Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1450573.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester
  Character:
      Dean_Winchester, Sam_Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      Established_Relationship, Explicit_Sexual_Content, Plot_What_Plot/Porn
      Without_Plot
  Stats:
      Published: 2008-11-09 Words: 648
****** Got You Where I want You ******
by mickeym
Summary
     Sam licks up the drops of water still clinging to Dean's shoulders,
     and god, he wants to lay Dean out in the sunlight and count the
     freckles with his tongue.
Notes
     I blame strippedpink for providing the, uh, stimulus that inspired
     this. Well, and leighm and cormallen, because they're filthy
     enablers…and I love 'em for it. This is just porn, folks. No
     redeeming plot to be found anywhere. Hope you enjoy!
At sixteen, Sammy feels like he's horny every minute of every day. Wind blows,
and he pops a stiffie. A pretty girl bends over, showing a bit of thigh, up
comes his dick. Dean twitches too much at night, and Sam's hard as a rock and
ready to go. And he and Dean, they've been fooling around for a while now, but
they don't get the chance to fuck very often. Not totally-naked-be-as-loud-as-
they-want-to-be fucking. But Dad's gone -- left this morning -- and they don't
need anyone to point out the obvious – that they can fuck themselves into
oblivion, if they want.
They start in the shower, trading blowjobs. Best way to get clean, right?
Except it leads to a lot of making out, and Dean jacking Sam off real slow,
drawing it out. Water's cold when they finally get out of the shower, kiss-
swollen lips and a couple orgasms each, later. Sam licks up the drops of water
still clinging to Dean's shoulders, and god, he wants to lay Dean out in the
sunlight and count the freckles with his tongue.
Couch works for that, actually. It's dead center in a pool of golden sunshine,
and it's ratty old couch, they barely fit on it, but Dean...he's flexible. And
Sam's got Dean's legs pushed up and back, fingers splayed wide on Dean's thighs
while he licks down from Dean's balls to his hole. Gets him nice and wet, opens
him up slick as you please, lubed fingers teasing relentlessly, and Dean's
still moaning "Sam, Sammy, fuck--" when Sam shifts his position and pushes
inside Dean, one long, smooth stroke.
Inside Dean is the best place ever, and Sam never wants to leave. He fucks into
Dean slow at first, rotating his hips just to hear Dean gasp and moan; just to
feel the rough edges of Dean's fingernails when he digs them into Sam's back.
Then it's forehead to forehead, they're panting nearly in unison, and God, Sam
loves his brother. Loves the way Dean makes him feel, loves the way he feels
when he's doing this.
Dean's wiggled a hand down in between them, stroking himself slowly, out of
time with Sam's thrusts, until it gets to be too much. He jerks himself faster,
harder, and they can't kiss now, just lips, mouths pressed together, sharing
breath and groans. Whimpers. Dean clutches at Sam like Sam's going to just
leave him like this, or something stupid, and presses kisses to Sam's mouth,
his throat, his jaw. Whispers something Sam can't quite make out, then arches
hard as he comes, spasms Sam feels inside when Dean clenches tight around him,
over and over, spunk spreading hot and thick between them, smearing over their
bellies.
Sam grunts and shifts, fucking into Dean hard and fast, losing the rhythm
because he's *so close*. His balls are drawn up tight to his body, and each
thrust into Dean makes his vision go funny for a minute. He feels it start at
the base of his spine and spread outward, heat spiraling, swirling through him,
thick and heavy until it pulses out of him and he's coming inside his brother,
leaning in to mutter against Dean's shoulder, "love you, God, love you so
much."
Dean pets him as they come down; it's the only word for the slow, steady
touches up and down his spine. It's gotta be uncomfortable as hell; Sam is
uncomfortable, and he's not bent up like a pretzel, like Dean. He leans in to
kiss Dean, teasing, shy touch of lips, flutter-and-press to the corners of
Dean's mouth, all the while shifting and stretching out, easing Dean's legs
down. They wind up curled against each other – not snuggling, Dean will deny
that with his dying breath – Sam's head on Dean's chest, rising and falling
with each breath, listening to the steady thump thump thump of Dean's heart.
~fin~
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