[Slash] Sunsets Sailing on April Skies - Sam/Dean - 1/1
Title: Sunsets Sailing on April Skies
Author: anyothergirl415
Pairing/Characters: Sam/Dean
Rating/Category: NC-17/Slash
Spoilers: None
Summary: It’s all Sam’s fault you know. After all, not everyone could piss someone off enough to get them to revert you to your sixteen year old state. Sam was just lucky that way.
Prompt: Sam is wearing Deans shirt, and it brings something out in Dean.
Notes/Warnings: Slight underage (Sam is 16, Dean is… not)
“C’mon Dean, what are we gonna do?” Sam whined and groaned and stomped his foot hard onto the ground because he was sixteen and therefore had a right to be a little indignant. Plus at sixteen you could get away with things, people were more inclined to shrug it off and give the old classic teenagers excuse.
Except Dean of course who’d already lived through Sam being sixteen - just barely - and found the idea of trying to do it again about as exciting as a full body wax given by Larry King in a bikini. Yeah, completely unappealing in the strongest way possible. Even if his brother was back in that barely filled out, skinny and gawky stage, all long lines and creamy skin, shaggy mop of brown hair careless tousled. Bangs. Dean hadn’t even realized how much he missed the bangs. “We’re gonna go back to that fuckin’ warehouse and pray there’s a logical way to reverse this,” Dean grunted and tugged the driver’s side door open, sliding behind the wheel and scrubbing fingers across his brow.
They dealt with weird shit, all the fucking time. This though? It was definitely ranking high up on the totally fucked up shit the Winchester’s went through list. The passenger door creaked and the car barely shook as Sam clambered in, arms all but disappearing in the large coat. He pushed at the sleeves and scowled, flopping back with as much dramatic flair as a sixteen year old could manage. “And if there is no logical way to reverse this? How old am I supposed to be?”
“Twenty six,” Dean glanced his way, using the road they were now heading down as a proper distraction to keep from openly staring at the sixteen year old version of his little brother. It wasn’t like he found anything appealing about that skinny neck and the way he could see each swallow. Or the fact that he’d been reduced to wearing a pair of Dean’s jeans and shirt because it was just a little closer to a fit than his own clothes. “Damnit Sam what did you say to that chick to get her to do this to you? You should know better,” Dean drove his palm down into the wheel and clenched his jaw.
He didn’t have to turn to see Sam’s eyes widened freakishly, “Me? Me?” Sam was almost squeaking and Dean flinched. “I didn’t say anything. Jesus Dean the last thing I remember was getting home from my date with Stephanie Kindle.”
Dean snorted a laugh and shook his head, “seriously? You mean the night when you came home with vodka breath and vomit on your shirt?”
Flinching Sam shifted back into the seat, sinking into the coat. “Yeah, whatever,” his face flushed with embarrassment as Dean continued laughing. “Shut up, Dean!” Sam groaned and reached out to smack him. “God, I thought that might have changed.”
“The me still mocking you mercilessly thing?” Dean shot him a laugh and a smirk, “or the coming home with vodka breath and vomit on your shirt?”
Sam rolled his eyes and pulled his legs up on the seat, folding in on himself in a way he hadn’t been able to do in years. “Figures you’d still suck. And I still hunt huh? We do? I didn’t… do anything more?”
There could quite possibly be some rules about not sharing Sam’s future with the younger version of himself. Dean was pretty sure Back to the Future logic was a good thing to stick by. Plus he wasn’t too keen on explaining… everything to Sam. That conversation… oh hey Sam you died, I brought you back, I died, you fucked a demon and drank demon blood, oh and yeah you kind of set Lucifer free from hell. And then there was… well. That was way too much for an adult to handle, a sixteen year old? No, Dean couldn’t even go there.
“I’m guessing you’re like, freaking out ‘cause you don’t know whether you should tell me anything or not and that’s lame Dean. Do you really think I’m gonna remember this?” Sam pushed a hand up through his hair and Dean just barely swerved in time to miss a cat in the road. That really shouldn’t have been distracting as it was.
