Homemade Remedy ~ NC-17 ~ unatral_kreatur
Title: Homemade Remedy
Author:
unatral_kreatur
Pairing: Dean/Sam
Rating: NC-17
Category: Smut. Pure, Unadulterated Smut.
Word Count: 2’900
Chapter: OneShot
Summary: After a run-in with a nasty beastie Sam has to treat Dean's wound. In a closet. Away from prying eyes. A recipe for… well what ever you wanna call it!
Warnings: Oral Sex, Fingering
Notes: Okay, this is the longest thing I’ve written in a while, and it’s PORN for goodness sake! Anyway, haven’t written smut in ages so I just wanted to ensure I didn’t forget how to! XP
Disclaimer: Supernatural is the property of Kripke and the CW network. I do not own Supernatural and there is no profit being made from this Fanfiction.
~
Homemade Remedy
“Remind me why we’re here again?” Dean insisted impatiently.
Sam fiddled with an amulet and a vial of sickeningly pink liquid, “I told you, the wounds infected. We need to get it treated.”
Dean went to open his mouth but was cut off, “And for the last time, no we can’t take you to a hospital! You know it’s not a natural wound.”
Dean sighed, “These New Age shops make you feel like you’re really here to buy some pot!”
“Dean,” Sam sighed intolerantly, “Dahlia is a friend of Dad’s, so we know for a fact that she’s the real deal!”
After a few more minutes of browsing, Sam had all the ingredients he needed and was at the counter. Dahlia nudged Sam playfully and said that he could have it all for free, their Dad had gotten her out of a very tight spot after all.
“Oh honey, if you’d like,” she said in a very broad Texan accent, “yall can make what ya need right here! We gotta stall, way ‘round the back. It’s gotta table and a door and everything, just let me get you a cutting board and a bowl for you boys.”
She went into the room behind the counter and returned with a broad grin on her face, “You two take ya time, and if you ever need anything, don’t yall be afraid to call!”
“Thanks,” Sam replied with a grin before he and Dean made their way between shelves of herbs and racks of clothes, down a narrow hall way, turned two corners and found themselves at the stall intended.
Sam laid out the ingredients and told Dean to close and lock the door.
“Why?”
Sam shot him a look, it was serious, but his eyes glinted like they had an agenda.
“Okay then, I’ll close the door!”
Sam stood up and looked at Dean, Dean of course had to look upwards to make eye contact. His fingers wrapped around the hem of Dean’s shirt and lifted it up, baring his stomach.
“Looks a little sore,” Sam gestured to the inch long cut running just under his bottom right rib.
Dean tried to stay as blasé as he could as Sam dropped to his knees and started kissing around the small wound. Now Dean got why Sam wanted the door closed.
“You might wanna be careful about that,” Dean said nonchalantly.
“Don’t worry Dean, it’s not contagious. I could suck on it all day long and not catch anything!”
Sam’s seductively husky growl immediately sent a bolt right into Dean’s crotch, it was quickly turning as hard as cement.
Sam got back on his feet, laying a kiss on Dean’s lips. Dean leant into the kiss, Sam’s kisses always flooded him with that warm fuzzy feeling, that “Aww, I Wuv You Faw Evahz!” kinda feeling. He’d never admit it, but he really liked that feeling.
Dean was left unsatisfied as Sam pulled away, not even blessing Dean with his tongue. Sam had turned around, placing the knife, grinder and spoon that had been in the bowl on the table. He proceeded to cut the root-like ingredients that had been in zip-lock plastic bags, those too had been in the bowls provided.
Dean seemed to doze off for a moment. Not literally, but as he watched Sam stand there at the table, slicing the roots and herbs, he felt a small twinge in his chest. Yet another thing Dean would not have told Sam was that Dean was envisioning this scene. Not the stall, not the roots and herbs and especially not the slash left by a particularly nasty sewer-beast.
No, instead he saw a kitchen. Sammy was at a counter, open window right in front of him, the morning sunlight lighting his face up like a candle. His skin almost seemed to shine.
And Dean stood there, with a baseball cap in his hand, written on the inside of the cap would say Johnny. Little Johnny.
Dean shook away the thoughts as Sam nudged him, “I said take your shirt off!”
Dean smirked, closing the door on his thoughts for the moment. He just wished he could find the key to lock away those thoughts. Nothing good could come from them.
