fic#25 - wincest by rachel_shanz
Last fic for the guess the author competition -- WOO HOO! Also Wincest!
Title - Two Could Play At That Game
Pairing - Sam/Dean
Rating - NC-17
Author - ???
Dean was beautiful. Always. And right now, with the small flame from his lighter sending light and shadows dancing across his cheekbones and lips, he was fucking gorgeous. Sam could get lost in him
Dean glanced up, catching Sam’s eye from the other side of the bar, and smirked like he knew exactly what Sam was thinking. And he wasn’t even the fucking psychic. He lit the cigarette clasped between his lips and inhaled. He blew the smoke out slowly, letting it twist up and roll away. He never broke eye contact.
Well. Two could play at that game.
Sam lifted the bottle of beer in his hand. He brought it to his mouth and let his eyes fall closed as he wrapped his lips around the bottle and tilted his head back. He took a long drink, letting his throat work as he swallowed the warm liquid. When he was done, he set the bottle down on the bar behind him and opened his eyes to smirk at his brother.
What he hadn’t expected was to find Dean standing directly in front of him. The barstool Sam was sitting on was the perfect height to put them eye-to-eye and the first thing Sam saw were Dean’s green eyes burning into him.
Sam’s mouth went dry, like he’d been eating sand instead of drinking warm beer, and all he could do was suck in a shallow breath as Dean pushed his legs apart and insinuated himself between them.
Dean was still holding the cigarette loosely in one hand as he pressed up against Sam. Lifting his hand to his mouth, he took a long drag, letting his eyes go hooded and half shut as he sucked softly at the end between his lips. Sam shifted and felt Dean’s cock press a hot line against the inside of his thigh. His own dick hardened in reply and the sudden downward rush of blood left him feeling slightly lightheaded.
When Dean turned his head to the side to exhale smoke, the light from the neon sign above the bar caught on his jaw line, highlighting day-old stubble and Sam couldn’t help but lean in and drag his tongue along the roughness of it.
The rest of Dean’s breath went out of him in a rush of Sam’s name and his other hand came up to grasp Sam’s thigh, fingers digging into worn denim. Sam smiled against Dean’s skin and nipped sharply at the underside of his jaw, leaving a red mark in his wake, vivid against the dark shadow of Dean’s stubble.
Dean cursed under his breath, low and hoarse, and turned to face Sam again. He stubbed the cigarette out in an ashtray by Sam’s elbow and then pushed his hand into Sam’s hair. Sam let his head be pulled back and this time, when he met Dean’s eyes, they were dark with so much heat that Sam shuddered beneath the weight of it.
Dean leaned in, catching Sam’s mouth with his own, and Sam’s lips parted instantly, letting Dean in. His brother tasted like smoke and beer and, underneath, the heady taste that was nothing but pure Dean. It drove Sam fucking crazy.
Sam’s eyes slid closed. All that mattered were Dean’s lips firm against his, Dean’s tongue in his mouth, Dean’s warm hand kneading his thigh. Dean was all Sam could taste, feel, smell.
A sharp whistle and a laughing catcall from a group of girls standing beside one of the pool tables was what finally broke them apart. Sam gasped in air and buried his face in Dean’s shoulder, nuzzling against the thin fabric of his t-shirt.
Dean’s breath was hot against Sam’s ear as he chuckled softly and stepped backwards out from between Sam’s legs. He closed one hand around Sam’s wrist and pulled him off the barstool. Dean’s eyes were gleaming and when he jerked his head slightly in the direction of the bathroom, Sam knew why. He let his mouth curve into a smirk and nodded.
Like he could have done anything else.
Dean led him across the room, threading around groups of people who paused to raise knowing eyebrows at them as they passed. Sam looked down at the sticky floor and tried to ignore them, but he could feel his cheeks burning red. Dean, on the other hand, met every pair of eyes with an easy smile and a nod of his head. As if they didn’t all know what he and Sam were about to do.
As soon as the bathroom door shut behind them, Dean had Sam up against it. The wood was rough against his back, even through his shirt. His head banged into the door painfully and he winced, but Dean didn’t notice.
