Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/840350.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester
  Character:
      Dean_Winchester, Sam_Winchester, minor_OMC
  Additional Tags:
      Jealous_Dean_Winchester, Weecest, Weechesters, Rough_Sex, First_Time,
      Pushy_Bottoms, Possessive_Dean_Winchester, Marking, Tumblr_Prompt, Dirty
      Talk, Spanking
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-06-12 Words: 3071
****** Don't Say His Name ******
by sixtysevenlmpala
Summary
     Written for this [very paraphrased] prompt from Ashuka: "Sam joins
     the debate club at their high school and practices with his partner
     after school at their house. Dean eventually can't stand the way he
     looks at Sam, so once they're done, he grabs a happy Sam and fucks
     him all nice and rough. Dirty talk/praise talk would be lovely too."
     Pretty much sums it up. Pushy!bottom!Sam purposely pushing Dean's
     buttons, anyone?
     Originally posted on tumblr.
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
“Cody’s coming over tonight,” Sam said casually to Dean, grabbing up the toast
Dean had made and taking a huge bite. John was out of town – again – so Sam’s
default adult to ask for permission was Dean, even though Sam hardly considered
an eighteen-year-old Dean Winchester to be anywhere near adulthood. “That’s
cool, right?”
Dean looked up from the lore he was going through and frowned at Sam. “Who the
hell is Cody?” he asked, unintentionally pulling a face at the name.
Giving an exasperated sigh, Sam replied boredly, “Guy from my debate team.
We’re paired for the next debate, remember? I told you?” He rolled his eyes at
Dean’s blank expression and added, “Whatever. He’s coming over to help prepare
our argument, okay?”
He was gone by the time Dean next looked up – Sam actually cared about getting
to school on time, unlike Dean who lounged for at least another thirty minutes
– and that, he supposed with a shrug, was that.
 
                                      ***
Dean hadn't been meaning to watch them – he’d been sitting there with a
different book open in front of him, skimming the pages for some information
relevant to what his dad was doing so he could help in some way, but he
couldn’t help glancing up now and then, just to check everything was okay.
It seemed that every time he did so, Sam had moved a little closer to Cody on
the couch, which wasn’t all that roomy to begin with. He could be imagining
things, of course, but the twist of certainty in his gut was enough to disprove
that theory.
He glanced up one time to find Sam smiling all bright at this kid, his face
completely lit up, and it made his heart flip over with happiness to see him
looking so content for once until the dark thought of but it’s not me he’s
smiling at flitted through his mind, overshadowing his judgement. He forced his
eyes back down to the page, and tried to think nothing of it.
The next time he looked up, Sam was laughing gut-achingly hard – too fucking
hard – at something Cody had said, and Cody himself was wearing an expression
of complete wonderment, like he didn’t know how he could make Sam laugh so much
but he was glad he could. Dean just clenched his jaw and tore his eyes away,
because he knew the feeling too well.
On the next time, Dean’s heart shot up to his throat and stuck there, because
Sam was ducking his head, all bashful and coy, then, as Dean watched, he slowly
looked up and tilted his head at Cody as he spoke, a slow grin forming around
his words. Sam’s eyes were locked on the other kid’s, and Dean could read the
intent in them from where he was sitting. Dean couldn’t catch what he was
saying, and a wave of irrational jealousy washed over him because it should be
him listening to Sam prattle on about God knows what, not this guy. Cody. What
kind of fucking name was that, anyway?
The next time he glanced up, he was pretty sure he actually saw Sam reaching
out and laying a hand on the kid’s stupid, skinny-jeans-clad leg, stroking his
thigh a little as they spoke, and Dean accidentally snapped the pencil he was
using to underline passages and phrases in the book.
The next and final time that Dean looked over, Sam was leaning over to whisper
something into the kid’s ear. As far as Dean could tell, he was close enough
that his lips would be brushing Cody’s ear, and Dean could almost feel the
ghost of it. As he was talking, a smirk tugged at Sam’s lips, and one hand
wandered up to toy with a lock of Cody’s hair, twirling it around his finger,
and that was just—that was fucking it.