As Dean pulled his shirt up over his head, Sam took a smaller bowl, tipped water from a small water bottle, yet another item from the stockpile they had brought in with them, into the bowl. He sprinkled the root he had just cut up into the water, dabbed a cloth in the water and turned to topless Dean.
He stopped, eyes travelling the contours of his chest and stomach. He admired it for a moment longer till his eyes met Dean. Seeing Dean’s smirk he added, “What?”
Dean broke into a grin. Totally random grin. Totally sexy grin, at least from where Sam was standing.
He moved towards Dean, their faces less than an inch from each other. Dean winced as Sam patted his wound with the damp cloth. Sam cocked his head as Dean bit his lip. The corners of Sam’s mouth turned up so gradually. When Dean got used to the concoction Sam had created he saw upon Sam’s face the warmest smile. Modest, soft… happy.
He leant forward, running his lips over Dean’s. Dean’s lips knew better than Dean did, simply allowing Sam to slowly cup Dean’s upper then lower lips with his own, pulling away each time.
With his hand still wiping the cut, Sam’s free hand ran up Dean’s arm. Dean remained completely pliable for Sam; the only movement was the steady rise and fall of his chest. That free hand moved across Dean’s shoulder, across his chest, down his stomach, up his side. Dean recoiled as Sam’s fingers danced between his arm and ribs.
Dean laughed, “Dude! No fair!”
Sam grinned as he pulled his hand out, “Okay!”
Sam’s hand quickly flew up past Dean’s neck and to the back of Dean’s head. Dean was pulled into a kiss so passionate he could no longer inhibit himself. His lips painted Sam’s with hopes he could never utter; coated with Dean’s silent wishes, Sam’s lips too played over Dean’s.
What was beautiful about this moment was it was not a fight for supremacy, neither led the other, they were kissing each other, not Dean kissing Sam, not Sam kissing Dean. No one was dominant. It was a mutual recognition of their forbidden love.
For a moment their tongues slid over one another. But then Sam pulled away as he ceased rubbing the wound and his hand brushed the erection of Dean’s that had never subsided.
He smiled, “Wound’s not clean yet.”
Dean pecked Sam’s lips, leaving his lips puckered, begging Sam not to stop.
Sam got a look on his face, a surprised look, like he just got a bright idea. He grabbed Dean’s hips, thus causing a tremor in his crotch, and shifted him over to the table.
Sam nudged him and pointed towards the packet of what looked like red dirt.
“Mix that into the water I was using a sec ago. Five pinches, okay? And put each in individually, mix, then add the next pinch. Then crush that,” he pointed at a packet of dry, red flowers, “About one handful. Then stir that into the water. Lemme know when you’re done!”
Dean was perplexed. Not that he was incredulous with having to mix it himself or anything but, seriously, what was the deal?
Sam nudged him again, and, though bewildered, Dean took one pinch of the pungent red powder and dropped it into the water.
Sam, being considerably taller than Dean, was able look over Dean’s shoulder. He put the cloth back on the table and lay his hands on Dean’s bare hips.
“Good job,” his hands snaked over Dean’s stomach, “Now add another pinch.”
One of his hands stopped at his belt buckle, the other continued south, “Good. Good.”
Planting kisses on his brother’s neck, Sam’s hand fumbled with the belt. Pulling it loose, pulling it free, pulling it from his pants. The other hand followed the thick shape, pressing up against the denim.
Dean’s head rolled back, allowing Sam’s kisses to trail down his neck and almost to his chest. He twitched as Sam’s hand infiltrated his jeans, entered his boxers and grasped his erection.
Dean ‘s attention was no longer on the mixture he was supposed to be creating, all he could think of was the hands all over him. One hand cupped his chest, massaging his muscles as the other hand wrapped around his hardon.
Sam stopped kissing Dean’s pale, freckle speckled skin.
“You still have three more pinches. Even then you’re still not finished, so get to it!”
Dean couldn’t help but groan as Sam pushed his jeans down, his cock bobbing out from its restraints.
As Sam stroked him from behind Dean added the third pinch.
As Sam licked his neck he stirred it.
As Sam ran his hand down his side he added the fourth pinch.
As Sam pulled on the tip of Dean’s cock he stirred it. Oh, and twitched.
As Sam kneaded the round, muscular ass cheek Dean added the final pinch.
As Sam bit him lightly on the neck Dean just about knocked the damn bowl off the table.
