Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/2765996.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester, Established_Relationship(s)
  Character:
      Dean_Winchester, Sam_Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      Panty_Kink, Anal_Fingering, Anal_Sex
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-12-13 Words: 4253
****** Johnson and Johnson ******
by SamGirlDeanCurious
Summary
     Dean comes home from a hunt and Sam's got a little surprise for him.
Notes
     Dean's 19 in this fic, and Sam is 15. If slightly underage sex is
     your squick, quick! Click away from here!
See the end of the work for more notes
“Sammy, I’m home!” Dean shouted after he slammed the door shut. He had driven
the 3.5 hours from small town, Northern MN to the cities where they left Sam
immediately after wrapping up the hunt, even though he had been up for 2 days
and the wendigo he and his father had been hunting had led them on a merry
chase through the fucking woods in the dark. Even with a flashlight, his run
through the woods had wrecked him hard. He’d been brought down over and over by
all the holes and spaces between large rocks he couldn’t see because of the
ground cover, and that’s not to mention all of the scratches the tightly woven
pine trees dealt to his jacket, face, and any other exposed flesh. Plus he’d
had to scale up and down the sides of massive granite rocks, which were really
more like foothills . . . Dean had wished he was a freakin’ wendigo so he could
take the trees instead of the goddamn ground. His ankles hurt, his palms were
torn up, and he had ripped at least 3 holes in his favorite jeans, one of which
had not only shredded his pants, but also skinned his knee practically down to
the bone when his boot slipped on the mossy side of a boulder.
The wendigo was still smouldering when John had told Dean to go and get Sam and
meet him at Bobby’s in a few days; he was going out on a different hunt Rufus
had called him about and would catch up with them later. Dean was just as glad;
it had been 5 days since they’d left Sam, and 2 days since they’d lost cell
reception. God, Dean hated the woods. And camping. He would rather sleep in the
Impala than in a tent on the freakin’ ground. Plus, his skin itched for Sam.
Dean never slept well when he was away from Sam, mostly because he had been
sleeping in the same room with the kid, often the same bed since he could
remember. 15 years of living on top of one another makes sleeping alone awkward
and lonely in a way Dean refused to describe.

Sam’s head appeared around the corner of the hallway where his room was, and
when he saw Dean was alone, he rocketed into the living room, throwing his arms
around Dean at the same time he tripped on his feet. Sam fell forward, managed
to snag Dean’s shoulders with his arms, and took them both out to fall on the
floor with Sam on top, crushing Dean. Evidently Sam’s growth spurt had not
ended, and he had not acclimated to his new body. Sam had grown 4 inches in the
last six months, a growth rate which had caused him not only to practically eat
them out of house and home (if they had a house to call home), but also to be
spectacularly moody and tired. He fought with John constantly when he was awake
and talking, or he brooded silently behind his hair. He sometimes slept 15
hours a day, which made John furious when he was home, as he insisted that Sam
was wasting the day and was not training enough. Dean, who remembered his 15
year old growth spurt as a period of intense p and an aching exhaustion, had
had to put himself physically between John and the door of Sam’s bedroom to
keep him from rousing Sam. He was determined that Sam would at the very least
be allowed to sleep through the pain as much as possible.

“Jeez, Sam! Clumsy much?” Dean ruffled Sam’s hair. “Baby boy, you need a
haircut. Seriously--” Dean’s jibe was cut off as Sam bit his neck. He sucked
and licked at Dean’s pulse until Dean fisted his hand in Sam’s hair moaning. He
also noticed, pointedly, that Sam was clad only in jeans, and they appeared
rather hastily put on, if the open button was anything to go by.

“Missed you,” Sam breathed into Dean’s skin. He grabbed Dean’s hand and dragged
him off the floor toward the bedroom. “Gotta surprise for you.”

Dean allowed himself to be dragged and then leaned in the doorway watching Sam,
his Sammy take his clothes off. God his baby boy had gotten big. Now he was
taller than Dean, but lean, almost thin. His body hadn’t had time to put muscle
on the rapidly growing skeleton, and he was wiry, his biceps standing out
starkly under his stretched skin. His back showed dark stretch marks along his
ribcage where the skin didn’t grow fast enough and it pulled against his bones.
Sam was a disturbingly arousing mix of boy and man. Tall, lean, but with skin
that Dean knew was still so smooth. His face hadn’t quite grown into his big
doe eyes, and they could sometimes look so innocent and afraid that it punched
the air out of Dean’s stomach.