Fleetingly Dean wondered what his Sam, the twenty six year old brother that he loved, would say to the semi hard on in his jeans. Jesus Christ if he wasn’t perverted before. Erection for his baby brother? Dean was going to hell. Again. “We’re gonna figure this out and get you back to normal Sammy. Trust me, we’ll fix this.”
“Dean? Can I ask you something?” Sam’s head tilted to the side in his I’m trying to be casual way.
“If I say no are you going to ask me anyway?” Dean shot back easily, grinning at the eye roll. It wasn’t like Sam didn’t roll his eyes at him now, sure he did all the time, but sixteen was about the time Sam learned how to perfect the art. Forgive Dean for feeling a little nostalgic.
Sam picked at the too large jeans blanketing his knees, wetting his lips slowly. He was nervous which struck Dean as slightly odd. “Why was there only one bed in the motel? Why did I wake up naked?” Sam blurt out all at once, words stringing together in a slur.
Truthfully, Dean had spent awhile trying to adjust to the shock of stepping out of the bathroom and finding the sixteen year old version of his brother. He’d been expecting… well, someone with a lot more muscles that was for sure. And Sam had been shorter than him which had changed years ago but was a thrill none-the-less. So he hadn’t given much thought as to what Sam might notice, but the one bed thing, it was kind of a dead giveaway. “I um… it’s um… look it doesn’t matter okay? Because pretty soon you’ll be back to normal and… okay? Okay. Let’s drop it.”
Surprisingly, Sam did drop it. Though that could have had a lot to do with the fact that they were pulling up to the warehouse. Dean thanked the gods for good timing and kicked the door open. Sam’s pants - or rather, Dean’s pants on Sam - nearly dropped as he climbed out, even with the tight belt holding them in place. Dean swallowed thickly and looked to the side. They really needed to fix this.
-=-=-=-
“Dean?”
There was a pleasant little buzz filtering through Dean’s brain and he brought his knees up slightly, pressing them hard into the seat, sliding along the cool leather as he settled back. “Yeah?” He hummed slightly and brought the bottle to his lips, taking a long pull of whiskey that burned on the way down before offering it across the back seat.
Sam’s fingers curled over Dean’s as he pulled the bottle forward, sipping rather than gulping and wincing. “Fuck this stuff is awful.”
Dean laughed and took the bottle back, nodding slowly, “it is. Cheap liquor Sammy, never good for you.”
They’re quiet for awhile though Dean can feel the more to come just nudging along the edges, waiting for a proper crack to break through. In usual Sam style, in comes with a snap and a crack and leaves Dean fumbling. “Are we fucking each other?”
The alcohol nearly spills along his shirt and Dean was fairly certain his face had to be glowing. He’d forgotten that, at sixteen, there was no time to waist with the bullshit. Just lay it on the line and get the truth, damn the consequences. “It’s uh, a little more complicated than that Sam,” Dean pointed out though honestly, when you break it down to bare basics, it wasn’t.
Sam huffed slightly and shrugged out of the jacket, laying it to the side and peering out the window into the dark street. “Complicated? It’s kind of a yes or no answer.” Sam pointed out and took the bottle, sipping from it once more.
Dean watched as he twisted the cap on slowly, reached forward to deposit the bottle on the front seat. Dean had to come up with some logical explanation for the one bed, the naked thing, the fact that Sam had caught him more than once during the course of the day staring at his ass. “I um… yes,” Dean sighed and dropped his legs, feet slamming down hard into the floor.
The dark green of Dean’s shirt hung from Sam’s shoulders and he picked along the fabric, “how long?”
“I… what?” Dean’s gaze was only a little caught by thin fingers, gentle brushes across fabric. It felt like it took too long to lift his eyes, to drag them away from his shirt hanging too loose over Sam’s thin chest. “How long?”
“Yeah Dean, how long,” Sam grinned like he knew what Dean was thinking. Denim slid along leather and Sam’s leg was suddenly across his, small, lithe body barely more than a warm pressure against his thighs. “How long, have you and I… been… fucking?” Sam repeated slowly and rolled his body forward.
