Lock And Load [FIC]
Title: Lock And Load
Series: Kink Series
Author: yahnknshadows
Warnings: slash, wincest, gun!kink
Summary: Once a upon a time, in a galaxy far, far away, two brothers figured out that fucking your brother wasn't as bad as you could get. They realized just how much fun they could have exploring the kinker side of life.
Disclaimer: Liar! Liar! Pants on fire!
Music: Closer by NIN
Beta: Sarah <3 <3 <3 <3 Thanks so much for your help, honey!
Previous: In The Dark, Trial and Error
Master Post
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Lock And Load
Since Dean had gone out to get the alcohol, Sam was left to clean the weapons. It was a crap job; necessary but still crap, and an even crappier trade. Sam would’ve been more than happy to put on shoes and go get their alcohol intake for the night. The hunt had been over for the last four days and they were dead in the water for the time being. There were no hunts on the proverbial radar and Sam was getting anxious.
It was with a sigh of annoyance that he settled in to strip and clean Dean’s favorite Taurus. While he broke it down, Sam’s mind drifted to all of the times he’d seen his brother lovingly break down, clean, and reassemble that particular weapon, the expression Dean had worn each time. It suddenly occurred to Sam that his brother had a thing for guns.
It wasn’t like Dean wasn’t obvious with it, but the intensity with which he handled and cleaned them made Sam more aware of the idea that his brother maybe got more out of cleaning the weapons than just the satisfaction that he’d done something to assure their safety on a hunt. He thought about that for awhile, hands slowly working each piece of the gun.
Dean parked in the spot just in front of their door and got out of the car. He grabbed the bag of alcohol, fully intending to drink the night away. He sighed and locked the car up, heading to the door and going inside.
He looked over at Sam dealing with the guns and smirked. "Aw, Sammy; Dad would be proud," Dean joked, setting the bag down and taking his jacket off.
“Oh, you’re hilarious,” Sam grumbled as he started putting the gun back together. He glanced at his brother from the corner of his eye, noting the way Dean’s eyes kept returning to Sam’s hands, or rather, the gun in Sam’s hands. A sly grin crept over Sam’s mouth as he slid the last piece into place.
The snick of the clip locking into the hilt of the gun sounded loudly in the room and Sam turned and calmly leveled the gun at his brother’s chest. “Strip,” he said simply, staring at his brother like he would a particularly boring television show. “Quickly.”
Dean looked up at his brother for a second as he dropped his jacket into a nearby chair. He raised an eyebrow and laughed uneasily, unsure what Sam was doing or why. He licked his lips, his dick growing hard quickly but ignored it at the moment because what the fuck? He shook his head.
"What are you doing?"
Sam’s thumb moved and flicked off the safety. “Now, Dean. I’m not playing. Strip.”
Dean made a face and looked around for a second. Was this for real and was this even his brother? Well, he knew that it was; their motel room was setup like a goddamn military base and Sam wasn't stupid enough to let anything in.
"Dude, you're kind of freaking me out here," he said as he pulled his shirt up and over his head, undoing his jeans.
“I really don’t care if I’m freaking you out. Strip all the way to your skin and then get on the bed on your hands and knees.” Sam sat back in his chair, legs splayed wide, comfortable with intent.
Dean was sort of taken aback by his brother's sudden and all new attitude. He kind of liked it, actually. He did as he was told and moved to the end of the bed once he was naked, his dick leaking. He didn't even bother to try and hide it. He licked his lips and moved up the bed, settling comfortably enough as he stole a look at Sam over his shoulder.
Sam eyed him for a minute and then casually got up from the chair, gun held steady at Dean. He thumbed the safety on and grabbed the gun oil from the table before making his way to the foot of the bed, dispassionate eyes stroking over Dean’s form. He reached out and trailed the gun down Dean’s spine, stopping just above the swell of his ass. Dean jerked a little at the feel of gun on skin.
"Kind of cold, Sammy," Dean commented. He bit his bottom lip because Sam was going to an all new level of extreme here but Dean wasn't close to complaining about it. "Um, Sam, are you…? Where did this come from, exactly?"
A smile slid over Sam’s mouth as he tipped the vial of gun oil over the crack of Dean’s ass, watching it dribble slowly onto his skin and slip between the divide of his cheeks. “You like guns,” Sam said simply, sliding the barrel of the gun through the shallow puddle of oil on Dean’s skin. “So I’m going to fuck you with one.” With that, Sam dragged the muzzle of the gun down between Dean’s ass cheeks and nudged the cold metal against his brother’s tightly clenched asshole.
