Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/7033909.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester
  Character:
      Sam_Winchester, Dean_Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      Sibling_Incest, Voyeurism, Masturbation, Dubiously_Consensual_Blow_Jobs,
      Ficlet
  Stats:
      Published: 2008-05-12 Words: 450
****** Taste and Touch ******
by mickeym
Notes
     Written as email porn for Leighm, because it's fun to get her wound
     up :) Her response was a really bad word, and a "post this! Now!" And
     so I'm following orders here. Hope you enjoy! (Also, have not
     forgotten about birthday ficlets nor the fact that I owe 1093481094
     people responses on comments. I swear I'm working on it! :))
At sixteen, Sam's gorgeous. Dean can't keep his eyes off his brother, no matter
how hard he tries. He remembers the night a couple years ago -- and a couple
since then, though none recently, thank god -- when he watched Sam jerk off,
his low grunts and moans as he came hot enough to send Dean over the edge with
just a couple strokes on his dick.
And now it's like a fucking re-run, except Dean's not sure Sam's actually awake
this time. He's moaning in his sleep, twisting and wriggling, and Dean watches
with guilt and arousal as Sam rubs himself to full hardness through his shorts.
Huge, now; bigger than Dean, possibly. Tip of his dick sticking up above the
waistband, slick tracks on Sam's belly. Sam moans in his sleep again, a
breathless, hoarse noise that almost sounds like Dean's name.
Dean rolls onto his side and strokes himself through his shorts, then decides
fuck that, and shoves his hand down inside. Skin-to-skin is always better, and
he hisses his pleasure through his teeth, eyes never straying from his
brother's body.
Sam must feel the same way about skin on skin, because his wriggling and
shifting works his shorts down, and holy fuck, he's thick and long and Dean
strokes himself and imagines the weight and heft of Sam's dick in his hand;
imagines the heat of it against his tongue and down his throat. He licks his
palm and goes back to stroking, slide-glide of hand on dick, imagining going
down on Sam. He'll taste sweet, and salty, not bitter. The dark curls around
his dick will beckon Dean to bury his nose there, breathing in the heady scent
of musk and sex, sweat and Sam. He wants to breathe it in, fill his lungs with
it. Lick at Sam's balls, maybe take one or both into his mouth and suck. Tongue
the rough line between them and listen to Sam keen his name.
Sam shifts like he senses Dean's thoughts, drawing one leg up and spreading his
thighs. Dark shadows draw Dean, pull him away from his bed and over to Sam's;
have him ducking his head and lapping at the slick pearling up from the small
slit. Sam whimpers and reaches down, fingers scrabbling at Dean's hair. Dean
swallows him down, tastes the saltsweet heat as Sam arches and thrusts, coming
with that first touch of Dean's mouth around him.
Dean follows a moment later, panting through the heat of his orgasm. He's still
slumped on the side of Sam's bed trying to regulate his breathing, when Sam's
voice slips over him, soft and low, thick with sleep and sex.
"Did I taste good?"
~fin~
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