Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/473776.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester
  Character:
      Dean_Winchester, Sam_Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      Paraphilias, Incest, Sibling_Incest, Knifeplay, Bloodplay, Periculophilia
  Series:
      Part 1 of Paraphilias_and_Other_Compulsions
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-07-31 Words: 751
****** Periculophilia ******
by Crystalwren
Summary
     There's a first time for everything. And Sammy's always been an early
     starter.
Notes
     Periculophilia is a paraphilia. It's a sexual attraction to violent
     or dangerous situations.
See the end of the work for more notes
It’s night and they’re hiding, lying on their bellies under the bushes as they
wait for the witches to come out and play. The moon is full and bright, the
brightest it’s been for months and months and the light paints the clearing in
silver and grey. On nights like this the witches dance, creeping out from their
hiding places in murky, mundane suburbia. Easy to find. Easy to hunt. Not so
easy to kill but at least they can be tracked through the dark.
This is the first time that John’s allowed Sammy and Dean to hunt without him,
and the first time that Sammy’s hunted humans. Dean can smell his excitement,
feral and blood warm. Sammy stirs slightly, just a wiggle of his hips. It’s
noiseless but Dean can feel it and he turns his head, presses his lips against
Sammy’s temple. “Stay still,” breathed more than spoken. Sammy’s hair smells
like the shampoo Dean had stolen from one of his one night stands, faintly
sweet and cinnamon.
The air’s full of the sounds of insects calling, begging each other for a fuck.
Every now and again they hush as some small predator slips by, but they start
singing almost as soon as the danger has gone.
Sammy wiggles again. His arm comes around Dean’s waist and the warm metal of
his knife presses against the small of Dean’s back. Delicious, feels so good
but Sammy has to keep still. Dean nuzzles into the side of his neck and bites.
Just a little nip but it’s enough to warn. Sammy quietens but he leaves his
hand where it is, knife against Dean’s spine. One twitch and blood will be
drawn.
The night is so beautiful.
Sammy fucked someone for the first time three days ago. He hasn’t said anything
but Dean can tell, Sammy’s his little brother and no one knows Sammy better
than Dean. It wasn’t a girl Sammy had slept with. It was some kid he’d met
through the soccer team that he wasn’t supposed a part of. A boy a little older
than Sammy, soft brown doe eyes to make up for skinny, gangling limbs. Dean
doesn’t mind that; he knows that the first time is always strange and the who
doesn’t really count. When Dean was Sammy’s age he used to get off on the
thought of John getting off. It used to make him ashamed but when he discovered
girls, discovered what was between their legs, that was the end of his
fantasies of John. It’s over now, he’s moved on and stopped feeling guilty
about it. But still. It’d been intense while it lasted.
There’s a soft hiss as Sammy breathes out. His hand moves again, the knife
tucked carefully in his palm. He begins to stroke Dean’s spine, drifts gently
over Dean’s buttocks, slides down onto Dean’s thighs and then moves back up.
Sammy’s skin is so soft, no trace of beard just yet, tastes like soap as Dean
mouths the side of his neck. The pulse under Dean’s lips jumps and the knife
slips, point cutting through his shirt and piercing his skin. Just enough to
draw blood and he makes a noise, just a small one, hidden under the mating
calls of crickets and beetles.
“Wanna fuck you,” Sammy whispers and the knife cuts again, deliberately this
time. Still shallow but more blood. “Wanna lick you.” The knife drifts back
down and it suddenly pushes between his legs, pressing hard against the seam of
his jeans. It’s dangerous and gorgeous.
“Later,” Dean says. He licks the bite mark he’s left on Sammy’s neck. Then he
bites down again, hard. Sammy squirms, his hip pressing against Dean’s, breath
coming short and hard.
Twigs snap and the crickets stop singing. The women are arriving, naked for the
witches’ Esbat, heavy breasts swinging and their pubises black and shadowed.
Dean’s mouth fills with saliva and he swallows, thinking about swallowing
Sammy’s cock. The witches begin to dance in the moonlight, ritual dances,
graceful and lustful, sex and fertility. Sammy’s knife presses harder, the flat
of the blade shoving against Dean’s hole, rocking down to press against his
balls.
Dean keeps biting Sammy’s neck, grinds his hips against the ground. Comes so
hard that he’s wrung out, shaking when it’s over.
“I’m going to fuck you,” Sammy says again, his eyes fixed firmly on the women
dancing to some silent beat.
And Dean helplessly, hopelessly, can only mouth, “Yes. Yes,” against his
brother’s skin.
End Notes
     This is the second fic of mine to focus on a paraphilia. It isn't
     part of a series but it does follow a general theme.
     Please forgive the purple prose and the spelling mistakes.
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