Mirrors, for spn_30snapshots, Prompt 8, Table 7.
Title: Reflection
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Summary: for prompt #8 on the spn_30snapshots, prompt: Mirrors.
Dean hadn’t stopped kissing and groping Sam since they entered the motel room a few minutes earlier. It was possible that Sam’s hand resting but unmoving on Dean’s crotch in the car had produced an erection (which Dean had been struggling with for about six hours now) that made him so desperate. He wanted Sam. Needed him. Like, five and a half hours ago.
Quickly, they both got out of their clothing and let their hands roam over each other’s bodies with reckless abandon.
Catching his breath and the slightest hint of brain function, Dean managed to speak, kind of.
“Bed?”
“No, Dean. Not the bed. Had something else in mind for tonight.”
Without even an ounce of resistance, he let himself be led to the dresser in the motel room, right in front of the large mirror hanging on the wall above it.
“Eyes front, Dean”, Sam told him, in that low commanding tone that never ceased to make Dean’s head spin and his stomach tie up in knots.
Doing as he was told, though. He opened his eyes and caught a look at them, himself naked and wrecked, eyes wild and hair disheveled; Sam with complete control over everything that was happening.
As Sam opened him up with his fingers, Dean clutched the edge of the dresser and saw his expressions as Sam hit his prostate over and over with his fingers. Sam had surely seen this look on Dean’s face a hundred times, but Dean hadn’t seen it himself.
“Sam, please…”, Dean didn’t know exactly what he was asking for, but he couldn’t fight the words escaping his mouth.
“Don’t I always take care of you?” Sam’s response was given with a predatory and cold look that Dean had seen before. It was different, though, than seeing it like this, in a mirror, seeing his own face while he was driven to the brink of ecstasy and beyond. Sam was fierce and determined, but also incredibly turned on. Now that was a sight Dean was familiar with.
“Be good for me and keep your eyes open,” Sam ordered, as he fucked Dean all slow and tender, “I want you to see this. How it looks when we break each other down.”
He wouldn’t have been able to tear his eyes from the mirror even if he hadn’t been told to do so by Sam.
The two of them, together, his own expressions of pain and pleasure; Sam’s determination to rip him to shreds.
They were going to do this again, Dean was convinced, but next time he’d be the one behind his brother.
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Summary: for prompt #8 on the spn_30snapshots, prompt: Mirrors.
Dean hadn’t stopped kissing and groping Sam since they entered the motel room a few minutes earlier. It was possible that Sam’s hand resting but unmoving on Dean’s crotch in the car had produced an erection (which Dean had been struggling with for about six hours now) that made him so desperate. He wanted Sam. Needed him. Like, five and a half hours ago.
Quickly, they both got out of their clothing and let their hands roam over each other’s bodies with reckless abandon.
Catching his breath and the slightest hint of brain function, Dean managed to speak, kind of.
“Bed?”
“No, Dean. Not the bed. Had something else in mind for tonight.”
Without even an ounce of resistance, he let himself be led to the dresser in the motel room, right in front of the large mirror hanging on the wall above it.
“Eyes front, Dean”, Sam told him, in that low commanding tone that never ceased to make Dean’s head spin and his stomach tie up in knots.
Doing as he was told, though. He opened his eyes and caught a look at them, himself naked and wrecked, eyes wild and hair disheveled; Sam with complete control over everything that was happening.
As Sam opened him up with his fingers, Dean clutched the edge of the dresser and saw his expressions as Sam hit his prostate over and over with his fingers. Sam had surely seen this look on Dean’s face a hundred times, but Dean hadn’t seen it himself.
“Sam, please…”, Dean didn’t know exactly what he was asking for, but he couldn’t fight the words escaping his mouth.
“Don’t I always take care of you?” Sam’s response was given with a predatory and cold look that Dean had seen before. It was different, though, than seeing it like this, in a mirror, seeing his own face while he was driven to the brink of ecstasy and beyond. Sam was fierce and determined, but also incredibly turned on. Now that was a sight Dean was familiar with.
“Be good for me and keep your eyes open,” Sam ordered, as he fucked Dean all slow and tender, “I want you to see this. How it looks when we break each other down.”
He wouldn’t have been able to tear his eyes from the mirror even if he hadn’t been told to do so by Sam.
The two of them, together, his own expressions of pain and pleasure; Sam’s determination to rip him to shreds.
They were going to do this again, Dean was convinced, but next time he’d be the one behind his brother.