Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/7758655.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester
  Character:
      Dean_Winchester, Sam_Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      Wincest_-_Freeform, Weecest, Underage_Sex, First_Kiss, Blow_Jobs, Angst
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-08-13 Completed: 2017-03-25 Chapters: 2/2 Words: 3577
****** Dean Sucks Dick ******
by Lopsided_Whiskey_Grin
Summary
     Dean and 14 year old Sam are walking to the laundromat down the
     street like they do every week, but today Dean notices some graffiti
     on a sign that's in Sam's handwriting. Sam has to own up to it and
     admit to why he did it.
***** Chapter 1 *****
 
 
 
"Sammy, what the hell is this?"

Sam looks up from the duffle bag full of dirty clothes in his skinny arms at
Dean’s words. He blows his shaggy hair out of his eyes with a huff of breath to
see that Dean has stopped walking and is pointing his chin at a sign hanging on
a fence.

They have been in their current motel a little over three weeks and this was
the route they took to the laundromat every Wednesday. They passed the sign
once a week, like clockwork.
Sam swallows hard when he sees the graffiti written there; he has almost
forgotten he'd done it. It was right when they were about to head home last
week, duffles and a garbage bag full of clean, folded laundry still warm from
the dryer.
Dean had been flirting with a girl almost the entire time they were there and
an unfamiliar ache of jealousy had burned in Sam's belly seeing it. Even at the
tender age of 14 Sam knew it was wrong to think of his brother the way he did;
wishing he could feel Dean's full lips against his just once, wishing that the
hand around his dick was Dean's and not his own when he fantasized in the
shower. He knew he shouldn't have such thoughts but he couldn't help it. He was
a hormonal teenage mess, but despite that he knew what was true in his heart:
Dean was the only thing that mattered in his life and he loved him with
everything he was.
Seeing Dean sneak out the back door into the alley behind the laundromat with
that girl while Sam was folding the last of the clothes, pushed him over the
edge. Didn't Dean care about his feelings at all? Tears blurring his vision,
his cheeks burning hotly, Sam balled up the rest of the clothes and smashed
them into a bag. Then he bolted. Didn't even take any of the bags with him.
Dean can just carry it all home himself, Sam thought bitterly to himself.
He had seen the ‘non-potable water’ sign on his way back to the motel and
purely on hurt-fueled impulse, he had written it -- Dean Sucks -- with a
rudimentary dick drawn after the words. Because Dean didsuck dick. He was a
jerk and obviously only cared about himself and all those girls he always found
to make out with. Sam was sniffling and dashing hot tears away from his cheeks
with the heels of his hands as he ran the rest of the way back to the motel.
Dean was mad when he came back, having to carry all the clothes himself, but he
had never even asked Sam what was wrong and hadn’t mentioned the graffiti at
all. Maybe he hadn’t seen it. But not talking about anything that hurt your
feelings or pissed you off seemed to be how they handled most things, those
Winchester men, ignore it, bottle it up, brush it off. And Sam had learned from
the best, so he had dropped it and trudged through the rest of the week without
another word about it.
“I'm waiting for an answer here,” Dean says, standing on the sidewalk with his
arms full of dirty jeans and boxers. “C’mon, Sammy, I know what your
handwriting looks like.”
Sam blushes from his hairline down to his toes but he keeps his mouth shut. He
shakes his head and tries to start walking around Dean. But Dean moves in front
of him and bumps Sam back a step. Dean is taller than him so he has to crane
his neck up to look at his brother. Seeing how utterly beautiful he is in the
late afternoon sunshine makes Sam angry all over again. He is mad and
heartbroken at the same time for what he cannot have.
“I wanna know, Sammy. Why do you think I suck dick?” A teasing smile pulls at
the corner of Dean's lips.
Sam's mouth goes dry and he can feel a throb punch low in his gut. Dean just
said dick. He actually said the word. Sam's brain short-circuits when it
processes the movement of Dean's lips and tongue around the vowels and
consonants in ‘I suck dick’. The throb has pulsed its way into a near hard-on
and he almost fumbles the duffle bag in his arms.
Giving his head a rough shake, he sidesteps around Dean, not trusting his voice
to form a sentence that won't tremble or squeak. God, what the hell is wrong
with him?
They make it the next three blocks to the laundromat in silence with Sam
pulling in deep breaths to try to calm his thundering pulse and Dean walking
beside him and shooting him curious glances. The place is empty when they get
there and Sam feels relieved. He doesn't have to worry about sharing Dean with
the girl from last week. Wait. Share? Sam berates himself with a harsh and
humourless chuckle. Dean isn't his in the first place.
