The way you swell, slow (pushing right out of your seams) - Sam/Dean NC-17
Title - The way you swell, slow (pushing right out of your seams)
Author - queerly_it_is
Pairing - Sam/Dean
Rating - NC-17
Word Count - 1.8k
Warnings - Wincest (explicit PWP), profanity, use of endearments, vague spoilers for seasons 4/5, comeplay, slight exhibitionism, no redeeming plot value whatsoever.
Disclaimer - I own nothing. If I did, the show would be on cable.
Summary - Sam loves sucking Dean. Or maybe it’s the way Dean talks about it. Also he might be a bit of an exhibitionist. Maybe.
Authors Notes - Okay, so my first PWP *is nervous* Probably still a tad more plot than necessary, but it’s still pretty much all pure porn. Title from Matt Nathanson.
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The shiny-white tile floor is hard and unforgiving beneath his knees, edges digging into his skin. The room is flooded with harsh fluorescent lighting that tints his vision pink through his clenched-shut eyelids, hint of capillaries showing.
Not much sound permeates the room, even with the party going full swing just a few feet from the heavy wooden door. All he can hear are the ragged breaths he’s sucking in through his nostrils, the pounding of blood in his ears, and the comparatively soft brushing noise of Dean’s hands in his hair.
That is, until Dean starts to talk.
“Fuck, Sammy” His voice totally wrecked, deep and growling, and Sam swears he can feel the vibrations in the tiles under his (mostly-numb) knees.
Dean’s hips twitch forward, despite his obvious best effort to draw this out; hard silky flesh shoving past the seal of his lips, sharp tug on his hair as Dean tries to keep himself under control. Christ, Sam loves reducing Dean to this.
Don’t get him wrong, there’s not much he loves more than Dean sucking his cock; plush almost-girly lips swollen even more than they usually are as Sam fucks in and out of the tight, wet heat of his brother’s perfect mouth. Dean loves it too, which for some reason still surprises Sam, even after decades of doing this - not counting Stanford, countless miles of separation, demon blood, or Heaven and Hell in between them - that his control freak, overly-macho, insecure, beautiful tangled mess of a big brother will so willingly drop to his knees; head bobbing between Sam’s thighs, sucking like he’s being paid for it.
No way Sam’s gonna be stupid enough to question it, though.
But for as much as he loves getting that from Dean; that act of trust and slight submission, somehow more hard-hitting than when he lets Sam fuck him, and as goddamn talented at it as Dean’s gotten over the years, he still prefers it like this, somehow.
Maybe it’s because he knows just how to get Dean to fall apart with the right flick of his tongue, or how Dean responds with the most amazing noises when Sam takes him all the way to the base, nose buried in the wiry curls, musky-spice smell of Dean filling his lungs. Maybe it’s the feel of Dean’s hands in his hair, possessive and sometimes-rough, but never harsher than Sam likes. Maybe it’s because he knows that for all the people Dean’s been with, for all his experience, it’s only Sam that can make him come in under two minutes if he puts his mind to it.
Maybe Sam’s just kind of a slut for his big brother.
Or maybe it’s because - like right now - whenever he does this, Dean just doesn’t shut up about how much he loves it.
“God Sam, just like that.” Words sighed out on a long exhale; face utterly slack in pleasure when Sam glances up. Slow slide of cock over his tongue, bittersweet hit of precome making him groan unselfconsciously.
“Fucking love this, don’t ya Sammy?” Dean says on a smirk, knowing full well that Sam can’t - won’t - answer, unwilling to stop what he’s doing, not wanting to give up the taste of Dean filling his mouth.
“Yeah, know how much you love doin’ this, how much you need it.” Another groan, Dean’s hips shifting back a little further this time before sliding forward again, dick running over the topside of his tongue and nudging his soft palette, all the way to the back of his throat, spit and precome running down his chin from one corner of his mouth.
“Always look so fuckin’ good like this Sam, mouth all stuffed full, just taking it for me. God” Harder thrust again; moving faster now, hands gripping tighter in his hair, pulling as he fucks in and out, Sam moaning with each shove of Dean’s body, knowing how it turns Dean on.
“Want me to fuck your pretty pink mouth, baby boy?” Childhood endearment making Sam moan louder, fuck, always nails him hard when Dean calls him that, twists the tiny knot in his gut that says brothershouldn’twrong and makes everything that much hotter.
He’s hard-as-steel in his dark grey pants; both of them still dressed in suits from playing FBI earlier that afternoon. Dean’s belt hangs either side of his open black pants, buckle clinking as he thrusts, underwear shoved just below his tight, full balls, sweat darkening the collar of his white shirt, tie hanging out of one pocket.
Fuck Dean’s a hot mess, all ‘cos of Sam.
His cock twitches, trapped against his thigh, as Dean thrusts harder into his throat, his brother just taking what he wants. He sucks hard, runs his tongue along the vein, flicks it under the head and into the slit, the things he knows Dean loves, every damn trick he knows, trying to get Dean to come already, to hurry things up a little.
They’re in a swanky restaurant bathroom, after all.
Dean, so adept at reading him, must pick up on some cue that gives his thoughts away, starts talking again.
