Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1879272.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester
  Character:
      Dean_Winchester, Sam_Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      Wincest_-_Freeform, Weecest, Underage_Sam, Road_Head, Blow_Jobs_in_a_Car,
      Sibling_Incest, Sammy_has_a_kink, PWP
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-07-01 Words: 2148
****** The Exact Qualifications of Road Head ******
by magicbubblepipe
Summary
     Dean gets his license and Sam discovers a new kink.
 
            If Sam is being completely honest, he’s always had a thing for Dean
behind the wheel. Something about the way he and the Impala seem to meld into
one, the way Dean’s hands fit just right around the cracked leather. It’s in
the way the rumble of the engine seeps right into his bones and he sinks into
the seat, knees spread wide and confident, at such ease the way Sam hardly ever
is.
            He just hasn’t really been aware of this particular kink of his
until Dean actually gets his driver’s license. See, before that, there had
always been the barrier of Dad in the car, even wounded or sleeping as his
oldest son takes the wheel but now, it’s just Sam riding shotgun and Dean with
that lazy, satisfied grin as he cranks the ignition. The way it is right this
minute as Sam slides into the worn vinyl seat and creaks the door shut.
            He’s just finished his last day of school on his last day in this
craphole town before they move onto the next and it’s just him and Dean and the
stretch of road that’ll take them to meet their dad two states over. Dean
wastes no time peeling out of the school parking lot and burning rubber down
the sun-parched road.
            Trees line either side of the nearly vacant highway and it would be
eerie to someone who wasn’t a Winchester or whom had never traveled through
Missouri. As it is, Sam is left alone with nothing but his thoughts to the
background music of AC/DC as Dean taps the steering wheel along with the drums.
Sam’s eyes fixate on Dean’s capable hands and drift along up his arms, curving
around strong biceps and up his neck to find his ridiculous mouth form words
that Sam has long since memorized and learned to ignore.
            Unavoidably, his gaze follows the line of Dean’s body straight down
to his inevitably splayed legs where he slouches comfortably in the seat. Sam
swallows, heat prickling up his neck and trickling downward to fill his cock.
He shifts slightly, hoping to make the growing tent in his jeans less obvious.
Dean notices him fidgeting and casts a chastising look his way.
            “You don’t have to pee already do you? I know you’ve got a bladder
the size of a friggen’ walnut but we’ve only been on the road for ten minutes!”
            “No, Dean,” Sam grumps back and turns to look out the window. He
feels Dean’s eyes on him for a moment more but he soon returns his attention to
the road.
            Meanwhile, Sam tries to think of anything not involving sucking,
riding, or stroking his brother’s dick. Of course, that only allows his brain
to search for other words like ‘lick’ or ‘hump’. Long story short, his problem
is no closer to going away and he’s getting a little desperate for something to
happen. It’s not like he and Dean have never touched each other that way, but
only ever in the dead of night and they never ever talked about it. So right
now, Sam’s having a mental war over whether Dean would abide getting his dick
sucked by his little brother in broad daylight.
            And the thought of that, of finally actually getting his mouth on
Dean like he’s wanted since that first desperate handjob, is enough to make him
squirm. And look at Dean. Stare at Dean. Like if he looks at him long enough,
he’ll just whip it out and tell him to go to town. But Dean is still singing
along to Back In Black and Sam’s dick is so hard he could hammer nails.
            Before he can talk himself out of it and remember all the ways he
could fuck up the tenuous deal they have going on, Sam slides closer to Dean.
Dean cuts his eyes to him only briefly, probably thinks Sam was just
uncomfortable. And then Sam slides his palm from Dean’s knee, up the firm
length of his thigh, which tenses and jerks in Dean’s surprise.
            Green eyes stare wide at Sam’s hand where it rests warm and final
on his leg and then back up to Sam. He opens his mouth like he’s about to say
something but Sam cuts him off by placing his hand deliberately on Dean’s
crotch and squeezing. Dean lets out a breathless little grunt of a sound and
the car swerves just a little before he gets it back under control. Sam takes
in a shuddering breath and starts working his fingers around the line of Dean’s
hardening, (definitely hardening) cock.
            “Sam-mmyy…” Dean groans softly, voice gravel rough where it drags
sweet and harsh up Sam’s spine.
            “Dean,” he says back because he can’t think of a better word to
convey such an intense desire as this.
            Dean says nothing else but makes no move to stop him, the leather
of the wheel creaking under the tightening grip of his hands. Sam keeps rubbing
him, squeezing along the shaft and rubbing his thumb over the ridge of the head
where it’s now standing in stark relief from his leg. Dean shifts his hips,
seeking more friction or trying to get away, Sam’s not sure but he prays to
whomever listens that it’s not the latter.
            When he’s hard, really hard and Sam can feel the heated pulse
against his hand, he bravely goes for the button and zip of Dean’s fly. A sharp
intake of breath from Dean and he looks down long enough to see Sam’s tanned,
slender fingers pulling his cock out through his pants and he lets out a
desperate kind of moan that makes the blood whoosh in Sam’s ears.
            He’s got the full length of Dean in his hand now, in the light of
day where he can see every gorgeous inch, the flush of the head and the shiny
glisten of pre-come that makes his mouth water. He watches, mesmerized as he
slowly strokes him, fascinated by the way he gets wetter and wetter every time
the tip shoves through the circle of his hand. There’s no way around it. He’s
got to get him in his mouth like right fucking now.
