Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/11176452.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester
  Character:
      Dean_Winchester, Sam_Winchester, John_Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      Plot_What_Plot/Porn_Without_Plot, Blow_Jobs, bottom!Dean, Anal_Sex,
      Top!Sam, post_hunt_sex, Underage_-_Freeform, Consensual_underage,
      hurt!Dean
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-06-12 Words: 3064
****** Firelight ******
by Fenix21
Summary
     Dean's lip was split, and he was pretty sure he needed at least a
     couple of stitches across the ribs on his left side, but he grinned
     anyway across the grave at Sam who grinned back. Sam’s hair was
     mussed, sticking up and falling over his eyes, but it couldn't hide
     the hot glitter from the reflected firelight. His face was streaked
     with dirt and there was a scrape across his cheek, but he was still
     the most beautiful thing Dean had ever seen, and he wanted more than
     anything to throw him face down in the mound of grave dirt a few feet
     away and fuck him senseless.
     Sam and Dean have post hunt sex.
Notes
     Flagging muse=porn. Who knew.
The moon was new, the cemetery was old, and the ethereal green tinged flames
leaped high in the darkness from the grave of one Emmitt Hammond Green, 'loving
father and husband,' brutally murdered by his wife's jealous lover.
Dean's lip was split, and he was pretty sure he needed at least a couple of
stitches across the ribs on his left side, but he grinned anyway across the
grave at Sam who grinned back. Sam’s hair was mussed, sticking up and falling
over his eyes, but it couldn't hide the hot glitter from the reflected
firelight. His face was streaked with dirt and there was a scrape across his
cheek where it had collided with the trunk of the giant oak hanging over Emmitt
Green’s grave; but he was still the most beautiful thing Dean had ever seen,
and he wanted more than anything to throw him face down in the mound of grave
dirt a few feet away and fuck him senseless. Unfortunately... 
‘You boys did good tonight,' John said, clapping Sam on the shoulder in a rare
and much coveted show of affection. 'We'll wait for these flames to die down
and cover the son of a bitch back up. Dean, you good?' 
Dean felt gingerly at the gash in his side. 'Yes, sir. Couple of stitches
maybe, but I'll be good until we get to the hotel.' 
John grunted an acknowledgement and fished a flask from the inside of his coat.
He took a healthy swig and then leaned on his shovel. They all stood and waited
for the fire to die. 
 
Back at the hotel, John ordered Dean to strip so he could assess his wound.
'Yup. Three or four ought to do it,' he confirmed. 'Sit down on the bed. I'll
wash up.'
'I can do it,' Sam said. He was standing inside the door, one of their weapons
bags still on his shoulder. 
John arched a curious brow at his younger son. 'It's okay. Sammy. I got it.
Thanks.' 
'I thought you said you had to meet up with Caleb,’ Sam insisted.
John frowned now. 'Yeah, but your brother comes first. Caleb can wait.' 
Dean's chest warmed at the sentiment John was sharing, but Sam was opening his
mouth to doggedly try again, and it was then Dean gave him a curious once over
and discovered the bulge in his jeans and caught the hint of a flush across his
little brother's cheeks. 
'But, I thought—' 
'Sam—' 
'Hey, Dad,’ Dean broke in. 'Why don't you go ahead and hook up with Caleb? Sam
can patch me.’ He smirked. 'He sews straighter than you anyway.' 
John scowled, but there was a glint of amused irritation in his eyes now. 
'Fine,’ he relented. 'Just be sure and clean it out good. Pop one of the
antibiotics to be safe.'
He went into the bathroom, scrubbed the graveyard dirt and kerosene from his
face and hands and came back into the room to rummage a cleaner shirt from his
duffle. Sam had dropped his bag and was digging out their medical kit. 
'You boys get cleaned up, get some rest. I'll probably be a couple of hours.'
John pulled on his coat and paused at the door. ‘Salt the door and window.' 
'Yes, sir,’ Dean said. Then, 'Be safe Dad.' 
John gave him a nod and a smile and left the room.
When the lock clicked, Dean swung his gaze back to Sam who was standing in
front of him now, medical kit in hand. 
'Take your shirt off,' Sam said flatly, dropping to his knees between Dean's.
He had a hand towel from the bathroom and their bottle of medicinal whisky. 