Slumping his shoulders, Sam shuffles his way to the change machine. With the
absence of the rumbling hum of washers and dryers running in the empty room,
it's almost eerie. The tiny hairs on the back of Sam's neck prickle but it's
not from the unsettling quiet, it's because Dean is suddenly standing behind
him. Sam can feel Dean's breath ghosting over the top of his head and he
shivers.
He starts feeding a wrinkled dollar bill into the machine, trying really hard
to ignore how close Dean is to him. The bill gets spit back out and Sam has to
focus all his attention on trying to smooth it out before putting it back in
the machine. The warmth of Dean’s body heat is radiating into Sam’s back and he
feels the ache in his belly tighten even more. The dollar is trembling in his
grasp like a crisp autumn leaf and he can barely concentrate on the task at
hand.
“I don't like it when you're mad at me, Sammy.” Dean’s voice is low and deep
and
Jesus, did he have to keep saying his name like that? It was making Sam's
insides quiver whenever he heard it.
“I’m not mad,” Sam argues, huffing out an irritated sigh when the dollar gets
spit out a second time.
“Bullshit.”
The word is so surprisingly close to his ear he lets out a little yelp and
jumps back into the unyielding wall of Dean’s chest. Dean chuckles behind him
and suddenly Sam feels big hands curling over his hipbones. He is pulled back
fully against Dean’s front and his bottom nestles right against Dean’s crotch.
He knows because he can feel the hard column of Dean’s cock pressing along the
curving seat of his hand-me-down jeans.
Sam lets out a helpless moan and drops his hands to his sides, his wrinkled
dollar bill floating down to the dingy laundromat floor, forgotten. Dean’s hot
breath rushes against his ear and he nuzzles his nose into the long hair
curling over the back of Sam’s neck. Sam feels like he is going to pass out.
There is no way any of this is really happening to him right now. It must be a
wet dream; he’s been having them more and more lately.
But no, thisis really real. This is so much more detailed perfection than his
dreaming brain could ever conjure up. The smells of stale detergent and sun-
warmed dust and Dean’s Old Spice deodorant, the sounds of traffic rushing by
outside and a far-off police siren somewhere, the feeling of his heart beating
a million miles a minute and his inexperienced yet eager fourteen year old cock
leaking enough to soak the front of his briefs. It’s achingly real and Sam
feels in that moment if he doesn’t get off soon he might just die.
“I know when you're mad at me, Sammy,and this is one of those times. Tell me
what I did so I can fix it. Tell me why you think I suck dick.” Dean rasps the
words against Sam's hair, tightening his grip on Sam's bony hips.
Sam's control slips and he grinds his ass back into Dean's crotch. “T-the girl
l-last week,” Sam stutters, scrunching his eyes closed to try and forget how he
had caught just a glimpse of Dean slotting his perfect lips over her’s before
the door had closed them away in the alley. “I wanted it to be me,” he
finishes, ashamed.
Dean goes stock-still behind him, even his breathing stops, and Sam feels his
cheeks burn and his heart plummet. Dean is going to think he's a freak, he's
going to laugh at him, and Sam starts tearing up ‘cause he knows he would not
be able to handle that, not from Dean.
But that's not what happens at all. Dean is suddenly around in front of him,
moving faster than Sam can even blink. Dean's putting his big hands on Sam's
narrow shoulders and he's brushing his thumbs over the sides of Sam's neck.
He's looking at Sam so openly and earnestly that Sam feels a lump form in his
throat.
“I wanted it to be you,” Dean whispers.
And before Sam can even reply, Dean's mouth is covering his own. It's warm and
wet and everything Sam has ever wanted. The perfection of it makes Sam choke
out a little sob and bring his hands up to dig into the back of Dean's leather
jacket. This is his first kiss and even though he knows it's probably painfully
obvious to Dean he has no idea what he's doing, it's okay. He knows Dean will
show him and guide him, just like in every other aspect of his life.
The soft press of lips turns into something heavier and more heated within the
span of only a few moments and Sam feels like he's drowning. It's the best
feeling in the world. Dean's tongue is in his mouth and Dean's hands are
tangling up in his hair and Dean's cock is pressing up against his belly. Sam
is trying to mimic the movements of Dean's lips and teeth but gives up, just
letting it all wash over him, letting Dean use him as he pleases.
Just when Sam feels like he's going to pass out from lack of oxygen and
overabundance of pleasure, Dean pulls back and falls to his knees on the
peeling linoleum under their feet. He starts unbuttoning Sam's jeans and Sam's
spit-slick lips fall open in shock.
“Dean, what're you doing?!” he shrieks.