Dean felt the familiar guilt start to well up over him as he felt the stirrings
of his arousal. Jesus, what the fuck was he doing? How had he allowed this to
continue so long? Sam was a fucking kid, for Christ’s sake! Even though Sam
said he wanted it, he wasn’t really old enough to make that decision, was he?
Dean closed his eyes and clenched his fists. He was such a sick fuck.

“Dean?” He raised his head when he felt Sam’s finger under his chin. “Are you
okay? Oh shit, are you hurt? Did I hurt you when I fell?” The curse sounded
wrong in Sam’s baby mouth. His eyes were suddenly concerned, afraid.

“Nah, baby boy. I’m fine. Just tired, that’s all.”

Sam smiled. “Let me help wake you up, then.” He turned and walked back towards
the bed, hooking his fingers into his belt loops to pull his jeans down. Dean
realized that Sam was only wearing jeans now, and the waist band of his boxers
looked odd. There was something wrong with it. Why were there tiny holes in
Sammy’s boxers - holy fuck.

Dean’s brain skidded to a halt as Sam pulled his jeans down. Sam’s underwear
had holes in it because he wasn’t wearing boxers. He was wearing panties. Jesus
Christ, Sam was wearing panties. They were pink satin in the front, but the
back was black lace that barely covered Sam’s cheeks. Dean’s dick shot to
attention and he unconsciously licked his bottom lip.

“Dean, are they-”

“Sammy, what the-? Where did you get those?”

Sam faltered. He looked at Dean nervously, fidgeting with his feet. “We had a
field trip to the Mall of America while you guys were gone. I lifted them from
the Victoria’s Secret while we were there. I thought . . . well, I found Rhonda
Hurley’s panties tangled in your clothes when I was doing laundry awhile ago,
and I thought maybe since you like them on girls maybe you’d like them on me
too. But if you don’t, I’ll just take them off . . .” Sam’s eyes were looking
everywhere but at Dean now, worried that he had read Dean wrong. He could feel
his embarrassment creeping up his chest and into his face. Sam moved to pull
the underwear off.

Sam was trying to kill him. Dean was sure of it. He crossed the room in two
strides and grabbed Sam by the hair, crushing his mouth into Sam’s. He jerked
Sam’s hands away from the panties, and gripped Sam’s hips so hard he smiled
knowing there would be finger marks for the next couple of days. He pushed back
from Sam, looking him in the eye.

“Stand still, wanna look at you,” Dean managed to get out, his voice sliding
over Sam’s skin like gun oil and leather. Sam shivered and tried to stand
without moving for Dean, even though that voice made his knees tremble. Dean
looked Sam up and down, eyes roving over his not-quite-a-man body, fingertips
trailing just a second behind. Sam’s skin was so smooth and soft, and good
lord, the kid was burning up like a space heater. The heat came off Sam in
waves, especially once Dean’s fingertips moved closer to the waistband of his
girl’s underwear. Dean put his index finger under the elastic and pulled it
just a little away from Sam’s body, just enough to make Sam’s cock curve up
toward his stomach. Dean let the elastic rest back against Sam’s dick, trapping
it agains his treasure trail. Jesus he looked good with the head poking out.
Sam whined and shifted his hips towards Dean slightly.

“I said ‘still,’ Sammy,” Dean breathed on Sam’s neck, knowing Sam wouldn’t be
able to stay still much longer. The subtle threat made Sam shiver and Dean
closed his eyes trying to steel himself, trying to keep himself from throwing
Sam on the bed and fucking him until he couldn’t walk or talk. Instead, he
turned Sam around so he could see the back. Christ, the panties were black
lace, just that thin material between Dean and his favorite place in the whole
world. He could see straight through it to where Sam’s skin darkened in shadow.
He ran his hands over the lace, feeling the Sam’s muscles jump under his rough
hands. He gave Sam a little slap and heard him yelp in surprise.

“D-Do you like them, Dean? Did I do okay?” Sam’s voice had a shake to it, and
Dean could feel his hesitation and anxiety falling off of him as he thought too
hard. Sam always thinks too much, always had. Had been too serious for a normal
kid, as hard as Dean had tried to give him a normal childhood. His little
mystic, Dean his handler. Obviously normal hadn’t worked out too well, seeing
as how his baby brother was standing in front of him in girl’s panties,
offering himself to his older brother with precome smearing the tip of his dick
and starting to leak down to stain the front of the underwear. Dean’s dick
twitched in its own wet spot inside his jeans.