“Get out,” Dean snapped, not aware of when he’d stood up, not realising he’d
even made his way over there until he was standing right at the back of the
couch, looming over them. Cody looked up with wide, faintly terrified eyes – so
goddamn blue, bet that’s what Sammy likes best – and shoved Sam off of him as
he started to stutter, but Dean only rolled his eyes and grabbed him by the
scruff of his shirt like it was nothing. He hauled him out of his seat and
escorted him to the front door, muttering, “I think it’s time you leave. It’s
been real awesome having you, though. Seriously. Cody.”
As soon as Dean let go of the kid, he was off and running as fast as those
skinny legs could carry him, and Dean slammed the door triumphantly after him,
turning to find an expectant Sammy waiting for him. “Well?” Sam said, raising
one eyebrow.
“Well what?” Dean bristled.
“Well, are you gonna tell me what the hell that was about?”
Dean let out a laugh, advancing slowly on his brother. “Oh, c’mon, Sammy. You
know.”
Sam swallowed, and Dean watched his throat work. “Tell me anyway.”
When he reached Sam, Dean gripped his shoulders with both hands and backed him
into the wall of the hallway, slamming him into it hard enough to make the
picture frames shake. He pinned him there with his whole body, leg sliding in
between both of Sam’s, chest to chest, nose to nose, lips almost brushing as
Dean spoke. “You were flirting,” Dean murmured, his voice low and gravelly.
“You were smilin’ at him and givin’ him this look, and—and I can’t just let
you—goddamn it, Sam, that look’s meant to be for me.”
“Wasn’t—“
“You were.” Dean let his lips drag along Sam’s cheek as he spoke, hands
wandering up and down the sides of Sam’s waist. “You were sittin’ there gettin’
closer an’ closer, touchin’ him, lookin’ at him like—like—“
“Like what,” Sam breathed, and Dean clenched his teeth.
“Like you wanted him to throw you down on that goddamn couch and fuck you right
through it.”
Sam exhaled and let out a small, soft noise, hips jerking up against Dean’s
thigh a little before he got himself under control. “Maybe I did,” he
whispered, like a secret, and when Dean met his eyes, they were glittering with
a bold, mischievous dare.
“You didn’t,” Dean replied, even though he had no goddamn clue what Sam wanted.
He just knew what he hoped Sam wanted. “You wouldn’t.”
“Well you won’t do it, so,” Sam shot back in what Dean thought was perhaps a
pre-prepared response, and he blinks, steps back a little.
The thing between them was… new. It had barely even started, in Dean’s books,
simply long, heated make-out sessions and rushed handjobs in the dark. Dean had
gone down on him once, a week ago. That was as far as it had gone. But every
time, every time Sam was close and babbling and desperate, he’d ask for the
same thing; please, please just fuck me.
Dean had always refused. It had been months since they started this… this
thing, but still he wanted to string it out, even though it was plain to see
both of them wanted it. Dean wasn’t sure if he wanted to hang on until his
brother was a little older, or wait to see if these confusing
(wrongwrongsowrongohgod) feelings would dissipate, but either way, his resolve
was waning fast. There were only so many times he could fantasise about his own
fist wrapped tight and hot around his cock as his baby brother’s ass before he
began to be tempted to say yes.
“I can’t,” Dean muttered, frustrated, hands possessively gripping Sam’s hips
even so.
“Why?” Sam asked, reaching up to wind his arms around Dean’s neck. “’Cause I’m
too young? Cody doesn’t think so,” and Dean growled, shoved Sam back more
firmly against the wall, pushing a gasp out from his lungs.
“Don’t,” Dean muttered dangerously, “don’t say his name like that.”
“C-Cody wants me,” Sam told him, and for a moment Dean’s vision flashed white
with pure jealousy.
“Shut up,” he warned, ducking his head to sink his teeth into the place where
Sam’s neck met his shoulder, leaving a bruise that might as well have been a
giant ‘property of Dean Winchester’ stamp.
“Fuck me,” Sam replied instantly, hissing at the pain, “and maybe I will.”
“Christ,” Dean whispered, lips pressed against Sam’s temple now.
“I could just go get it from him, instead,” Sam breathed, and that was it. Dean
bent at the knee and slid his hands down to cup Sam’s ass, hauling him up as
Sam made a startled noise and wrapped his legs instinctively around Dean’s
waist.