He shivered at the feel of the cold gun on his warm skin and then Dean tensed and pulled away slightly. "Are you insane?" he demanded. "I mean, is that fucking thing loaded?" He couldn't deny that it sounded hot as fuck but if there was one place that Dean didn't want a bullet it was, literally, in his ass.
“I know how to handle a gun, Dean,” Sam sighed and put a hand to the back of Dean’s neck, holding him still. He nudged forward with the gun, just enough to make sure Dean knew where the gun was going, and then slid his hand down from Dean’s neck to slick through the oil and push a pair of fingers into Dean’s ass, loosening him up for the gun. “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t shoot you.”
Dean relaxed and took a deep breath; he trusted Sam with his life. Besides, Dean had imagined it before, it wasn't like he didn't sport a hard on every time he was on the wrong side of a gun. It didn't matter who was holding it. He closed his eyes and let his head drop to the pillow, his muscles tightening as Sam pushed his way inside. He pushed back out of instinct and bit his bottom lip, moaning softly. Sam’s grin darkened and he slid another finger inside, scissoring them wide to stretch Dean as quickly and carefully as he could without hurting him. This was all for Dean, but Sam wasn’t exactly disgusted by it. In fact, anything that got his brother off, that made Dean lose that veneer of control, was something Sam was all for.
Dean's breath picked up as and he pushed back again. His muscles opened up more easily, used to Sam's touch by now. He let his legs spread wider, more inviting. He whimpered quietly into the pillow and felt his dick grow harder with the slight burn and stretch.
"Shit."
“Gonna have a gun in you soon, Dean,” Sam cooed quietly, punctuating his words with another deep thrust of his fingers. “Your gun, your Taurus. You like that?” he asked, wriggling in a third finger.
"Fuck," Dean groaned, wanting Sam’s cock right then but too eager to try this idea to start begging for it. He nodded his head. "Y-yes," he hissed through a gasped breath. "You know it's my favorite."
Sam twisted and scissored his fingers, pressing deep, flicking at Dean’s prostate sharply. Dean nearly jumped out of his skin at the attention to his prostate and his fists gripped the blankets under him tightly. Sam pulled his fingers free and drizzled more oil on the barrel of the gun. “Ready?” he asked, even as he pressed the muzzle of the gun against Dean’s asshole, firmly pushing against the resistant ring of muscle.
Dean didn't know if he wanted to push into it or pull away. Instead he remained where he was. His eyes were tightly closed as he nodded. "Always ready, Sammy," he answered, trying to remain calm for this.
Slowly, carefully, the muzzle of the gun slipped past the outer ring of muscle and dragged a heated sigh from Sam’s mouth. He watched intently as the gun sank inside. “Jesus, Dean. Never seen anything so hot in my life, just taking it.”
Dean's dick twitched and throbbed along with the nerves in his asshole. The gun was hard and cold, nothing like a cock shoved in there but that wasn't a bad thing. Danger added to his excitement; just the idea of it, even if he knew Sam would never hurt him. He tried his best to relax his muscles and take it as deep as Sam decided to push it in. "Feels good, Sammy."
Sam frowned in concentration and twisted the gun, searching with the sight for Dean’s prostate. He pulled the gun back slowly and pushed back in, angling to brush over Dean’s prostate. The gun was smooth, but he still had to be careful. He had no idea what he could tear inside his brother with the slightly raised metal sight of the gun. He wondered if he should pull the gun out and put a condom on it or not.
Frustrated, Dean tried to angle himself right so the gun would find its target. He gave up after a while and when Sam hit it just right Dean cried out in both pleasure and surprise. He may have been embarrassed if this was a normal situation but, Jesus Christ. He was going to explode right then and there. He tightened up, preventing his body from having a mind of its own just yet. "God, yes!" he yelled. "Harder, Sammy, want more!" he begged.
There was no way Sam could ignore him, and Sam watched in awe as his brother’s muscles relaxed around the barrel of the gun, how they seemed to suck and grip at it as though to drag it in deeper. No, there was no way he could ignore Dean’s plea. Sam pulled the gun back until the sight peeked out and then shoved it back in roughly, angling it to graze over Dean’s prostate, and set a quick rhythm.
