Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/164062.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage, Rape/Non-Con
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester
  Character:
      Sam_Winchester, Dean_Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      Underage_Sex, Incest, Sibling_Incest, Wincest_-_Freeform
  Stats:
      Published: 2011-02-20 Words: 5912
****** Never Let Me Go ******
by gestaltrose
Notes
     This was written for lj user honeyone who had been going through a
     rough spot. All I could offer her was fic and she took me up on it.
Sam was doing it again and Dean was ready to go crazy. Slurp, suck, lick, lick.
. .argh if Sam kept this up Dean was going to kill something, maybe him.
Glancing over at his brother he gave an inaudible groan. Sam had another
popsicle and was going to town on the thing.
Sliding it in and out of his mouth in an insane parody of a blow job made Dean
want to go and slap it out of his hand. But that would be giving away too much
information. Dean closed his eyes and leaned his head back on the ratty couch
that Dad had dug up for this place. He would be dead before the summer was
over. What he wanted to do was adjust his hard on in his pants, but he
couldn’t, not with the reason for the hard on sitting across from him in a
plastic chair that they had spotted by the road.
Sam would lick up the popsicle and then down it. Then he stuck the whole damn
thing in his mouth as Dean opened his eyes again and he stood. Sam looked up at
him his lips insanely red from the popsicle and his cheeks hollowed out as he
sucked on the thing.
Dean did the only thing he could and left, slamming the door behind him. If he
had looked back though he might have changed his mind about leaving as Sam had
an enormous smirk on his face as he started to nibble on the end of his
popsicle.
Managing to make it through most of the summer without either killing Sam or
tying him to the bed and fucking him senseless, Dean was pretty proud of his
self control because if Sam had been anyone else, he probably would have
murdered him.
Then it happened. Dad was gone for a few days again and Dean was coming home
from the pool hall, his fake ID was good enough to get him into the bars but it
was easier with Dad so Dean stuck to hustling pool for milk money. Or maybe he
should have called it popsicle money the way Sam was going through the things.
Later, when he thought about it he knew he let the screen door slam shut behind
him so there was no way he had surprised Sam but it sure seemed like it at the
time. Dean stopped in the arch between the kitchen and the living room and took
in the scene. Sam was sprawled out, naked on the couch, jacking off. His eyes
were closed and Dean watched as his hand rode up his cock and then back down.
Sammy was large but he had some growing to do to catch up with Dean. He noticed
a bright red stain on Sam’s hand and he worried for a second that Sam might be
bleeding.
Sam’s eyes slid open just enough for him to take the now ubiquitous popsicle
and bring it to his mouth to take a long lick. Then as Dean stood transfixed in
the doorway Sam let some of the melting red ‘sicle drip on his cock and Sam
tipped his head back and moaned. The sound shivered down Dean’s spine and
straight to his already hard cock.
“Dean,” Sam said and Dean’s eyes flicked up from Sam’s cock to his face,
thinking he’d been found out. But no, Sam’s eyes were still shut. Damn, damn,
damn if Dad knew what he was thinking he would probably get taken out back and
shot, salted, and burnt. Dean tried to think of something else, tried to turn
away, but he couldn’t. It was like he was mesmerized by Sam and Sam’s dick.
“Mmmm,” Sam moaned and began to move his hips and Dean again glanced at Sam’s
face. This time Sam was looking at him. Looking at him with eyes heavy with
desire and he never stopped moving his hand on his cock. “Dean,” Sam said again
his voice filled with need and Dean was walking into the room before he could
think.
He reached down and pulled Sam up, realizing again that Sam was taller than
him, but for once he didn’t think about how unfair it was, instead he was
pushing Sam, who looked like he was scared that Dean was angry. Taking the rest
of the popsicle from Sam’s unresisting hand Dean brought it up to his mouth.
Sliding the remaining cherry ice into his mouth, he pushed Sam against the wall
and dropped to his knees, Sam’s stained and weeping cock right in front of him.
Sam splayed his large hands against the wall as Dean took him into his mouth.
“Fuck.”
Dean moaned around the ice and Sam’s cock, he normally didn’t get off from
dirty talk but something about it being Sam just about had him come in his
jeans. Letting the cherry flavored ice lay on his tongue he licked up Sam’s
cock letting the ice melt and then he held it in his mouth as he sucked on the
head letting it swirl around it. Dean began to lick and Sam started babbling at
him.