Dean flashes him a sideways grin then fishes Sam's hard cock out of the little
pocket on his briefs. “I'm showing you that I really do suck dick, Sammy. Well,
only yours actually.” He stretches his neck forward and rubs the slippery head
of Sam's dick over his plush lips. “I've never done this before.”
A high-pitched whine escapes from Sam's lips and he threads his fingers into
Dean's short hair. “What if someone comes in?” he asks frantically.
Dean looks up at him, the freckles splashed across the bridge of his nose
standing out in stark contrast to his green eyes. Sam can't catch his breath.
“I turned the sign to close when we came in,” he says.
Sam pushes his hips forward a bit, gasping. His heart is beating hard enough to
thump right out of his chest “You were planning for this to happen?”
“I was hoping it would,” he replies with a shrug, swallowing Sam's cock down in
one go.
Sam sees stars and he staggers. He's about to go down but Dean's hand snakes up
the back of his thigh and holds him steady with his palm cupping Sam's left ass
cheek. The feeling is better than anything he could have ever imagined.
Dean is licking and sucking at his cock and making little moaning noises that
vibrate through Sam's entire body and Sam knows he won't last long. Hell, all
those times in the shower he could only jerk off for a few minutes before
coming. But now he's so amped up and so very aroused that he can only hold on
for another two seconds.
The tight coil in his belly finally lets loose and it's like Sam's very soul is
being sucked out of the end of his dick. He tightens his fingers in Dean's
hair, slamming his hips forward, pushing into Dean's mouth as deep as he can
go.
He cries out Dean's name, shaking with the force of it. A muffled groan drifts
up to Sam and he can actually feelDean's throat constricting around the head of
his cock as he swallows. It makes Sam spurt again, draining all he has left
into Dean's mouth.
And all at once it's too much stimulation. Sam puts his hands down on Dean's
shoulders and pushes him back. “S-stop,” he pleads.
Dean pops off with a grin and looks up at Sam, wiping his lips with the back of
his hand. He has never looked more gorgeous; his full mouth is even more puffy,
his cheeks are stained red, and his pupils are depthless and dark. Sam's knees
feel weak and he sinks down into Dean's lap bonelessly. He is sated and happy
in a way he could never hope to describe.
Dean welcomes him into his arms and cradles Sam close to his chest. Sam is
about to ask if he needs help ‘finishing’, but then his elbow brushes over a
wet stain on Dean's jeans and Sam knows his brother has found his own pleasure
in it all.
“What should we do about the sign?” Sam asks meekly, tucking his face into
Dean's shirt and taking a deep breath of his scent.
Dean's arms tighten a little around Sam's lanky body. “Well you're not still
mad at me, are you?”
Sam shakes his head immediately and he can feel the rumble of Dean's chuckle in
response. He really shouldn't have acted so impulsively, he knows, but he had
been hurt in that moment and it was all he could think of doing to lash out.
“I’m sorry I did it, Dee,” he murmurs.
Dean shushes him softly and hooks a finger under Sam’s chin to bring his gaze
up. “Don’t be sorry, okay? I think we should leave it there,” Dean says,
rubbing his thumb along Sam’s smooth jaw. “It’ll be a reminder of a good memory
now, instead of a shitty one. Every time we walk past it, it’ll remind us of
today.”
Sam feels his chest tighten with emotion and he nods. Dean smiles and brings
his face in close, his lips hovering just inches from Sam’s, his breath washing
gently over Sam’s skin. “Besides,” he whispers, “we know it’s really true now,
don’t we?”
Sam giggles and throws his arms around Dean’s neck, closing the distance
between them, sealing Dean’s words with a kiss.  
***** Dean Sucks Dick A Lot! *****
Chapter Summary
     One Week Later
Chapter Notes
     Fun fact: the signs pictured on these two chapters are actual signs I
     see when I walk to work. They hang on a fence next to a busy
     intersection and my imagination immediately ran away with me when I
     saw the name Dean written there. I'd kind of like to know the
     backstory about who really did write the graffiti but that might just
     take the intrigue away for me ;)
“Seriously, Sammy? Again?” Dean stared at the sign in front of him, his arms
loaded with the clean laundry they had just washed at the laundromat.
He glanced to Sam standing next to him and Sam blushed. It had only been just
last week that Dean had noticed Sam's first foray into graffiti and that he had
indeed sucked dick for the first time.. Sammy’s dick if you wanted to get
technical about it.
They stood side by side looking at the sign, which said “Dean sucks” alongside
a rudimentary drawing of a dick, but was now followed by “a lot!” all clearly
drawn by Sammy’s hand.
 Finally, after a little stretch of silence, Sammy shrugged his narrow
shoulders. With a sheepish grin he said, “Well it's true, isn't it?”