"Christ!" Dean cried out, his tone higher than normal and his body pushing back to meet the thrusts with want and need burning along his nerves. He had never felt anything like that before; new, exciting, insane, and hard as a goddamn fucking stone. He loved it and Sam knew to use his favorite and make it perfect. He wiggled and squirmed wantonly; pleasure was the only thing running through his mind. Complete pleasure.
"So f-fucking g-good, Sam, never felt anything so good," he confessed, begging for more with every move of his hips as they met each rapid thrust.
“Come on, Dean, come on. You gonna come? Gonna come with this gun shoved in you? Not a single touch to your dick, just your gun fucking your tight little ass?” Sam purred and pushed the gun in deep until the trigger guard pressed tight against Dean’s stretched rim. Sam leaned over Dean, keeping his pace steady and frantic, and gasped into Dean’s ear, making soft needy sounds to tease his brother higher, tormenting him with the sounds. “Come on, Dean, come for me.”
They had done some weird shit but this was off the charts. Dean didn't care, though. He just wanted more and his dick was more than agreeable. He shuddered against his brother's warm breath against his ear, mixed with the cold metal of the gun. He whimpered in the back of his throat, hands twisted in the sheets. Pressing himself down into the bed and looking for some friction, he jerked his hips. Sam's words shoved him right over the edge without hardly any attention to his dick. That was pretty new, too. He moaned, come spurting thick jets into the sheets and over his belly.
“Such a good boy,” Sam cooed, fucking the gun into Dean’s ass to ride him through his orgasm. As the tremors started to slow, Sam pulled the gun free and moved away from the bed, dropping the gun on the table before going back to his brother. “Not done yet, baby.”
Rustling sounds came from behind Dean and then the sound of a zipper. Sam’s hand landed on Dean’s back, curling around his hip. “Stay just like that. There’s my good boy,” he murmured, rubbing his cock along the crease of Dean’s ass, the open flaps of his jeans scraping against Dean’s naked ass. “Just like that.”
Dean remained in the position Sam had put him in. The gun was gone and he groaned, empty with the loss. He let his head drop as Sam moved against him. He flinched when Sam's hands landed on his back but then pushed into the touch. He could feel Sam dick, hard and ready, and he pushed back, inviting. Dean bit his bottom lip. His hole was already well worn and a little sore, but the thought of Sam inside him made his dick want to spring to life all over again.
A low chuckle left Sam’s mouth, breathy and dark. “You want this, don’t you? You want my cock inside you, stretching you wider, filling up your empty little ass.” Sam ignored the invitation Dean was telegraphing, riding the crease of his ass, teasing Dean while he worked towards his own release. “Gotta beg me real pretty.”
Dean's breath hitched and he looked over his shoulder at Sam to shoot him a look. "Come on, Sam," he asked quietly, soft and appealing. "Know you want it, too, don't you?" He pushed back into Sam's full cock again. "Want you inside me; stuff me with it, please."
Sam’s hips pulled back and then rolled forward, the head of his cock catching on the rim of Dean’s asshole before popping free and gliding over it again. “Prettier, Dean,” he ordered, jaw clenching. “Gonna come soon, baby. You want me to come inside you, right? Come on, you can beg me prettier than that.”
Dean groaned in the back of his throat, clearly frustrated with the little bit of contact he was getting. "Yes, please, Sam, please," he begged. "Put your dick in me, make sure I feel you for days. Please, I want it. I’ll do anything, Sam, please." He reached back and gripped Sam’s hip in order to guide him in.
“Good boy,” Sam praised softly, his breath hitching as the head of his cock caught and skidded over Dean’s asshole again. He hissed and reached down, gripping the base of his dick, pressed the head hard against Dean’s swollen hole and slammed right in. “Fuck, Dean,” he groaned and snapped his hips back and forth, giving Dean no time to adjust. “Like that, baby? Like me splitting you wide on my cock?” he demanded, breathless, voice breaking on the words.
His dick began to twitch as Sam's cock delved into him. Dean liked it, hadn't known that before but, Christ, it was hot and he loved it. "Y-yes-s," he hissed, unashamed of begging. He tried to urge Sam on, to make him give him more and fuck him hard. His muscles clamped down instinctively around Sam's dick. "Aah, God!" he exclaimed and then bit down on his lower lip, trying to keep himself under control. His dick was trying valiantly to rise again, aching as Sam pounded his ass and brushed against his prostate. He reached down and gripped his dick, trying to force it to full arousal again.