“Dean, oh fuck. Oh yeah. Right there, lick it. I’ve wanted to fuck your lips
forever.”
Moaning more and swallowing what was left of the ‘sicle, the ice flowing cold
down his throat he sucked Sam all the way in, his cock following the ice.
“You are such a pretty bitch.” Dean would never call Sam slow and he seemed to
pick up on Dean’s kink.
Sam continued to talk but the things that came out of his mouth had Dean
blushing at how turned on he was just by hearing Sam talk dirty to him.
“Oh god, I’m gonna come.” Sam had his hands on either side of Dean’s head, his
fingers wrapping around the back of Dean’s neck and his thumbs resting on
Dean’s throat. And Dean’s hips shot forward and for the first time since he was
thirteen he came without touching himself as Sam’s come ran hot down his
throat.
Sam looked pretty and sated and Dean stood and backed off as Sam reached for
him. It was half hearted attempt at best and Dean watched a self-satisfied
smirk, eerily familiar to the one that he often saw looking back at him from
the mirror that rolled over Sam’s face. Suddenly Dean got it. Sam had planned
the whole thing.
He slammed out of the room and into his bedroom. Tossing a change of clothes
into his duffel, Dean zipped the bag up. He needed some time, a day maybe, to
figure out what had just happened and what he was going to do about it. Sam was
leaning in the doorway he had got some sweats on for which Dean was grateful.
“Where you going?”
“Out,” Dean snapped as he swung his bag onto his shoulder.
“When will you be home?”
“Later.” Sam was halfway blocking his way.
“Dean, we need to. . .”
“No, we don’t need to talk,” Dean snapped out. “I will be back later, don’t
forget to put out the salt.”
“Salt? You’re gonna be that late.”
“Sam, damn it. I said I was going out. Don’t forget to lay the salt lines,”
Dean said as he pushed past Sam, not meeting his eyes.
Dean snagged his coat and went outside, Dad had the Impala but he had left Dean
the truck. Dean got in and for a moment laid his head on the steering wheel.
What the hell had he just done? He was supposed to protect Sam, even from
himself and especially from what had just happened. Fuck he was so screwed.
He could feel the come cooling in his pants and he headed out of town.
Rembering that there was a truck stop on the interstate that had showers.
Hours later he sat in clean clothes and nursed a cup of coffee. He came to the
conclusion that Sammy knew exactly what he was doing, this whole damn time.
Dean would have been proud of Sammy if his campaign to get Dean to break hadn’t
been directed, well, at him.
Swallowing down the last bit of coffee from his cup he got up to pay. He had
made up his mind. He wasn’t going to give in to Sam again, he was supposed to
protect his brother not blow him. He would have to ignore Sam if he got naughty
with the popsicles again, be good and tell him to grow up. Also he was going to
act like he had never given Sam a blowjob, that he didn’t remember the musky
smell of Sam and the taste of his come.
The sun was just rising when Dean pulled into the driveway, behind the Impala.
Dad was back. Fucking great. He wasn’t sure if he was more relived because now
Sam would have to back off or worried because Dad was home and Dean hadn’t been
there when he showed up.
Sliding out of the truck, Dean grabbed his bag and headed in to deal with Dad.
John Winchester always demanded perfection from Dean and Dean did his best not
to let his dad down, but he had. Dean and Dad talked for a couple of hours
before Sam got up. About responsibility and trust and tons of shit that made
Dean feel bad. Worse was the knowledge that Dean had broken down and sucked his
brother's dick in the other room just the day before and he couldn’t tell Dad
why he had needed to get away and think.
When Sam walked into the room they dropped the entire conversation. Dean and
Dad both knew how Sammy would react to Dean getting a lecture from Dad. A
sulky, sullen Sam they didn’t need or want. Dad got up and laid a hand on
Dean’s shoulder. He didn’t say anything, he didn’t have to. Dean nodded and Sam
looked grumpy. Really a fifteen year old boy shouldn’t pout. And he shouldn’t
look so completely fuckable doing it. Dean sighed, this wasn’t going to be
easy.
Eight months later, he was looking back fondly on what Sam had put him through.