Dean’s eyes fluttered, bright green fixed on hazel, and the heat in his crotch built with flaring intensity. “S-Sammy… I…” Dean wasn’t sure how his hands ended up across Sam’s chest, sliding the warm fabric along his palm. “We… we… what are you doing Sam? This shouldn’t…”
“What’s the matter Dean? You fuck me right? You wanna fuck me now?” Sam’s lips pressed against his skin, down along the collar of his coat. Dean sucked in a breath and tried to decide whether answering was wise or not but Sam affectively stopped words in his throat by dropping a hand to palm along the front zipper, pressing into the bulge. “I can feel it. You want me.”
“We can’t…” Dean shook his head. It felt… weird. Like he was cheating on Sam with… Sam. Younger Sam compared to older and that logic had to make sense somewhere. “Sam, you’re sixteen… that’s… god I’m thirty do you know how fucked up that is?”
Sam pulled back from Dean, arms draped over his shoulders, head tilting back with a laugh, “oh yeah, cause fucking your brother? Totally not fucked up at all. That should be the fucked up thing, Dean. Not the fact that you’ve got a boner for a teenager.”
Dean groaned and dropped his head back against the seat, fingers curving over seemingly tiny thighs. “I can’t believe you just said boner.”
“How long?” Sam murmured once more, fingers twitching along Dean’s shirt, pressing along his shoulders until Dean had no but to lean forward and allow his coat and over shirt to fall down his arms. “How long have we been fucking?”
Lips burned along his neck and Dean moaned, fingers tightening over denim. “I… fuck, half a year, little longer… oh Jesus…” Dean growled as Sam’s teeth sank into that spot along his neck that sent little sparks of pleasure down his spine.
“Only six months huh?” Sam murmured and dropped back once more, tugging at the hem of Dean’s undershirt and twisting the material up. “Why’d it take so long?”
“Extenuating circumstances,” Dean mumbled around cloth before the shirt tugged free and fell to the side. “What do you mean?” He asked a moment later as Sam’s words sank in.
Sam smirked and curled his body down to suck open mouthed kisses across Dean’s chest. “It’s just…” he blew hot air across Dean’s nipple and Dean could feel the tilt up over his lips in response to Dean’s hips jerking up. “Been wanting it… for… months now. So years for you…” Sam kissed his way back up, lips hovering above his brother’s, “don’t know why you waited so long.”
“Never knew…” Dean insisted and gave in to the desire to curl his fingers into the cotton of his own shirt on Sam, tugging him closer to crush their lips together.
Sixteen year old Sam kissed nothing like twenty six year old Sam. It was all energy and exuberance, parted lips and questing tongue. It wasn’t necessarily that he liked kissing this Sam more but to do it without the added weight of past circumstances, without feeling like every move was calculated, it was nice. It was actually really fucking hot.
Sam slithered and climbed and squirmed and somehow Dean found himself sprawled along the backseat, jeans down around the tops of his boots, body flushed and curving up into Sam’s lips. Things like this should be illegal. “Jesus… fuck…” he growled and clawed his hands along Sam’s hair, tugging at the floppy mass.
The pride was practically making Sam glow and he finally relented under Dean’s tugs, crawling across his body. Sam’s legs were bare - when that happened Dean had no idea - but the shirt still hung too big from his recently lengthened frame and it brushed along his chest. “Want you to fuck me Dean.” Sam groaned and reached behind him to stroke along the hard line of Dean’s cock. “Wanna feel it. You in me.”
“Ah… fuck Sammy, I…” Dean groaned and wracked his mind for all the reasons he was fairly certain that fucking his sixteen year old brother was a bad idea. It was a little disconcerting how long it took him to bring even one to the lust blocked surface of his mind, “I uh… I… age. Sixteen… too young…”
Sam chuckled and shook his head and Dean fleetingly wondered how the kid gained the knowledge to thoroughly fuck someone over like this. “Wanna know something Dean? I finger myself with the bottle of lube you keep under the pillow. The one you think I don’t know about? Each night I climb out of my bed, reach under your pillow, and finger myself open watching you.”
“Shit…” it took actual energy for Dean to blink his eyes, hips jerking up, groaning harshly as the tip of his cock slid along Sam’s crack. “I… fuck… nothing. No lube…”
The grin on Sam’s face was fucking feral and Dean watched in some type of hovering-on-orgasm blur as his hand was lifted and Sam sucked two fingers between his lips, coating salvia thoroughly over his flesh. Dean’s breath stuttered to halt as Sam shifted forward and bent his arm down, spreading his body wide before rocking down into both fingers at once.