“No,” Dean muttered simply, “you couldn’t.” He carried him easily back over to
the couch, threw him down right on top of a bunch of notes he and Cody had been
going over just moments before. “You couldn’t, ‘cause he’s not who you want,”
Dean added, and there was a sureness to his tone but deeper inside, jealous
worry was tweaking at his mind. Dean flipped his brother over onto his stomach
in one smooth movement, leant down to murmur in his ear. “I’m gonna fuck you
right here, right where you were sluttin’ it up with that kid, and you’re not
even gonna remember he was ever sitting here,” he said, voice fierce and
determined, and Sam shuddered out a gasp.
A smirk on his face, Dean ripped Sam’s shirt off of him and wrestled him out of
his jeans and his boxers, standing over him fully-dressed when he was done and
looking down with satisfaction at his brother laid out bare. As he smoothed a
hand down Sam’s back and over his ass, he somehow found the sense in the
jealous, possessive haze of his mind to curse the fact that they don’t have any
lube down here. When he looked up, Sam was watching him frown, and then said
quietly, “Just do it.”
They both knew what he meant, but Dean struggled, starting to say, “I don’t
wanna—“
“I’ve done it before,” Sam blurted, and Dean’s stomach caved in on itself
before he clarified, “I mean, it’s… I do it. Uh. Myself.”
Dean’s mouth dropped half-open, staring down at his brother and imagining him
all spread out on his bed or arched against the tiled wall of the shower,
fingers thrusting inside himself and hips rolling to take them deeper, and
before he knew what was happening he was on Sam, shoving at him to rearrange
him so he was draped over the arm of the couch, cock trapped between himself
and the material.
Dean brought two fingers to his mouth and sucked them past his lips, getting
them sloppy and wet as fast as he could, and Sam met his eyes over his shoulder
and gave a tiny nod. That was all the permission Dean needed, shoved inside
with both at once just to hear Sam cry out. It was too much to start on but
neither of them cared, eagerness bleeding out of their pores and saturating the
air around them until they were both drunk on it, and Dean fingered his little
brother hard and unforgiving, Sam hissing out a breath every time Dean
scissored his fingers. It was rough and Dean should have felt bad, but Sam was
cursing and asking for more, more, so he only put more force behind it, fucking
his fingers into him with long, powerful stabs. It wasn’t until Sam bit out,
“Are you gonna do this, or not?” that Dean pulled his fingers out and replaced
them with his spit-slick cock.
Jesus, he wasn’t prepped enough, and a small but crucial part of Dean’s brain
was still primarily focused on whether it was too much for him, whether he was
in pain, whether he didn’t like it; meanwhile, the rest of his brain screamed
at him to get the hell on with it, so he bottomed out with one long thrust and
wasted no more time, snapping his hips out and back in. Sam made a noise that
sounded almost like a sob, but he was pushing back into it so Dean didn’t let
up, muttering, “God, Sammy, yeah – that’s it, baby, you’re so good for me, huh?
Take it so good.”
Dean fucked him fast and hard and brutal, the pace of his thrusts completely
relentless. He was a blanket over Sam’s back, pinning him between himself and
the couch, wanting to cover every inch of his body with himself. He pounded
into him and sucked an array of bruises into his shoulders, his neck, his back,
anywhere he could reach; his fingers leaving phantom prints on his hips where
he was grasping him so goddamn tight, pulling him back into his thrusts.
“Would Cody have fucked you like this, huh? Would he?” Dean panted out, mouth
hot behind Sam’s ear, and Sam shook his head no, hair tickling Dean’s nose.
“Would you have let him have you like this? Huh?”
“N-no,” Sam gasped in reply.
“No, ‘cause you’re mine.” Dean bit at his neck, his ear, and God, he knew Sam
was only trying to rile him up – looked like that worked, huh – but still he
needed to reiterate: “Mine, Sammy, you hear?”
And Sam instantly moaned, “Yes, Jesus, always yours, Dean,” muscles clenching
down around Dean’s cock.
“Promise me you’ll only ever take my cock, no one else’s,” Dean muttered, one
hand winding itself into Sam’s hair and tugging hard, forcing his head up.
“I p-promise, oh—oh God,” Sam gasped.