His brother’s hands were instantly busy, yanking Sam’s shirt up over his stomach and going to work on Sam’s belt. Sam’s brain had barely caught up with the action when his cock slid free and into the waiting grasp of Dean’s fist. He jerked away from the door, arching in Dean’s hand with a ragged cry of Dean’s name. Dean bit his lip, white teeth sinking into red flesh and Sam whimpered.
He was so hard he couldn’t think straight and he needed… God, he needed Dean’s mouth on his dick so bad it hurt.
Dean was on his knees a second later, like he was the psychic one here. Not that Sam was complaining. That would require more brain function than he currently possessed. The sight of Dean on his knees on the dirty bathroom floor, parting his porn star lips to wrap them around Sam’s cock, well, that was enough to kill every fucking brain cell Sam had.
Dean swallowed him all the way to the base, his throat working around Sam’s cock and pulling strangled sounds from Sam’s throat. Sam couldn’t take his eyes off Dean’s lips. His cock was dark with blood and slick with spit as it slid in and out of his brother’s mouth. Dean sucked harder, his cheeks hollowing out, and Sam had to flatten his hands against the door behind him to keep from reaching down, threading them into Dean’s hair, and fucking that pretty mouth until neither of them could stand it anymore.
Sam’s hips jerked helplessly as Dean’s hands skimmed up his thighs. Short nails scraped over his skin and, fuck, Sam was so close he could taste it. Pressure was building at the base of his spine as he moaned and twisted against the door. He needed to come. In Dean’s mouth, down Dean’s throat. Needed it like he needed air.
Dean’s eyes flicked up, pupils wide and dark as they locked with Sam’s and just like that, Sam came apart. The orgasm exploded through him, racing out along his nerve ending and sparking through his blood like fire. He came and came and Dean took it all, working Sam through it with gentle laps of his tongue against Sam’s softening cock.
Sam slumped back against the door, panting for breath, and Dean rocked back on his heels. He dragged the back of his hand across his mouth and grinned up at Sam like he thought he’d won something.
Reaching down, Sam wrapped a hand in the front of Dean’s shirt and dragged him to his feet.
Just wait ‘til they got back to the hotel.
***
POLL!!!
Poll guess the author!!!
Title - Two Could Play At That Game
Pairing - Sam/Dean
Rating - NC-17
Author - ???
Dean was beautiful. Always. And right now, with the small flame from his lighter sending light and shadows dancing across his cheekbones and lips, he was fucking gorgeous. Sam could get lost in him
Dean glanced up, catching Sam’s eye from the other side of the bar, and smirked like he knew exactly what Sam was thinking. And he wasn’t even the fucking psychic. He lit the cigarette clasped between his lips and inhaled. He blew the smoke out slowly, letting it twist up and roll away. He never broke eye contact.
Well. Two could play at that game.
Sam lifted the bottle of beer in his hand. He brought it to his mouth and let his eyes fall closed as he wrapped his lips around the bottle and tilted his head back. He took a long drink, letting his throat work as he swallowed the warm liquid. When he was done, he set the bottle down on the bar behind him and opened his eyes to smirk at his brother.
What he hadn’t expected was to find Dean standing directly in front of him. The barstool Sam was sitting on was the perfect height to put them eye-to-eye and the first thing Sam saw were Dean’s green eyes burning into him.
Sam’s mouth went dry, like he’d been eating sand instead of drinking warm beer, and all he could do was suck in a shallow breath as Dean pushed his legs apart and insinuated himself between them.
Dean was still holding the cigarette loosely in one hand as he pressed up against Sam. Lifting his hand to his mouth, he took a long drag, letting his eyes go hooded and half shut as he sucked softly at the end between his lips. Sam shifted and felt Dean’s cock press a hot line against the inside of his thigh. His own dick hardened in reply and the sudden downward rush of blood left him feeling slightly lightheaded.
When Dean turned his head to the side to exhale smoke, the light from the neon sign above the bar caught on his jaw line, highlighting day-old stubble and Sam couldn’t help but lean in and drag his tongue along the roughness of it.
The rest of Dean’s breath went out of him in a rush of Sam’s name and his other hand came up to grasp Sam’s thigh, fingers digging into worn denim. Sam smiled against Dean’s skin and nipped sharply at the underside of his jaw, leaving a red mark in his wake, vivid against the dark shadow of Dean’s stubble.
