Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1007023.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      Underage_Sex, Weechesters, Jealous_Sam_Winchester, Feminization, Pet
      Names, Rimming, Anal_Sex, Barebacking, Comeplay, Schmoop, Dirty_Talk, Top
      Dean, Bottom_Sam, Sibling_Incest, Mention_of_Dean/OFC
  Collections:
      Weecest
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-10-16 Words: 4369
****** I've Got the Month of May ******
by saltandbyrne
Summary
     Sam gets jealous, so Dean reminds him who his best girl is.
     Sam is 14.
Notes
     A long overdue fic for the lovely sammichgirl! You can blame
     verucasalt123 for the oversize t-shirt.
     Title is from "My Girl."
“You sure know how to make a guy feel special.”
 
Dean smiles and leans a little closer across the counter, drumming his fingers
against the cloth-worn stainless steel. He looks down at the freshly-grilled
burger and salt-speckled fries before sweeping his eyelashes up and beaming at
the girl behind the counter.
 
“Aw, it's nothing, Dean.” She blushes and twirls a strand of hair around her
finger, a little bit of tooth flashing as she bites her bottom lip. “I packed
some up for you to take home, too.”
 
Tina Hawser of Hawser's Inn sneaks a glance across the diner, probably looking
for her dad before she passes Dean a bag practically bursting with styrofoam
containers. After he stashes it by his feet and makes sure to let his fingers
drag across her wrist, she turns back to the small prep area and grabs a frosty
shaker from the milkshake machine.
 
“And this is for you, Sammy.” She smiles and slides a tall fountain glass down
to Sam, condensation beading up on the sides. “Extra-thick with double oreos,
just the way you like it.” She sinks a straw into it and clears Sam's empty
plate. She wipes her hands down on her apron, the fabric of her cornflower blue
uniform pulling tight across her trim waist and full, perky tits.
 
Sam hates her with the burning passion of a thousand suns.
 
“Tina,” Dean says, slow and a little thick, like it feels good in his mouth.
“You shouldn't have.” He takes a bite of his burger and sighs with happiness,
rolling his eyes as Tina titters back at him.
 
At least Sam can blame the extra-thick shake for the pinched look on his face.
He sucks his straw as angrily as he can, given that Tina and her perky tits
make some of the best milkshakes Sam has ever tasted. In his fourteen-year
tenure on earth Sam has become something of an expert in diner desserts, and
Tina's got her milk to ice cream to cookie ratio down pat.
 
He still hates her.
 
“Hey, so,” she darts another glance at the still dad-free cash register and
leans across the counter, cocking her hips and glancing up at Dean. “My squad
practice got canceled for tomorrow but I didn't tell my dad, so I was
thinking...”
 
Dean finishes his fry and licks the salt from his fingers, letting his lips
smack together as he arches one eyebrow up.
 
“I'll pick you up.”
 
Sam purses his lips and makes the loudest sucking noise he's capable of
generating. If looks could kill Tina and her family's restaurant would be a
smoking pile of cinders by now.
 
“OK,” she says breathlessly, and Sam can see the goosebumps spreading across
her arm as Dean licks his lips and slides off his stool. Sam glares at the
counter and downs the last bits of his milkshake as fast as he can, getting a
satisfying hissing sound as big chunk of oreo gets stuck in the straw.
 
“I gotta get shortjack over here home, but I'll pick you up after school
tomorrow.” Dean winks at Tina and Sam's shocked that she doesn't actually swoon
like those old Pepe LaPew cartoons.
 
The car ride back is fragrant with the teeming containers of warm food and
Sam's cold shoulder. Dean seems too distracted to really notice, which is just
perfect. Sam huffs against the window and watches his breath steam up on the
glass. Dean's probably too busy thinking about Tina and her tits.
 
Dean manages to carry in all the food and open the door with one hand while Sam
sulks behind him. The dim light of their small housing unit parking lot
flickers to life as the last rays of sun spill over the gravel and wash
everything warm. Sam hefts his backpack over his shoulder and sighs as he heads
inside.
 