He had somehow managed not to be left alone with Sam for all that time. Between
Bobby and Father Jim and going with Dad he had almost cheered at the
disappointed look on Sam’s face. But then on the last hunt he had to go and
dislocate his knee cap. He could walk but he shouldn’t and so Dad had left him
home with Sam to recuperate.
Dad had missed the fact that Dean was avoiding being alone with Sam but Sam
hadn’t. He had blown hot and cold the last few months. Getting angry at Dean,
and then ignoring him for weeks it seemed. Bobby had known something was up but
he seemed to think they were just fighting. Sam huffed and pouted and looked so
sad that Dean almost broke again but he remembered what he had promised
himself, that he would take care of Sammy not take him like he wanted to.
Right now Sam was going through one of his ‘cold’ spells and Dean was a bit
relieved that he didn’t have to worry about saying no to Sammy. Spending the
day on the couch watching inane daytime television, Dean was actually looking
forward to Sam coming home when Sam walked through the door. Followed by
another boy. What the hell was Sam thinking? They didn’t bring people home,
they just didn’t. There were too many opportunities for someone to start asking
the wrong questions.
Dean checked the kid out and at around six foot he wasn’t really a kid but
really his hair. . . It was short and he had spiked it all over his head. Sam
barely acknowledged Dean but the guy with him came over.
“Hi, I’m Mark,” his voice was low and smooth. “Actually it’s Marcus but
everyone calls me Mark.”
Sam made a face and it just made Dean want to irritate him more.
“Dean, I’m Sam’s brother.” Dean held his hand out and Mark griped it and held
on just a moment too long before giving it a squeeze.
“Nice to meet you, Dean.” The boy was flirting with him, Dean flicked his eyes
to Sam who was starting to look dangerously angry.
“Come on, Mark. We’ve got to study.” If Sam didn’t sound like a little jealous
bitch then Dean was a bald man with three testicles.
Mark looked over at Sam and leaned into Dean, briefly. “Later, maybe?”
Dean raised his eyebrow and didn’t answer as Mark turned and walked back to Sam
and followed him into Sam’s bedroom. Dean sighed as Sam firmly shut the door,
not quite a slam because a slam would send the door bouncing back at him. Sam
had already found that out the hard way and walked around with a knot on his
forehead for a week.
Levering himself off of the couch, Dean grabbed the damn crutch that Dad had
picked up at Goodwill, it was making him sore under his arm because it didn’t
fit quite right but it helped keep him steady. Knowing he shouldn’t bend his
knee he kept his leg as straight as possible as he made his way down the hall
and to the bathroom. The bathroom being right next to Sam’s room and the walls
being like paper Dean could hear Sam talking, and like usual Sam was talking, a
lot.
He couldn’t quite make out words but Sam seemed angry and Mark’s low voice
rumbled replies. Sam seemed to be calming down as Dean finished pissing and
washing his hands. Heading down the hallway Dean decided he would go outside
and let Sam have some privacy. He knocked quietly and opened Sam’s door,
intending to ask him where his shoes were.
Instead he was greeted with the sight of Mark’s cock disappearing into Sam’s
mouth. Dean stood there, his mouth hanging open his hand still on the door
knob. Sam gagged and Mark held his head and kept pumping. Then Dean was moving
and he was standing right behind Mark. “What the hell do you think you are
doing?” Dean growled into Mark’s ear. Sam opened his eyes and he tried to pull
back but Mark’s fingers were still curled in Sam’s hair.
“You are one step from being castrated.” Dean held his knife just under Mark’s
scrotum.
Mark let go of Sam who scrambled backwards. Mark also raised his hands raised
he tried to reason with Dean, the idiot. Telling Dean that Sam had wanted to do
it, had begged him. Dean lowered his knife.
“Get out,” his voice was cold and emotionless. Dismissing Mark, Dean moved over
and started to kneel by Sam, slowly as his knee was killing him. Mark got his
pants up and should have left but first he kicked the back of Dean’s knee. Sam
tried to warn him but with the knee already hurt he couldn’t move in time. He
went down, right on Sam and Mark gave a harsh laugh and shut the door.
“Dean, you okay?”
