Uh... I porned. huh.
Yeah, so this wouldn't leave me alone. So I wrote it... and it has porn... between the Brothers Winchester... so, Wincest. Oh yeah, and my first time writing "the porn"
If that's not your cup o' tea, do not read any further.
ETA: I cannot believe that I forgot to credit my Beta!Bitch! How did you let me forget to credit you barkeep??? Dude. For serious. Wouldn't have happened without you. You evil enabler.
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: none
Word Count: 2020
Disclaimer: These boys? They are not mine. I am sad. The end... love MGButterfly.
You let him come to you. You always let him come to you. He always will.
In the softness of the morning or the tragedy of night, he’ll lay his soul bare, strip to the bone, without saying a word. That trust is for you alone.
Never, never have you lost faith. Even in your absence, that short stretch of forever when you wanted something more, he never stopped trusting you, having faith in you. You kept that close, slept with it under your pillow, kept it in your pocket throughout your days.
He comes to you now, so close to breaking, soul and body hurting, desperate. He doesn’t say a word... he doesn’t have to. There’s that look in his eyes. The look that says, Please. God, Sam, please.
He throws the pizza on the table and strips off his leather jacket and lets it fall to the floor.
You hold his gaze long enough to let him know that you’re present. Every piece of you is with him. All the little specs of dust and ash, all the whispers and all the longing. You’ll wander together throughout the leaden days, and guide each other in the darkness.
You wrap your arm around your brother’s shoulder and steer him to the tiny bathroom. The light is bad, there are so many shadows on the walls, shadows on his face. You make him sit down on the toilet and carefully pull off his shirt.
There’s a bleeding cut on his left cheek. Not bad, but infection could change that. The one you’re most concerned about though is on his chest. It’s deep, still oozing blood that should have stopped by now. It stretches from his right clavicle to a spot right over his heart. You can see the blood ooze to the rhythm of his heartbeat.
“Dean, I’m gonna get the first aid kit. Just sit tight for a minute. I’ll be right back. Just… I’ll be right back.”
He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t move, doesn’t mouth off, nothing. Just stares sightlessly at you as you walk away.
You come back with the first aid kit and a wet wash cloth to clean his wounds. You start with the one on his chest. Patting and smoothing the blood away with water and concern. Then, pouring hydrogen peroxide over the gash, you watch it bubble and froth. You wait for the fizzing to subside and then douse the wound with holy water. If it bubbled with the hydrogen peroxide, it down right boils when you drench it with the holy water. So, something demonic.
The boiling tapers off and you look down to see Dean’s white-knuckled hands gripping the toilet seat. It must hurt like, well, Hell. Finally, you apply an antibiotic cream and cover the wound gently with sterile cotton gauze. Dean sighs in relief when you place your hand over the termination of the gash, over his heart.
When you move your hand he looks up at you, your eyes meet. There are no words, but you know exactly what he’s saying.
You pull another wash cloth off the rack over the toilet. Soaking it with holy water, you place it over the cut on Dean’s face. He sucks in a hissing breath at the contact. You’re gentle with your movements and soon the cut no longer bubbles. You apply some of the antibiotic cream to his cheek, but leave this one uncovered.
You don’t move your hand when you’re done. Instead, you cup Dean’s cheek in your right hand, your thumb coming up to caress the unmarked flesh of his left cheekbone, just under his eye. Unconsciously, Dean leans into the touch, closing his eyes and taking a long cleansing breath. All of his trust is wrapped up in this moment.
“It was an imp, I think. I was taking a walk in the woods behind the motel. There was a well or something and the thing just... just crawled right out of it. I... it... It came at me, so I blasted its sulphuric ass back to hell.” Dean sighs, scrubs his face with his hands.
You just watch your brother struggle, lost in his dark thoughts.
“Dean, stand up.” Your voice is gentle, barely above a whisper.
Dean just looks at you from his seat, “Sam, I’m tired. Just let me sit here for a while. I’ll be out in a minute.”