Dean begrudgingly felt Sam’s hands leave him. Even though he knew otherwise, for some reason he thought Sam was just going to stop. Just going to unlock the door and leave.
He was pleased to hear the grinding sound of a zip being undone. We was especially happy to hear the sound of pants hitting the floor.
Sam kissed him on the neck once more, pressing his own erection the back of Dean’s thigh.
His shirt was gone in a moment, and he was immediately at Dean’s side. Dean turned his head, their eyes locking for more than just a moment. Sam kissed Dean again, firmly with no tongue. His kisses fell down Dean’s arm as he began to crouch.
They were lucky that the table, which was attached to the wall, was quite high from the ground. Still, Sam was still quite tall, so he sat instead of knelt, his legs spread but bent. His cock was so hard it peaked out from the leg of the boxers he was yet to remove.
Sam grasped his brother’s throbbing member, wrapping his fingers around the thick shaft at the base. But he simply sat there. Dean, not stopping with his crushing of the red flower petals looked down. He saw Sam’s face, and to Dean’s shock he was sad.
Not outwardly, not boo-hoo, runny red eyes type of sad. He looked tired, worried and a whole host of things that were too complex to explain.
He looked up at Dean, his eyes told him that he was solemn.
“Dean, you know that I love you. Like really love you.”
“O-of course Sammy,” Dean expected and felt no less, “W-“
“I mean like, every possible way I could love you. This, i-it means so much more. More than just a way to get off. More tha-“
Dean placed his hand on the side of Sam’s face. His bright green eyes coupled with Sammy’s, they linked them tightly. Tight enough for him to mean every word that followed, “Sammy, I love you. Don’t ever doubt that. I don’t think there is a gesture, an act, a.. a.. an anything that could express how I feel. But stuff like this… it can be beautiful. We don’t have to if you don’t think it is but I don’t feel like its dirty, or empty of affection.”
He had crouched down to eye level midway through his first sentence, never removing his hand from Sam’s face. Sam nuzzled into it, and Dean leant close enough to place a small, soft kiss on Sam’s lips.
“I love you Sammy.”
Sam beamed at him, then said cheekily, “You better get on with that remedy!”
Dean nipped at him playfully before standing up. And that entire time he hadn’t lost his erection in the slightest.
He tried to keep as relaxed as possible as he crushed the rose petals, but as he felt Sam’s lips purse around the crown of his cock his entire body flinched. Dean smirked as he heard Sam chuckling under the table.
“Shut up, bitch!” he chuckled himself.
A muffled “Jerk” ascended from beneath the table.
Dean grabbed more petals and placed them in the larger bowl as lips taunted the head of his cock. He grasped the granite grinder firmly, biting his bottom lip as Sam’s tongue flicked and licked over his almost throbbing head.
The petals were almost a power by the time Sam had started taking Dean’s entire head in his mouth. His lips moved back and forth against his cock, with Dean’s crown in his mouth he ran his tongue in circles around it.
Dean poured the powder out of the bowl and into the blend of herbs. All of a sudden Sam’s mouth sped across Dean’s hardon and Dean hunched unexpectedly over the table as his cock head hit the back of Sam’s throat.
“Guh! Ergh, gimme a little warning NEXT time,” Dean his best not to yell as Sam repeated the previous action. Dean tensed his body, in an attempt not to convulse as Sam swallowed most of Dean’s cock over and over again.
Each time the back of Sam’s throat and Dean’s cock met it became more intense.
“Damn boy, where’s your damn gag reflex? You’re scarily good at tha-GUH!”
Sam had pulled away far enough so that only Dean’s head was in his mouth and tugged on Dean’s member before engulfing the entire mass again.
Dean stopped stirring, for fear that he would experience a tremor strong enough to send it flying, so he place it and everything else on the cutting board, put his hands flat on either side and bit on his lip, trying not to moan loud enough for the whole county to hear.
Sam slowed, the movements of his neck were shallower, but that didn’t mean the good stuff stopped. Sam’s fingers moved from Dean’s shaft into Sam’s own mouth. He brushed Dean’s cock head with the tips of his nails, then he removed Dean’s cock from his mouth and sucked on his fingers.
Dean was in Seventh Heaven when Sam’s wet fingers found their way between Dean’s firm ass cheeks. With Dean’s hardon back in Sam’s mouth, his fingers went from tickling Dean’s hole to pushing against it. They returned to Sam’s mouth for a moment, and this time they were slick enough to penetrate Dean.