Dean breathed through the pain. “Yeah Sam, give me a second.” Finally the pain
began to recede and Dean realized he was sprawled over Sam, he tried to move
but Sam held him in place. Looking into his face, Dean saw Sam’s swollen lips
and the fearful look on Sam’s face and he wanted to make it go away. So Dean
did what he promised himself he would never do. Leaning in, slowly, giving Sam
lots of time to make a gesture, a movement that would tell Dean that he didn’t
want this, Dean kissed Sam.
Sam closed his eyes and Dean backed off. Moving one of his hands from Dean’s
back Sam wrapped his fingers around the back of Dean’s neck and pulled him back
down. Dean let him. Opening his mouth slightly Dean pushed his tongue against
Sam’s lips. Those lips parted and Dean slid his tongue into Sam’s mouth.
They kissed, and kissed, lips moving and tongues brushing against each other,
Dean lost track of time. It might have been five minutes later, it might have
been a half an hour when Dean moved, to push closer to Sam, to rub his hard on
against the one he could feel pressing on his belly. But when he moved his knee
hit the floor and he gasped. Somehow he had managed to forget that it was hurt.
“Shit,” Dean managed to gasp just before his whole world went dark.
When Dean woke up, because there is no way in hell he had just passed out, he
must have needed a nap, a really quick nap, Sam was trying to get him up. “’can
do it Sam,” Dean tried to get up, but he moaned when he bent his knee. That son
of a bitch, if Dean ever caught him, well he probably wouldn’t do anything
because he was twenty and the bastard was probably sixteen or seventeen. “You
need to kick his ass,” Dean murmured to Sam.
Dean had never been afraid of Sammy, he had always just been his little
brother, but Dean would bet a thousand dollars that if Mark saw his face now,
he wouldn’t be laughing. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of Mark.” Sam sounded
angry, really, really fucking angry.
“Just don’t kill him,” Dean tried to joke. “I’d hate to have to salt and burn
his ass because he decided he wanted to haunt you. Oh and never mind trying to
explain to dad.”
Sam chuckled and that light that was so scary left his eyes. Sam at sixteen was
more bone and sinew than muscle but he managed to get Dean on his bed and
started to undo his pants.
“Dude,” Dean said, wondering what the hell Sam was doing.
“Your knee,” Sam said and urged Dean to lift up so that he could slide the
pants off.
Oh yeah, his knee. Dean lifted his ass and let Sam pull his pants down, wincing
as they slid over his knee.
“Oh shit, Dean.” Sam really needed to work on his bedside manner, Dean decided
looking at Sam’s face.
Dean moved his leg slowly, it hurt but he could move it. Sam hit him in the
chest. “Where the hell is that brace we picked up. You are not supposed to be
bending your leg. You’re lucky it didn’t get dislocated again. Dad’s not here
and I would have to try and reset it… and we don’t want that, do we?” Sam was
being sarcastic with him.
Damn it sarcasm was Dean's first line of defense when he was upset, not Sam's.
At least it hadn’t been, Sam’s had been tears for quite a while, mainly because
they worked so well on Dean. “Couldn’t find the brace,” Dean said and very
thoughtfully didn’t add how Sam hadn’t been around to ask.
Sam seemed to hear Dean’s unspoken words anyway, he blushed and looked down.
“’m sorry. ‘bout everything, Mark ‘n. . .” Sam’s voice trailed off as he
examined Dean’s knee. It was swelling again, the swelling had just gone down
from when he had injured it before. “Lay still, I’ll get some ice.”
Leaving Dean alone with his thoughts, which he wasn’t quite clear on. What the
hell had just happened? Walking in on Sam giving Mark a blow job had sent
knives though his gut. Then figuring out that Sam was being forced had enraged
him, beyond just protecting Sam. More like, he’s mine and you don’t get to make
him do anything, especially if I don’t.
Then Mark had kicked him and he had landed on Sammy. Poor abused Sammy looking
obscene with his lips all swollen and his eyes so sad. So Dean had kissed him.
He had to admit it half surprised him that Sam was a good kisser, not too
sloppy or wet. Dean adjusted himself and realized that he was laying on Sammy’s
bed getting hard from remembering kissing him. He couldn’t roll over, even to
grab the blanket because of his knee.