“Yeah, anyone could just walk in, y’know that Sammy?” Shove of cock, grind of hips against his face “Door ain’t locked, bunch’a high-society douchebags and their stuck-up wives right outside.” Sam’s dick twitching again, feels the precome drip lower down his widely-spread thigh, and fuck he really needs to come soon.
“Wouldn’t even care if they saw us would ya Sammy? Let ‘em all see just how fucking desperate you get for it? How much you love your brother’s cock down your throat?” Teasing tone in his whiskey-raw voice now - getting close probably, way he’s leaking like a faucet over Sam’s tongue - and shit he’d be amazed if no one heard that. But nobody bursts in to arrest them or anything, so Sam just tilts his head back, eyes locked to Dean’s, neck bared by the open collar of his shirt, meets the challenge head-on.
“Fuck, you would wouldn’t you Sam? Maybe I should call just ‘em in here, give ‘em a real show” Particularly hard thrust with the last word, dick screwing into him, and Dean swells impossibly harder in his mouth, balls drawing up before he comes, bittersweet liquid in his throat, on his tongue, running down his jaw onto his suit pants, faint patters on the tile floor. Dean lets out a broken groan as Sam swallows around him, drawing out every last string of Dean’s orgasm.
God, Sam loves this.
Oversensitive, Dean finally pulls back with a groan and a faint hiss, catching his breath while weakly tugging at Sam to get him on his feet - not easy; gasping for air, legs numb and most of his blood-supply throbbing in his dick - so he can shove his hand down Sam’s pants and start to roughly jerk him off.
“You’re gonna come all over yourself aren’t ya Sammy?” Raspy voice whispered right against the shell of his ear, breath hot and noisy, tongue dipping in slightly, as Dean runs his hand from root to tip, blunt edge of thumbnail flicking at the slit where he’s practically dripping precome.
“Wanna see you all wet and messy, Sam; walkin’ outta here with that huge load shifting around, making you squirm for me.” Fuck he can feel it building fast already, too turned-on for too long with no release. Pressure in his balls almost painfully intense. God he’s gonna come so hard.
“C’mon Sam.” Twist of his wrist at the head, grip tightening. “Lemme see it, lemme feel you shoot for me, baby boy.” Gravel in his voice, commanding tone - big brother tone - and that. That is just it.
The world goes white; Dean jerking him, calloused hand tight and perfect around him, held up between Dean and front edge of the open stall. Feels himself jerk and pulse, cock still trapped inside his pants, spurting against the material and fuck that it just makes it last longer. Wet streaks of come running along his thigh, slicking up Dean’s grip on him, tacky-sticky noise not quite muffled by the fabric.
He whimpers; this high cracked thing that sticks in this throat, and Dean kisses him hard, licks around his mouth at the taste of his own come, smears of it between their lips, little string of milky-white connecting them when Dean pulls back, withdraws his hand.
Making sure Sam is paying attention; Dean slowly licks his fingers clean, obscene lips running down the length of each one, tongue flicking at the webbing in between. Christ, Sam is too old to get hard again this fast.
“Mmm” Dean hums around his fingers, eyelids twitching like he wants to close them, savour it, like it’s pie or ice-cream and not Sam’s come he’s licking off his skin. “Always taste so fucking good Sammy.” Another groan, and no way someone hasn’t heard them by now, probably why no one has needed the men’s room in the last however-many minutes. Sam really can’t bring himself to worry though, not with orgasm turning his brain to marshmallow, limbs heavy and eyes half-lidded as he watches his brother practically fellate his own hand.
Dean moves closer, hand dropping to Sam’s hip; thumb tracing the cut of muscle exposed by his open shirt and pants.
“Think they’re waiting for us out there?” Dean asks, teasing lilt back again as he nods his head at the mahogany door. “We goin’a jail, Sammy?” Way he says that, slow and lazy like he’s almost hoping for it, makes Sam wanna take back the orgasm he just gave him.
“If w…” Coughs, voice totally fucked-out, throat working. “If we do, it’ll be your fault.” Still sounds exactly like he’s spent his last few minutes with a dick in his mouth, but hey, sentences. ‘Course, Dean just gives up a smarmy-proud grin at that.
“Worth it Sammy, totally worth it.” No concern in his tone at all, eyes dipping a little to Sam’s no-doubt swollen mouth; he can still feel his lips tingling, not to mention the come drying on his chin, his own cooling on his thigh and crotch, two fucking enormous wet-spots showing obviously on his good grey pants. Great.
“Say that again when they’re doing the mug shots, dude.” He tries to frown, but can’t seem to summon the effort to arrange his face the right way. Amused glint in Dean’s bottle-green eyes says he knows it too, the fucker.
“C’mon Sammy, lets get you outta here so I can fuck you.” Commanding tone again as he turns, doing pants and belt up as he heads for the door, tie swinging a little more out of his pocket with the sex-sway of his hips.
Screw it; they’ve been to jail before.
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It's the way you swell, slow
Pushing right out of your seams
It's the way you smile, baby
When you've got me on my knees
Your all night noise, your sirens howl
You make my heart beat faster
- Matt Nathanson