“Mmm, we can have some meatloaf for a midnight snack.” Dean stacks the
styrofoam containers in their otherwise-empty fridge and grabs a beer. Sam's
already on the couch with a book by the time he notices Sam hasn't said a word.
 
“You got any homework?” Dean settles next to him on the couch, sprawling his
legs open until his knee brushes against Sam's.
 
“No.” God, it sounds whiny even to Sam. Although if Dean had been paying
attention he would have noticed Sam finishing up his math homework while they
waited for Tina's service with a smile.
 
Sam's head darts up as Dean smacks the book out of his hand.
 
“Then why're you still reading?” He lolls his head against the back of the
couch, his face in that easy smile that makes Sam's skin tingle and his fingers
start to itch. His chest tugs like his body is trying to move him forward on
its own. But Sam isn't the one who thinks with his dick so he crosses his arms
over his chest.
 
“Cause I feel like it.” He snatches his book off the floor and reads as angrily
as possible, which actually makes it kind of hard to read the words but
whatever. Sam's read this book before.
 
“I can think of a lot of things you could bury your face in besides a book.”
Dean's got his hand on his fly and a smile spreading blithely across his face.
Sam's dick twitches a little, always an unreliable ally in his staunch
determination to stay mad at Dean. Dean with his neck tilted back like that,
adam's apple bobbing on the swallow as he grinds a hand against himself and Sam
looks even though he shouldn't. Dean has no business looking that good, no one
does. Sam's mouth opens and closes once before he catches sight of the empty
Hawser's bag hanging off the sink cabinet.
 
“If you want to get your dick wet so bad why don't you call Tina.”
 
Sam hits Dean square in the chest with his book before stalking off to the
bedroom. The whole wall shakes with the impact as he slams the door and throws
himself on his bed.
 
“Sammy,” Dean calls after him, and Sam pulls the pillow over his ears to ignore
it. His face feels hot and there aren't quite tears burning in his eyes just
yet, but he's sure he could work up to them if he tried.
 
“Sammy, c'mon.” The bed sinks under Dean's weight but Sam remains steadfast,
pulling his pillow tighter over his head.
 
“The fuck is up with you?” Dean pulls the pillow away, and Sam can almost hear
him roll his eyes as Sam puts up a perfunctory struggle. He blinks against the
light as Dean frowns down at him.
 
“Are you fucking her?”
 
Dean's face is perfectly still for a moment, and then Sam has no idea what it
looks like because he's too busy watching the walls tilt as Dean hauls him up
by the front of his shirt. The handles of their folding-door closet dig into
his back as Dean slams him against it, his face angled down to snort right into
Sam's wide eyes.
 
It's a testament to how fucked Sam's sense of appropriate brother touching is
that he's both dizzy with fear and sporting a fairly epic boner all at once. He
was never that good at telling the difference between imminent violence and
Dean overcoming his flimsy moral hurdles and fucking him. Out of the past three
times Dean had slammed him into a wall, two had ended in blowjobs and one had
ended in Dean slapping him for calling Dad a worthless drunk. Sam's dick seems
happy with the odds either way.
 
“I'm not fucking her, Sammy,” Dean says, emphasizing the fucking with a good
shake. “And if you didn't notice, Dad's not exactly around right now. I've got
twenty bucks to last till my next paycheck, and Tina's the only reason you're
not eating watered-down ramen noodles every night.”
 
It's the part of Sam that twists with guilt that makes him blurt out, “You're
doing other stuff, aren't you?”
 
Dean's face darkens, his lips thinning as he rolls his hips forward.
 
“Yeah, Sammy.” He smiles, bitter and thin as he jams his leg in between Sam's
and yeah, that isn't doing anything to help Sam's hard-on situation.
 