Dean eased out of his shirt, grimacing as the wound pulled and oozed fresh
blood. Sam leaned in close, held the cloth against Dean's ribs and rinsed the
wound with a couple of ounces of the whisky. Dean hissed at the burn but held
still, distracting himself by looking his little brother up and down
thoroughly. Though, he couldn't really call the kid little anymore. At sixteen
he was only half an inch shy of six feet tall. He was still lean and lanky and
coltish in his movements except when he was fighting. He'd developed the
controlled grace of a jungle cat when it came to fighting. 
‘Move your arm. It’s in my light,' Sam commanded. 
'Jeez, if I'd known you were going to be so pissy about it, I'd have let dad
patch me up,' Dean huffed, but he obeyed anyway. He let his gaze travel,
focused and concentrated, down Sam’s body, grazing broad shoulders, lean arms,
flat abs, slim hips, and—
There was still a hefty bulge in the front of Sam's jeans. No wonder he was so
irritable. Dean's own jeans tightened in response to the sight of his brother’s
obvious arousal, and he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and gnawed at
it. He was sorely tempted to lean in and take hold of his brother's tightly
compressed mouth and lick it open, the gash in his side be damned. He could
stand the loss of a little more blood. It wouldn't kill him…yet. 
'You're fidgeting.' Sam cast him a sharp look through his lashes. 'Hold
still.' 
'Wanna fuck you, Sammy,’ Dean breathed. 'Wanted to by that grave. Firelight all
alive in your eyes, you looked like some fairy king or somethin'.’
Sam huffed a derisive chuckle and threaded the suture needle. Dean ignored
him. 
'Wanted to throw you down in the dirt right there and get up inside you. I know
you wanted it, too,’ Dean said, looking pointedly down at Sam's crotch even
though Sam wasn't watching. 'Know you want it.' 
‘That was before I knew you were bleeding to death,’ Sam retorted, but his
voice wasn't quite as hard or steady as it had been. 
It was Dean’s turn to snort derisively. ‘Had a lot worse than this, Sammy, and
you know it.' 
‘Yeah, well, you're not bleeding out on my watch.' 
Sam stabbed the needle through Dean's skin, and Dean snapped his teeth together
to capture a gasp of pain. It took Sam all of three minutes to lay in five
precise stitches, small and close together to reduce any scarring, and if it
did, then at least it would be thin and straight. 
Sam went to stand, to get a fresh cloth to clean the wound before he bandaged
it, but Dean's hands slammed down on his shoulders, holding him to the floor. 
'Dean, I need to get that covered—'
'Later,’ Dean growled. He leaned forward and kissed Sam thoroughly, stealing
the remainder of his protest and his next breath from him. At this level, with
Sam up on his knees and Dean sitting, Dean barely had to dip his head to
capture Sam's mouth, to suck at his bottom lip and push past his teeth with his
tongue, and taste the warm, slick inside of his brother's mouth. 
‘So hot, Sam. Christ you're so hot.’ Dean's dick strained at the confines of
his jeans, twitching hard in approval when Sam rose up into the kiss and gave
Dean's tongue a couple of hard, rhythmic strokes with his own. 
'Wanna fuck you, babe,' Dean mumbled between their mashed together mouths. 'So
bad.' 
'You’ll ruin my handy work,' Sam admonished breathily. His hands were on Dean's
thighs, squeezing in tempo with the dance of his tongue thrusting in and out of
Dean's mouth now. Dean groaned hungrily and spread his legs, got hold of Sam's
hips and yanked him closer, rocked his erection against Sam's, ignoring the
pain from the fresh stitches as he undulated his hips.
Sam pulled out of the kiss, dropped down on his haunches, and looked up at Dean
through his messy bangs, eyes hot, pupils blown wide and black with wanting. He
ran his tongue slowly, temptingly, along his bottom lip and then reached for
Dean’s fly. His deft fingers made short work of the snap and zipper, and then
he was cupping his palm over Dean’s hard cock and dipping his fingers down and
back to stroke at his balls. Sam licked his lips again, leaving them extra wet
and shiny, and Dean suddenly knew what his little brother had in mind. Sam
tugged and pulled until he had Dean’s jeans low enough on his hips to peel his
boxers down and let his dick spring free, jutting hard and full and angry red
from between his legs. Sam cradled it in his palms, holding it like some
priceless treasure he couldn't believe his good fortune in acquiring. He made a
wanton sound deep in his throat and looked up at Dean again. 
