Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1049849.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester
  Character:
      Dean_Winchester, Sam_Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      Fingerfucking, Weechesters, Weecest, Fisting, Plot_What_Plot/Porn_Without
      Plot
  Series:
      Part 2 of Sam_Fingers_Dean
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-11-18 Words: 1895
****** He'll Let Sam Do Anything ******
by callmeb
Summary
     This time when he wakes, though, it’s because of cold liquid spilling
     down his balls, way more than necessary. Sam is tipping the bottle
     and just letting lube coat the entire space between Dean’s cheeks.
     Good thing Dean has a habit of stealing lube now, since the kid has a
     habit of pouring half a bottle into the sheets.
     Dean doesn’t give it a second thought. He sighs into the mattress,
     murmuring mindlessly, “So good, little brother,” and closes his eyes
     to sleep again. Until he feels his ass stinging just a little bit
     more than usual, feels a stronger pressure inside him than what he’s
     used to.
     Sam is 10; Dean is 14
Notes
     Oops, I wrote more.
See the end of the work for more notes
Dad leaves them alone more often than he used to. It’s a recent thing, within
the past few months. Dean figures it’s because he can take care of Sam on his
own, and the kid doesn’t like jumping schools so often. Dean doesn’t mind,
though. He enjoys alone time with his little brother; it gives him an excuse to
let Sam finger his ass all day long – no interruptions.
Sam likes when Dean lies naked in bed, on his stomach with his legs spread. He
slides between Dean’s knees so he can get close and watch. That’s his new
interest: watching. He used to be satisfied with feeling everything, but now
the kid spends hours staring as he fingers his big brother’s hole, with his
head on Dean’s thigh or one globe of his ass. He likes to see Dean’s body
twitch when he crooks his fingers a certain direction, likes to see how that
wrinkled skin stretches further and further as the boy works his way from one
to three fingers. He loves the way Dean’s hole shakes and clenches hard when he
comes on his little brother’s fingers.
And when he comes, Sam still wants to feel it. He got upset when Dean laid on
his stomach and came in the sheets because he was so used to Dean coming
against his stomach. So now the little genius gets a handkerchief and wraps it
around Dean’s upper thigh, tugs Dean’s cock out until the tip points towards
the back of his leg, and ties it there snugly with the cloth. Now, when Dean
comes, he shoots at his little brother’s chest and stomach. It’s a little
uncomfortable, sure, but it’s what Sam wants. And Dean can’t possibly deny his
sweet little brother, especially when the boy massages Dean’s prostate as good
as he does.
So this is how the boys spend their free time when Dad is gone: Dean on his
stomach and Sam between his legs. Dean maybe reads a comic or watches TV. Sam
plays with his hole; he fingers it, tugs it open, tries to peer inside while
telling Dean that his hole is so easy to open, so slutty that Sam barely has to
try to pull the muscle in all different directions.
When Dean is close, he humps forward in search of friction to no avail, only
getting the slightest tug of that handkerchief along his shaft. But Sam is
heavy at Dean’s thigh; his body just touches the tip of Dean’s cock, and Sam
tells Dean to come like the slut that he is, come on his little brother. And
Dean does; his cock shoots back, and his warm seed hits his little brother’s
chest while the boy giggles at Dean. His load is small early in the day; he
can’t quite get as much out when his cock doesn’t have Sammy’s body to rut
into.
And while his body shakes with the last of his orgasm, Sam pulls his fingers
out and watches Dean’s hole clamp around air. He asks if Dean’s slutty little
hole wants more, if his hole needs his little brother’s fingers. And Dean will
whine, beg Sam until the boy fills him up again, “Yes. Please, little brother.
Put your fingers back inside me. My slutty hole needs your fingers.”
Dean feels better when Sam’s fingers are there again. He relaxes into the bed,
keeps his legs wide for his brother, dozes between orgasms – because of course
the kid makes him come at least once an hour – and wakes whenever his little
brother hits his sweet spot enough to make Dean moan.
 
This time when he wakes, though, it’s because of cold liquid spilling down his
balls, way more than necessary. Sam is tipping the bottle and just letting lube
coat the entire space between Dean’s cheeks. Good thing Dean has a habit of
stealing lube now, since the kid has a habit of pouring half a bottle into the
sheets.
Dean doesn’t give it a second thought. He sighs into the mattress, murmuring
mindlessly, “So good, little brother,” and closes his eyes to sleep again.
Until he feels his ass stinging just a little bit more than usual, feels a
stronger pressure inside him than what he’s used to.
He feels Sam’s fingers slipping around messily, feels soft tips working around
his prostate, feels Sam’s thumb along his taint while the boy pushes his other
fingers deeper, but he doesn’t feel Sam’s pinky stretching along his cheek.
When Sam pulls back a bit, actually, Dean feels that little finger at his hole.
But then Sam pushes forward again and it’s not there, and that strong pull on
his muscles is back. Sam does the same thing again, and that’s when Dean
realizes what his little brother is trying to do.
Dean tries to say stop. His head pops up and twists back to his little brother
and words rush out of his mouth, “No, Sammy, stop that. What are you doing? You
gotta stop, little brother, it’s too much.” But his sudden movement, his sudden
panic, has his body tensing, and the slight sting turns into a soft burn.