Dean wasn’t sure how it happened but one moment his fingers were buried in Sam, stretching him, the younger man writhing and rocking, head back and gasping as if this were the best sensation possible. Then his fingers were sliding free and a small, oddly familiar, spit soaked hand was curling around his cock and stroking.
It was almost too much, too fast, far too much heat burning along his body and making his mind spin. Sam sank down, body shaking and Dean held him closed, soothed him with quiet murmurs and gentle strokes. And just when Dean thought he was finally seeing the little brother he remembered, his soft, tender little Sammy, the kid was moving, riding Dean like a fucking pro and it was far hotter than he anticipated.
The sound of Sam’s moans, breathy and gasped, echoed around the car, layering over Dean like a thick blanket. Even if the heat hadn’t been entirely too tight and pulsing around his cock, Dean wouldn’t have lasted long. Not that he had any real concept of minutes passing. It was all heart beats and inhales, bodies dropping, sliding up. Dean was starting to wonder, really, who was claiming who.
His orgasm tore through him, tightened the muscles through his body and sent him spiraling into overload. Dean only vaguely noted Sam coming, felt the warm wet against his skin, felt him shuddered slightly before collapsing onto his chest.
For a long stretch of minutes they laid together in a heap, chests evening out until they inhaled the same air and exhaled in unison. “Damn…” Sam whispered, groaning softly as he pulled away from Dean’s body, sliding up his chest.
Dean grunted in agreement and stroked a hand through his hair. “If you remember this, you should talk me into it sooner. I wouldn’t say no if you pushed hard enough. Clearly you’re good at that.”
Sam sat up and grinned. “Yeah? Let’s hope I remember then,” he brushed their lips together before settling back against his chest. “It’ll be back to normal in the morning?”
“Yeah, it should be,” Dean nodded and felt torn between wanting this Sam forever and wanting his Sam back. “Love you Sammy.”
“Yeah Dean, love you too,” Sam whispered and smiled against his chest.
Author: anyothergirl415
Pairing/Characters: Sam/Dean
Rating/Category: NC-17/Slash
Spoilers: None
Summary: It’s all Sam’s fault you know. After all, not everyone could piss someone off enough to get them to revert you to your sixteen year old state. Sam was just lucky that way.
Prompt: Sam is wearing Deans shirt, and it brings something out in Dean.
Notes/Warnings: Slight underage (Sam is 16, Dean is… not)
“C’mon Dean, what are we gonna do?” Sam whined and groaned and stomped his foot hard onto the ground because he was sixteen and therefore had a right to be a little indignant. Plus at sixteen you could get away with things, people were more inclined to shrug it off and give the old classic teenagers excuse.
Except Dean of course who’d already lived through Sam being sixteen - just barely - and found the idea of trying to do it again about as exciting as a full body wax given by Larry King in a bikini. Yeah, completely unappealing in the strongest way possible. Even if his brother was back in that barely filled out, skinny and gawky stage, all long lines and creamy skin, shaggy mop of brown hair careless tousled. Bangs. Dean hadn’t even realized how much he missed the bangs. “We’re gonna go back to that fuckin’ warehouse and pray there’s a logical way to reverse this,” Dean grunted and tugged the driver’s side door open, sliding behind the wheel and scrubbing fingers across his brow.
They dealt with weird shit, all the fucking time. This though? It was definitely ranking high up on the totally fucked up shit the Winchester’s went through list. The passenger door creaked and the car barely shook as Sam clambered in, arms all but disappearing in the large coat. He pushed at the sleeves and scowled, flopping back with as much dramatic flair as a sixteen year old could manage. “And if there is no logical way to reverse this? How old am I supposed to be?”
“Twenty six,” Dean glanced his way, using the road they were now heading down as a proper distraction to keep from openly staring at the sixteen year old version of his little brother. It wasn’t like he found anything appealing about that skinny neck and the way he could see each swallow. Or the fact that he’d been reduced to wearing a pair of Dean’s jeans and shirt because it was just a little closer to a fit than his own clothes. “Damnit Sam what did you say to that chick to get her to do this to you? You should know better,” Dean drove his palm down into the wheel and clenched his jaw.
