Boot-y call
Title: Boot-y call
Author: missyjack
Rating: NC17
Words: 1,697
Pairing: Dean/Sam/boots
Genre: PWP
Warnings/recommendations: Wincest, boot!porn, mild D/S
Disclaimer: They are mine! All mine! Bwhahaha! Or not.
Summary: Dean gets new boots and they’re made for more than walkin’…
A/N:
onelittlesleep started all this, what with her dirty talkin’ porn and her new boots. I hope her boots bring her as much pleasure as Dean’s bring him.
A squillion thanks to
bluesister for her wondrous spit and polish beta work on this. Hey honey, we made porn!
Another mid-sized town in another Midwest state. Reports of possible hauntings and the need to find a new head gasket for the Impala had bought Sam and Dean to town. John Winchester had noted the location in his journal, along with some cryptic comments that indicated the town was either a hotbed of supernatural activity, a good place to find parts for an old Chevy, or possibly had a diner serving some fine cherry pie. It was hard to tell.
They spent the morning interviewing friends of the victims, digging up some local history, and checking for any signs of supernatural activity. Late morning, they split up. Dean dropped Sam at the local historical society and they planned to meet up for lunch.
As Sam entered the diner, he found Dean slouched in a booth with his legs stretched out. A waitress in a short pink uniform was crouched beside him, one hand on his leg. Dean whispered something in her ear which caused her to giggle. As she stood up, Sam caught a glimpse of thigh. A name tag indicated that her ample left breast was apparently called Rochelle.
“’Round these parts, a man’s…umm…abilities get judged by the quality of his boots. And, honey, they’re some damn sexy boots.” She smoothed her uniform over her hips and flashed Dean a wicked smile.
“Why thank you, Rochelle. Maybe see you later, sweetheart.”
Sam slid onto the seat opposite his brother. “Dude,” Sam eyed his brotherly curiously, “are those cowboy boots?”
“Sure are, Sammy. Aren’t they bitchin’?” Dean looked appreciatively at his new footwear. They were calf high boots, black with an intricate pattern of stitching. “Got them at the thrift shop. Hardly a mark on them, just need a bit of cleaning. Do you know how much they usually cost? Well, neither do I but a fucking lot more than I paid for them.”
“C’mon, Dean. We can’t afford shit like this. And anyway when did you care about what you wore?”
“You heard the lady: boots maketh the man. And I reckon these ones have got some magic in ‘em, Sam. Her panties will be soaked about now, thinking about me and my boots.”
Sam couldn’t help but glance over just in time to see the waitress disappear into the Ladies Room. “Look, I found the grave we’re after. It’s in a disused cemetery outside of town. We can go and burn this bastard’s bones this afternoon and stop these hauntings.”
“Sure, sounds like a plan.” Dean sipped his coffee and glanced over at the door the waitress had gone through. “You know she’s probably in their right now, fingering her sweet wet cunt and imagining me fucking her with these boots on.”
Sam shook his head. “Dean, you are such a pig.”
“Jealous, are we? Don’t worry. I’m happy to share the boot love around, Sammy.”
Under the table, Dean lifted one leg and planted a size ten and a half boot hard up against Sam’s crotch.
“Dean!!” Sam said in outrage. But he pressed back against Dean’s foot.
“See? You do like these boots, don’t you?” Dean ground harder into Sam, who struggled not to squirm too obviously. “You like ‘em a lot. You want to feel this leather on your cock, don’t you?”
The waitress reappeared from the bathroom and caught Dean’s eye. She raised an eyebrow and paused to slowly lick her fingers.
“C’mon, Dean. We’ve got some bones to burn”
&&&&&&
Sam and Dean arrived back at the motel room reeking of smoke and gasoline and death.
“Don’t know why I had to do all the digging,” grumbled Sam.
“Well, I wasn’t going to get in there in my new boots!” Dean pulled Sam in for a kiss, but quickly pushed him back. “Dude, you stink like the grave! Look, I’m feeling generous. You can grab the first shower.”
Sam disappeared into the bathroom. A job well done and the burning of some bones were a guaranteed combination to get Dean hard. He settled back in an old vinyl armchair with a beer and started rubbing his dick as he gazed adoringly at his new boots.
Sam emerged from the bathroom smelling better, with a towel hitched around his hips. He walked over to Dean and stood between his outstretched legs. Dean lent forward and ran his lips and tongue above the line of the towel from one hip to the other. He settled his mouth over the fine line of hair that ran down Sam’s belly and kissed downwards towards the bulge beneath the towel.
“Mmmm, oh yes, please.”
As Sam dropped the towel, Dean looked up at him.
