First Kiss, Supernatural, Broken!Verse, PG-13
Fandom: Supernatural, Broken!Verse
Title: First Kiss
Pairing/Characters: Sam and Dean
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 957
Summary: Sam decides today is the day. He's pumped up on after-hunt energy, and Dean's mouth is in desperate need of kissing.
A/Ns & Warnings: This was written for ysbail who bought a Broken book in the last Sweet Charity auction. It is pre-Broken, first time kissing. Sam is just shy of fifteen in this piece.
Sam was wired. He and Dean were taking down time at Bobby’s while Dean’s ankle healed, and Bobby’d gotten word of some black dog or something that needed handling a few hours away, so he took Sam to watch his back. They’d gotten there to discover that it wasn’t a black dog, but a chupacabra…and Sam had been the one to take it down.
They’d gotten back to Bobby’s yard and Dean was tinkering with the Impala…just like always. Bobby was already inside, doing whatever it was Bobby did when he wasn’t hunting, but Sam was filled with post-hunt jitters, and the need to tell his brother about his glory.
Sam watched his brother, paced away and back again. Finally Dean sighed, closed the hood and leaned back against the car, his bad ankle resting on top of the good one, wiping his greasy hands on a greasier rag. He crossed his legs and looked at Sam. “Well?”
“It was a chupacabra, Dean. It was huge and it was amazing. Ugly.” Sam’s words flooded out of him in a rush. He flushed from head to toe and back again, a flood of red on his skin and heat underneath and his eyes kept ending up on Dean’s mouth.
Dean’s mouth…with that curved lower lip that just begged to be licked and bit and Sam dragged his eyes away. He was a few days from fifteen and horny as all hell, and his fixation on Dean had him a little weirded out, turned on and if Dean didn’t move, didn’t say something, Sam just might.
“Good for you Sam.” Dean’s voice wasn’t encouraging, in fact it was dripping with annoyance. It drained away some of his exuberance.
Sam moved closer and Dean turned back to the car. He hated being laid up. Especially over something like this. He hadn’t even been on a hunt, just distracted. “Your ankle hurt?” Sam asked and Dean made a face, limping away to put his tools in the trunk.
“It’s fine.”
“You shouldn’t walk on it so much. Doc said-“
“That old coot treats horses Sam.”
Sam licked his lips. Suddenly he knew this was it. This was the day. It was now or never. Only Dean obviously didn’t know that, because he was walking away. Sam scrambled to catch up, dropping the tool he’d picked up absently. “Dean?”
Dean stopped, turned. He was framed by old junk cars stacked around him. His grey shirt was stained with grease, and there was a smudge of it on his cheek. He looked annoyed. Sam didn’t care.
His heart was racing. He licked his lips and moved quickly. Fast, before he lost his nerve. The growth spurt had him as tall as Dean now, almost. He was already breathing heavy just thinking about it…about how Dean would taste…about how his lips would feel…if it would be different than kissing that girl in seventh grade…or that boy in eighth…
Dean was just standing there, waiting. Sam tried to say something, but there were simply no words. He couldn’t warn him. Dean would run. He couldn’t make small talk…his brain was too stuck on Dean Dean Dean for that.
His eyes focused on his target, on Dean’s lips, and he just kept moving. His arms caught Dean’s, muscle and skin under soft cotton. His eyes flicked up to Dean’s, to his confusion, his amusement. Sam took a deep breath and pressed Dean into the wall of cars, his first touch quick and Dean stiffened, blushed. “Sam-“
Sam cut off his words, his denial, pressing their mouths together. Dean stood dumfounded, unmoving. Sam took that as an invitation, tilting his head and getting his tongue into Dean’s mouth, his heart pounding in his chest.
It was dizzying, the heat, the feeling of Dean under his fingers, in his mouth, under his skin. He wanted more…he wanted everything…but Dean was starting to wake up, starting to react, and Sam knew he had to go, had to get out, had to leave before Dean hit him.
It was enough, for now.
Sam pulled back and opened his eyes. Dean looked at him. His eyes were dark and he couldn’t begin to read what was there in them. “Sam…”
Sam shook his head, licked his lips, took two steps back, away. “Don’t….okay?” He ran then, away, out into the yard. His mouth watered, and his finger ran over his lip in memory of Dean’s mouth there. He stopped when he figured he’d gone far enough that Dean wasn’t following and looked back. He couldn’t see Dean or the Impala, could only see a corner of the house.
It had been everything he wanted it to be, and no where near enough. He was hard and lonely and he wanted more. Sam huffed and settled for savoring what he’d gotten, the brief moment of Dean in his arms, not fighting, not protecting him…the tender contact of lips and tongue…and maybe it wasn’t perfect, but Sam didn’t need perfect.
He only needed Dean.
He licked his lips and calmed his breathing. It was all kinds of wrong, and he knew that. Dean would fight him. Dean would want to talk him out of it, remind him they were brothers…but Sam didn’t care. He knew what he wanted, even more now than before.
He leaned against the warm metal of the junker behind him and stroked his cock, thinking about his brother and the way his mouth had fallen open for Sam’s tongue. The kiss was awkward, his position wrong, his brother’s response lacking. But he’d done it, made the first move and lived to tell the tale…except he had no one to tell.