He didn’t have to turn to see Sam’s eyes widened freakishly, “Me? Me?” Sam was almost squeaking and Dean flinched. “I didn’t say anything. Jesus Dean the last thing I remember was getting home from my date with Stephanie Kindle.”
Dean snorted a laugh and shook his head, “seriously? You mean the night when you came home with vodka breath and vomit on your shirt?”
Flinching Sam shifted back into the seat, sinking into the coat. “Yeah, whatever,” his face flushed with embarrassment as Dean continued laughing. “Shut up, Dean!” Sam groaned and reached out to smack him. “God, I thought that might have changed.”
“The me still mocking you mercilessly thing?” Dean shot him a laugh and a smirk, “or the coming home with vodka breath and vomit on your shirt?”
Sam rolled his eyes and pulled his legs up on the seat, folding in on himself in a way he hadn’t been able to do in years. “Figures you’d still suck. And I still hunt huh? We do? I didn’t… do anything more?”
There could quite possibly be some rules about not sharing Sam’s future with the younger version of himself. Dean was pretty sure Back to the Future logic was a good thing to stick by. Plus he wasn’t too keen on explaining… everything to Sam. That conversation… oh hey Sam you died, I brought you back, I died, you fucked a demon and drank demon blood, oh and yeah you kind of set Lucifer free from hell. And then there was… well. That was way too much for an adult to handle, a sixteen year old? No, Dean couldn’t even go there.
“I’m guessing you’re like, freaking out ‘cause you don’t know whether you should tell me anything or not and that’s lame Dean. Do you really think I’m gonna remember this?” Sam pushed a hand up through his hair and Dean just barely swerved in time to miss a cat in the road. That really shouldn’t have been distracting as it was.
Fleetingly Dean wondered what his Sam, the twenty six year old brother that he loved, would say to the semi hard on in his jeans. Jesus Christ if he wasn’t perverted before. Erection for his baby brother? Dean was going to hell. Again. “We’re gonna figure this out and get you back to normal Sammy. Trust me, we’ll fix this.”
“Dean? Can I ask you something?” Sam’s head tilted to the side in his I’m trying to be casual way.
“If I say no are you going to ask me anyway?” Dean shot back easily, grinning at the eye roll. It wasn’t like Sam didn’t roll his eyes at him now, sure he did all the time, but sixteen was about the time Sam learned how to perfect the art. Forgive Dean for feeling a little nostalgic.
Sam picked at the too large jeans blanketing his knees, wetting his lips slowly. He was nervous which struck Dean as slightly odd. “Why was there only one bed in the motel? Why did I wake up naked?” Sam blurt out all at once, words stringing together in a slur.
Truthfully, Dean had spent awhile trying to adjust to the shock of stepping out of the bathroom and finding the sixteen year old version of his brother. He’d been expecting… well, someone with a lot more muscles that was for sure. And Sam had been shorter than him which had changed years ago but was a thrill none-the-less. So he hadn’t given much thought as to what Sam might notice, but the one bed thing, it was kind of a dead giveaway. “I um… it’s um… look it doesn’t matter okay? Because pretty soon you’ll be back to normal and… okay? Okay. Let’s drop it.”
Surprisingly, Sam did drop it. Though that could have had a lot to do with the fact that they were pulling up to the warehouse. Dean thanked the gods for good timing and kicked the door open. Sam’s pants - or rather, Dean’s pants on Sam - nearly dropped as he climbed out, even with the tight belt holding them in place. Dean swallowed thickly and looked to the side. They really needed to fix this.
-=-=-=-
“Dean?”
There was a pleasant little buzz filtering through Dean’s brain and he brought his knees up slightly, pressing them hard into the seat, sliding along the cool leather as he settled back. “Yeah?” He hummed slightly and brought the bottle to his lips, taking a long pull of whiskey that burned on the way down before offering it across the back seat.
Sam’s fingers curled over Dean’s as he pulled the bottle forward, sipping rather than gulping and wincing. “Fuck this stuff is awful.”
