnings: Incest (no kidding), strong language right from the get-go, sexings, oh, and there's a spoiler for episode 2.16 (Roadkill).
Dedications: This was a christmas present for my dearest slartibartfast, so it is dedicated to her :D
Massive, MASSIVE thank you to Valiant for being my beta, and being so wonderfully awesome about it <3
OMG. This fic is now available translated into Chinese, HOW COOL IS THAT?
Translation by Melody can be found here
“I wanna fuck you.”
The announcement came from nowhere; they’d been in the middle of researching the latest job when Dean had looked up from the archive file he’d been reading, opened his mouth and just said it.
And man, if he hadn’t been busy fixing Sam with that wide, horrified stare, he would have pissed himself laughing at the look on Sam’s face - like he couldn’t decide whether to be disgusted, horrified, or willing to do it just because his big brother asked.
Not that his big brother meant to ask.
“Shit, Sammy, I didn’t mean, I don’t know where…” Dean babbled, trying to take back the words.
Really, he had no idea where they’d come from, like something else had taken control of his mouth for a second.
“Wanna fuck you too,” Sam replied in a low voice, one that sent shivers right down Dean’s spine - and he was so not going there.
Sam’s eyes widened comically as soon as the words were out of his mouth and he shook his head frantically.
“I really don’t, Dean,” he promised quickly.
“What the hell is going on?” Dean asked, looking down at the file in front of him, as if it could give him some answers.
“I…I don’t know, I can’t…” Sam trailed off. Almost instinctively, as soon as he’d unwillingly spoken and therefore realised something was definitely up, his fingers had started typing - though without a destination. They’d just continued what they were doing, bringing up the dead girl’s website, and the bright colours had attracted his attention.
He fell silent for a moment as he scrolled through.
“…ah,” he said eventually, cheeks colouring.
“What, what is it?” Dean asked impatiently.
“Well… this girl wrote…uh… fanfic…”
“Right. What the fuck is that?”
“Well, it’s… stories that fans of certain things write about…Dean, are you even listening?”
“No.” Well, at least he was honest. “Skip to the part where I give a damn?”
“Right.” Sam sighed. “Well, you know what brought us here?”
Dean nodded. They’d been attracted to this nowhere town because, of course, strange and spooky things had been happening. They’d got as far as working out that it all kicked off after a hit-and-run about six months ago, and they were checking up the victim for any indication she was responsible.
“Look at these stories.” Sam angled the laptop so Dean could see, not that his brother made any effort to actually look, but it was the thought that counted.
“’What happens when House finally fails?’” he read out loud. “’Will he turn to Cuddy then?’ That Doctor three months ago, who suddenly turned antisocial, gained that mysterious limp, and became obsessed with solving some mysterious medical case that eventually foiled him, then had an affair with the hospital administrator… those people became the characters in her story.”
Dean raised an eyebrow.
“So, this chick’s…what, possessing people to act out these roles?”
“Pretty much…” He scanned through the list again. “All of these stories match events here in town.”
“Okay… so what about us?” Dean finally asks.
“I don’t know, I can’t…” Sam falls silent again, a few clicks later he makes a small noise of triumph.
“Right, here it is… show called …Supernatural … pair of brothers, fighting evil…” Sam raised an eyebrow. “That sounds creepily familiar. But anyway, it’s unfinished - she started it, posted a teaser, promised to write more… this entry is dated three days before she was killed.”
“So…what?”
“I think it’s like…unfinished business,” Sam finally ventured.
“Are you fucking kidding me? This chick refuses to pass on because she hadn’t finished some crappy story about two brothers screwing?”
“...yes, essentially.”
Sam would talk about great artists and playwrights and unfinished works and all that, but the fact was…Dean pretty much had it right. The stories might have been good - hell, they might have been great - but they were still just short stories on the internet, there were probably a million and one like them out there, and even more unfinished. This girl must have really loved her writing if she was willing to hold on for that.
“Hey, wait, where you going?” Sam asked, Dean already half out his chair and shrugging on his jacket.