Sam growled and slapped Dean’s hand away, reaching beneath him himself to strip Dean’s dick, fast and hard, bringing him roughly to full arousal despite the ache and tingle of his recent orgasm. “Not coming until you do,” he swore, balls slapping against Dean’s ass with every vigorous thrust. “Wanna feel you clamp down tight all around me, feel you breaking apart for me. Just for me.”
Dean growled in the back of his throat as his fists twisted into the sheets again. He reached back and searched for Sam, trying to hold onto him anywhere he could reach. Needy, lust-filled noises escaped him as he pulled away at the same time Sam did, only to meet him back in the middle with each thrust. He clenched his ass down hard, trying to force Sam to come. "Fuck!" he yelled as the pleasure in his balls built.
“Oh, you fucker, gonna make you pay for that,” Sam growled, hips snapping faster and harder against Dean’s ass, the hand on Dean’s hip snatching him backwards to meet Sam’s vicious thrusts. Sam’s breath hitched, caught, and he made a soft mewling noise, hips stuttering as he came in a rush, hand fisted at the base of Dean’s cock to keep him from coming.
Dean smirked and a deep sense of satisfaction filled him as he felt Sam come, hard and fast; thick waves of hot and sticky come pushing inside him only to then run down the inside of his thigh. He groaned, loving the feeling of Sam pulsing inside him. He pushed up to meet the trusts, bit his bottom lip and milked Sam's cock for all it had to give.
“I fucking hate you,” Sam panted, dropping his cheek to rest on the back of Dean’s neck. He slowly pulled out and dropped to the bed beside his brother, ignoring the weeping erection nestled between Dean’s legs as he pulled him against his side. “Next time, I’m wearing a fucking cock ring and gonna fuck you for days to make you pay for that little stunt.”
Dean relaxed into the bed and turned slightly to grin at Sam. "Yeah, because it was just so bad for you," he mocked as he turned on his side and nuzzled against Sam. He sighed, his dick begging for his attention. He tried to ignore it for the time being.
Sam grunted and shoved up onto one elbow, glaring down at Dean, his cheeks flushed with spent pleasure and eyes still blown wide. “I wanted to feel you come before I did, jerk.”
"Aww, I'm sorry, Sammy; I'm sure I can do something to make it up to you, don't you think?" He half smiled.
He sighed and dropped his forehead against Dean’s shoulder, tossing a leg over him to force him close. “Now you don’t get to come.”
Turning, Dean looked at Sam and his eyes narrowed a little. "Maybe I'll go into the bathroom and take care of it myself," he answered in a matter of fact tone, though he had to admit he liked this new side of Sam.
“You do and I’m never having sex with you again. And, before you even think about me dying of blue balls, I’m sure that there are plenty of men and women out there that wouldn’t mind taking care of my needs.” Sam smiled evilly, wrapping an arm around Dean’s shoulders to keep him from leaving the bed. “And remember, I’m your little brother. I was born to cockblock you, dude.”
Dean pressed his lips together and looked back at Sam. He bit his bottom lip, half-considering getting up anyway and calling Sam's bluff but finally settled against it, though he had no idea why. "Jesus, you’re self-important," he teased but still made no move to get up as he settled firmly against Sam's side.
“Jerk.”
"Bitch."
Sam snuggled Dean closer, nuzzling his hair. “Oh, by the way, you get to clean your gun. Your ass, your gun, you get to clean it.”
Dean rolled his eyes. "Gee, thanks. You know, no one asked you to stick it up there in the first place. And, by the way, was that thing loaded?"
Sam pulled back just enough to let Dean see his face, smiling wide and sly. “Yes, it was. Now, shut up and go to sleep.”
Dean shook his head and looked at Sam, unsure if he believed him or not. He'd find out tomorrow when he cleaned the damn thing. His cock had softened when it realized it wasn't getting anywhere and he settled against Sam's body, curling his arm around his brother to hold him close. "Fine, just don't stick anything else in me while I'm asleep," he mumbled, closing his eyes. "Nice one, too, by the way, Sam."
“Just so we’re clear, I can’t fuck you awake?” Sam joked, and bit down on Dean’s shoulder as he pulled the blankets up and over them. “Because, I really, really want to watch you come when you’re all soft and sleepy.”
Dean buried his face against Sam and smiled as he shrugged. "Okay, your cock is one thing but no toys or armory."
Sam chuckled and kissed the top of Dean’s head. “Go to sleep, jerk.”
Dean blinked, face soft and nodded. “Night, bitch.”