Dean laughed and took the bottle back, nodding slowly, “it is. Cheap liquor Sammy, never good for you.”
They’re quiet for awhile though Dean can feel the more to come just nudging along the edges, waiting for a proper crack to break through. In usual Sam style, in comes with a snap and a crack and leaves Dean fumbling. “Are we fucking each other?”
The alcohol nearly spills along his shirt and Dean was fairly certain his face had to be glowing. He’d forgotten that, at sixteen, there was no time to waist with the bullshit. Just lay it on the line and get the truth, damn the consequences. “It’s uh, a little more complicated than that Sam,” Dean pointed out though honestly, when you break it down to bare basics, it wasn’t.
Sam huffed slightly and shrugged out of the jacket, laying it to the side and peering out the window into the dark street. “Complicated? It’s kind of a yes or no answer.” Sam pointed out and took the bottle, sipping from it once more.
Dean watched as he twisted the cap on slowly, reached forward to deposit the bottle on the front seat. Dean had to come up with some logical explanation for the one bed, the naked thing, the fact that Sam had caught him more than once during the course of the day staring at his ass. “I um… yes,” Dean sighed and dropped his legs, feet slamming down hard into the floor.
The dark green of Dean’s shirt hung from Sam’s shoulders and he picked along the fabric, “how long?”
“I… what?” Dean’s gaze was only a little caught by thin fingers, gentle brushes across fabric. It felt like it took too long to lift his eyes, to drag them away from his shirt hanging too loose over Sam’s thin chest. “How long?”
“Yeah Dean, how long,” Sam grinned like he knew what Dean was thinking. Denim slid along leather and Sam’s leg was suddenly across his, small, lithe body barely more than a warm pressure against his thighs. “How long, have you and I… been… fucking?” Sam repeated slowly and rolled his body forward.
Dean’s eyes fluttered, bright green fixed on hazel, and the heat in his crotch built with flaring intensity. “S-Sammy… I…” Dean wasn’t sure how his hands ended up across Sam’s chest, sliding the warm fabric along his palm. “We… we… what are you doing Sam? This shouldn’t…”
“What’s the matter Dean? You fuck me right? You wanna fuck me now?” Sam’s lips pressed against his skin, down along the collar of his coat. Dean sucked in a breath and tried to decide whether answering was wise or not but Sam affectively stopped words in his throat by dropping a hand to palm along the front zipper, pressing into the bulge. “I can feel it. You want me.”
“We can’t…” Dean shook his head. It felt… weird. Like he was cheating on Sam with… Sam. Younger Sam compared to older and that logic had to make sense somewhere. “Sam, you’re sixteen… that’s… god I’m thirty do you know how fucked up that is?”
Sam pulled back from Dean, arms draped over his shoulders, head tilting back with a laugh, “oh yeah, cause fucking your brother? Totally not fucked up at all. That should be the fucked up thing, Dean. Not the fact that you’ve got a boner for a teenager.”
Dean groaned and dropped his head back against the seat, fingers curving over seemingly tiny thighs. “I can’t believe you just said boner.”
“How long?” Sam murmured once more, fingers twitching along Dean’s shirt, pressing along his shoulders until Dean had no but to lean forward and allow his coat and over shirt to fall down his arms. “How long have we been fucking?”
Lips burned along his neck and Dean moaned, fingers tightening over denim. “I… fuck, half a year, little longer… oh Jesus…” Dean growled as Sam’s teeth sank into that spot along his neck that sent little sparks of pleasure down his spine.
“Only six months huh?” Sam murmured and dropped back once more, tugging at the hem of Dean’s undershirt and twisting the material up. “Why’d it take so long?”
“Extenuating circumstances,” Dean mumbled around cloth before the shirt tugged free and fell to the side. “What do you mean?” He asked a moment later as Sam’s words sank in.
Sam smirked and curled his body down to suck open mouthed kisses across Dean’s chest. “It’s just…” he blew hot air across Dean’s nipple and Dean could feel the tilt up over his lips in response to Dean’s hips jerking up. “Been wanting it… for… months now. So years for you…” Sam kissed his way back up, lips hovering above his brother’s, “don’t know why you waited so long.”
