Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/841487.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester
  Character:
      Dean_Winchester, Sam_Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      Plot_What_Plot/Porn_Without_Plot, Tumblr_Prompt, Anal_Fingering, Weecest,
      Weechesters
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-06-13 Words: 1562
****** A Little Shameless ******
by sixtysevenlmpala
Summary
     Written for the anonymous prompt: "Can I please have weecest, Sam
     sitting on Dean's lap with his legs all spread out while Dean fingers
     him?"
     Dean comes home late to an extremely eager Sammy who's been waiting
     for hours.
     Originally posted on tumblr.
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
Dean loved Sam like this.
He loved him all the time, of course, more than anything, because he was pretty
much the only light in Dean’s tiny, dingy world – loved Sam when he was shy and
bashful, when he was quiet and thoughtful and lost in a book. But he had to
admit he had a soft spot for Sam when he was in this mood; eager, desperate, a
little shameless.
Dean had only walked through the door less than three minutes ago, and already
he’d been ambushed by a bundle of little brother and found himself
unceremoniously pushed down into the armchair in the living room with a lapful
of Sammy.
“Sam, what—“
“Dean,” Sam breathed, and Jesus, he was stark naked, his cock hard already,
rubbing up against the cotton of Dean’s t-shirt as he straddled his hips. He
spread his legs wide enough for his knees to be wedged between the chair and
either side of Dean, pressing himself up against Dean’s front and winding his
arms around his neck. “Been waiting for you,” Sam whispered, breath tickling
Dean’s ear. “You said you’d be back by ten.”
“Got held up,” Dean explained simply, turning his head to kiss Sam’s neck.
“Sorry, baby boy, you been gettin’ all worked up for me?” he chuckled, and Sam
made an impatient, grumbly noise, grinding his cock into the softness of Dean’s
belly as if to say yeah, duh, asshole.
“Want you so bad,” Sam mumbled, “fuck, can you…?”
“Can I what, Sam?”
“Fuck me,” Sam demanded, fingers curled tightly in the leather lapels of Dean’s
jacket, “with your fingers. Want you to… spread me open,” and Dean groaned, his
dick jerking in the confines of his jeans at that kind of filthy request coming
from his baby brother. It made it even hotter that he was echoing the phrase
Dean would usually use if he was in charge – but he certainly was not in charge
right now, pinned beneath his little brother and staring at him like he was a
wet dream come true, helpless and open-mouthed.
“We don’t have lube, Sam,” he reminded him, stroking a hand softly through
Sam’s hair in a gesture that was meant to calm him down a little, but only
served to send a shiver down his spine.
“Don’t care,” Sam muttered, rolling his eyes and blowing his hair out of his
eyes with a little exhale that puffed his cheeks out. He reached for Dean’s
right hand, brought it to his mouth and Dean just stared dazedly and let him,
gaze completely transfixed on Sam’s pink lips wrapping around two of his
fingers, sucking them down as far as he could.
“Jesus, Sam, really want it, don’t’cha,” Dean commented breathlessly, and Sam
only whined around his fingers, tongue wrapping around and between them to get
them as wet as he could. His eyes were locked on Dean’s and he hollowed his
cheeks a little, mainly just for show, but it drew a quiet moan out of Dean.
With a final stroke of Dean’s fingers along Sam’s tongue, Sam slowly withdrew
them from his mouth and guided Dean’s hand behind him. “Do it,” he said, biting
his lip as he pushed at Dean’s hand, and Dean cursed under his breath, leaning
in and catching Sam’s mouth in a kiss: primarily to shut him up, but also
because his lips were a perfect candy-floss pink and glistening, and Dean
thought it was a crime if he wasn’t being kissed every second of the day.
Sam gave another impatient whine, the note wavering in his throat, and Dean
laughed a little into the kiss, swiping his tongue over Sam’s one more time
before pulling back and sucking absently at Sam’s bottom lip, wanting to plump
it up, make it kiss-swollen and obvious. “Okay, Sammy, alright,” he muttered,
sliding both hands down his back towards his ass, cupping one of Sam’s ass
cheeks with one hand while the fingers of the other teased around his hole. Sam
immediately spread his legs even more, impossibly wide, and Dean groaned at the
sight of it; Sam completely unabashed, no qualms whatsoever, simply giving
himself over to Dean.