~END~
Series: Kink Series
Author: yahnknshadows
Warnings: slash, wincest, gun!kink
Summary: Once a upon a time, in a galaxy far, far away, two brothers figured out that fucking your brother wasn't as bad as you could get. They realized just how much fun they could have exploring the kinker side of life.
Disclaimer: Liar! Liar! Pants on fire!
Music: Closer by NIN
Beta: Sarah <3 <3 <3 <3 Thanks so much for your help, honey!
Previous: In The Dark, Trial and Error
Master Post
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Lock And Load
Since Dean had gone out to get the alcohol, Sam was left to clean the weapons. It was a crap job; necessary but still crap, and an even crappier trade. Sam would’ve been more than happy to put on shoes and go get their alcohol intake for the night. The hunt had been over for the last four days and they were dead in the water for the time being. There were no hunts on the proverbial radar and Sam was getting anxious.
It was with a sigh of annoyance that he settled in to strip and clean Dean’s favorite Taurus. While he broke it down, Sam’s mind drifted to all of the times he’d seen his brother lovingly break down, clean, and reassemble that particular weapon, the expression Dean had worn each time. It suddenly occurred to Sam that his brother had a thing for guns.
It wasn’t like Dean wasn’t obvious with it, but the intensity with which he handled and cleaned them made Sam more aware of the idea that his brother maybe got more out of cleaning the weapons than just the satisfaction that he’d done something to assure their safety on a hunt. He thought about that for awhile, hands slowly working each piece of the gun.
Dean parked in the spot just in front of their door and got out of the car. He grabbed the bag of alcohol, fully intending to drink the night away. He sighed and locked the car up, heading to the door and going inside.
He looked over at Sam dealing with the guns and smirked. "Aw, Sammy; Dad would be proud," Dean joked, setting the bag down and taking his jacket off.
“Oh, you’re hilarious,” Sam grumbled as he started putting the gun back together. He glanced at his brother from the corner of his eye, noting the way Dean’s eyes kept returning to Sam’s hands, or rather, the gun in Sam’s hands. A sly grin crept over Sam’s mouth as he slid the last piece into place.
The snick of the clip locking into the hilt of the gun sounded loudly in the room and Sam turned and calmly leveled the gun at his brother’s chest. “Strip,” he said simply, staring at his brother like he would a particularly boring television show. “Quickly.”
Dean looked up at his brother for a second as he dropped his jacket into a nearby chair. He raised an eyebrow and laughed uneasily, unsure what Sam was doing or why. He licked his lips, his dick growing hard quickly but ignored it at the moment because what the fuck? He shook his head.
"What are you doing?"
Sam’s thumb moved and flicked off the safety. “Now, Dean. I’m not playing. Strip.”
Dean made a face and looked around for a second. Was this for real and was this even his brother? Well, he knew that it was; their motel room was setup like a goddamn military base and Sam wasn't stupid enough to let anything in.
"Dude, you're kind of freaking me out here," he said as he pulled his shirt up and over his head, undoing his jeans.
“I really don’t care if I’m freaking you out. Strip all the way to your skin and then get on the bed on your hands and knees.” Sam sat back in his chair, legs splayed wide, comfortable with intent.
Dean was sort of taken aback by his brother's sudden and all new attitude. He kind of liked it, actually. He did as he was told and moved to the end of the bed once he was naked, his dick leaking. He didn't even bother to try and hide it. He licked his lips and moved up the bed, settling comfortably enough as he stole a look at Sam over his shoulder.
Sam eyed him for a minute and then casually got up from the chair, gun held steady at Dean. He thumbed the safety on and grabbed the gun oil from the table before making his way to the foot of the bed, dispassionate eyes stroking over Dean’s form. He reached out and trailed the gun down Dean’s spine, stopping just above the swell of his ass. Dean jerked a little at the feel of gun on skin.
"Kind of cold, Sammy," Dean commented. He bit his bottom lip because Sam was going to an all new level of extreme here but Dean wasn't close to complaining about it. "Um, Sam, are you…? Where did this come from, exactly?"
A smile slid over Sam’s mouth as he tipped the vial of gun oil over the crack of Dean’s ass, watching it dribble slowly onto his skin and slip between the divide of his cheeks. “You like guns,” Sam said simply, sliding the barrel of the gun through the shallow puddle of oil on Dean’s skin. “So I’m going to fuck you with one.” With that, Sam dragged the muzzle of the gun down between Dean’s ass cheeks and nudged the cold metal against his brother’s tightly clenched asshole.