“Yeah,” Dean murmured, rewarding him with a particularly hard thrust that made
him cry out and his fingernails scratch at the arm of the couch as he scrabbled
for something to hold onto. “No one else is gonna get to see you like this,
gonna know how hot you look with your pretty little ass all filled up. No one
else gets to see how much of a cockslut you are, Sammy, this is just for me,
alright?”
“Yes,” Sam breathed, trembling a little underneath him as he worked his hips
with Dean’s, trying to follow every time to keep him inside. Dean gave an
appreciative growl and a tug on his hair that pushed a high-pitched moan out of
Sam’s mouth. “It-it’s only, I’m only—“ Sam broke off to gasp, then corrected
him in a whisper, “only for your cock,” and Dean groaned into his neck, unable
to stop his hips from slamming forward, jolting Sam on the couch.
“Good boy,” Dean breathed, panting into his neck as he ground his cock in deep,
fucked him in hard, powerful strokes. “That’s my good baby boy.” Sam let out a
ragged moan and arched his back, looked over his shoulder at Dean. His lips
were swollen and red and shining from biting on them, his eyes blown dark,
cheeks flushed ruddy pink and Dean just had to crane his head to kiss him. He
was glad, so fucking glad that Cody or anyone else didn’t get to see Sam like
this, because he was… stunning. So beautiful he literally took Dean’s breath
away, and before he could stop himself he let that thought slip past his lips:
“You’re so beautiful.” He immediately blushed, because that wasn’t exactly a
word they used for each other very often, so he covered it up by muttering,
“Fuckin’ gorgeous, Sammy, look at you, flushed all pretty pink, so hot with
your tight little ass stretched around my cock.”
Sam moaned, desperate. “De—“
"You’re so good, baby, fuckin’ made for this, Christ, you feel so—so fuckin’
amazing.” Dean could feel himself starting to lose control, his hips slapping
wildly against Sam’s ass, and he brought his hand down onto the pale skin of
one cheek before he could stop himself. The smack wasn’t too hard, but it would
have stung and it left a perfect print of Dean’s splayed hand. Dean groaned –
because hell if that wasn’t the hottest thing ever – but still guilt boiled in
his belly, so he opened his mouth to say sorry.
The apology died on his lips, though, when he realized Sam was bucking
underneath him, cursing and whimpering softly, “Do that again, d-do that
again.”
“Jesus Christ,” Dean mumbled, bringing his hand back and swinging it down once
more, a little harder, spanking him in the same place as before. Before Dean
could even ask the ‘guess you like that, huh?’ that was running through his
head, Sam was crying out and shuddering underneath him, ass tightening
impossibly around his cock as he came untouched over the couch. “Oh, fuck,”
Dean moaned, and as Sam slumped bonelessly down onto the cushions, Dean only
had to thrust into him for a few more seconds before he was emptying himself
inside of him, shoving Sam up the couch with the force of his thrusts as he
marked him from the inside.
Dean’s mind was a bit of a blur as he came down, the fuzziness only really
clearing a few minutes later, when they were both splayed out, spent and
exhausted, on the couch. Dean’s eyes wandered over the marks littering Sam’s
back and his neck, and a slow, satisfied smile unfolded on his face. “Bet you
wouldn’t’ve gotten off so hard with that Cody kid,” Dean muttered, and his tone
was joking, but it hid something a little more insecure.
Sam rolled over with some difficulty and stared at Dean like he’d grown an
extra head. “Didn’t want it with Cody,” he said, like it was obvious.
Dean blinked, then narrowed his eyes. “I knew you were just tryn’a fuck with
me.”
Sam grinned lazily. “I was tryn’a make you jealous. And it worked.”
“Fuck you,” Dean muttered, without much conviction. His eyes had slipped
closed, but he cracked one open to look at Sam and bit his lip as he asked,
“So… you, uh. You really don’t like him?”
“I really, really don’t like him,” Sam answered softly.
“You sure?” Dean cleared his throat. “He has pretty blue eyes,” he pointed out
casually, heart pounding dully in his chest.
Sam shifted so he was leaning into Dean’s side, Dean’s arm automatically
winding around his shoulders. Sam pressed a soft, careful kiss to Dean’s cheek
and smiled at him, shaking his head like he was stupid before telling him
matter-of-factly, “I prefer green.”
End Notes
     Thanks for reading, feel free to leave a comment/kudos if you liked!
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!