He stares at his little brother’s face in awe. Because Sam’s eyes are wide and
dark, locked on Dean’s wet entrance. His mouth is open with heavy breaths, tip
of his tongue overlaying the corner of his lower lip. His eyebrows are furrowed
in concentration, and he looks frustrated when his four fingers have trouble
pushing into Dean.
Sam tells Dean to hush, to go back to sleep. He tells Dean that his hole is
looser when he’s asleep, that he can fit it in there, but Dean has to go back
to sleep. Dean couldn’t possibly sleep now, not with the repeated burn of his
body being forced open.
He tries once more to discourage his brother, but Sam ignores his protests.
Dean feels Sam’s hand pull back; he feels that pinky finger at the edge of his
opening. Then he feels Sam’s thumb slide up his taint and join the rest of his
digits. Dean drops his head and shoulders back to the bed, spreads his legs a
little wider, and tries his best to keep his muscles loose as he listens to his
little brother insisting that it will fit, Dean’s hole is such a slut that
he’ll make it fit.
Sam’s fingers slide in, stretching Dean’s hole wider than he’s ever felt it
before. When he feels the hard bone of knuckles, he moans out in a mixture of
pleasure and pain. And he bites back a cry when those knuckles push further
inside his body. Dean feels his body clenching, trying to close up over the
intrusion, sliding over the smaller part of Sam’s hand all the way to his
wrist.
Dean looks to the side, where a dresser with a mirror sits nearby, and he
watches his little brother. Sam’s eyes are on fire; his lips are stretched thin
over the smile on his face. Dean can see one chubby little hand on his ass, but
the other? Dean sees his little brother’s arm end between the globes of his
cheeks.
Sam pulls his hand out and pushes it back in. He curls his fingers and presses
his fist up and down, twists his wrist and stares at Dean’s body in awe. “It
fits,” he says. When he tries to tug his hand out in the shape of a fist,
Dean’s body clasps on it. “You’re hole just ate it up, Dean. Doesn’t even wanna
let it go,” he muses. “Just took my hole fist. You’re such a slut, Dean.”
And despite the burn, despite the ache in his body, Dean is panting. Because he
can see his brother, his 10 year old little brother, fisting his ass, calling
him a slut, and the boy loves it. Dean can’t ignore his brother’s words either.
“Your slut, Sammy. Only yours. My hole only opens like this for you, little
brother.”
And Sam rewards him by twisting his fist and hitting Dean’s prostate. He rubs
into it with pressure he couldn’t leverage with only his fingers. Dean keens
and groans, presses his hips back and calls out his little brother’s name. He
humps forward, wincing at the pull of muscles, but rocks between the bed and
his little brother’s fist.
His fist, his fucking fist, is inside Dean. That little hand, just like the one
Dean sees in the mirror, is completely inside Dean.
Dean comes while being called a slut, while writhing desperately, and his load
splashes at the side of his little brother’s chest. Moans shake his entire
body. His muscle seize up, causing Sam’s fist to rub his sweet spot harder, and
another hard wave of pleasure forces a guttural shout from Dean’s throat.
Sam milks him, rubs his nipples over the crown of Dean’s cock, and rests his
cheek on Dean’s. He points his fingers to take his hand out, painfully slowly,
and goes back to sliding only three digits in and out while Dean comes down
from his high. He whispers to Dean, tells him how pretty his hole looks, how
it’s so wide open, wet and red and even sluttier than it was before.
Dean watches his brother’s face in the mirror. He whimpers when his brother
hooks three fingers around his opening and tugs at his sore skin. But he
doesn’t try to push his little brother away. He doesn’t tell the boy to stop
because he’s just such a slut for his little brother’s fingers in his ass.
He spreads his legs until his knees are perpendicular to his body and only the
tip of his cock is held in place by the cloth around his thigh. Sam seems too
distracted to care, grabbing a pillow to stick under Dean’s pelvis before he
goes back to tugging him open this way and that. He even slips his fist back in
while Dean is loose with exhaustion and moves his fingers around slowly.
Dean just lies there, “Spread open like a two dollar hooker,” Sam mumbles, and
he sleeps while his little brother admires his gaping hole.
 
When he wakes up again, he’s not sure how much time has passed – thirty minutes
or three hours – or what woke him. Sam is still resting at his backside, head
lolled on one cheek, body resting between Dean’s legs. He can still feel the
slight burn of his little brother pushing him open from the inside, and he
takes a minute to catalog every sting of that balled up fist, every warm breath
at his crack, and every tickle of Sam’s messy hair. His own cock is still half
hard at his thigh, still clung there by handkerchief. But then he feels it,
feels what woke him: Sam’s fingers.
Three chubby fingers are curled just past Dean’s ring of muscle, and his little
brother is tugging the wet skin down, trying to push in and pull away from his
bony wrist that holds the rest of Dean’s hole open.
Dean can barely breathe out “Sammy, no,” but his knees skim further up the
mattress. His back curves to push his stomach into the bed. His ass cants up
for better access while his brother sniggers.
Because it’s Sam. And he’ll let Sam do anything.
End Notes
     Hope you guys enjoyed!
     Thanks for reading and feel free to leave comments for me!
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