Dean groaned as two of Sam’s fingers slid their way into Dean. They receded and forced their way back in several times, trying to find that perfect spot. Dean threw his head back when one Sam’s fingers brushed against that ecstatic nerve. He choked a roar as Sam tickled that nerve again and again and again… and again!
The movements of Sam’s mouth soon became to fast, the power bursting through his body because of Sam’s fingers soon became too intense.
But ultimately when Sam groaned himself for the first time Dean gripped the table edge so hard, jerked forward and tried so hard not to scream that the tendons in his neck stuck out like guitar strings.
And then he came.
He shot down Sam’s throat, some even leaked out the corner of his mouth. He leant back as his seed shot from him with great force.
But Sam was cruel, he found his position Dean was in, him leaning back, exposing all of himself so fucking hot. He planted his hand on Dean’s stomach so he could stand up straight and proceeded to force as much of Dean’s cock into his mouth as he could.
Spasms riddled Dean’s body as Sam twisted his head to the side with Dean’s cock still in his mouth. He pulled it from his mouth but planted kisses on it, the sensitive cock spurting out little bits of cum each and every time.
Taking mercy on Dean he stopped pressing Dean back, stopped tickling his cock with kisses and sat back and enjoyed the view.
Dean shakily joined Sam on the ground.
“Whoa!”
“Whoa is right,” Sam said with a grin, “Now let’s treat that wound.”
When he got up Dean saw that Sam was still completely hard, enough so that it simply jutted straight out of his boxers.
Dean was surprised Sam didn’t try anything, instead he dabbed Dean’s wound again, but he smiled the entire time.
“There, done.” He said triumphantly, placing the bowl on the table but not getting up.
What he did next Dean could not be more thankful for.
He ignored his own erection, pulled Dean close to him, and they sat their, leaning against the wall. Dean was enveloped in Sam’s arms. Sam’s hardon went away eventually, and Dean felt so humbled by his brother’s embrace. He wondered if they had ever really just held each other.
Dean had wanted to have moments like this, moments of true affection, every day, every moment. But there was something more than that he wanted. Something he needed
Dean contemplated whether he should tell Sammy what he really needed.
No.
Not this time at least.
~
Author:
unatral_kreatur
Pairing: Dean/Sam
Rating: NC-17
Category: Smut. Pure, Unadulterated Smut.
Word Count: 2’900
Chapter: OneShot
Summary: After a run-in with a nasty beastie Sam has to treat Dean's wound. In a closet. Away from prying eyes. A recipe for… well what ever you wanna call it!
Warnings: Oral Sex, Fingering
Notes: Okay, this is the longest thing I’ve written in a while, and it’s PORN for goodness sake! Anyway, haven’t written smut in ages so I just wanted to ensure I didn’t forget how to! XP
Disclaimer: Supernatural is the property of Kripke and the CW network. I do not own Supernatural and there is no profit being made from this Fanfiction.
~
Homemade Remedy
“Remind me why we’re here again?” Dean insisted impatiently.
Sam fiddled with an amulet and a vial of sickeningly pink liquid, “I told you, the wounds infected. We need to get it treated.”
Dean went to open his mouth but was cut off, “And for the last time, no we can’t take you to a hospital! You know it’s not a natural wound.”
Dean sighed, “These New Age shops make you feel like you’re really here to buy some pot!”
“Dean,” Sam sighed intolerantly, “Dahlia is a friend of Dad’s, so we know for a fact that she’s the real deal!”
After a few more minutes of browsing, Sam had all the ingredients he needed and was at the counter. Dahlia nudged Sam playfully and said that he could have it all for free, their Dad had gotten her out of a very tight spot after all.
“Oh honey, if you’d like,” she said in a very broad Texan accent, “yall can make what ya need right here! We gotta stall, way ‘round the back. It’s gotta table and a door and everything, just let me get you a cutting board and a bowl for you boys.”
She went into the room behind the counter and returned with a broad grin on her face, “You two take ya time, and if you ever need anything, don’t yall be afraid to call!”
“Thanks,” Sam replied with a grin before he and Dean made their way between shelves of herbs and racks of clothes, down a narrow hall way, turned two corners and found themselves at the stall intended.
Sam laid out the ingredients and told Dean to close and lock the door.
“Why?”
Sam shot him a look, it was serious, but his eyes glinted like they had an agenda.