            With no preamble and no overthinking, Sam ducks down under Dean’s
arms and sucks the head of his cock into his mouth. “SHIT, FUCK! SAMMY!” Dean
shouts, hips jerking as he tries not to wreck the car. Sam only hums with
satisfaction at the hot weight of Dean on his tongue, his rich taste even
better than he imagined. He grips the base firmly and leans his weight on
Dean’s legs so he can’t buck up and choke him before he plunges his mouth down
a little further.
            He takes small increments at a time, swirling his tongue along the
underside, pulling off to the tip to collect more salty drops before dipping
back down a little lower than before. Dean’s shifting his hips futilely, his
foot leaden on the gas as Sam explores his length like it’s the best thing he’s
ever had his mouth on. He lets out little puffs of air and sounds he won’t
admit to being whimpers as that molten wetness swallows him deeper and deeper.
            Since Sam’s new to this whole dick sucking thing, there’s only so
far he can go before he chokes. Admittedly, he’s doing a damn impressive job
because Dean’s seriously packing. He vows to get Dean’s dick as far down his
throat as it can go as soon as they have a decently sized horizontal surface
but for now, he pumps the rest with his hand, the movement slicked up from pre-
come and spit that’s dribbled down.
            When he starts bobbing his head in earnest, Dean really starts to
make some noise. He drops one hand from the wheel onto the back of Sam’s head,
twining his fingers in his hair to tug while he moans and spills profanities.
Sam starts grinding his own dick into edge of the seat and groans around his
mouthful, feeling embarrassingly close to coming in his pants.
            Sam doesn’t hear the sirens until Dean is roughly yanking him off
his cock. He lets out a noise of protest which turns to a noise of horror and
he shuffles back to his side of the car and quickly fastens his seatbelt. Dean
is swearing, “shit, shit, shit,” as he shoves his painfully hard erection back
into his jeans and pulls over into the shoulder.
            A few moments later and the crunch of gravel brings a police
officer in his mid-fifties up to Dean’s rolled down window.
            “Afternoon, officer,” Dean says with a voice he hopes is even.
            “You know how fast you were driving there, son?” the officer asks
from under his outdated mustache.
            “Uh…”
            “75,” he replies, lifting his heavy brows, “That’s ten over.”
            Dean looks up the man, trying out his best sheepish grin, “I’m so
sorry officer. I just got my license,” he hands over aforementioned credentials
for the officer to see. “I guess I’m just really nervous because it’s my first
time driving without my dad.”
            The officer looks from the license and back to Dean, considering.
Luckily for Dean, the flush on his face and the light sheen of sweat play in
his favor for the nervous teen driver bit he’s playing at and the guy decides
to let him off the hook with a warning, just this once.
            They wait in a tense silence as the cop returns to his car and
pulls back onto the road. They break it simultaneously with horrified laughter.
When they lock eyes across the emptiness of the bench seat, the laughter ends
as soon as it begun and in a flurry of movement, Sam is crossing the gap
between them and shoving his face right back into Dean’s crotch.
            Liberated from actually driving, Dean can now turn a little and
give Sam better access to yank his jeans back open and engulf his cock in
sloppy, delicious heat. His head thunks back against the window with a rush of
sound dredged up from someplace low and gritty and it makes Sam’s balls ache.
He’s pumping his mouth and hand in tandem, teasing the slit when he discovers
how much noise Dean makes when he does, learning to pull back when it gets too
intense so Dean’s trembling with the need to come.
            Dean’s hand is twisting in his hair, just shy of pushing him down
and he’s nearly biting his lip straight through with the effort of not rocking
his hips. Sam’s other hand is providing something solid and warm for his own
clothed dick to hump when the knowledge of Dean steadily flying apart beneath
him becomes too much to handle.
            When Dean starts making these addictive, short little sounds, Sam
focuses his attention on the head, bobbing fast and dirty, hollowing his cheeks
to suck him harder, eking out more wetness until Dean is pulling on his hair,
telling him ‘he’s gonna-‘ and Sam doesn’t even try to back off. Dean’s release
hits the back of his throat and Sam comes instantly, his resulting groan
vibrating up Dean’s shaft and prolonging the length of time he writhes and
shoots into his mouth.
            Sam strokes firm and slow around the base, sucking steady around
the head to take everything he’s got because now that he’s had a taste, he
wants it all and imagines he always will. He keeps rocking his hips into his
own hand until his softening dick gets too sensitive against the wet, scratchy
fabric so he employs that hand to gently stroke Dean’s balls.
            Dean’s almost keening now, his cock jerking for the last time with
a short spurt of come and the pleasure is blurring into pain. Sam lets him go
reluctantly and flops back over to his side of the car to catch his breath.
When the sweet, fuzzy haze starts to leave his brain, he notices how sticky and
disgusting his pants are. He grimaces down at the wet spot and shifts around,
only to feel the pull of drying jizz on sensitive skin. He’s almost afraid to
look at Dean now that the moment has come and gone, afraid that without the
daze of arousal he won’t want him anymore.
            “Sammy.”
            His stomach jumps and he meets his brother’s eyes with hopeful
trepidation. “Yeah?”
            “You think this still counts as road head or do you actually have
to come while driving?”
            Sam lets out a laughing breath of relief. “I don’t really know the
exact qualifications,” he replies with mock seriousness, “Better try it again
sometime. Just to be sure.”
            Dean nods, “Glad we concur.”
            “Concur? That’s a big word for you.”
            “It’s not big; it’s like…” he counts, “six letters long.”
            Sam snorts, “I rest my case.”
            “Shut up, bitch.”
            “Jerk.”
            They smile.
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