“No, Dean. Stand up. Now.”
Dean, taken aback, snorts and rolls his eyes. Standing up he says, “Whatever, Sammy. You tryin’ to be all balls because you’re mad at me? What? You wanna pick a fight? Because I won’t turn one down.”
He sighs, turns to walk out of the bathroom, “I’m going to get a drink.”
And that’s when you do it. That’s when you feel something inside yourself snap. That’s when you grab his shoulders, spin him around and pin him against the bathroom wall. You’re inches away from his face. Your breathing is even and calm, his is quick and angry.
“Sam! What the fuck, man?”
You lean in and down, looking into his eyes. He’s all fire and air, you’re nothing but water and earth. Cool and composed. “You don’t get to do this, Dean. You don’t get to act all macho and cool. I know. I know you.”
You lower your voice to a whisper, “Dean. Dean. I’m here. I’m not leaving. It’s okay.”
Dean twists and tries to get out of your hands. You grip his shoulders tighter and shove him back against the wall again, making him look up into your eyes.
And Dean closes his eyes.
He relaxes against the wall as if he’ll melt into it.
You lean in even closer so that when you speak, your lips brush against his. “Dean. I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”
You let your tongue trace over his bottom lip, soft and supple. He parts them slightly and slowly sucks in a breath. You linger there and he breaths you in but doesn’t move. You slowly press your lips to his, your tongue darting out to open him even further.
You drink each other in, your scents, your desperation. When you finally pull away from him, he’s warm and open and bare.
You let your hands drop to his jeans. Your fingers work at the button and zipper with grace and speed.
“Sam. Sam. Oh, Sam.” He whispers your name like a prayer as you slide his jeans down his legs. You take his dick in your hand as you stand back up and he sucks in a breath at the unexpected touch.
You start to stroke, slowly, turning your hand as it slides up his cock. Dean’s mouth is open, he’s taking short, ragged breaths. He bites his bottom lip and pulls it between his teeth and you’re pretty sure that you’ve never seen anything so god damn sexy. With his dick in your hand you lean in and bite his neck. When he makes a groaning noise deep in his throat, you realize you were wrong before, now you’ve never seen anything so god damn sexy.
You stop your hand and Dean, although he’ll never admit it, whimpers. You smooth your hands down his sides as you sink to your knees in front of him. Dean is looking at you, his eyes are dark and full of something you’ve never seen. His dick is hard, red, full of blood. You watch his eyes as you lick the underside from base to head. Dean’s eyes flutter shut and he moans something that sounds just like jesusfuck.
You slip your mouth over the head of his cock, swirling your tongue around the tip, flicking the underside. Dean’s fists hit the wall behind him when you pull his full length into your mouth. You move slowly and smoothly, pulling and sucking and soothing with your lips and tongue. Dean grabs a hold of your head with both of his hands, gently curling his fingers in your hair. You reach up with your right hand and touch his hand and you feel Dean tense, you feel him contract in on himself. His head hits the wall, his hands tighten in your hair, his back arches pushing his cock deeper in to your mouth... he gasps your name, “Sam, ahhh Sammy!” and his orgasm rips through you both.
His come washes over your tongue like water, and you drink it down. Dean is panting and his knees have gone weak. It’s all you can do to hold him up by his hips. You tenderly suck him off until the last spurts have ceased and then you pull your lips from his dick and look up into his eyes.
“God. Sam.” His voice is like the wispy tendrils of a spider’s web that brush over your skin.
He’s sinking to his knees because you no longer have the strength to hold him up. You’re weak with the aftershocks of Dean. Oh, God. Dean.
He’s there in front of you, his eyes are gleaming, his mouth is wet and swollen. He has a fucked-out, sated look in his eyes that’s reserved only for you.