“You wanna hear about it, Sammy? Want me to tell you how I eat her pussy, hike
up that little cheerleading skirt and get her off until she can't see
straight?”
 
Sam doesn't realize that he's the one groaning until he realizes that he's
humping against the jut of Dean's leg, and by then it's too late to stop the
whole business. He shivers as Dean's lips graze over his ear.
 
“Wanna know what I think about while I'm doing it?” Dean slides his hand down
Sam's side, letting his palm splay over the tense plane of Sam's stomach before
sliding it lower. He inches down so slow it's cruel, and Sam's shaking by the
time his fingertips brush over the straining fly of Sam's jeans.
 
“What?” Sam croaks, the guilt welling in his stomach quickly subsiding as Dean
cups his hand over Sam's dick and smiles.
 
Dean rolls his eyes and leans down to rest his forehead against Sam's, sighing.
 
“You, you jealous little bitch.”
 
Dean's the one who takes care of them, Sam knows that, but Sam's a survivor in
his own way. He plasters on the puppy face so thick his tail should be wagging.
 
“You getting jealous of some girl, Sammy?” Dean shakes his head, clucking his
tongue as Sam blushes.
 
“You know you're the only girl for me, right, sweetheart?” Dean does this trick
where he gives Sam's dick a dirty squeeze and strokes his other hand all soft
along Sam's cheek. It makes Sam feel wobbly every time and it's the only reason
his, “M'not a girl, Dean,” comes out so garbled.
 
“That what you want, Sammy, want to be my little girlfriend?”
 
Sam's pretty sure he says, “Shut up,” but then Dean's rubbing his leg right
against Sam's dick and unbuttoning his shirt and who knows.
 
“Yeah, I gotta take care of my good girl, don't I?” Dean slides Sam's overshirt
down his shoulders, tracing his fingers along Sam's collarbone through the thin
material of his t-shirt.
 
“Maybe we should get you your own cheerleading outfit.” Dean smirks and tugs
Sam's t-shirt over his head, the neck catching on Sam's hair and leaving it a
mess. Dean looks down at him, narrowing his eyes and tilting his head.
 
“I've got an idea.” He nods while he undoes Sam's fly, tugging his jeans down
fast enough that Sam hisses and forgets to protest whatever Dean's idea is.
 
“Keep these pretty panties on.” Dean snaps the elastic waist of Sam's briefs,
which are neither pretty nor panties but Sam still blushes pink and squirms a
little as Dean presses against him.
 
“That's my girl.” Dean's always warm and he bleeds heat through two layers of
fabric into Sam's skin. It makes him shiver a little and his eyes are already
half-closed when Dean leans down to kiss him.
 
Sam has the sinking suspicion that he might be sort of wrong about something,
or that maybe he should apologize but when Dean kisses him Sam forgets
everything but the rough press of his lips. Dean's tongue licks him open a
fraction at a time and when did Sam get near the bed? His knees back-hit the
mattress and he stumbles a little as Dean chuckles.
 
“Hang on.” Dean pushes him down onto the bed with a hand on Sam's shoulder. He
kneels on the floor and tugs open the bottom drawer of their dresser, the old
wood catching with a muffled squeal. He roots around until he pulls out an old
t-shirt, dangling it off his fingertip as Sam shifts on the bed.
 
There's nothing too special about it. He's not even sure why they've kept it,
aside from the habitual frugality that got the most out of everything that
passed through their hands. It's two sizes too big for Dad, let alone Sam.
 
“Put it on.”
 
Sam takes the shirt and gives Dean a look, trying to look snarky and faltering
when Dean licks his lips and does that thing where he brushes his hand right
alongside the bulge of his dick. Sam feels a little dizzy as he stands up and
tugs the huge shirt over his head.
 
The stretched-out neckline hangs off him, leaving one of his bony shoulders
bare. It's so long it reaches halfway down Sam's thighs, a little shorter than
his fingertips as they hang at his side. It's about as un-sexy a garment as Sam
can imagine, although his hard-on tenting up the front sort of makes it a moot
point.
 