Sam came back with ice in a baggie and a dishtowel. Dean tried to ignore his
hard on as Sam seemed to be focused on his knee, which he had to admit was
looking pretty ugly and swollen. Putting the ice on it, Sam looked up at Dean
and Dean could see how Sam had been crying and then he had washed his face,
trying to hide the evidence.
Dean shifted as best he could to make more room beside him. “Come’re,” Dean
patted the bed beside him. Sam had had a worse day than him. Dean could take
pain what he couldn’t take was Sam hurting or being hurt. “’t’s not your
fault,” Dean murmured as Sam settled carefully beside him. Wrapping his arm
around Sam he pulled him close, Sam’s head a comforting weight on his chest.
“But,” Sam started and there was still that little telltale hitch in Sam’s
voice that just reaffirmed for him that Sam had been crying.
“No,” Dean interrupted him. “You didn’t ask for it, not to be forced like that.
Unless,” Dean lifted his head and looked at the top of Sam’s shaggy head, “I
didn’t fuck that up, right? He was forcing you.”
Sam nodded against his chest. “At first, I wanted to, but he stank and I told
him no. He said I was a tease and teases get what they deserve. I didn’t
deserve that Dean, I didn’t. Did I?” Sam raised his head and his eyes met
Dean’s as he said the last two words.
Lifting his hand that wasn’t wrapped around Sam, Dean slid his fingers through
Sam’s always unruly locks. Then as Sam leaned into his touch he ran his hand
down the side of his face, Sam’s eyes closing and Dean felt his stomach clench
with desire. Sliding his hand down Sam’s jaw Dean lifted his thumb and let it
brush over Sam’s still swollen lips which Sam parted and his tongue slid
against Dean’s thumb.
Closing his eyes and trying to stifle a moan, Dean breathed deep. When he
opened his eyes again, Sam was staring at him, or rather his lips. Dean’s
tongue darted out and wet them and Sam’s pupils dilated, Dean watched them and
his stomach clenched again and his cock jumped, thankfully contained by his
underwear it didn’t catch Sam’s attention that was entirely focused on Dean’s
mouth.
Carefully moving up the bed some, Sam slid his hand in a copy of what Dean had
done, through the hair, down the cheek and then he pressed his thumb against
Dean’s lips. Dean then copied Sam and licked the pad of Sam’s thumb, tasting
the slightly salty Sam taste. Then Dean sucked Sam’s thumb into his mouth,
letting his tongue swirl around it while he hollowed his cheeks around it. Sam
moaned and Dean nearly grinned.
Sam pulled his thumb out and leaned in and kissed Dean again. First there was a
slow brush of his lips against Dean’s, a lick, and then he sucked Dean’s bottom
lip into his mouth, gently licking and then a small bite. “Oh god, Dean. I’ve
wanted to do that for so long.” Sam’s breathy voice rolled over Dean. “It’s not
fair that your lips drive me crazy.”
Dean did smile at Sam after that, and then he tilted his head and wrapped his
hand around the back of Sam’s neck, pulling him down for another kiss. Soon it
was all tongues pressing and licking, teeth nipping, and lips moving in such a
smooth dance that Dean would have thought that they had been doing this
forever.
Maybe in a way they had. Good kissing was about knowing what the other person
wanted and Sam and Dean knew each other’s signals almost subconsciously that
the give and take of a kiss was like second nature to them.
“I want you to fuck me,” Sam said between kisses.
Dean pulled back. “What?”
“I’ve got condoms and lube. I can even get myself ready for you.”
“What?” Dean felt like a broken record, but what Sam was saying surly wasn’t
what Dean was hearing.
“I. Want. You. To. Fuck. Me.” Sam said slowly pausing between each word.
“This isn’t about. . .” Dean waved his hand at the door where Mark had stormed
out.
Sam shook his head. “This is about me taking advantage of you.”
Dean cocked his head and waited for Sam to elaborate. Sam got up and dug in his
bedside table. Pulling out a bottle of lube; silicone something Dean thought he
saw, and then Sam pulled out a condom. Sitting them on the bed beside Dean, Sam
started to strip. Levering himself up on his elbows, Dean watched as Sam pulled
his t-shirt off and then started to unbutton his pants.