He shivered at the feel of the cold gun on his warm skin and then Dean tensed and pulled away slightly. "Are you insane?" he demanded. "I mean, is that fucking thing loaded?" He couldn't deny that it sounded hot as fuck but if there was one place that Dean didn't want a bullet it was, literally, in his ass.
“I know how to handle a gun, Dean,” Sam sighed and put a hand to the back of Dean’s neck, holding him still. He nudged forward with the gun, just enough to make sure Dean knew where the gun was going, and then slid his hand down from Dean’s neck to slick through the oil and push a pair of fingers into Dean’s ass, loosening him up for the gun. “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t shoot you.”
Dean relaxed and took a deep breath; he trusted Sam with his life. Besides, Dean had imagined it before, it wasn't like he didn't sport a hard on every time he was on the wrong side of a gun. It didn't matter who was holding it. He closed his eyes and let his head drop to the pillow, his muscles tightening as Sam pushed his way inside. He pushed back out of instinct and bit his bottom lip, moaning softly. Sam’s grin darkened and he slid another finger inside, scissoring them wide to stretch Dean as quickly and carefully as he could without hurting him. This was all for Dean, but Sam wasn’t exactly disgusted by it. In fact, anything that got his brother off, that made Dean lose that veneer of control, was something Sam was all for.
Dean's breath picked up as and he pushed back again. His muscles opened up more easily, used to Sam's touch by now. He let his legs spread wider, more inviting. He whimpered quietly into the pillow and felt his dick grow harder with the slight burn and stretch.
"Shit."
“Gonna have a gun in you soon, Dean,” Sam cooed quietly, punctuating his words with another deep thrust of his fingers. “Your gun, your Taurus. You like that?” he asked, wriggling in a third finger.
"Fuck," Dean groaned, wanting Sam’s cock right then but too eager to try this idea to start begging for it. He nodded his head. "Y-yes," he hissed through a gasped breath. "You know it's my favorite."
Sam twisted and scissored his fingers, pressing deep, flicking at Dean’s prostate sharply. Dean nearly jumped out of his skin at the attention to his prostate and his fists gripped the blankets under him tightly. Sam pulled his fingers free and drizzled more oil on the barrel of the gun. “Ready?” he asked, even as he pressed the muzzle of the gun against Dean’s asshole, firmly pushing against the resistant ring of muscle.
Dean didn't know if he wanted to push into it or pull away. Instead he remained where he was. His eyes were tightly closed as he nodded. "Always ready, Sammy," he answered, trying to remain calm for this.
Slowly, carefully, the muzzle of the gun slipped past the outer ring of muscle and dragged a heated sigh from Sam’s mouth. He watched intently as the gun sank inside. “Jesus, Dean. Never seen anything so hot in my life, just taking it.”
Dean's dick twitched and throbbed along with the nerves in his asshole. The gun was hard and cold, nothing like a cock shoved in there but that wasn't a bad thing. Danger added to his excitement; just the idea of it, even if he knew Sam would never hurt him. He tried his best to relax his muscles and take it as deep as Sam decided to push it in. "Feels good, Sammy."
Sam frowned in concentration and twisted the gun, searching with the sight for Dean’s prostate. He pulled the gun back slowly and pushed back in, angling to brush over Dean’s prostate. The gun was smooth, but he still had to be careful. He had no idea what he could tear inside his brother with the slightly raised metal sight of the gun. He wondered if he should pull the gun out and put a condom on it or not.
Frustrated, Dean tried to angle himself right so the gun would find its target. He gave up after a while and when Sam hit it just right Dean cried out in both pleasure and surprise. He may have been embarrassed if this was a normal situation but, Jesus Christ. He was going to explode right then and there. He tightened up, preventing his body from having a mind of its own just yet. "God, yes!" he yelled. "Harder, Sammy, want more!" he begged.
There was no way Sam could ignore him, and Sam watched in awe as his brother’s muscles relaxed around the barrel of the gun, how they seemed to suck and grip at it as though to drag it in deeper. No, there was no way he could ignore Dean’s plea. Sam pulled the gun back until the sight peeked out and then shoved it back in roughly, angling it to graze over Dean’s prostate, and set a quick rhythm.