'Put it in my mouth,' he instructed. 
Dean's eyes flashed and his dick twitched, dribbling pre-come into Sam's palm.
Sam smiled devilishly and leaned down to lick it away, somehow completely
managing to avoid coming into contact with his brother’s burgeoning cock. But
Dean could feel his hot quick breaths and the soft tantalizing tickle of Sam's
unruly waves against his sensitive flesh. 
Sam sat back up, still smiling, daring. ‘Feed it to me, Dean. Feed me your cock
and fuck my mouth.'
'Holy—' 
Dean cut himself off from a string of expletives. Instead, he reached for his
dick with one hand and the back of Sam’s head with the other. He drew Sam in
slow, kept eye contact with him, guided his head down until he could feel the
hot puffs of Sam’s breathing against the head of his dick. 
'You sure you want this, babe?' 
Sam licked his lips again in response and Dean growled. He wanted to shove his
dick in that hot, sweet little mouth, choke Sam with it, feel his throat
closing convulsively around his swollen head; but there was no way he was force
feeding his brother his cock no matter what Sam said he wanted. So, he settled
for teasing them both, setting the tip of his leaking cock against Sam’s parted
lips and rubbing it lightly all around his pink mouth. Sam's tongue darted out
for a taste, and Dean had to grip himself hard to keep in check. Sam parted his
lips more, showed Dean his tongue. Dean's hand fisted tight in Sam’s hair and
drew him an inch closer so he could part those wet pink lips with the head of
his cock and feel the velvet slide of Sam’s tongue against the underside of
him. 
Sam swirled his tongue around the head of Dean's cock as it was pushed past his
lips excruciatingly slowly, felt it twitch hard in response and had to use all
his concentration not to just slip Dean's grip and go down on his brother all
the way, swallowing him whole and sucking him hard until he came, hot and
uncontrolled, down Sam's throat. He kept his eyes on Dean's, watched the green
turn bright and burning as his brother pushed his mouth down another fraction
of an inch, torturing them both with the incremental progression. Dean's mouth
was open, mirroring Sam’s, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip like he
might be able to taste himself vicariously through the link of their locked
gazes. 
Sam salivated around the head of Dean's cock, offering a wet, soft heat he
could barely restrain himself from taking. Dean pushed in further, hand firm at
the back of Sam's head, and Sam’s fingers curled and dug into Dean's denim clad
thighs as his mouth stretched around Dean's cock. Then Sam tucked his tongue
back and pushed the tip into Dean's slit.
'Oh. God. Sammy. That is so good,’ Dean gasped, holding stock still for Sam to
tickle into the small opening again until Dean's cock gave up a little spurt of
pre-come. Sam moaned at the taste of it on his tongue. 'Could fucking come
right now, babe, just watching your pretty mouth take my dick. But I want to
choke you with it, Sammy. See you take it all, feel you squeeze around the head
of my dick while I come.’
A flush crawled across Sam’s cheeks and his breath started coming short, his
hips rolling under him as he unconsciously sought more friction than the rough
fabric his jeans provided. Dean might have thought his little brother was
panicking at the idea of taking all of Dean's dick down his throat except that
his eyes were feverish and glittering in the feeble lamplight, hot like they
had been when Dean had watched him through the flames across that grave not an
hour ago. 
He pulled Sam closer, felt the head of his cock glide along the roof of Sam’s
mouth, bump up against the back of his throat. Sam swallowed convulsively, and
Dean groaned at the fluttering grip kissing the tip of his cock. He let go of
his dick and gripped Sam's head in both hands, at the same time cradling him
gently and firmly urging him closer, pushing deeper into that pretty pink mouth
and tight throat. Sam moaned around him, scrubbing his velvety tongue against
the underside of Dean's cock, sending frissures of electricity through his
sensitive, swollen flesh. Tears sat at the corners of Sam's lashes as he
strained to breathe and swallow around his mouthful of Dean. Dean pulled back,
let him gasp in a breath through his nose and then he thrust back in smooth and
slow.
‘Wanna fuck that pretty mouth, Sammy. Want to so bad,' Dean groaned. ‘Can I,
babe? Will you let me?'