Dean sighs, a deep sound in his chest that Sam can feel as Dean presses up
beside him.
 
“Gonna let me get up your skirt, sweetheart?” Dean breathes hot against his
ear, and Sam's eyes roll back of their own volition. His skin goes goosebumped
so fast it makes him twitch.
 
“It's not, oh,” Sam moans, losing it as he feels Dean's palm brush past his
dick.
 
“Hike up your little skirt so I can taste that pretty pussy?” Dean bunches up
the frayed hem of Sam's t-shirt in his fingers, inching the fabric up as Sam
arches toward him. Sam's hands flex at his sides, curling open and closed until
Dean steps back and Sam automatically reaches for him.
 
“Uh-uh,” Dean tuts, shaking his head as he undoes the top button of his
flannel. He looks Sam up and down as he unbuttons the rest of his shirt and Sam
feels like he could combust under Dean's attention. He shifts unconsciously as
Dean strips down to nothing but his boxers and his necklace, never taking his
eyes off Sam even when he takes his socks off. Sam knows for a fact that he
himself lacks the coordination to do that and his skin hums a little. Dean's
always graceful.
 
“C'mon, baby,” Dean coddles, jutting his chin out as he gets back in Sam's
space. He kisses Sam as his hands slide down to bracket Sam's hips, and Sam
almost jumps as his dick brushes against Dean's. He rocks into it just to have
Dean pull back and spin him around, Dean's lips ghosting over his ear as the
hard line of his cock presses against Sam's ass.
 
“Gonna bend over for me, pull your little panties to the side so I can see that
wet little pussy, Sammy?”
 
Fuck. Sam scrambles forward so fast he gets a headrush. He plants his hands on
the bed and arches his hips up, vaguely aware that he's already veered into
begging for it mode before Dean even gets his underwear off. He's supposed to
be mad at Dean but Sam can't really remember why, not when Dean's fingers drag
up his thighs and ruck Sam's shirt up over his ass.
 
“Want it bad, don't you, sweetheart?” Dean's fingers trail over the edges of
Sam's briefs, leaving light scratch marks in their wake as they skirt past the
seam of Sam's thigh.
 
“Gotta show me, baby,” Dean teases, drawing his hand back and sighing. “Show me
that pretty pussy, Sammy.”
 
Sam's face is already as red as it gets but he swears it gets even redder as he
reaches around behind himself. He tucks two of his fingers into the side of his
briefs where they're stretched taut across his ass. Thankfully they're kind of
old, so it's easy for him to pull them to the side.
 
Sam has these moments of clarity sometimes, like he's outside of his body
watching himself bare his asshole to his big brother. It should feel horrible
or wrong or something, he guesses, but all Sam can really feel is the tickle of
Dean's breath against his skin and the warm flush it brings. His hips buck back
and Dean laughs and it's really all Sam needs to feel OK.
 
“Yeah, that's my girl.” Dean drags his lips up the crack of Sam's ass, his tiny
bit of stubble catching softly against Sam's skin. He curls his fingers over
Sam's, holding his underwear to the side as he breathes hot against Sam's
exposed hole.
 
“Like showing off for me, don't you, baby?” Dean traces the tip of his tongue
along the very outside of Sam's hole, nowhere close to where Sam really wants
it and he groans.
 
“Fuck, Dean.” God, he even sounds like a girl, his voice coming out all reedy
as he plants his elbows on the bed and hikes his hips up.
 
“Mmm, my greedy girl.” Dean lets his underwear snap back into place and Sam
almost makes a noise he really regrets.
 
“Let's get these panties off.” Dean hooks his fingers into Sam's waistband and
tugs his briefs down, and Sam can't keep himself from whining as his cock slaps
free against his stomach. He's so hard it aches and the empty air against him
does nothing to soothe it.
 