Stripping down all the way, Sam stood for a moment and Dean looked at him. He
was too skinny but his last growth spurt had added about five inches on the
boy, making him taller than Dean which had irked the hell out of him last
summer. Glancing down his body, Dean watched as Sam started to get aroused just
from Dean looking at him. Raising an eyebrow, Dean picked up the lube and the
condom. “Come here,” he said, soft and low.
Sam blushed and didn’t it look cute on him. Walking over, he got on the bed,
careful not to knock the ice pack off of Dean’s leg.
“First,” Dean said, running his hand up Sam’s back, “you need to help me out of
this underwear.” Hating to admit that he couldn’t even do that, he watched as
Sam stood and moved the ice from his knee.
“This isn’t looking any better,” Sam said quietly his voice full of guilt as he
reached out to touch Dean’s swollen knee. “I shouldn’t have asked. . .I’m
sorry. . .”
“Sam, stop. Just stop. I hurt it worse when it happened the first time.” Okay
that was a lie, he hadn’t passed out when he had dislocated it in the first
time, but he wasn’t going to make Sam feel worse. “It just means you’re going
to have to do all the work.” Dean leaned back and crossed his arms behind his
head. “I can deal with that.”
Dean’s smug reply seemed to do the trick. Sam slid his fingers inside the top
of Dean’s briefs and pulled them down, carefully getting them out from under
his ass and over his knee, Sam dropped them on the floor. Dean’s erection had
gone down some but now, under Sam’s gaze it was growing again.
Sam’s eyes widened and he reached a hand out and wrapped it around Dean’s cock.
Glancing up at Dean’s face he looked back down at the cock that was easily
bigger than both of his hands. It was excitement and not fear on his face, Dean
was happy to note.
Starting to lean down, Dean stopped him. Sam had, after all, just been made to
give that bastard head, he didn’t want Sam to feel like he had to do this.
“It’s okay,” was all Dean got out before Sam, instead of trying to keep moving
down instead shifted so he could move up and kiss Dean again.
Dean wasn’t going to complain but instead Sam just ghosted over his lips before
he said, “I want to, I’ve wanted to taste you forever, please.”
Well fuck, what could he say to that? 'No,' his brain supplied but then Sam’s
mouth enveloped the head of his cock and he couldn’t say anything but,
"nnnggg." Dean kept his hands away from Sammy head, he didn’t want him thinking
about Mark so he fisted the bedding and moaned as Sam sucked on his cock. Not
that he didn’t want to run his fingers through Sam silky hair, letting it curl
around his fingers as he tightened them in it.
Sam wasn’t an expert but he was enthusiastic and soon Dean was trying to move
his hips but Sam’s hands on his hips stopped him. Dean tried to get Sam to move
so he could ‘prep’ him and to give himself something other than Sam’s hot mouth
stretching over his cock to think about. Sam didn’t move from where he was half
crouching by his side.
“Sam, come on,” Dean said and pulled on his hip again. Coming off of Dean’s
cock with a loud pop Sam looked at him with a questioning look on his face.
Dean again pulled on Sam’s hip. “Move your ass over here, I’m less likely to
move if you’re on top of me,” Dean coaxed.
Sam seemed to consider it for a moment. Then, with his face red he swung a leg
over Dean and presented him with his ass. As Sam took advantage of his new
position and attempted to deep throat Dean, Dean lifted his head and placing
his tongue flat against Sam’s perineum, he slid is tongue up and over Sam’s
hole.
Sputtering, Sam pulled off of Dean and turned to look at him. “You don’t like?”
Dean asked. He had heard that some people didn’t like to be rimmed but Dean had
always found that hard to believe. The feeling of someone’s tongue touching you
there was flat out amazing, almost better than sex, the area was so sensitive.
“I like,” Sam managed to get out, finally and Dean grinned at him. Turning back
Sam wrapped his hand around Dean’s cock and went back to sucking on it with
licks and slurps.
Dean on the other hand, slid another pillow under his head, getting him closer
to Sam without the neck strain. Placing his hands on Sam’s hips he pulled him
back slightly as he licked around Sam’s hole this time. Feeling Sam’s cock jump
against his chest he did it again and was rewarded with Sam coming off his cock
and moaning.