Sam moaned again in answer, sucking hard and swallowing Dean down until he was
panting with the effort not to blow his load. He tightened his fists in Sam’s
hair, tipping his head back and pushing him down to open his throat, and then
he started to thrust in earnest. There was the light scrape of teeth and the
velvet scrub of Sam's tongue and the squeeze of his convulsing throat muscles
when Dean pushed as deep as he could go. Sam opened around him, opened and
swallowed and took his brother in until Dean’s dark thatch of hair tickled the
tip of his nose. Sam's hand prints would be bruised into Dean's thighs for days
to come, but he didn't care. He fucked that pink, perfect mouth, eyes locked an
Sam's the whole time.
'Gonna come, babe. God! 'M gonna come so hard. Sammy. Sam... Sammy... Sam, sam,
Sam!' 
Dean came deep in Sam’s throat, yelling out his name. Sam drank him down, every
drop, held Dean in this mouth through the whole shuddering aftermath. Dean's
hands loosened, fell free of Sam’s hair, dropped to his shoulders to pull him
up clumsily and kiss him, tasting himself in every corner of Sam's mouth and
breathing in his own musky scent. Sam pushed up into the kiss, licking hungrily
into Dean's mouth. He planted his hands on Dean's chest and tipped him backward
on the bed. 
Dean sprawled, utterly complicit as Sam yanked his pants the rest of the way
down his thighs and off and then divested himself of his own clothes. Sam’s
cock stood out thick and heavy and already wet. He knelt on the edge of the bed
between Dean's thighs, pushed them wider apart and pushed his wet swollen head
between Dean's cheeks. Sated as he already was, Dean still felt the stirrings
of fresh heat in his belly, especially when Sam nudged insistently at his tight
hole, foregoing any kind of prep. He reached down to grip his own ass and hold
himself open, bearing down as Sam pushed inside, stretching him until it
burned. 
'Dean...' Sam groaned out his brother’s name long and low as he pushed up into
him. 
Dean panted and huffed until Sam finally breeched him completely, and he let
out a long sigh of relief, let go of his ass and took hold of his knees, pulled
them up, changed the angle on Sam's cock causing him to gasp. When he slammed
forward in response, his swollen head pounded into Dean's prostate. 
'Oh. Christ!' Dean gave a hoarse cry. 'Christ, that's good.' 
Sam drew back and slammed in again, jolting Dean's entire body with pleasure.
He did it a third time, but then his face contorted and he bit into his bottom
lip so hard he drew blood. His eyes were wide and wild and urgent. Dean gripped
Sam’s trembling biceps where he held himself up off Dean's chest and his
freshly stitched wound. 
‘God, Dean, I can’t— I'm gonna—’ Sam's voice was a frantic whisper. 
'Come, Sammy,’ Dean urged, clenching down with all his internal muscles. ‘Come
inside me. I want it. Want you to come so hard.'
Sam's mouth gaped open on a silent scream and his features twisted in almost
pain, but he held onto Dean's gaze, back bowing under the force of his orgasm,
every muscle locking as he slammed deep in Dean's ass one last time. Then he
arched up and back, torso stretching, chest spreading, long sinewy limbs
extended, and Dean came a second time just from the sight of his beautiful baby
brother risen up above him, outstretched in the glorious throes of his own
ecstasy. 
Sam collapsed a moment later, barely remembering to fall on Dean's uninjured
side, breathing heavily. Dean dropped his legs, winced and huffed out a pained
breath. 
Sam lifted his head, eyes still slightly glazed. 'Dean?' 
Dean skated a hand gingerly down his flank. It came away sticky with fresh
blood.
'Ruined your handy work after all, Sammy.' He smiled tightly. 
Sam rolled his eyes.
‘Shit,’ he mumbled. ‘Lay still. I'll get the suture kit and patch you back
up.' 
He paused on his way into the bathroom for a clean towel, looked over his
shoulder with a coyly raised eyebrow but gnawing uncertainty on his lower lip.
‘Worth it, though?' he asked shyly. 
Dean rolled to his good side, biting back a momentary grimace and looking his
brother up and down slowly. He was naked, lean, glistening with after-sex
sweat, and the thick yellow-orange glow from the bedside lamp looked like
firelight on his skin. He was beautiful, as much and more so than he had been
standing beside that grave. Dean grinned, but he had to fight to keep his voice
steady when he spoke,
'Totally worth it.'
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