“Well, in case you hadn’t noticed, Sammy, we have a dead girl trying to get us to fuck. I am going to burn her damn bones.”
“That…might be a problem…” And now Sam was getting hesitant, because he really didn’t want to say these next words to Dean.
“How so?” Dean asked between his teeth.
“She… she was cremated.”
“What?” Dean growled.
“It’s like Molly, that ghost from Highway 41, only I guess this girl probably realises she’s dead, but she’s still clinging on. Or maybe there’s something left of her somewhere, a lock of hair or something. The point is, we don’t know and we wouldn’t even know where to start looking.”
“What are you telling me, Sam?”
“I think… well, she’s only got this one bit of unfinished business. She needs to know how her story turns out.”
There was silence as Dean stared at Sam, face hard.
“Sammy... are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“I think we need to make love.”
“Aw, Sam, don’t even go there. One, you could’ve at least said ‘screw’, or ‘fuck’, hell I would’ve even accepted a crappy ‘sleep together’, but ‘make love’ - c’mon man. And two, no. Just, no.”
Sam sighed.
“Well, what do you suggest, Dean?”
“We find some way to burn her godamned bones.”
“And in the meantime?” Sam pointed out.
“What?”
“In the meantime, while we’re looking for remains to burn, while she’s spending the entire time trying to get us to screw?”
“I think I can fight off the spirit of a teenage girl, Sammy,” Dean scoffed.
“Oh yeah?” Sam challenged, looking down, drawing Dean’s attention to the fact that, while he’d been talking, he’d stepped closer, his hand resting over Sam’s and his thumb caressing lightly at his brother’s wrist.
“Shit.” Dean snatched his hand back like he’d been burnt.
“Dean, I don’t like it any more than you do, but it might be the best way. Look, the other people said it was like someone else taking control, so we just…let it happen, and metaphorically close our eyes and wait ‘till it’s all over.”
“And this is definitely the only way?” Dean asked.
“As far as I can see.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes, Dean, I’m sure. Let’s just get it over with already and we can start on the therapy.”
Eventually, Dean nodded.
“All right, so what do we do?”
“You can feel that little tug at the back of your mind, can’t you?” Dean nodded.
“Just… stop resisting it.”
There was a moment of silence, and Sam wasn’t sure if Dean had done it, until his brother suddenly got a look of uncharacteristic seriousness.
“Sammy, I…” He went quiet. “I have something to tell you.”
As he let the ghost girl take him over, somewhere in the back of his mind, Sam recognised the opening line from the snippet of story she’d started.
“What is it?” he asked Dean.
“We’ve been travelling together for months, and all that time we’ve been so close… closer than brothers…” he continued, stepping even closer to Sam.
“Dean… what are you trying to say?”
“Sammy, I… oh, this is just fuckin’ stupid.”
“Dean,” Sam whined, pulling himself from the grip of the ghost girl as well.
“No, Sammy, I’m not spouting that girly shit, that’s too far," he stated firmly. “She wants this story to happen, it’s going to damn well happen right.”
Sam barely had seconds to register Dean’s words, and even less time to work out what the hell his brother meant before Dean decided actions spoke louder than words and half-yanked him out of his chair to crush their lips together.
Sam was surprised to find the sensation not entirely repulsive, and it was almost automatically that he wound his arms around Dean’s neck and returned the kiss, tongue swiping hungrily across Dean’s lips, requesting entry.
Dean let him instinctively, too caught up in the sudden, bizarre frenzy of passion to think about it. If he had senses to think with, he surely would be blaming this on the ghost, but if either of them bothered to take a moment to feel for that ghostly presence, they would have found it lacking. (That’s not to say the ghost had gone, of course; she was damn well staying to watch.)
When Dean finally broke away from him, Sam was embarrassed to make a small whimper of need, fingers curling around his brother’s collar and already starting to tug him back in.
Dean allowed it, briefly, before pulling away again.
“Dean,” Sam growled, low and needy, already feeling hot and bothered (and somewhere at the back of his mind, he noted that was why Dean seemed to have no trouble getting laid).