“Yeah, Sammy, you did good. Though later we’re going to have a conversation
about snooping in my stuff -” Sam turned his head to argue, “Ah, I know
Rhonda’s underwear were not in the laundry. They have their own pocket in my
duffel, baby boy. First though . . .” Dean pulled Sam against him so his chest
was pressed up against Sam’s back. Sam arched into Dean, pushing the black lace
against Dean’s hard-on through his jeans. Dean ran one hand down Sam’s chest to
his hips so he could pull him harder agains his crotch, grinding against Sam
hearing the button of his jeans catch in the black lace. With the other hand,
Dean pinched Sam’s nipple, rolling it between his fingers. Sam gasped and
dropped his head onto Dean’s shoulder.

“De, please,” Dean moaned against Sam’s throat at the sound of Sam’s nickname
for him from when he was small and couldn’t pronounce his /n/s. He thrust hard
into Sam, wrapping his hand into Sam’s hair and pulling hard. He slid his hand
from Sam’s hip into the front of the panties, wanting to feel the soft skin and
hair of his abdomen above his dick. Dean’s brain skittered around, trying to
make sense of what his hands were feeling.
“Jesus, Sam, what else did you do?” He spun Sam around and threw him on the
bed, dragging the pink satin down to Sam’s thighs as he straddled Sam’s legs.
Not only was Sam wearing pink and black panties, but Sam had fucking shaved
himself too. Not that there was much hair to begin with, but, still. Dean’s
eyes blown wide and pupil black with lust locked with Sam’s, also black, but
with something else behind them, something Dean couldn’t identify because his
brain was not working. His Sam, his Sammy, SammyBabyBoy was smooth and hairless
and Jesus if it was not the fucking hottest thing he’d ever seen. Sam looked so
good spread out in front of him, the pink and black standing out against his
skin, his chest rapidly expanding and falling as he breathed almost too fast.

Dean lunged forward grabbing Sam’s hair and yanking his head to the side and
back. Sam whimpered, but arched up into it. His mouth parted and he sighed
something that might have been please, but Dean didn’t hear it. He tightened
his grip on Sam’s hair, making him moan again, and he ground his hips against
Sam’s. He wanted nothing more to tear his clothes off and rut against Sam’s
smooth skin until he came all over his wanton, slutty brother.

“Trying to kill me, baby boy. Hmmm. Gonna make you pay for that. Jesus, you
love this, don’t you. Love when I call you baby boy, baby brother. But you’re
wearing girl’s underwear. Maybe I should call you baby girl. That what you
want, Sammy?” Sam’s eyes widened and his breath caught in his chest. He huffed
rapidly and arched his back so Dean’s hand pulled harder at his hair. Clearly
he hadn’t thought that far into the game, but he liked the idea. Dean smiled.
“Okay Sammy. Whatever you want, baby. Gonna lick you all over, lick you clean,
and then I’m gonna eat you out so good.” Sam writhed on the bed, hips thrusting
up into the air, desperate for some friction.

“Please, De, please, wanna be good for you.”

Dean groaned and fisted his hands in the sheets. God, he had never been this
hard. Sam in lace panties, laying on the bed, giving him anything he wants, and
he, still fully clothed, including his muddy boots. Sam’s naked vulnerability
rubbing against his own clothes made him crazy. He mouthed down Sam’s chest,
licking and biting his nipples. He held Sam’s hips down when Sam tried to arch
and grind into his sternum, which made Sam moan and wiggle his hips more. Dean
left a wet trail down Sam’s chest to his hip bone. He bit Sam’s hip and rubbed
his face along Sam’s abdomen, wanting to feel the baby smooth skin against his
face. He inhaled and relished the familiar smell of his brother. Wait . . . Sam
smelled . . . Sam smelled like, god, he smelled like when he was little and
Dean used to give him a bath and then rub him all over with --

“Fuck Sammy, is this baby oil?” Sam lifted his head and nodded, looking at
Dean. Dean moaned and buried his face against Sam’s skin, his cock jumping,
leaking, and straining against his jeans. He shouldn’t be turned on by the
smell of baby oil, but this is Sammy, and he probably doesn’t even remember the
baths or that they had used baby oil because they didn’t have enough money for
lotion. “Oh god, baby boy,” Dean moaned, inhaling as much as he could to get
the smell of Sam and baby oil in his lungs, get it and keep it there forever so
he would never forget, so he could smell this anytime he wanted. Dean had
intended to take his time with Sam, make it slow and long, draw him out until
he was trembling and shaking apart underneath him, until Sam lost all
vocabulary except for “De,” the only word he should ever need, but Dean
couldn’t do that, not with the panties and the smell and Sam already so hard
and waiting for him.