"Christ!" Dean cried out, his tone higher than normal and his body pushing back to meet the thrusts with want and need burning along his nerves. He had never felt anything like that before; new, exciting, insane, and hard as a goddamn fucking stone. He loved it and Sam knew to use his favorite and make it perfect. He wiggled and squirmed wantonly; pleasure was the only thing running through his mind. Complete pleasure.
"So f-fucking g-good, Sam, never felt anything so good," he confessed, begging for more with every move of his hips as they met each rapid thrust.
“Come on, Dean, come on. You gonna come? Gonna come with this gun shoved in you? Not a single touch to your dick, just your gun fucking your tight little ass?” Sam purred and pushed the gun in deep until the trigger guard pressed tight against Dean’s stretched rim. Sam leaned over Dean, keeping his pace steady and frantic, and gasped into Dean’s ear, making soft needy sounds to tease his brother higher, tormenting him with the sounds. “Come on, Dean, come for me.”
They had done some weird shit but this was off the charts. Dean didn't care, though. He just wanted more and his dick was more than agreeable. He shuddered against his brother's warm breath against his ear, mixed with the cold metal of the gun. He whimpered in the back of his throat, hands twisted in the sheets. Pressing himself down into the bed and looking for some friction, he jerked his hips. Sam's words shoved him right over the edge without hardly any attention to his dick. That was pretty new, too. He moaned, come spurting thick jets into the sheets and over his belly.
“Such a good boy,” Sam cooed, fucking the gun into Dean’s ass to ride him through his orgasm. As the tremors started to slow, Sam pulled the gun free and moved away from the bed, dropping the gun on the table before going back to his brother. “Not done yet, baby.”
Rustling sounds came from behind Dean and then the sound of a zipper. Sam’s hand landed on Dean’s back, curling around his hip. “Stay just like that. There’s my good boy,” he murmured, rubbing his cock along the crease of Dean’s ass, the open flaps of his jeans scraping against Dean’s naked ass. “Just like that.”
Dean remained in the position Sam had put him in. The gun was gone and he groaned, empty with the loss. He let his head drop as Sam moved against him. He flinched when Sam's hands landed on his back but then pushed into the touch. He could feel Sam dick, hard and ready, and he pushed back, inviting. Dean bit his bottom lip. His hole was already well worn and a little sore, but the thought of Sam inside him made his dick want to spring to life all over again.
A low chuckle left Sam’s mouth, breathy and dark. “You want this, don’t you? You want my cock inside you, stretching you wider, filling up your empty little ass.” Sam ignored the invitation Dean was telegraphing, riding the crease of his ass, teasing Dean while he worked towards his own release. “Gotta beg me real pretty.”
Dean's breath hitched and he looked over his shoulder at Sam to shoot him a look. "Come on, Sam," he asked quietly, soft and appealing. "Know you want it, too, don't you?" He pushed back into Sam's full cock again. "Want you inside me; stuff me with it, please."
Sam’s hips pulled back and then rolled forward, the head of his cock catching on the rim of Dean’s asshole before popping free and gliding over it again. “Prettier, Dean,” he ordered, jaw clenching. “Gonna come soon, baby. You want me to come inside you, right? Come on, you can beg me prettier than that.”
Dean groaned in the back of his throat, clearly frustrated with the little bit of contact he was getting. "Yes, please, Sam, please," he begged. "Put your dick in me, make sure I feel you for days. Please, I want it. I’ll do anything, Sam, please." He reached back and gripped Sam’s hip in order to guide him in.
“Good boy,” Sam praised softly, his breath hitching as the head of his cock caught and skidded over Dean’s asshole again. He hissed and reached down, gripping the base of his dick, pressed the head hard against Dean’s swollen hole and slammed right in. “Fuck, Dean,” he groaned and snapped his hips back and forth, giving Dean no time to adjust. “Like that, baby? Like me splitting you wide on my cock?” he demanded, breathless, voice breaking on the words.
His dick began to twitch as Sam's cock delved into him. Dean liked it, hadn't known that before but, Christ, it was hot and he loved it. "Y-yes-s," he hissed, unashamed of begging. He tried to urge Sam on, to make him give him more and fuck him hard. His muscles clamped down instinctively around Sam's dick. "Aah, God!" he exclaimed and then bit down on his lower lip, trying to keep himself under control. His dick was trying valiantly to rise again, aching as Sam pounded his ass and brushed against his prostate. He reached down and gripped his dick, trying to force it to full arousal again.