He moves in to meet your lips. It’s soft at first, then the desperation takes over. He’s grabbing at the back of your neck with his left hand to bring you closer, he can’t get close enough. He’s reaching down to un-do your jeans. Deftly unfastening the button, pulling the zipper down. Then his right hand is there, on your dick, stroking, smoothing over, pulling all the hurt away.
You moan into his mouth. It’s too much and you have to pull away to suck in a breath. Your head hits the wall and Dean is still there, looking at you, watching you as you give in to his touch. He glides down your chest until his mouth hovers over you cock. You can feel his breath ghosting over the head, slick with pre-come.
He flicks his tongue over the slit, swirling it in circles until your hands reflexively tense at your sides. And then the world goes white as he pulls your dick into his mouth. Warm and wet and safe and everything. His tongue is sliding up the underside as his mouth works to bring you off. His hand is still on your cock, stroking in time to the movements of his mouth. And god damn if you’re not going to come right the fuck now.
And you do. Everything else disappears. It’s just you and Dean and the letting go of everything. You lose yourself in your release, pulling Dean into you as you release into him. Everything else just goes away, becomes white noise in your ears.
Dean pulls himself off of you and sits back against the wall. You both just stare for a moment, wondering what in the hell to do next. And then...
“Wow. I, uh... I’m gonna...”
“Yeah.”
You both stand up, face to face. Dean walks out of the bathroom in front of you, then pauses as you put your hand on his shoulder. You tense, preparing for his recoil.
“Dean.”
“Sam.”
He says your name and there's no denial or recrimination, just weariness. You let your body relax and exhale a breath that you didn’t know you’d been holding. Dean starts walking to one of the beds, stripping the remnants of his clothing off as he goes. Lying down naked, he motions for you and you follow suit.
You wrap yourself around him as if he’s the only thing tethering you to this plane of existence.
And maybe he is. And maybe that's all that you need. Maybe it's all that you both need.
“Dean, maybe we should....”
“Shut up, Sam. Get some sleep.”
And again, you’ve been holding your breath. Dean gives it back to you and you close your eyes to let the shadows be swallowed up into the light.
“It’s alright, Sammy. I’m not going anywhere either.”
If that's not your cup o' tea, do not read any further.
ETA: I cannot believe that I forgot to credit my Beta!Bitch! How did you let me forget to credit you barkeep??? Dude. For serious. Wouldn't have happened without you. You evil enabler.
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: none
Word Count: 2020
Disclaimer: These boys? They are not mine. I am sad. The end... love MGButterfly.
You let him come to you. You always let him come to you. He always will.
In the softness of the morning or the tragedy of night, he’ll lay his soul bare, strip to the bone, without saying a word. That trust is for you alone.
Never, never have you lost faith. Even in your absence, that short stretch of forever when you wanted something more, he never stopped trusting you, having faith in you. You kept that close, slept with it under your pillow, kept it in your pocket throughout your days.
He comes to you now, so close to breaking, soul and body hurting, desperate. He doesn’t say a word... he doesn’t have to. There’s that look in his eyes. The look that says, Please. God, Sam, please.
He throws the pizza on the table and strips off his leather jacket and lets it fall to the floor.
You hold his gaze long enough to let him know that you’re present. Every piece of you is with him. All the little specs of dust and ash, all the whispers and all the longing. You’ll wander together throughout the leaden days, and guide each other in the darkness.
You wrap your arm around your brother’s shoulder and steer him to the tiny bathroom. The light is bad, there are so many shadows on the walls, shadows on his face. You make him sit down on the toilet and carefully pull off his shirt.
There’s a bleeding cut on his left cheek. Not bad, but infection could change that. The one you’re most concerned about though is on his chest. It’s deep, still oozing blood that should have stopped by now. It stretches from his right clavicle to a spot right over his heart. You can see the blood ooze to the rhythm of his heartbeat.
“Dean, I’m gonna get the first aid kit. Just sit tight for a minute. I’ll be right back. Just… I’ll be right back.”