Dean reached down and wrapped his hand around Sam’s leaking dick. Sam moaned,
and he thrust up into Dean’s fist. Dean knelt between Sam’s legs, snug between
them since they were still bound by the black lace half way down his thighs. He
pulled Sam’s length up and tongued around the head, slipping his tongue into
and along the slit at the top. Sam keened and turned his head from side to
side. His hands clenched and unclenched in the sheets as he bucked up into
Dean’s wet heat, nonsense and smut pouring from his mouth. Sammy never could
keep his mouth shut.
“Jesus Dean, fuck, just like that. Jesus have to come, please suck me dry oh my
god want to want to, please more, need more, need to be good for you,
pleasepleaseDepleasefuckplease.”

Dean sucked hard with his mouth, stroking with his hand until his thumb hit his
lips and then moving back down. Sam’s dick was wet with spit and precome, and
his thighs were quivering. He’d stopped moaning any kind of coherent word other
than Dean’s name, and after a couple more passes of Dean’s hand and his cheeks
hollowing as he sucked, Sam stopped breathing too. Sam’s joints all locked and
his mouth opened without sound, all the veins in his neck standing out. Dean
looked up at him while he came, beautiful in his ecstasy, with red splotches on
his chest and cheeks. Sam shot down his throat, thick and salty, and Dean
pumped him through his orgasm, drinking as much as he could get.
After Dean coaxed the last spurt out of Sam’s dick, he crawled up the bed and
laid his weight full on Sam. Sam moaned, and managed to open his eyes into
slits. He grinned at Dean.

“Guess you like the underwear, huh?”

“Oh Sammy. I’m not nearly done with you yet, baby boy. Roll over.” Dean’s voice
came out low and rough, want and need making the words scrape through his mouth
and throat. He pulled Sam’s hip and rolled him over, then made Sam pull the
panties back up so he could push his nose and forehead against the lace. “God,
Sammy, I can’t believe you did this for me. So, good, gonna taste so good.”

“Love you Dean. Want you to feel good, all the time.”

Dean didn’t know how to respond to that, couldn’t get the words out, so instead
he tongued at the lace, letting the flat of his tongue drag up and down Sam
from sac to tailbone. Sam moaned and shuddered, the lace scratching his
sensitive skin in the most perfect way. Dean could almost feel how Sam’s walls
were going to flutter against his cock when he finally got inside. Dean worked
his tongue and the cloth against Sam’s hole, making him whine and push back.
Soon the Dean’s saliva was clinging to the lace like rain in a screen. He
hooked his fingers underneath and pulled the sopping panties all the way down
Sam’s legs and let it fall on the floor.

Dean pulled the lube out from the drawer by the bed and snicked the cap open.
He drizzled his fingers in lube and slid one into Sam. It sunk all the way in
without issue and Sam whined clenching his hands in the sheets. Dean added
another finger, which also sank in easily.

“Baby boy, look how ready you are for me. Did you get yourself ready? Did you
put your fingers up here before I got home?” Dean didn’t think that Sam could
turn any redder, but somehow he saw the blush spread all the way up his back to
his cheeks.

“Didn’t know you were coming . . . was bored and missing you . . .” Sam said,
his voice muffled by the pillow.

“Guh,” Dean breathed out as Sam’s greedy hole sucked 3 of his fingers in. “You
probably don’t even need this, do you?” Sam shook his head.

“Please Dean. Waited for you for so long, missed you, want you inside me now.”

Dean stood up and shucked his boots, flaking mud falling all over the floor.
Socks next, then jeans and shirt joined the pile on the carpet. He climbed back
on the bed and laid on top of Sam, sliding his dick between Sam’s well-
lubricated cheeks.

“Miss me, baby boy?” He knelt between Sam’s legs, used his knees to push them a
little farther apart, and pushed the head of his dick against Sam’s opening.
Sam took a breath and held it, nodding his head furiously. Dean slowly pushed
forward, dropping his head to Sam’s back as he sank inside Sam’s sheath to the
hilt. He sighed and pushed his hips forward, grinding into Sam. He rubbed his
stubbly cheek on Sam’s back, baby oil again filling his nostrils. Here he was,
in bed with his little brother, about to fuck him into the mattress, and he
didn’t even have the decency to regret his decision. He was going to hell, Dean
was sure of it, and at this moment, with his Sam wrapped around him, he didn’t
care. He wanted to stay like this buried in Sam forever, baby oil smell around
him forever.