Sam growled and slapped Dean’s hand away, reaching beneath him himself to strip Dean’s dick, fast and hard, bringing him roughly to full arousal despite the ache and tingle of his recent orgasm. “Not coming until you do,” he swore, balls slapping against Dean’s ass with every vigorous thrust. “Wanna feel you clamp down tight all around me, feel you breaking apart for me. Just for me.”
Dean growled in the back of his throat as his fists twisted into the sheets again. He reached back and searched for Sam, trying to hold onto him anywhere he could reach. Needy, lust-filled noises escaped him as he pulled away at the same time Sam did, only to meet him back in the middle with each thrust. He clenched his ass down hard, trying to force Sam to come. "Fuck!" he yelled as the pleasure in his balls built.
“Oh, you fucker, gonna make you pay for that,” Sam growled, hips snapping faster and harder against Dean’s ass, the hand on Dean’s hip snatching him backwards to meet Sam’s vicious thrusts. Sam’s breath hitched, caught, and he made a soft mewling noise, hips stuttering as he came in a rush, hand fisted at the base of Dean’s cock to keep him from coming.
Dean smirked and a deep sense of satisfaction filled him as he felt Sam come, hard and fast; thick waves of hot and sticky come pushing inside him only to then run down the inside of his thigh. He groaned, loving the feeling of Sam pulsing inside him. He pushed up to meet the trusts, bit his bottom lip and milked Sam's cock for all it had to give.
“I fucking hate you,” Sam panted, dropping his cheek to rest on the back of Dean’s neck. He slowly pulled out and dropped to the bed beside his brother, ignoring the weeping erection nestled between Dean’s legs as he pulled him against his side. “Next time, I’m wearing a fucking cock ring and gonna fuck you for days to make you pay for that little stunt.”
Dean relaxed into the bed and turned slightly to grin at Sam. "Yeah, because it was just so bad for you," he mocked as he turned on his side and nuzzled against Sam. He sighed, his dick begging for his attention. He tried to ignore it for the time being.
Sam grunted and shoved up onto one elbow, glaring down at Dean, his cheeks flushed with spent pleasure and eyes still blown wide. “I wanted to feel you come before I did, jerk.”
"Aww, I'm sorry, Sammy; I'm sure I can do something to make it up to you, don't you think?" He half smiled.
He sighed and dropped his forehead against Dean’s shoulder, tossing a leg over him to force him close. “Now you don’t get to come.”
Turning, Dean looked at Sam and his eyes narrowed a little. "Maybe I'll go into the bathroom and take care of it myself," he answered in a matter of fact tone, though he had to admit he liked this new side of Sam.
“You do and I’m never having sex with you again. And, before you even think about me dying of blue balls, I’m sure that there are plenty of men and women out there that wouldn’t mind taking care of my needs.” Sam smiled evilly, wrapping an arm around Dean’s shoulders to keep him from leaving the bed. “And remember, I’m your little brother. I was born to cockblock you, dude.”
Dean pressed his lips together and looked back at Sam. He bit his bottom lip, half-considering getting up anyway and calling Sam's bluff but finally settled against it, though he had no idea why. "Jesus, you’re self-important," he teased but still made no move to get up as he settled firmly against Sam's side.
“Jerk.”
"Bitch."
Sam snuggled Dean closer, nuzzling his hair. “Oh, by the way, you get to clean your gun. Your ass, your gun, you get to clean it.”
Dean rolled his eyes. "Gee, thanks. You know, no one asked you to stick it up there in the first place. And, by the way, was that thing loaded?"
Sam pulled back just enough to let Dean see his face, smiling wide and sly. “Yes, it was. Now, shut up and go to sleep.”
Dean shook his head and looked at Sam, unsure if he believed him or not. He'd find out tomorrow when he cleaned the damn thing. His cock had softened when it realized it wasn't getting anywhere and he settled against Sam's body, curling his arm around his brother to hold him close. "Fine, just don't stick anything else in me while I'm asleep," he mumbled, closing his eyes. "Nice one, too, by the way, Sam."
“Just so we’re clear, I can’t fuck you awake?” Sam joked, and bit down on Dean’s shoulder as he pulled the blankets up and over them. “Because, I really, really want to watch you come when you’re all soft and sleepy.”
Dean buried his face against Sam and smiled as he shrugged. "Okay, your cock is one thing but no toys or armory."
Sam chuckled and kissed the top of Dean’s head. “Go to sleep, jerk.”
Dean blinked, face soft and nodded. “Night, bitch.”
~END~