Licking up and over and back down his tongue pressing on Sam’s perineum, Sam
gave up all pretense that he was still trying to suck Dean’s cock, he buried
his forehead against Dean’s hip and just breathed these breath moans that
started to drive Dean as mad as Sam giving him head had. Dean gave Sam’s ass
the attention he thought it deserved and pressing his lips against Sam’s tight
ring of muscle Dean kissed is as he pushed his tongue in. Sam shuddered and
then Dean felt splashed of warm come on his chest and belly as Sam’s hole
clenched around his tongue.
Laying his head back Dean grabbed the lube from where he had set it and flipped
the bottle open. Sam was so out of it he didn’t even move until Dean was
pressing one slicked up finger around his hole. There was no way Sam was going
to fuck him without a lot of lube and a lot of prep, not that he minded.
Sliding his index finger in and out of Sam’s hole, Dean could still feel the
last tremors of Sam’s orgasm and his cock twitched in anticipation.
Pulling his finger out he added more lube and slowly a second finger. Pushing
them in and out until Sam was rocking, trying to get more of Dean’s fingers
inside him. Knowing that the sphincter was an amazing muscle, it could stretch
to accommodate things larger than his cock but you had to take it slow or it
hurt and Dean really really didn’t want to hurt Sam. So he added more lube and
a third finger and Sam started mumbling and pushing back harder. Spreading his
fingers he stretched Sam out.
“Damn it Dean, just fuck me already.”
Dean pulled his fingers out and reached for the condom. Sam was ahead of him
and had the package and the condom out in two movements. Watching Sam as he
intently rolled the condom over his cock, Dean though that he had never seen
anything more erotic.
“Sam,” Dean said. “You don’t. . .”
“Shut up Dean,” Sam said as he finished and then grabbed the lube out of Dean’s
hand. Dean watched as Sam poured it into his hand and then wrapped the hand
around Dean’s cock. Slicking him up Sam moved so he was facing Dean, legs
straddling Dean’s hips and then he reached back and held Dean as he slowly,
slowly pressed himself down.
Watching Sam’s face, Dean knew that Sam was uncomfortable but he didn’t know
what he could do at this point. Finally Sam was fully seated on him and Dean
was near out of his mind with the need to move to fuck up into Sam, to slam his
cock into Sam oh so fucking tight hole.
Sam took a deep breath and let it out.
“Hurt?” Dean asked and Sam shook his head.
“I love your cock in me. It feels so good it’s so big.” Dean could have sworn
that Sam’s voice lowered an octave. Closing his eyes at Sam’s words he felt Sam
slid up and then back down on his cock. “Fuck yeah Dean, do you like this? Do
you like me fucking myself on your cock?”
Dean moaned and he bent his good leg and pushed up against Sam when he was
coming down. Sam just got dirtier and dirtier and with every word Dean got
closer to coming. Dean might have been embarrassed the first time Sam had
talked dirty to him but this time all it did was turn him on. Sam had obviously
been practicing the way the words and phrases rolled off his tongue.
Sam was fisting his own cock as he fucked himself on Dean and Dean was so
fucking close that when he lifted his head and watched his cock slide in and
out of Sam’s tight hole, he lost it. He reached out and held Sam’s hips still
and still just using his good leg he fucked up into Sam, totally out of rhythm
and then he pushed all the way in and came, he would never admit it but his
vision dimmed and it felt like he was going to pass out again.
Giving his cock a few quick strokes Sam came, his come again dropping on Dean’s
stomach and chest. Sam didn’t seem to care as he lay down on Dean and kissed
him. It was long and slow and when they finally parted Dean had a question for
Sam.
“Hurt?”
Sam seemed to really have to think about the answer. “Kind of,” he finally
said. “At the beginning it was burning, you are so big,” Sam smirked at him.
“Then it really began to feel good, and then really good. But now,” Sam
squirmed a bit and Dean felt himself slip out of Sam, “now, it kinda hurts.”
Dean was relieved that Sam hadn’t been in pain. He laid his head back on the
pillow. They were so screwed. Sam either sensed his change in mood or just got
tired of lying in his own come, he stood and held his hand out to Dean to help
him up. Taking Sam’s hand Dean let himself be pulled out of bed and let Sam
help him across the hall and into the bathroom.
Sam never once let go of Dean and somewhere deep inside Dean hoped he never
would.
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