“On your knees,” ordered Dean. Sam suppressed a smile--so they were going to play that game. “Now.” The tone of Dean’s voice was an echo of the one their father had trained his boys to obey. Sam had always resisted, questioned and disobeyed his father’s commands, but Dean had shown him the pleasure that could be found in obedience.
“Yes, sir.” Sam knelt in front of Dean, sitting back on his heels with his head bowed and hands clasped behind him.
“Good boy.” Dean lifted a boot and pressed down on Sam’s cock. He rubbed the side of the boot along Sam’s hardening length. “You are my good boy, aren’t you?” Using the toe of his boot, he pressed Sam’s cock up against his belly. His brother’s head was bowed but Dean could see Sam biting his lip.
Sam rocked back and forth ever so slightly. “Yes, sir. Dean, sir.”
“Look at me, Sam.” Dean used his other foot to tip Sam’s head up. “Do you like that? My cowboy boots on your cock? This fine leather against your balls?” Dean moved his boot in small firm circles against Sam’s sac. “Yeah, you do, don’t you? Bet you’ve got a bit of a Brokeback Mountain fantasy thing going. I know you, Sam. Bet you love that whole emo cowboy thing.”
Dean had unbuttoned his jeans and was slowly moving his fist along his own hard dick. God, his hard cock, his new boots and his brother at his feet. Damn.
“C’mon Sam, come and suck my cock.”
Sam sat up, hands still behind his back. Dean bent his leg but kept a firm boot on Sam’s balls. Sam bent his head towards Dean’s cock but it evaded his mouth as Dean slapped it against Sam’s face, leaving dew drops of precome on his cheeks. Finally, Sam captured it and used his lips and tongue to work Dean’s length into his mouth.
“That’s it, Sammy. Suck on my fat cowboy cock. If you’re a good boy, I might let you take it for a ride later.” Dean raised his hips, working himself deeper into Sam’s throat. He felt a spasm against his cock as Sam fought against his gag reflex.
Dean leaned back in the chair and took a mouthful of beer, savoring the sight of his brother sucking him. “Yeah, I’ll get you down on all fours. Maybe slap that ass some to get you ready. And then I’m going to ride you, Sammy, feel you buck against me as I fuck you.”
Dean reached his foot behind Sam’s balls, worked his foot to open Sam’s cheeks and pressed the toe of his boot hard against Sam’s hole. As he felt Sam lean back a bit, Dean pushed himself hard against the tight ring of muscle. God, he wished he could see Sam’s ass stretching around his boot. Sam let out a deep moan as he felt hard leather open him further. He arched back and gasped so hard that Dean’s cock fell from his mouth.
“Oh fuckfuckfuckfuck. Dean, yes please, please”. Sam’s chest was heaving as his pleas came in deep gasps.
No doubt about it, Dean loved making Sam beg. But in this game, Dean would fulfill Sam’s requests if and when he felt like it. He moved his other foot forward until it rested on Sam’s thigh and guided his cock back into Sam’s mouth. Dean’s hands were tight in Sam’s hair as he forced his brother’s mouth along the whole length of his shaft, until he felt Sam’s lips against his balls.
“You can use your hands, Sam.”
Sam steadied himself with a hand on Dean’s leg, allowing him to better work Dean’s cock with an increased pace. At the same time, Sam grabbed his own cock and rubbed himself along the side of Dean’s boot. Dean pumped faster and deeper into his brother and, with a few final thrusts, he came with a deep groan. He released his grip on Sam’s head, who continued to suck and swallow.
Finally, Sam sat back on his haunches. “God, Dean that was a load and a half.”
“Been saving it for you.” Dean looked down and saw that Sam had come too: all over his left boot.
“So, Sammy, really likes my boots?” Dean leaned over and twisted a nipple until Sam cried out. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll clean that up now.”
Sam reached for his towel but Dean stopped him with a firm hand. “I don’t think so. With. Your. Mouth.”
Sam bent down to the floor and ran his tongue along the boot. First one long, lapping stroke and then another. The smell and taste got his cock stirring again. The combination of leather, grave dirt, ash and his own come was like some essence of Dean. Sam worked more vigorously around the boot, enjoying the contrast between the smooth leather and the raised stitching. Without prompting, he turned his attention to the other foot, even lifting it up to lick the dirt from the sole of Dean’s boot.
“Sam, Sammy.” He felt Dean’s hands on him, lifting him up. “Come here.” Dean pressed Sam’s mouth open with his and his tongue worked around, enjoying the new tastes he found.
“So,” said Dean with a smile, “you like my boots, Sammy?”
“I like your boots. The boots can stay,” said Sam, “but you start line dancing and I’m shooting you full of rock salt quicker than you can say achy breaky heart!”
x-posted like the whore that I am.