Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1042346.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester
  Character:
      Dean_Winchester, Sam_Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      Weechesters, Weecest, Plot_What_Plot/Porn_Without_Plot, PWP, Tumblr
      Prompt, Anal_Fingering, Bottom_Dean
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-11-12 Words: 897
****** Like This ******
by sixtysevenlmpala
Summary
     Written for the anonymous prompt: "weecest ~ dean letting sam finger
     him for the first time ~ dean 19/sam 15 if possible?"
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
“Careful, Sammy.” Dean’s voice is edged with equal parts need, nerves and
coarse bitchiness. But he figures when he’s lying on his back with a pillow
under his ass and his legs spread like some kind of slut, he’s allowed to take
a slightly pissy tone with his brother.
“I’m sorry,” Sam breathes sincerely, placing a kiss to Dean’s hip that makes
Dean’s heart skip from the sheer innocence of it. Still, that doesn’t change
the fact that he’s currently trying to bury two fingers inside Dean with the
little to no finesse of any fifteen year old boy.
“Just—more lube. Asshole,” Dean mutters, looking down his squirming body to
catch Sam’s eyes, and Sam swallows and nods, grabbing for the discarded tube
and yanking his fingers out, pulling a hissed breath from between Dean’s teeth.
Before he can do anything, Dean props himself up on his elbows, plucking the
lube from Sam’s hands. “Let me,” he mutters as he drizzles some of the liquid
into his palm and then slicks Sam’s fingers up, lacing them through his own.
Unprompted, Sam leans in and catches Dean’s mouth, sweet and soft, and Dean
smiles into the kiss.
“C’mon then, baby brother,” Dean smirks, sweeping Sam’s hair off his forehead
before flopping back down against the pillows, arms folded behind his head.
“Give it to me.”
Sam rolls his eyes – “Shut up, Dean,” – and shoves Dean’s legs further apart, a
little more roughly than necessary. His fingertips are careful, though, when
they circle Dean’s hole, petting lightly enough to send shivers skittering
across Dean’s skin.
“Start with just one, yeah,” Dean sighed, breath catching as Sam does just
that, wriggling one thin finger inside him and pushing until he can’t go any
further. Dean gasps quietly, turning his face into the pillow and fighting to
keep his hips still as Sam slowly slides his finger out and back in, again and
again and again, taking his sweet time in unravelling Dean’s sanity thread by
fraying thread.
“Like this?” Sam asks, and it’s a genuine question, wide eyes gazing down at
Dean from where Sam’s kneeling between his legs, concentration etched into
every contour of his face.
“Yes,” Dean chokes out, “’nother one, c’mon, Sam,” as Sam curiously curls his
finger, bumping right up against one of those spots deep inside that Dean’s
only ever managed to brush against, alone in the shower, one finger awkwardly
crooked inside of him. Sam bites his lip and does as he’s told, slipping out of
Dean and pressing back in with two. Dean moans at the burn of it, the feeling
of himself stretching around Sammy’s fingers, sharp shoots of pain between his
thighs as he tips his head back vulnerably.
The mattress dips and suddenly Sam’s mouth is there, silky-soft lips latching
onto his newly-exposed neck and sucking a bruise into his skin, little tongue
darting out to soothe over the red-purple mark blooming there. Dean groans as
Sam’s fingers shift deeper inside of him, and his arm is wedged awkwardly
between them but his fingers are long and perfect and fucking into him in a
shaky rhythm, so Dean just throws an arm around Sam’s neck, dragging him into a
real kiss and whimpering a little into his mouth.
Sam mumbles, “You—do you want more?” and Dean pauses a little to catch his
breath before shaking his head. “No,” he replies, “just like this— fuck, feels
good like this,” and Sam smiles, bright and sunny and delighted at the sight of
Dean falling apart beneath him.
Dean’s hips are shifting restlessly, grinding down onto the intrusion, and as
much as Dean doesn’t want to ride Sam’s hand like a whore, every tiny circle of
his hips melt his bones a little more, every buck and jerk pushing his cock up
into Sammy’s soft belly and making him moan.
“God,” he gasps, “s-so good, Sammy. Good—good fuckin’ boy, fillin’ me up like
this, just like I tell you, huh? Make me so hot, baby, f-fuck—“ and Sam moans
into his mouth as he tugs at a chunk of Sam’s hair, even though Sam’s not the
one with two fingers pressing clumsily into his prostate. “Sammy,” Dean groans
helplessly, grappling to hold on to the last shreds of his control but it’s
slipping with every uncoordinated shove of Sam’s fingers into his ass.
“Yeah, s’okay,” Sam mumbles, pecking sweetly at Dean’s lips when Dean becomes
too preoccupied to kiss more technically than that.
Dean locks his thighs around Sam’s skinny waist, hard muscles keeping him right
where he wants him as he ruts his cock against the bare, lean skin of Sam’s
stomach. He can hear himself making the most embarrassing sounds, sounds like
the ones that chick Carly had made when he’d had her in the alley behind the
bar the other day; soft, high-pitched whines, little whimpers that catch in his
throat and flush his cheeks with pink.
“You’re so gorgeous like this, Dean,” Sam whispers in pure awe, and Dean jerks
his hips, clenches around Sam’s fingers and comes with a shout and a yank on
Sam’s hair.
“Fuck,” Dean breathes with a shaky laugh a few minutes later, once he’s caught
his breath back.
“Yeah,” Sam agrees, grinning and climbing on top of him where he’s sprawled
haphazardly on the bed. “So, my turn next time?”
End Notes
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