When Dean slipped the first inch of a finger into him, it felt like Sam’s whole
body tightened around the intrusion, and Sam gasped, falling forward against
Dean’s chest so that he could arch his back a little more and press back into
it, urge Dean deeper inside of him. Sam’s hair was tickling the crook of Dean’s
neck, his nose buried in his t-shirt and his hot little mouth panting out
already-ragged breaths into his chest, letting the heat of it soak through
until Dean could feel it on his skin. “Don’t fuck around,” Sam accused him,
voice muffled in Dean’s chest as he wiggled his hips to try to get more, and
Dean smirked.
“Alright,” he replied, voice low and rough, and he screwed his finger all the
way into Sam’s ass as far as he could, one long, quick thrust. Sam moaned all
the way through it, fingers tightening in Dean’s leather jacket, and Dean
arched an eyebrow. “Better, princess?” he asked dryly, but Sam only jerked his
head in a frantic nod and ground his hips down on Dean’s finger,
uncoordinatedly trying to fuck himself on it.
Dean added a second one pretty soon, pulling out and pressing back in with two
in a smooth slide. Sam was unbelievably hot inside, tight like a vice and yet
still drawing Dean in deeper, like a natural. At the stretch of two fingers,
Sam’s own hands slid up to Dean’s shoulders, then to the sides of his neck and
gripped him there, as if he was anchoring himself, and Dean let him. He swept
his free hand up the graceful curve of Sam’s skinny back, dancing over the
small knobs of his spine, to bury it in his hair, petting and tugging lightly
at his unruly locks. That earned another moan from his brother, because they
both knew Sam liked having his hair played around with a little too much, and
Dean smiled down at him, eyes sweeping over the miles of pale, unblemished
skin, the slightly stuttering, undulating rhythm of his little body.
It wasn’t actually Dean doing most of the work, here; he kept his fingers in
Sam and occasionally spread them or twisted them to make Sam hiss or to hear
his breath hitch, but for the most part, he let Sam navigate it on his own;
face buried in Dean’s shirt as he fucked his ass back onto Dean’s fingers,
rolling his hips to grind down on them, driving himself crazy bit by bit. When
Dean looked down between them, he caught a glimpse of how hard Sam’s cock was;
not to mention he could feel it bumping and slipping against his t-shirt with
Sam’s movements. He knew he was leaking already, knew it wouldn’t take much to
set him off, so Dean waited a few more precious minutes, waited until Sam was
shaking a little with the pleasure he was shooting through himself as he rode
Dean’s fingers, then twisted them up a little deeper, lip catching between his
teeth as he concentrated on finding that one spot that drove Sammy crazy.
“Oh,” Sam cried out, throwing his head back and gasping as he looked into
Dean’s eyes. “Dean, fuck, fuck,” and when Dean opened his mouth to ask, Sam
answered him before he even began with a hissed-out, “Yes.”
Confident now and grinning cockily, Dean hauled Sam closer to him so that his
cock was trapped between them, pressed more firmly to Dean’s flat stomach
through his clothes, and in doing so he fucked his fingers a little deeper,
driving the pads of his fingers into Sam’s prostate with even more force. Sam
moaned loudly, fingernails cutting almost painfully into Dean’s neck – and
almost instantly, Sam was reduced to a shivering, trembling mess, clinging to
Dean as Dean toyed with that one spot inside him, intent on taking him apart.
His hips were juddering, like he was unsure of whether to push his ass back or
his cock forward, and so he wound up doing not much of either. He whimpered
something that sounded vaguely like Dean’s name, and Dean pressed a sloppy kiss
to his cheek as he pressed at the small of Sam’s back, urging him forward to
grind his cock onto Dean. Pliant and verging on desperate, Sam went easily,
rutted his cock urgently against Dean’s stomach, and it really wasn’t long at
all before he was coming all over himself and, of course, Dean’s t-shirt,
Dean’s fingers pressed up persistently inside of him drawing it out until he
was incoherent.
After a minute or so, Dean eased his fingers free, petting Sam’s back in
sympathy when he made a disappointed, discomforted sound. “Okay?” Dean asked
softly, bumping a hand under Sam’s chin to get him to look at him.
Sam smiled brightly, his eyes hooded and sparkling. “More than,” he mumbled.
Dean grinned and then looked down at himself, groaning at the state of his
clothes. “Dude, seriously,” he griped, holding out his come-stained t-shirt.
“This is my favourite.”
Shrugging sleepily, Sam leant his weight against him and casually flicked him
square in the forehead. “Then next time, don’t keep me waiting.”
End Notes
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