He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t move, doesn’t mouth off, nothing. Just stares sightlessly at you as you walk away.
You come back with the first aid kit and a wet wash cloth to clean his wounds. You start with the one on his chest. Patting and smoothing the blood away with water and concern. Then, pouring hydrogen peroxide over the gash, you watch it bubble and froth. You wait for the fizzing to subside and then douse the wound with holy water. If it bubbled with the hydrogen peroxide, it down right boils when you drench it with the holy water. So, something demonic.
The boiling tapers off and you look down to see Dean’s white-knuckled hands gripping the toilet seat. It must hurt like, well, Hell. Finally, you apply an antibiotic cream and cover the wound gently with sterile cotton gauze. Dean sighs in relief when you place your hand over the termination of the gash, over his heart.
When you move your hand he looks up at you, your eyes meet. There are no words, but you know exactly what he’s saying.
You pull another wash cloth off the rack over the toilet. Soaking it with holy water, you place it over the cut on Dean’s face. He sucks in a hissing breath at the contact. You’re gentle with your movements and soon the cut no longer bubbles. You apply some of the antibiotic cream to his cheek, but leave this one uncovered.
You don’t move your hand when you’re done. Instead, you cup Dean’s cheek in your right hand, your thumb coming up to caress the unmarked flesh of his left cheekbone, just under his eye. Unconsciously, Dean leans into the touch, closing his eyes and taking a long cleansing breath. All of his trust is wrapped up in this moment.
“It was an imp, I think. I was taking a walk in the woods behind the motel. There was a well or something and the thing just... just crawled right out of it. I... it... It came at me, so I blasted its sulphuric ass back to hell.” Dean sighs, scrubs his face with his hands.
You just watch your brother struggle, lost in his dark thoughts.
“Dean, stand up.” Your voice is gentle, barely above a whisper.
Dean just looks at you from his seat, “Sam, I’m tired. Just let me sit here for a while. I’ll be out in a minute.”
“No, Dean. Stand up. Now.”
Dean, taken aback, snorts and rolls his eyes. Standing up he says, “Whatever, Sammy. You tryin’ to be all balls because you’re mad at me? What? You wanna pick a fight? Because I won’t turn one down.”
He sighs, turns to walk out of the bathroom, “I’m going to get a drink.”
And that’s when you do it. That’s when you feel something inside yourself snap. That’s when you grab his shoulders, spin him around and pin him against the bathroom wall. You’re inches away from his face. Your breathing is even and calm, his is quick and angry.
“Sam! What the fuck, man?”
You lean in and down, looking into his eyes. He’s all fire and air, you’re nothing but water and earth. Cool and composed. “You don’t get to do this, Dean. You don’t get to act all macho and cool. I know. I know you.”
You lower your voice to a whisper, “Dean. Dean. I’m here. I’m not leaving. It’s okay.”
Dean twists and tries to get out of your hands. You grip his shoulders tighter and shove him back against the wall again, making him look up into your eyes.
And Dean closes his eyes.
He relaxes against the wall as if he’ll melt into it.
You lean in even closer so that when you speak, your lips brush against his. “Dean. I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”
You let your tongue trace over his bottom lip, soft and supple. He parts them slightly and slowly sucks in a breath. You linger there and he breaths you in but doesn’t move. You slowly press your lips to his, your tongue darting out to open him even further.
You drink each other in, your scents, your desperation. When you finally pull away from him, he’s warm and open and bare.
You let your hands drop to his jeans. Your fingers work at the button and zipper with grace and speed.
“Sam. Sam. Oh, Sam.” He whispers your name like a prayer as you slide his jeans down his legs. You take his dick in your hand as you stand back up and he sucks in a breath at the unexpected touch.
You start to stroke, slowly, turning your hand as it slides up his cock. Dean’s mouth is open, he’s taking short, ragged breaths. He bites his bottom lip and pulls it between his teeth and you’re pretty sure that you’ve never seen anything so god damn sexy. With his dick in your hand you lean in and bite his neck. When he makes a groaning noise deep in his throat, you realize you were wrong before, now you’ve never seen anything so god damn sexy.