“Motel.” Dean barked out the one word, voice just as harsh with want as Sam’s, already pulling away from his brother to grab their stuff in a messy pile.
It got thrown onto the back seat of the Impala and Dean floored it all the way back to the motel, running at least two red lights and nearly taking out a good number of pedestrians, Sam panting in the seat next to him. It was a short drive. Sam only had enough time to think we shouldn’t be doing this… before Dean skidded into the parking lot and leaned over to kiss him again.
It had been a while for both of them (even Dean, who usually had no trouble on that front), jobs keeping them busy, and it was like that first touch had lit something, some burning need that neither of them had been aware of, but that needed taking care of urgently.
A rushed swiping of tongues, and then Dean was pushing Sam out the car, jumping out himself and grabbing hold of Sam’s hand to drag him towards their room.
As soon as they were in the hallway, Sam slammed him up against the wall so hard he almost dropped the room key, bringing their lips together once more.
Barely breaking contact, they managed to make it to their door, getting the key in and busting it open as they almost fell into the room.
Sam kicked it closed behind them, taking control as he pushed his brother towards the bed, shoving Dean’s shirt off his shoulders as he went.
He shoved Dean down onto the nearest bed, climbing on after him and straddling his hips, breaking their kiss briefly to pull his shirt up and over his head.
“Sammy, Sammy, we should…” Dean gasped, breathless from their kissing. He trailed off into a low moan as Sam ground his hips down, smirking down at his big brother.
“We should what, Dean?” he asked in a low voice, leaning down to push Dean’s t-shirt up his chest, hands skimming over skin lightly and making Dean writhe for more contact.
“We should hurry the fuck up,” Dean growled, yanking his shirt off himself and grabbing Sam’s belt buckle to pull him down and renew their kiss.
Of course, while his hand was there….
Agonisingly slowly, Dean inched his fingers down over the fabric. His touch was so slow that Sam let out a growl of frustration that was lost between their lips and reached down to push Dean’s hand to its destination.
Smirking into the kiss, Dean pressed his palm over Sam’s denim-clad erection, squeezing slightly and earning a startled moan in response.
Sam broke away to kiss down Dean’s neck as his brother massaged the bulge.
“God, Sammy,” Dean gasped. “Wanna feel you…”
Sam whined as Dean’s hand was taken away, but it turned into an appreciative moan when he realised Dean had moved his hand to start undoing Sam’s jeans.
Returning the favour, Sam reached down for Dean’s belt. The worked frantically, awkwardly, at the fastenings on each other’s jeans, until finally their hands reached in and closed around flesh at almost the exact same instant.
“Dean…” Sam gasped as his brother started stroking, almost too overwhelmed by sensation to reciprocate for a moment, until a nudge of Dean’s hips reminded him it was only polite, and he started moving his hand, matching his brother’s rhythm.
“Sammy…Sammy… wanna fuck you…” Dean panted out the words that had started this whole thing, and for a moment Sam was shocked back into logical thought. For a moment he was so horribly aware that they weren’t possessed, that they were really doing this, and then Dean did this… thing with his hand, this delicious little twist, and Sam moaned, all reason forgotten.
Dean pushed insistently at Sam’s jeans, and he moved back for a moment, both of them relinquishing contact as they quickly worked their way free of remaining clothing.
As soon as the jeans were out of the way, Dean returned his hands to his brother - this time not to his dick, but instead sliding round his thigh, brushing teasingly across the firm skin of Sam’s ass before finally finding the opening, running a finger over it as if exploring.
Sam leaned forward slightly, reaching past Dean to fumble at the bedside table, finally dropping a small bottle on Dean’s chest.
Dean removed his hand (and Sam most definitely did not whimper, honest) and picked up the bottle.
“Moisturiser? Sam, you fuckin’ girl.”
“We don’t have lube, save the insults for later and get on with it,” Sam half-whined.