Dean slips Sam's underwear past his knees as the bed dips. Dean settles in
behind him, his hands spreading hot over Sam's ass to pull him open wide. Sam
rests his chest against the mattress and breathes, deep and as steady as he can
manage.
 
“Gotta get this little pussy nice and wet before I fuck it.” Dean noses into
him, each drag of stubble and hot burst of breath shooting sparks over Sam's
skin. He fists the sheets in his hands as Dean plants his lips flush against
Sam's hole and traces the tip of his tongue around it.
 
This shouldn't feel so good, Sam's pretty sure. Dean can say whatever he wants,
Sam isn't actually a girl but fuck he likes this as much as a girl should. Dean
flattens his tongue and drags it up and Sam's toes curl, and if Dean weren't
doing such a good job pressing his thumbs in to open him up Sam would willingly
hold his own ass cheeks apart like some bad TSA joke.
 
“Gets my girl good and wet, doesn't it?” Dean follows that with another dirty
swipe of his tongue and Sam looks between his legs. A little puddle of precome
strings up to his cock, leaking freely as Dean works him open.
 
“Dean, God,” Sam moans, itching to get a hand or something on his dick but
starting to get that desperate fuck me fuck me fuck me feeling under his skin.
 
“Yeah, I got you, baby.” Dean gives him one last, lazy lick of his tongue,
dipping it deep inside before flicking it around Sam's rim. Sam whines and
chases after it while Dean chuckles softly. Sam registers the click of a bottle
cap and he clenches before he can stop himself, to Dean's obvious glee.
 
“Yeah, that little pussy needs to get fucked.” Dean sinks two fingers into him,
pressing steadily until he's up to the second knuckle and Sam can barely see
straight. It takes his voice a good three thrusts of Dean's fingers to catch up
but Sam makes up for the delay with a groan and a grind of his hips. His face
drags against the sheet, wetness soaking into his cheek that he dimly
recognizes as his own spit. Dean does get him wet, Christ, and Sam can't bother
to close his mouth as Dean finger fucks him open.
 
“Want to see my pretty girl on her back while I fuck her.” Dean pulls his
fingers out and Sam can feel how open he is, gaping pink and God, he'll put a
fucking prom dress on if Dean will just fucking do it.
 
 
Dean guides him onto his back, sliding in between Sam's eagerly-spread legs and
letting his slick fingers sink back inside him.
 
“Look so pretty like this, baby.” Dean's voice is husky as he deftly lubes his
cock up with one hand, keeping his fingers twisting inside of Sam. They tease
over Sam's sweet spot, gliding close just to pull back and make his legs
twitch.
 
“None of those girls can take me like you can, Sammy.” Dean leans in, pulling
his fingers out to hook them under Sam's knee. He pushes back until Sam's legs
splay open and his hips tuck up, the blunt head of Dean's cock sliding over his
hole.
 
“Oh, Dean,” Dean says in a sing-song voice, drawling out his own name as he
fists his cock and lines it up. “I can't, it's too big.” He smirks as he pushes
forward, the fat head of his cock disappearing easily while Sam's body fights
the urge to go boneless and tense up and possibly rocket into space all at
once. He settles on a good quiver as Dean sinks into him, so slow it's a tease
and Sam grates his teeth.
 
“Not too big for my girl, is it?” Dean bites his lip and his eyes go dark as he
bottoms out, the tight curls of his pubes nestling against Sam's balls for a
long moment. He leans in, his chest pushing Sam's leg up until their faces are
inches apart, his breath ghosting over Sam's lips. “No, they're not like you,
are they baby?”
 
Dean can be a cocky asshole when he feels like it but the good-burn stretch
skating its way up Sam's spine has to agree. Dean is big, so big Sam would
never have imagined he'd be able to take all of it. One of his proudest
birthday accomplishments had just been getting the whole thing in his mouth.
But Sam's body is a wonderland or some pop-song crap like that, because he'd
gotten used to it so quickly Dean liked to claim he was made for it. Sam's in
no state to disagree.
 