That was not to be, since Sam, always the bossy bottom, whined and bucked his
hips. Dean pulled out and slid back home, groaning as he went. He moved slow
and hard, pushing his hips agains Sam’s ass, burying himself as far as he could
go. Sam writhed and shoved his face in the pillow to muffle his cries, until
Dean pulled the pillow away from him.

“Wanna hear you, Sammy.” Dean pushed into Sam harder, faster, working his hole.
He rolled his hips at just the right angle to hit Sam’s prostate over and over,
making Sam cry out and squeeze his eyes shut. Sam keened each time Dean brushed
that spot, his insides clenching around Dean. Reaching around him with one arm,
Dean pulled Sam up onto his knees against his chest. He wrapped the other hand
around Sam’s hard-again cock, stroking up and down with the rhythm of his
thrusts. Sam let his head fall on Dean’s shoulder, and he pushed his forehead
agains Dean’s neck, rubbing sweaty hair into his eyes. Dean bit Sam’s ear, his
neck, his shoulder, pumping into and out of him, feeling each one of his
thrusts echo up through Sam’s spine.

“Wanna feel you, Sam. Want you to come for me,” Dean mouthed Sam’s ear while he
talked. “Come on, baby. I know you can do it. I’m gonna help you,” he said when
Sam whimpered. His whole body was taut with tension, and he was whining with
each pass over his prostate.

“Don’t . . . mmmm . . . know if I can . . so oh god . . . soon.”

“Yes you can, baby boy. Doesn’t it feel good, your big brother’s dick in your
ass, splitting you in two? God, you look so good, all fucked out and mine,
always mine, Sammy. No one else touches you but me, no one smells you like this
or makes you come but me . . fuck, god yes, Sam. Come for me . . . Now.”

Sam’s moans and whines had gotten louder and needier, and his body had started
to spasm. On the word ‘now,‘ Dean had wrapped his hand in Sam’s hair, dragged
his head around hard, and slammed home agains Sam’s prostate. Sam screamed
Dean’s name as his body bucked against Dean’s chest and ropes of come splashed
out onto the bed, and even the wall in front of them. Sam’s tight pink strained
against Dean’s dick, pulling him even deeper into Sam. Dean thrust shallowly,
working Sam through the some of his orgasm before he couldn’t hold it any
longer, and he slammed into Sam once, twice, three times, “Samsamsamsammy,” as
lights burst behind his eyes and his own come coated the Sam’s insides.

Dean and Sam collapsed on the bed, both breathing hard. Dean’s breath skated
across Sam’s neck, and he shivered before rolling over quickly.

“Too sensitive, Dean. Stop,” Sam murmured nuzzling into Dean’s chest. Dean
wrapped an arm around Sam, pulling him in tight against him. Sam sighed,
blissed and fucked out, and he closed his eyes against the light. Dean
scratched his head lightly. It was a long time before Dean could talk again. He
just pulled Sam close into him even though Dean Winchester absolutely did not
cuddle, nuzzled his nose into Sam’s hair and breathed him in over and over.

“Sammy, where’d the baby oil come from?” He had to know, before Sam fell
asleep.
“thss mmmphs,” he mumbled into Dean’s chest, burrowing farther under his arm so
he could fall asleep.

“What? I didn’t understand you,” Dean pushed Sam’s shoulder. Sam sighed and
pried one eyelid open to look at him fuzzily.

“I overheard these girls from the swim team talking about it at lunch one day.
They said it worked better than lotion. I thought . . . what with the underwear
and all maybe my skin should be . . . you know.” Sam toed the sheet, and Dean
could tell he was waiting for his reaction to decide if he should be completely
embarrassed or not. “Was it okay?”

Dean petted Sam’s hair and pulled him closer. “Think I blacked out when I came,
Sammy, so yeah, I’d say it was okay. More than okay. Everything you do with me
is okay. Always, baby boy.”

Sam nodded and drifted off to sleep with his head on Dean’s chest. Maybe he did
like cuddling, but only with his baby moose.

**********************************

*** 8 years later ***
Dean and Sam walked into the police station wearing their “fed threads,” as
Dean had taken to calling them. The killings definitely appeared to be similar
to a vampire, but they’d have to see what the coroner gave them. As they
approached the desk, both brothers pulled out their badges simultaneously to
show the sergeant on duty.

“Agents Johnson and Johnson, no relation. We’re here to see the Sherriff,” Dean
said.

Sam smirked. It was going to be a good night.
End Notes
     Thanks for reading! Any suggestions or requests are welcome!
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