You stop your hand and Dean, although he’ll never admit it, whimpers. You smooth your hands down his sides as you sink to your knees in front of him. Dean is looking at you, his eyes are dark and full of something you’ve never seen. His dick is hard, red, full of blood. You watch his eyes as you lick the underside from base to head. Dean’s eyes flutter shut and he moans something that sounds just like jesusfuck.
You slip your mouth over the head of his cock, swirling your tongue around the tip, flicking the underside. Dean’s fists hit the wall behind him when you pull his full length into your mouth. You move slowly and smoothly, pulling and sucking and soothing with your lips and tongue. Dean grabs a hold of your head with both of his hands, gently curling his fingers in your hair. You reach up with your right hand and touch his hand and you feel Dean tense, you feel him contract in on himself. His head hits the wall, his hands tighten in your hair, his back arches pushing his cock deeper in to your mouth... he gasps your name, “Sam, ahhh Sammy!” and his orgasm rips through you both.
His come washes over your tongue like water, and you drink it down. Dean is panting and his knees have gone weak. It’s all you can do to hold him up by his hips. You tenderly suck him off until the last spurts have ceased and then you pull your lips from his dick and look up into his eyes.
“God. Sam.” His voice is like the wispy tendrils of a spider’s web that brush over your skin.
He’s sinking to his knees because you no longer have the strength to hold him up. You’re weak with the aftershocks of Dean. Oh, God. Dean.
He’s there in front of you, his eyes are gleaming, his mouth is wet and swollen. He has a fucked-out, sated look in his eyes that’s reserved only for you.
He moves in to meet your lips. It’s soft at first, then the desperation takes over. He’s grabbing at the back of your neck with his left hand to bring you closer, he can’t get close enough. He’s reaching down to un-do your jeans. Deftly unfastening the button, pulling the zipper down. Then his right hand is there, on your dick, stroking, smoothing over, pulling all the hurt away.
You moan into his mouth. It’s too much and you have to pull away to suck in a breath. Your head hits the wall and Dean is still there, looking at you, watching you as you give in to his touch. He glides down your chest until his mouth hovers over you cock. You can feel his breath ghosting over the head, slick with pre-come.
He flicks his tongue over the slit, swirling it in circles until your hands reflexively tense at your sides. And then the world goes white as he pulls your dick into his mouth. Warm and wet and safe and everything. His tongue is sliding up the underside as his mouth works to bring you off. His hand is still on your cock, stroking in time to the movements of his mouth. And god damn if you’re not going to come right the fuck now.
And you do. Everything else disappears. It’s just you and Dean and the letting go of everything. You lose yourself in your release, pulling Dean into you as you release into him. Everything else just goes away, becomes white noise in your ears.
Dean pulls himself off of you and sits back against the wall. You both just stare for a moment, wondering what in the hell to do next. And then...
“Wow. I, uh... I’m gonna...”
“Yeah.”
You both stand up, face to face. Dean walks out of the bathroom in front of you, then pauses as you put your hand on his shoulder. You tense, preparing for his recoil.
“Dean.”
“Sam.”
He says your name and there's no denial or recrimination, just weariness. You let your body relax and exhale a breath that you didn’t know you’d been holding. Dean starts walking to one of the beds, stripping the remnants of his clothing off as he goes. Lying down naked, he motions for you and you follow suit.
You wrap yourself around him as if he’s the only thing tethering you to this plane of existence.
And maybe he is. And maybe that's all that you need. Maybe it's all that you both need.
“Dean, maybe we should....”
“Shut up, Sam. Get some sleep.”
And again, you’ve been holding your breath. Dean gives it back to you and you close your eyes to let the shadows be swallowed up into the light.
“It’s alright, Sammy. I’m not going anywhere either.”