Dean chuckled, flicking open the top and smearing some of the liquid over his hand, returning to massaging Sam’s hole. This time, with the aid of the moisturiser, he slid one finger in and Sam gasped, dropping his head down onto Dean’s shoulder.
“Oh god, Dean…” he murmured, nipping at Dean’s neck as his brother starting to move his finger slowly, getting impatient quickly and adding a second, earning another low moan from Sam.
“Dean…Dean just fuck me, please…” Sam begged into the sweat-slick skin of Dean’s neck.
“Don’t wanna hurt you, Sammy,” Dean murmured back.
Sam made a small noise of irritation and grabbed the moisturiser from Dean’s chest, pouring a generous amount onto his hand he decided to take control, taking hold of Dean’s erection, he coated it liberally with a few firm strokes that made Dean moan, then shoved his big brother’s hand away and lifted himself, slowly sitting himself down onto Dean’s cock. He hissed at the discomfort, but didn’t stop.
“Sammy…” Dean gasped, biting back a moan “Oh god, feels so good…”
Sam finally stopped, breathing deeply, getting used to the feeling of being filled. By your brother a little voice in the back of his head pointed out, but he ignored it, leaning down to kiss Dean again, as their lips met, he started to move his hips. Dean moaned into his mouth, jerking his own hips in time with Sam’s.
They stayed like that for a moment, then apparently Dean got impatient with Sam’s pace, and rolled them over (nearly rolling them off the bed in his eagerness), reversing their positions and beginning to thrust into Sam in earnest.
Sam was about to complain, until the new angle made him see stars.
Dean grinned at the helpless moaning he drew from Sam with every thrust - trust Dean to get triumphant because he could make his brother moan like that.
Sam was going to find some way of getting payback, to make his brother gasp and groan like he was doing, but then Dean’s fingers closed around his dick, hand moving in time to his thrusts, and Sam just lost it; within moments he was coming, hard.
Dean smirked, looking like the cat that got the cream (literally), and leant down to lick a wet trail up Sam’s chest, licking up some of the come that covered it. If it were physically possible, Sam would’ve come again just watching him do that.
He tasted himself on Dean’s lips as they kissed again, awkward and teeth-clacky as Dean’s thrusts became more erratic, only a few more before he came with a moan of Sam’s name, half collapsing onto his brother’s chest.
They stayed like that for a long moment, just bathing in the post-orgasmic glow of satisfaction.
As they lay there, they felt more than heard the girlish whisper of thanks, before sensing that she’d gone, even though they’d barely felt her there.
Dean’s body stiffened at that, and Sam bit his lip, almost wishing he hadn’t suggested this because the fallout was going to be bad, but the sex had just been so good…
“Dean…” he said slowly, wincing as Dean pulled away from him, and that made it twenty times more awkward because Dean was still in him and the drying come between them made their skin sticky and it wasn’t all that easy to separate.
“Sammy, I’m sorry…” Dean turned away from him, and Sam decided it was time for action. Or, words, which was Sam’s version of action.
He sat up.
“Look, Dean. We can pretend we were possessed, just put this behind us and chalk it up to a really perverted ghost, or…”
“Or what, Sammy?” Dean rounded on him, looking angry. His anger melted when he saw the vulnerable look on Sam’s face, though somewhere inside he was damning those puppy eyes.
“Like our life isn’t fucked up enough already, what difference is this going to make?” Sam asked him.
“It makes a lot of difference, Sam, we can’t-“
Sam cut him off, surging forward to crush their lips together.
He wanted Dean, he wanted that mind-blowing sex again and again. He wanted to be intimate with the person he loved most. He almost wanted to thank that ghost for making him see that, but he’d wait to see how Dean reacted first.
When Sam broke away, panting, he caught Dean’s gaze and held it, questioning.
Dean turned away.
“I’m going to take a shower,” Dean muttered, turning away and heading towards the bathroom.
Sam bit his lip. Had he completely fucked everything up, beyond all hope of rectifying it?
Dean turned back, glancing over his shoulder with a wicked glint in his eye.
“You coming?” he asked Sam.
Hell yes, he was.