“Okay then, I’ll close the door!”
Sam stood up and looked at Dean, Dean of course had to look upwards to make eye contact. His fingers wrapped around the hem of Dean’s shirt and lifted it up, baring his stomach.
“Looks a little sore,” Sam gestured to the inch long cut running just under his bottom right rib.
Dean tried to stay as blasé as he could as Sam dropped to his knees and started kissing around the small wound. Now Dean got why Sam wanted the door closed.
“You might wanna be careful about that,” Dean said nonchalantly.
“Don’t worry Dean, it’s not contagious. I could suck on it all day long and not catch anything!”
Sam’s seductively husky growl immediately sent a bolt right into Dean’s crotch, it was quickly turning as hard as cement.
Sam got back on his feet, laying a kiss on Dean’s lips. Dean leant into the kiss, Sam’s kisses always flooded him with that warm fuzzy feeling, that “Aww, I Wuv You Faw Evahz!” kinda feeling. He’d never admit it, but he really liked that feeling.
Dean was left unsatisfied as Sam pulled away, not even blessing Dean with his tongue. Sam had turned around, placing the knife, grinder and spoon that had been in the bowl on the table. He proceeded to cut the root-like ingredients that had been in zip-lock plastic bags, those too had been in the bowls provided.
Dean seemed to doze off for a moment. Not literally, but as he watched Sam stand there at the table, slicing the roots and herbs, he felt a small twinge in his chest. Yet another thing Dean would not have told Sam was that Dean was envisioning this scene. Not the stall, not the roots and herbs and especially not the slash left by a particularly nasty sewer-beast.
No, instead he saw a kitchen. Sammy was at a counter, open window right in front of him, the morning sunlight lighting his face up like a candle. His skin almost seemed to shine.
And Dean stood there, with a baseball cap in his hand, written on the inside of the cap would say Johnny. Little Johnny.
Dean shook away the thoughts as Sam nudged him, “I said take your shirt off!”
Dean smirked, closing the door on his thoughts for the moment. He just wished he could find the key to lock away those thoughts. Nothing good could come from them.
As Dean pulled his shirt up over his head, Sam took a smaller bowl, tipped water from a small water bottle, yet another item from the stockpile they had brought in with them, into the bowl. He sprinkled the root he had just cut up into the water, dabbed a cloth in the water and turned to topless Dean.
He stopped, eyes travelling the contours of his chest and stomach. He admired it for a moment longer till his eyes met Dean. Seeing Dean’s smirk he added, “What?”
Dean broke into a grin. Totally random grin. Totally sexy grin, at least from where Sam was standing.
He moved towards Dean, their faces less than an inch from each other. Dean winced as Sam patted his wound with the damp cloth. Sam cocked his head as Dean bit his lip. The corners of Sam’s mouth turned up so gradually. When Dean got used to the concoction Sam had created he saw upon Sam’s face the warmest smile. Modest, soft… happy.
He leant forward, running his lips over Dean’s. Dean’s lips knew better than Dean did, simply allowing Sam to slowly cup Dean’s upper then lower lips with his own, pulling away each time.
With his hand still wiping the cut, Sam’s free hand ran up Dean’s arm. Dean remained completely pliable for Sam; the only movement was the steady rise and fall of his chest. That free hand moved across Dean’s shoulder, across his chest, down his stomach, up his side. Dean recoiled as Sam’s fingers danced between his arm and ribs.
Dean laughed, “Dude! No fair!”
Sam grinned as he pulled his hand out, “Okay!”
Sam’s hand quickly flew up past Dean’s neck and to the back of Dean’s head. Dean was pulled into a kiss so passionate he could no longer inhibit himself. His lips painted Sam’s with hopes he could never utter; coated with Dean’s silent wishes, Sam’s lips too played over Dean’s.
What was beautiful about this moment was it was not a fight for supremacy, neither led the other, they were kissing each other, not Dean kissing Sam, not Sam kissing Dean. No one was dominant. It was a mutual recognition of their forbidden love.
For a moment their tongues slid over one another. But then Sam pulled away as he ceased rubbing the wound and his hand brushed the erection of Dean’s that had never subsided.
He smiled, “Wound’s not clean yet.”
Dean pecked Sam’s lips, leaving his lips puckered, begging Sam not to stop.