Dean cursed under his breath, low and hoarse, and turned to face Sam again. He stubbed the cigarette out in an ashtray by Sam’s elbow and then pushed his hand into Sam’s hair. Sam let his head be pulled back and this time, when he met Dean’s eyes, they were dark with so much heat that Sam shuddered beneath the weight of it.
Dean leaned in, catching Sam’s mouth with his own, and Sam’s lips parted instantly, letting Dean in. His brother tasted like smoke and beer and, underneath, the heady taste that was nothing but pure Dean. It drove Sam fucking crazy.
Sam’s eyes slid closed. All that mattered were Dean’s lips firm against his, Dean’s tongue in his mouth, Dean’s warm hand kneading his thigh. Dean was all Sam could taste, feel, smell.
A sharp whistle and a laughing catcall from a group of girls standing beside one of the pool tables was what finally broke them apart. Sam gasped in air and buried his face in Dean’s shoulder, nuzzling against the thin fabric of his t-shirt.
Dean’s breath was hot against Sam’s ear as he chuckled softly and stepped backwards out from between Sam’s legs. He closed one hand around Sam’s wrist and pulled him off the barstool. Dean’s eyes were gleaming and when he jerked his head slightly in the direction of the bathroom, Sam knew why. He let his mouth curve into a smirk and nodded.
Like he could have done anything else.
Dean led him across the room, threading around groups of people who paused to raise knowing eyebrows at them as they passed. Sam looked down at the sticky floor and tried to ignore them, but he could feel his cheeks burning red. Dean, on the other hand, met every pair of eyes with an easy smile and a nod of his head. As if they didn’t all know what he and Sam were about to do.
As soon as the bathroom door shut behind them, Dean had Sam up against it. The wood was rough against his back, even through his shirt. His head banged into the door painfully and he winced, but Dean didn’t notice.
His brother’s hands were instantly busy, yanking Sam’s shirt up over his stomach and going to work on Sam’s belt. Sam’s brain had barely caught up with the action when his cock slid free and into the waiting grasp of Dean’s fist. He jerked away from the door, arching in Dean’s hand with a ragged cry of Dean’s name. Dean bit his lip, white teeth sinking into red flesh and Sam whimpered.
He was so hard he couldn’t think straight and he needed… God, he needed Dean’s mouth on his dick so bad it hurt.
Dean was on his knees a second later, like he was the psychic one here. Not that Sam was complaining. That would require more brain function than he currently possessed. The sight of Dean on his knees on the dirty bathroom floor, parting his porn star lips to wrap them around Sam’s cock, well, that was enough to kill every fucking brain cell Sam had.
Dean swallowed him all the way to the base, his throat working around Sam’s cock and pulling strangled sounds from Sam’s throat. Sam couldn’t take his eyes off Dean’s lips. His cock was dark with blood and slick with spit as it slid in and out of his brother’s mouth. Dean sucked harder, his cheeks hollowing out, and Sam had to flatten his hands against the door behind him to keep from reaching down, threading them into Dean’s hair, and fucking that pretty mouth until neither of them could stand it anymore.
Sam’s hips jerked helplessly as Dean’s hands skimmed up his thighs. Short nails scraped over his skin and, fuck, Sam was so close he could taste it. Pressure was building at the base of his spine as he moaned and twisted against the door. He needed to come. In Dean’s mouth, down Dean’s throat. Needed it like he needed air.
Dean’s eyes flicked up, pupils wide and dark as they locked with Sam’s and just like that, Sam came apart. The orgasm exploded through him, racing out along his nerve ending and sparking through his blood like fire. He came and came and Dean took it all, working Sam through it with gentle laps of his tongue against Sam’s softening cock.
Sam slumped back against the door, panting for breath, and Dean rocked back on his heels. He dragged the back of his hand across his mouth and grinned up at Sam like he thought he’d won something.
Reaching down, Sam wrapped a hand in the front of Dean’s shirt and dragged him to his feet.
Just wait ‘til they got back to the hotel.
***
POLL!!!
Poll guess the author!!!