FIC: Untitled Blindfold Fill #4
Title: Untitled Blindfold Fill #4
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: PG
Word Count: 609
Summary/Notes: For this blindfold_spn prompt: dub con hand holding : Sam forces Dean to hold his hand, leading to sex or not, in public or not. Bonus: You can use the phrase "fingering" if you'd like.
Dean is sitting on the bed, watching some generic action movie when Sam gets out of the shower. Dean's hand twitches when Sam sits on the bed next to him, and Dean silently curses himself. He takes steady breaths, in and out, trying not to call attention to himself.
It's too late, though; Sam has obviously caught the movement out of the corner of his eye. He turns his head slightly, looking down at Dean's hand, and Dean's breath falters.
He can feel his hands getting clammy as he tries not to panic, tries to stay calm and keep his heart beat steady. He keeps his own eyes forward on the television, acting like nothing's happening. Maybe Sam will look away, maybe he'll lose interest, maybe--
Sam holds his hand out, palm up next to Dean. Dean's eyes immediately widen and snap down to look at it. He manages to keep his head still, just barely, and the muscles in his neck ache from the tension there.
Sam sits patiently for a moment before clearing his throat.
"Dean." His voice is stern, commanding.
Dean's heart pounds in his chest, and he can feel sweat forming at his brow. He clenches his fists, nails biting into his palms, but otherwise he remains perfectly still. He keeps his head straight, ignoring Sam.
"Give me your hand, Dean," Sam says. He sounds impatient; annoyed, but not angry. Not yet.
Dean continues to ignore him, like maybe Sam will actually think he hasn't heard him. Like there's any way Sam hasn't noticed the way every muscle in his body has tensed, the way his breath has picked up slightly.
"Dean."
Dean's hand flies out before he has time to think, smacking against Sam's unsteadily. Dean's head jerks down, and he is horrified as he stares, watching Sam's hand curl around his own.
Dean clenches his eyes shut tightly, refusing to watch as Sam's fingers entwine with his own. Sam is gentle as he cradles Dean's hand, brushing his thumb in circles across the back of it.
It's not so bad; it's not that big of a deal. It's just holding hands, for God's sake. Dean can handle this. He'll be fine. He can--
Sam tugs on Dean's hand, pulling it up to rest on his thigh.
Dean coughs, choking on air, and violently jerks his hand away from Sam's. He quickly tucks it under his own leg, as if to hide it from Sam.
Sam looks down at his empty hand then back up at Dean, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.
"Dean?" He frowns, almost pouting, looking as hurt as he sounds. Dean bites at his lip, glancing between Sam's face and hand. Dean knows exactly what Sam's doing, and he won't give in. He won't let Sam guilt him into this. Not this time.
Dean turns his head back to the television, ignoring Sam. Sam curls in on himself beside him, shoulders drawn, his hands bent slightly in his lap. Every few minutes Sam's hand twitches and he'll sigh, a small, pitiful little sound.
Dean grits his teeth, refusing to let Sam get to him.
He lasts nearly twenty minutes, but then he can't take it anymore.
Sam sighs, mournful, and Dean snaps.
"Jesus, Sam, just, fucking--" he reaches out swiftly before he can talk himself out of it and grabs hold of Sam's hand.
Sam grips his hand, clasping it between both of his own. He grins smugly at Dean, giving his hand a squeeze before turning back to the movie.
Dean's jaw twitches.
Sam may have won this time, but Dean swears he won't give in again.
He won't.
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: PG
Word Count: 609
Summary/Notes: For this blindfold_spn prompt: dub con hand holding : Sam forces Dean to hold his hand, leading to sex or not, in public or not. Bonus: You can use the phrase "fingering" if you'd like.
Dean is sitting on the bed, watching some generic action movie when Sam gets out of the shower. Dean's hand twitches when Sam sits on the bed next to him, and Dean silently curses himself. He takes steady breaths, in and out, trying not to call attention to himself.
It's too late, though; Sam has obviously caught the movement out of the corner of his eye. He turns his head slightly, looking down at Dean's hand, and Dean's breath falters.
He can feel his hands getting clammy as he tries not to panic, tries to stay calm and keep his heart beat steady. He keeps his own eyes forward on the television, acting like nothing's happening. Maybe Sam will look away, maybe he'll lose interest, maybe--
Sam holds his hand out, palm up next to Dean. Dean's eyes immediately widen and snap down to look at it. He manages to keep his head still, just barely, and the muscles in his neck ache from the tension there.
Sam sits patiently for a moment before clearing his throat.
"Dean." His voice is stern, commanding.
Dean's heart pounds in his chest, and he can feel sweat forming at his brow. He clenches his fists, nails biting into his palms, but otherwise he remains perfectly still. He keeps his head straight, ignoring Sam.
"Give me your hand, Dean," Sam says. He sounds impatient; annoyed, but not angry. Not yet.
Dean continues to ignore him, like maybe Sam will actually think he hasn't heard him. Like there's any way Sam hasn't noticed the way every muscle in his body has tensed, the way his breath has picked up slightly.
"Dean."
Dean's hand flies out before he has time to think, smacking against Sam's unsteadily. Dean's head jerks down, and he is horrified as he stares, watching Sam's hand curl around his own.
Dean clenches his eyes shut tightly, refusing to watch as Sam's fingers entwine with his own. Sam is gentle as he cradles Dean's hand, brushing his thumb in circles across the back of it.
It's not so bad; it's not that big of a deal. It's just holding hands, for God's sake. Dean can handle this. He'll be fine. He can--
Sam tugs on Dean's hand, pulling it up to rest on his thigh.
Dean coughs, choking on air, and violently jerks his hand away from Sam's. He quickly tucks it under his own leg, as if to hide it from Sam.
Sam looks down at his empty hand then back up at Dean, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.
"Dean?" He frowns, almost pouting, looking as hurt as he sounds. Dean bites at his lip, glancing between Sam's face and hand. Dean knows exactly what Sam's doing, and he won't give in. He won't let Sam guilt him into this. Not this time.
Dean turns his head back to the television, ignoring Sam. Sam curls in on himself beside him, shoulders drawn, his hands bent slightly in his lap. Every few minutes Sam's hand twitches and he'll sigh, a small, pitiful little sound.
Dean grits his teeth, refusing to let Sam get to him.
He lasts nearly twenty minutes, but then he can't take it anymore.
Sam sighs, mournful, and Dean snaps.
"Jesus, Sam, just, fucking--" he reaches out swiftly before he can talk himself out of it and grabs hold of Sam's hand.
Sam grips his hand, clasping it between both of his own. He grins smugly at Dean, giving his hand a squeeze before turning back to the movie.
Dean's jaw twitches.
Sam may have won this time, but Dean swears he won't give in again.
He won't.