Sam got a look on his face, a surprised look, like he just got a bright idea. He grabbed Dean’s hips, thus causing a tremor in his crotch, and shifted him over to the table.
Sam nudged him and pointed towards the packet of what looked like red dirt.
“Mix that into the water I was using a sec ago. Five pinches, okay? And put each in individually, mix, then add the next pinch. Then crush that,” he pointed at a packet of dry, red flowers, “About one handful. Then stir that into the water. Lemme know when you’re done!”
Dean was perplexed. Not that he was incredulous with having to mix it himself or anything but, seriously, what was the deal?
Sam nudged him again, and, though bewildered, Dean took one pinch of the pungent red powder and dropped it into the water.
Sam, being considerably taller than Dean, was able look over Dean’s shoulder. He put the cloth back on the table and lay his hands on Dean’s bare hips.
“Good job,” his hands snaked over Dean’s stomach, “Now add another pinch.”
One of his hands stopped at his belt buckle, the other continued south, “Good. Good.”
Planting kisses on his brother’s neck, Sam’s hand fumbled with the belt. Pulling it loose, pulling it free, pulling it from his pants. The other hand followed the thick shape, pressing up against the denim.
Dean’s head rolled back, allowing Sam’s kisses to trail down his neck and almost to his chest. He twitched as Sam’s hand infiltrated his jeans, entered his boxers and grasped his erection.
Dean ‘s attention was no longer on the mixture he was supposed to be creating, all he could think of was the hands all over him. One hand cupped his chest, massaging his muscles as the other hand wrapped around his hardon.
Sam stopped kissing Dean’s pale, freckle speckled skin.
“You still have three more pinches. Even then you’re still not finished, so get to it!”
Dean couldn’t help but groan as Sam pushed his jeans down, his cock bobbing out from its restraints.
As Sam stroked him from behind Dean added the third pinch.
As Sam licked his neck he stirred it.
As Sam ran his hand down his side he added the fourth pinch.
As Sam pulled on the tip of Dean’s cock he stirred it. Oh, and twitched.
As Sam kneaded the round, muscular ass cheek Dean added the final pinch.
As Sam bit him lightly on the neck Dean just about knocked the damn bowl off the table.
Dean begrudgingly felt Sam’s hands leave him. Even though he knew otherwise, for some reason he thought Sam was just going to stop. Just going to unlock the door and leave.
He was pleased to hear the grinding sound of a zip being undone. We was especially happy to hear the sound of pants hitting the floor.
Sam kissed him on the neck once more, pressing his own erection the back of Dean’s thigh.
His shirt was gone in a moment, and he was immediately at Dean’s side. Dean turned his head, their eyes locking for more than just a moment. Sam kissed Dean again, firmly with no tongue. His kisses fell down Dean’s arm as he began to crouch.
They were lucky that the table, which was attached to the wall, was quite high from the ground. Still, Sam was still quite tall, so he sat instead of knelt, his legs spread but bent. His cock was so hard it peaked out from the leg of the boxers he was yet to remove.
Sam grasped his brother’s throbbing member, wrapping his fingers around the thick shaft at the base. But he simply sat there. Dean, not stopping with his crushing of the red flower petals looked down. He saw Sam’s face, and to Dean’s shock he was sad.
Not outwardly, not boo-hoo, runny red eyes type of sad. He looked tired, worried and a whole host of things that were too complex to explain.
He looked up at Dean, his eyes told him that he was solemn.
“Dean, you know that I love you. Like really love you.”
“O-of course Sammy,” Dean expected and felt no less, “W-“
“I mean like, every possible way I could love you. This, i-it means so much more. More than just a way to get off. More tha-“
Dean placed his hand on the side of Sam’s face. His bright green eyes coupled with Sammy’s, they linked them tightly. Tight enough for him to mean every word that followed, “Sammy, I love you. Don’t ever doubt that. I don’t think there is a gesture, an act, a.. a.. an anything that could express how I feel. But stuff like this… it can be beautiful. We don’t have to if you don’t think it is but I don’t feel like its dirty, or empty of affection.”
He had crouched down to eye level midway through his first sentence, never removing his hand from Sam’s face. Sam nuzzled into it, and Dean leant close enough to place a small, soft kiss on Sam’s lips.
“I love you Sammy.”
Sam beamed at him, then said cheekily, “You better get on with that remedy!”
Dean nipped at him playfully before standing up. And that entire time he hadn’t lost his erection in the slightest.