“No, they're not greedy girls like my Sammy,” Dean rasps against his neck,
circling his hips until he's so deep Sam can feel it in his throat, or maybe
that's just his heart. He slides back, reaching between them to wrap his hand
around Sam's cock.
 
“Dean,” Sam hisses, his teeth clenched together as he jerks up into Dean's hand
just to drive himself back onto Dean's cock. “God, Dean, fuck,” and Sam knows
lots of other words but he doesn't need them, not when Dean gets that glint in
his eye and starts to stroke Sam's cock in time with the shallow thrusts of his
hips.
 
“My girl's gonna come for me,” Dean nods, his eyes burning a green-fire hole in
Sam's skull and Sam wonders if this counts as some kind of hypnosis, the way
Dean fucks into him slow and jerks him rough all at once until Sam can't think
beyond a steady chant of nonsense.
 
He's mumbling but it's Dean's name when he comes, his neck arched back as he
shoots all over the old t-shirt sweat-stuck to his chest. His left leg kicks up
like it always does, jerking in time with the shocks that run over his skin and
curl his lip back.
 
He's still panting as he feels Dean's hand on his belly, playing over the tacky
pools of come soaking into his shirt.
 
“What do you think the other girls at school would think if they knew you were
a squirter, Sammy?” Dean's face shouldn't be allowed to look like that, alight
and mischievous and beautiful, not when Sam can't form words like “Go fuck
yourself, Dean.” His heart wouldn't be in it anyway, because Sam can't lie when
he's spread open like this, when Dean's balls-deep inside him and smiling
because Sam is always his best, girl or not.
 
“Little pussy feels so fucking good, Sammy, fuck,” Dean huffs, his hips
starting to miss the beat as he speeds up. It's almost too much, oversensitive
and rough where Sam's spent dick is trapped between their bodies. Dean rears
back suddenly, baring his teeth and bunching Sam's shirt up under his armpits.
 
“Gonna come on these pretty tits.” Dean pulls out fast, grabbing his cock to
angle it and paint Sam's chest with streaks of white. Sam heaves for breath and
looks up at Dean, eyes wide and it's sort of scary sometimes, all the things he
feels all at once but then Dean grins and Sam just feels warm.
 
“My good girl.” Dean grabs his chin, holding Sam's face while he leans down to
kiss him and there's nothing girly about it, just the rough press of Dean's
tongue and his lips and his fingers and all of him bearing down on Sam. Sam
kisses back as good as he gets, mouth open and his hand sliding down to the
warm streak above his belly button.
 
He tilts his head to the side, looking past Dean as he drags his fingers to
catch sticky-wet on Dean's come. Dean growls, just soft enough that Sam can
feel it as he brings his fingers up and sucks them into his mouth. Seeing Dean
speechless would be worth it even if Sam didn't already like what he's doing.
 
“Bet your girls don't do that, either, huh?”
 
Dean smiles and kisses him again, and again, wet and hungry until he's soft
against the crook of Sam's thigh and his arms must ache. He rolls to Sam's
side, tugging him back until Sam joins him and fine, if Sam's being the girl
tonight he's going to enjoy the little spoon for all it's worth.
 
He dozes off for a while, letting his eyes close as Dean breathes softly
against his neck. When he blinks back awake a while later his mouth feels dry.
He can tell Dean's not asleep by the slow pace of his breath and the half-
chubby that's pressing against his ass.
 
“Dean?” Sam turns his head back, pushing his hair to the side until his cheek
hits Dean's nose.
 
“Yeah, Sammy?” Dean says, his voice thick as he kisses along Sam's cheekbone.
 
“Are you still gonna see Tina tomorrow?”
 
“Sammy,” Dean groans, a warning note in his voice before Sam cuts him off.
 
“I want a peanut butter cup milkshake this time.”
 
Dean laughs, warm and soft against Sam's back.
 
“Whatever my girl wants.”
 
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