Sam smiled. It was only the beginning.
Title: First Kiss
Pairing/Characters: Sam and Dean
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 957
Summary: Sam decides today is the day. He's pumped up on after-hunt energy, and Dean's mouth is in desperate need of kissing.
A/Ns & Warnings: This was written for ysbail who bought a Broken book in the last Sweet Charity auction. It is pre-Broken, first time kissing. Sam is just shy of fifteen in this piece.
Sam was wired. He and Dean were taking down time at Bobby’s while Dean’s ankle healed, and Bobby’d gotten word of some black dog or something that needed handling a few hours away, so he took Sam to watch his back. They’d gotten there to discover that it wasn’t a black dog, but a chupacabra…and Sam had been the one to take it down.
They’d gotten back to Bobby’s yard and Dean was tinkering with the Impala…just like always. Bobby was already inside, doing whatever it was Bobby did when he wasn’t hunting, but Sam was filled with post-hunt jitters, and the need to tell his brother about his glory.
Sam watched his brother, paced away and back again. Finally Dean sighed, closed the hood and leaned back against the car, his bad ankle resting on top of the good one, wiping his greasy hands on a greasier rag. He crossed his legs and looked at Sam. “Well?”
“It was a chupacabra, Dean. It was huge and it was amazing. Ugly.” Sam’s words flooded out of him in a rush. He flushed from head to toe and back again, a flood of red on his skin and heat underneath and his eyes kept ending up on Dean’s mouth.
Dean’s mouth…with that curved lower lip that just begged to be licked and bit and Sam dragged his eyes away. He was a few days from fifteen and horny as all hell, and his fixation on Dean had him a little weirded out, turned on and if Dean didn’t move, didn’t say something, Sam just might.
“Good for you Sam.” Dean’s voice wasn’t encouraging, in fact it was dripping with annoyance. It drained away some of his exuberance.
Sam moved closer and Dean turned back to the car. He hated being laid up. Especially over something like this. He hadn’t even been on a hunt, just distracted. “Your ankle hurt?” Sam asked and Dean made a face, limping away to put his tools in the trunk.
“It’s fine.”
“You shouldn’t walk on it so much. Doc said-“
“That old coot treats horses Sam.”
Sam licked his lips. Suddenly he knew this was it. This was the day. It was now or never. Only Dean obviously didn’t know that, because he was walking away. Sam scrambled to catch up, dropping the tool he’d picked up absently. “Dean?”
Dean stopped, turned. He was framed by old junk cars stacked around him. His grey shirt was stained with grease, and there was a smudge of it on his cheek. He looked annoyed. Sam didn’t care.
His heart was racing. He licked his lips and moved quickly. Fast, before he lost his nerve. The growth spurt had him as tall as Dean now, almost. He was already breathing heavy just thinking about it…about how Dean would taste…about how his lips would feel…if it would be different than kissing that girl in seventh grade…or that boy in eighth…
Dean was just standing there, waiting. Sam tried to say something, but there were simply no words. He couldn’t warn him. Dean would run. He couldn’t make small talk…his brain was too stuck on Dean Dean Dean for that.
His eyes focused on his target, on Dean’s lips, and he just kept moving. His arms caught Dean’s, muscle and skin under soft cotton. His eyes flicked up to Dean’s, to his confusion, his amusement. Sam took a deep breath and pressed Dean into the wall of cars, his first touch quick and Dean stiffened, blushed. “Sam-“
Sam cut off his words, his denial, pressing their mouths together. Dean stood dumfounded, unmoving. Sam took that as an invitation, tilting his head and getting his tongue into Dean’s mouth, his heart pounding in his chest.
It was dizzying, the heat, the feeling of Dean under his fingers, in his mouth, under his skin. He wanted more…he wanted everything…but Dean was starting to wake up, starting to react, and Sam knew he had to go, had to get out, had to leave before Dean hit him.
It was enough, for now.
Sam pulled back and opened his eyes. Dean looked at him. His eyes were dark and he couldn’t begin to read what was there in them. “Sam…”
Sam shook his head, licked his lips, took two steps back, away. “Don’t….okay?” He ran then, away, out into the yard. His mouth watered, and his finger ran over his lip in memory of Dean’s mouth there. He stopped when he figured he’d gone far enough that Dean wasn’t following and looked back. He couldn’t see Dean or the Impala, could only see a corner of the house.
It had been everything he wanted it to be, and no where near enough. He was hard and lonely and he wanted more. Sam huffed and settled for savoring what he’d gotten, the brief moment of Dean in his arms, not fighting, not protecting him…the tender contact of lips and tongue…and maybe it wasn’t perfect, but Sam didn’t need perfect.
He only needed Dean.
He licked his lips and calmed his breathing. It was all kinds of wrong, and he knew that. Dean would fight him. Dean would want to talk him out of it, remind him they were brothers…but Sam didn’t care. He knew what he wanted, even more now than before.
He leaned against the warm metal of the junker behind him and stroked his cock, thinking about his brother and the way his mouth had fallen open for Sam’s tongue. The kiss was awkward, his position wrong, his brother’s response lacking. But he’d done it, made the first move and lived to tell the tale…except he had no one to tell.
Sam smiled. It was only the beginning.