“Never knew…” Dean insisted and gave in to the desire to curl his fingers into the cotton of his own shirt on Sam, tugging him closer to crush their lips together.
Sixteen year old Sam kissed nothing like twenty six year old Sam. It was all energy and exuberance, parted lips and questing tongue. It wasn’t necessarily that he liked kissing this Sam more but to do it without the added weight of past circumstances, without feeling like every move was calculated, it was nice. It was actually really fucking hot.
Sam slithered and climbed and squirmed and somehow Dean found himself sprawled along the backseat, jeans down around the tops of his boots, body flushed and curving up into Sam’s lips. Things like this should be illegal. “Jesus… fuck…” he growled and clawed his hands along Sam’s hair, tugging at the floppy mass.
The pride was practically making Sam glow and he finally relented under Dean’s tugs, crawling across his body. Sam’s legs were bare - when that happened Dean had no idea - but the shirt still hung too big from his recently lengthened frame and it brushed along his chest. “Want you to fuck me Dean.” Sam groaned and reached behind him to stroke along the hard line of Dean’s cock. “Wanna feel it. You in me.”
“Ah… fuck Sammy, I…” Dean groaned and wracked his mind for all the reasons he was fairly certain that fucking his sixteen year old brother was a bad idea. It was a little disconcerting how long it took him to bring even one to the lust blocked surface of his mind, “I uh… I… age. Sixteen… too young…”
Sam chuckled and shook his head and Dean fleetingly wondered how the kid gained the knowledge to thoroughly fuck someone over like this. “Wanna know something Dean? I finger myself with the bottle of lube you keep under the pillow. The one you think I don’t know about? Each night I climb out of my bed, reach under your pillow, and finger myself open watching you.”
“Shit…” it took actual energy for Dean to blink his eyes, hips jerking up, groaning harshly as the tip of his cock slid along Sam’s crack. “I… fuck… nothing. No lube…”
The grin on Sam’s face was fucking feral and Dean watched in some type of hovering-on-orgasm blur as his hand was lifted and Sam sucked two fingers between his lips, coating salvia thoroughly over his flesh. Dean’s breath stuttered to halt as Sam shifted forward and bent his arm down, spreading his body wide before rocking down into both fingers at once.
Dean wasn’t sure how it happened but one moment his fingers were buried in Sam, stretching him, the younger man writhing and rocking, head back and gasping as if this were the best sensation possible. Then his fingers were sliding free and a small, oddly familiar, spit soaked hand was curling around his cock and stroking.
It was almost too much, too fast, far too much heat burning along his body and making his mind spin. Sam sank down, body shaking and Dean held him closed, soothed him with quiet murmurs and gentle strokes. And just when Dean thought he was finally seeing the little brother he remembered, his soft, tender little Sammy, the kid was moving, riding Dean like a fucking pro and it was far hotter than he anticipated.
The sound of Sam’s moans, breathy and gasped, echoed around the car, layering over Dean like a thick blanket. Even if the heat hadn’t been entirely too tight and pulsing around his cock, Dean wouldn’t have lasted long. Not that he had any real concept of minutes passing. It was all heart beats and inhales, bodies dropping, sliding up. Dean was starting to wonder, really, who was claiming who.
His orgasm tore through him, tightened the muscles through his body and sent him spiraling into overload. Dean only vaguely noted Sam coming, felt the warm wet against his skin, felt him shuddered slightly before collapsing onto his chest.
For a long stretch of minutes they laid together in a heap, chests evening out until they inhaled the same air and exhaled in unison. “Damn…” Sam whispered, groaning softly as he pulled away from Dean’s body, sliding up his chest.
Dean grunted in agreement and stroked a hand through his hair. “If you remember this, you should talk me into it sooner. I wouldn’t say no if you pushed hard enough. Clearly you’re good at that.”
Sam sat up and grinned. “Yeah? Let’s hope I remember then,” he brushed their lips together before settling back against his chest. “It’ll be back to normal in the morning?”
“Yeah, it should be,” Dean nodded and felt torn between wanting this Sam forever and wanting his Sam back. “Love you Sammy.”
“Yeah Dean, love you too,” Sam whispered and smiled against his chest.