He tried to keep as relaxed as possible as he crushed the rose petals, but as he felt Sam’s lips purse around the crown of his cock his entire body flinched. Dean smirked as he heard Sam chuckling under the table.
“Shut up, bitch!” he chuckled himself.
A muffled “Jerk” ascended from beneath the table.
Dean grabbed more petals and placed them in the larger bowl as lips taunted the head of his cock. He grasped the granite grinder firmly, biting his bottom lip as Sam’s tongue flicked and licked over his almost throbbing head.
The petals were almost a power by the time Sam had started taking Dean’s entire head in his mouth. His lips moved back and forth against his cock, with Dean’s crown in his mouth he ran his tongue in circles around it.
Dean poured the powder out of the bowl and into the blend of herbs. All of a sudden Sam’s mouth sped across Dean’s hardon and Dean hunched unexpectedly over the table as his cock head hit the back of Sam’s throat.
“Guh! Ergh, gimme a little warning NEXT time,” Dean his best not to yell as Sam repeated the previous action. Dean tensed his body, in an attempt not to convulse as Sam swallowed most of Dean’s cock over and over again.
Each time the back of Sam’s throat and Dean’s cock met it became more intense.
“Damn boy, where’s your damn gag reflex? You’re scarily good at tha-GUH!”
Sam had pulled away far enough so that only Dean’s head was in his mouth and tugged on Dean’s member before engulfing the entire mass again.
Dean stopped stirring, for fear that he would experience a tremor strong enough to send it flying, so he place it and everything else on the cutting board, put his hands flat on either side and bit on his lip, trying not to moan loud enough for the whole county to hear.
Sam slowed, the movements of his neck were shallower, but that didn’t mean the good stuff stopped. Sam’s fingers moved from Dean’s shaft into Sam’s own mouth. He brushed Dean’s cock head with the tips of his nails, then he removed Dean’s cock from his mouth and sucked on his fingers.
Dean was in Seventh Heaven when Sam’s wet fingers found their way between Dean’s firm ass cheeks. With Dean’s hardon back in Sam’s mouth, his fingers went from tickling Dean’s hole to pushing against it. They returned to Sam’s mouth for a moment, and this time they were slick enough to penetrate Dean.
Dean groaned as two of Sam’s fingers slid their way into Dean. They receded and forced their way back in several times, trying to find that perfect spot. Dean threw his head back when one Sam’s fingers brushed against that ecstatic nerve. He choked a roar as Sam tickled that nerve again and again and again… and again!
The movements of Sam’s mouth soon became to fast, the power bursting through his body because of Sam’s fingers soon became too intense.
But ultimately when Sam groaned himself for the first time Dean gripped the table edge so hard, jerked forward and tried so hard not to scream that the tendons in his neck stuck out like guitar strings.
And then he came.
He shot down Sam’s throat, some even leaked out the corner of his mouth. He leant back as his seed shot from him with great force.
But Sam was cruel, he found his position Dean was in, him leaning back, exposing all of himself so fucking hot. He planted his hand on Dean’s stomach so he could stand up straight and proceeded to force as much of Dean’s cock into his mouth as he could.
Spasms riddled Dean’s body as Sam twisted his head to the side with Dean’s cock still in his mouth. He pulled it from his mouth but planted kisses on it, the sensitive cock spurting out little bits of cum each and every time.
Taking mercy on Dean he stopped pressing Dean back, stopped tickling his cock with kisses and sat back and enjoyed the view.
Dean shakily joined Sam on the ground.
“Whoa!”
“Whoa is right,” Sam said with a grin, “Now let’s treat that wound.”
When he got up Dean saw that Sam was still completely hard, enough so that it simply jutted straight out of his boxers.
Dean was surprised Sam didn’t try anything, instead he dabbed Dean’s wound again, but he smiled the entire time.
“There, done.” He said triumphantly, placing the bowl on the table but not getting up.
What he did next Dean could not be more thankful for.
He ignored his own erection, pulled Dean close to him, and they sat their, leaning against the wall. Dean was enveloped in Sam’s arms. Sam’s hardon went away eventually, and Dean felt so humbled by his brother’s embrace. He wondered if they had ever really just held each other.
Dean had wanted to have moments like this, moments of true affection, every day, every moment. But there was something more than that he wanted. Something he needed
Dean contemplated whether he should tell Sammy what he really needed.
No.
Not this time at least.
~