Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/2260971.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester
  Character:
      Dean_Winchester, Sam_Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      Community:_blindfold_spn, Weechesters, Underage_Sex, Preseries, PWP
  Stats:
      Published: 2009-08-28 Words: 1200
****** A Sensitive Kid ******
by Edwardina
Summary
     prompt: underage, sam is maybe 13? dean is cut and, when they start
     fooling around, he's fascinated by the fact that sam isn't. he plays
     with sam's foreskin and sam can get off just from dean sliding it
     down and then letting it sheathe back over and over. and stuff like
     dean holding it back as he sucks sam off so that sam is extra
     sensitive, etc. all consensual, no pain infliction please.
Notes
     Written for blindfold_spn. Originally posted here.
Sammy's dick wasn't cut like Dean's was. He'd always kinda known it in the back
of his head from the times he and Sam used to cram into the same squeaky
plastic motel bathtub before bedtime, but the first time Dean saw Sammy's uncut
little dick hard... oh, man.
Sam had been asleep, the victim of a sex dream and loose boxers used to
containing bigger junk -- a pair cast-offs from Dean -- and a hot summer night
in a motel room where the AC was crappy.
It wasn't like Dean got off on peeping on his baby brother, but the sight of
Sam's slit, set all secretly in his knob that was a shade of pink that should
be fucking forbidden, and his nicely flushed foreskin clinging around it like
it didn't want to ever let him go, got him hard in record time. He stared at it
for half an hour, palms sweating, sideburns dripping, tingling with adrenaline,
before Sammy woke up and rolled onto his stomach, flattening his stiffy into
the mattress.
"Got a problem, there, kiddo?" Dean couldn't help saying.
"Don't," Sam had moaned at him, annoyed and pitiful at the same time. "I can't
help it. It just does that..."
"Roll back over," Dean said, real nicely, kinda coaxing. "C'mon, dude... Dad's
not back yet. Lemme see it. We could jerk off," he added, inspired, and Sam
slowly peered out of the pillow at him with one suspicious eye.
"Not gonna tell Dad?" he asked softly, sounding reluctant, but oh, Dean had
him. He knew his Sammy.
"Dude, 'course not," Dean said, and gave Sam a little smile. "I mean, I beat
off all the time. You probably know it, and you don't tell Dad."
"Yeah," Sam acknowledged at his pillow. After a second, he rolled over again,
this time all the way over to his back, and clutched awkwardly at his hard-on
in the too-loose boxers. Dean could see the shape of it, and man, Sammy was
just a kid, and Dean remembered having hard-ons like that, but not near as hot
as Sam's looked to him, with all that extra skin.
"Here," Dean said, and rolled just as awkwardly over so he could bat Sam's hand
out of the way and insistently push the loose cotton slit open around Sammy's
dick, freeing it; Sam's stomach sucked in low, and he moaned, sounding alarmed
and also like he might blow it just from moving air around his dick, Dean's
fingers near it and finding, touching, his fawny, barely-there baby pubes. His
dick arched up, thin and blushy as Sammy himself was, something Dean could
probably totally drown in the grip of his palm and fingers. Without warning
him, Dean did just that, gripping up the dream-hot, stiff little pole of it,
and Sammy's bare legs jerked. His head came up off the pillow fast.
"Dean --"
"Dude, your dick's not cut," Dean breathed, horribly hot over it, fascinated
and jealous and feeling like he needed to kiss it and lick it, his baby
brother's wild, untamed dick. It just seemed dirty, like no one had ever, ever
touched Sam at all, and like this was the way dicks were supposed to be, all
boned up and beautiful, knob barely contained by its own sheath.
"Is that bad?" Sam asked, voice breaking, and Dean pumped his fist gently, the
movement of his fist drawing the velvety, baby-soft skin of Sam's dick down the
meat of it and making Sam's knob bust free, that hot dangerous pink, then up
again.
"Nah, it's awesome," Dean assured him, barely getting his voice not to shake
from just how awesome it really was.
"But yours is cut. I've seen it," Sammy managed, though he looked shell-shocked
by Dean's hand on him like this, like maybe he was still dreaming.
"Yeah. It's just different," Dean responded, trying for reassuring but nearly
quaking on the mattress.
Sammy let him stroke him slow and deliberate, every move Dean was making
designed just so he could watch Sam's dick slide in its skin, watch the
foreskin kiss itself wetly on top and cover the slit, then slide down with a
silken, shiny wetness, the noise of it not only audible but way wetter-sounding
than Dean's jerking off ever got unless he was using lotion or some shit. Sammy
started whimpering on every breath, sounding like he was going to cry or
something, and when he actually pulsed stiffer than stiff and shot his little
boy wad off on his skinny stomach, it hadn't been nearly long enough for Dean.
"You okay? Was that okay?" Dean asked huskily, sticky fingers sliding up to
just rub at where Sammy's foreskin was clinging to the neck of his cock, his
bare knob flushed red and totally vulnerably out in the open, and Sam writhed,
hissing. Dean immediately let him go. "That hurt? 'M sorry, Sammy..."
"No," Sam said tremulously, "just... sensitive there..."
"Oh," huffed Dean, relieved. That made sense.
He watched Sam shyly reach for the nearest article of shed clothing, a sock -
the classic, and fussily try to clean himself off, red in the face.
"What about you?" Sammy finally asked, collapsing back on his pillow in a
tired-looking, sweaty bundle of limbs way too skinny. His eyes were just as
wide and expectant as ever. So Dean shoved his boxers down, fisted himself for
Sammy, made it abundantly obvious just how different he was. Bigger, yeah.
Hairier, yeah. He was seventeen, and no way he was a virgin; his dick had slip-
slided in and rammed girls (and one woman... in college) in three different
states now. He was cut. The difference was just so obvious. Sam stared at it,
and Dean didn't know if he was intimidated, bemused, or if that endless
unblinking stare meant that he liked what he saw, but God, just thinking of
Sam's foreskin sliding all over the place had Dean creaming his boxers about as
fast as Sam had lasted. Dean slumped over, and for a few minutes, they both
laid there breathing in the hot, unmoving air together, sweating, sticky with
it.
After that, they did it whenever Dad was gone, even if the AC was kickin', and
Dean always grabbed control, huddled down over Sam's naked, skinny-ass thighs
and played with his foreskin. Sometimes he got Sam hard like that, stroking his
thumb coaxingly between his balls up across the root of him and up to the
glans, and got to watch Sammy get hard for him and whine for him. But sometimes
Sam had a boner just thinking about doing it, like Dean usually did, and he
whispered shit like, "Play with it? Please, Dean?"
So sweet. He never lasted very long, but he could get it up again fast so Dean
could lean in again and carefully ease his foreskin down, bare him totally, and
watch the sticky cream of Sam's last load slide all over with the skin. He'd
lick it clean soft and slow, knowing even his tongue was too rough for the
baby-soft head of Sam's dick, and Sammy would squeak for him, "Dean! 'M gonna
c-... Dean..."
Sam was always a sensitive kid.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!