Dean chuckled and nodded, because it really was true. He sucked dick.  A lot.
In the week he had first taken Sam apart with his mouth he had sucked his
brother off every single day, sometimes more than just once a day. He couldn't
get enough of it -- and it seemed Sammy couldn't either. His eager 14 year old
body had practically no refractory period; he could get it back up and be
shooting another load down Dean's throat in a matter of minutes.
Dean's cock gave a hot throb as the memories of all the times that had happened
this week came flooding into his mind. He shifted the plastic clothes basket in
his arms and glanced to Sammy beside him.
 “How fast do you think we can get back to the motel?” he asked coyly.
Sammy looked up at him, flipping his bangs out of his eyes with a flick of his
head. “I dunno if I can wait that long, Dee,” he whined with a half whisper.
Taking a step back from Sam and looking down, Dean could see what he meant.
There was an obvious straining bulge at the front of Sam's hand-me-down jeans
and just the hint of a wet spot widening near the zipper. Dean's heart thudded
when he realized Sammy was just as turned on as he was. But what could they do?
It was the middle of the damn afternoon and they weren't exactly standing on a
deserted street.
Sam looked around for a minute then whipped his head back to Dean, color riding
high on his cheeks. “Follow me.”
Dean did. Sam lead him quickly off the sidewalk and into a thick copse of trees
a ways from the road. Sunlight dappled through the leaves but they were
completely hidden from view in that little thicket. Dean dropped the laundry
hamper immediately, spilling some of the clean clothes down onto the dirt and
dead leaves at their feet.
Falling to his knees, Dean shuffled forward toward Sam, his mouth already
watering for a taste. Sam tossed his laundry bag to the side and undid his
pants lightning fast. His dick, gleaming and wet with precome, bounced inches
in front of Dean's face.
Sammy took hold of his shaft and guided the tip to Dean's mouth then smeared it
over his lips before feeding it inside. Dean moaned around it and swallowed
down as much as he could. They were both getting pretty good at this.
Winding his fingers into Dean's hair, Sam began pumping his hips forward. Dean
fumbled his jeans open and pulled his aching cock free. He started stroking it
in time to the movements of Sammy’s body. Sam whimpered and pulled almost all
the way out before slamming back in. It caught Dean off guard and he gagged a
bit. Drool started leaking out the corner of his mouth and dripping down onto
his cock. He used the extra lubrication to speed the pumps of his fist, up and
down, up and down. Fuck, it felt so good.
“Sorry for choking you, Dee,” Sam panted, bringing a hand up to brush his
floppy hair out of his eyes. He slowed up on the thrusts of his hips.
Dean shook his head and let out a muffled “uh- huh.” He kind of liked the
feeling of Sammy shoving his dick down his throat like that. Keeping one hand
wrapped tightly around his cock he used the other to pull Sam closer.
Sammy gasped at the movement and Dean felt a well of satisfaction tighten up
his chest. He couldn't believe he was actually the one to be able to give his
Sammy this type of pleasure -- that he was the  first  to give him this type of
pleasure. He had so much love in his heart for his little brother he literally
ached with it.
 Tears pricked hot at the back of his eyes and he blinked rapidly, looking up
at Sammy. Sam looked down at him, he was so beautiful with his brows drawn
together and his perfect pink mouth open on an exhale.
“Oh, Dean,” he moaned. He pulled his cock from Dean's mouth suddenly and
leveled the gleaming head at Dean's swollen lips, stripping his shaft with wild
abandon.
Dean tilted his head up just in time to catch the splashes of come that plopped
down on his cheeks and chin. He pumped his own cock through Sammy’s orgasm and
soon found his release. Sam slumped down into Dean's lap and Dean wrapped his
arms around him and held him close; this was becoming something of an afterglow
sort of ritual for them.
“I made a mess of your handsome face,” Sammy lamented curling closer to Dean's
chest like he was a puzzle piece locking back into place.
 Dean shushed him. “You can make a mess of my face any day.” He grabbed a dirty
flecked t-shirt from the ground beside him and cleaned his cheeks and chin with
one hand. “We both made a mess of these clean clothes though. We're going to
have to make a trip back to the laundromat.”
Sammy groaned. “C’mon, really? Can't we just do it tomorrow?”
Dean chuckled and kissed the top of Sam's head. “I'll make it worth your
while,” he whispered into Sam's hair.
Sam jumped up from his lap and had his pants zipped before Dean had to say
another word. He scooped up the duffle bag and looked at Dean impatiently. “Are
we going or what?”
Dean gained his feet with a grin and dusted off the seat of his jeans after
tucking himself back in and buttoning himself up. “All right then, let's go.”
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