Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/5887090.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester
  Character:
      Sam_Winchester, Dean_Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      Anal_Fingering, Underage_Masturbation, Sam_is_12
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-02-02 Words: 1812
****** The First Three Fingers of Your Right Hand ******
by SammysGirl666
Summary
     Dean walks in on Sammy trying to finger himself. He just needs a
     little help and who is Dean to deny him?
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
Anyone who doesn’t think Dean is the patron saint of self-control, doesn’t have
Sam Winchester as a little brother. At twelve, Sam is still all peach fuzz and
supple curves that are just beginning to define him. Still kind of chubby and
sweet-cheeked, with candy-apple lips and wide eyes, a walking temptation.
Whether the boy knows it or not, Dean’s not sure. All he knows is that it gets
worse with each passing day, each moment Sam has his hands (bigger than they’ve
ever been but still small) on Dean, the older boy feels as if he might lose to
these sick feelings tearing at him. It wasn’t always like this, Dean isn’t a
complete pervert. Started maybe just when Sam turned 12, got worse with every
smile and every time that bottom lip protruded out in a pout.
Dean wants to devour Sam whole, take all his softness for himself, and keep it
safe and his forever. But he refrains, clenches his fists and squeezes his eyes
shut when the feelings threaten to take over.
But Sam is perfect, a perfect little brother, so of course he gives Dean this
too.
It’s not something they discuss prior, it’s a complete surprise. Dean walks
into the motel room and sees Sammy on the bed, naked, short legs parted and one
arm reached back, a skinny finger sunk into his asshole and the other hand
tugging on his pretty, hairless cock. Dean curses, knows he should leave but
can’t. Sam’s face is contorted into one of exertion and frustration as his
hands move, off-beat, simultaneously.
Dean doesn’t mean to, but a sound escapes his throat and Sam’s head snaps
around to look at his brother, wide-eyed. His whole body flushes red and he
pulls his hands away from himself, scrambling off the bed.
“Dean!” He cries in surprise. “I-I’m, I was just—I couldn’t. I was.”
He stutters and stammers and then bolts into the bathroom, the lock clicking
behind him. Dean curses, adjusts the throbbing erection in his jeans and walks
to the bathroom door. He knocks softly at the door and sighs when he gets no
response.
“Hey Sammy,” Dean says. “It’s okay, little man. We…we all do it. No reason to
be embarrassed. Why don’t ya put some clothes on and come on out of there.”
For a long time, Dean doesn’t get a response and almost considers leaving the
room to give Sam his space but then the young, timid voice comes from the other
side of the door.
“Okay,” Sam says and the lock clicks again. The door opens and Sam steps
through and Dean chokes because Sam didn’t put on any clothes. He averts his
eyes and ignores the way his dick twitches in his pants.
“What’s wrong, Sammy?” Dean asks, when the young boy solemnly wraps a towel
around himself. He looks up at Dean through his lashes, shrugs and blushes.
“Nothing,” he mutters.
“Doesn’t sound like nothing,” Dean persists, even as a voice in the back of his
head tells him to let it go. “You wanna talk about it?”
Dean can do this, he thinks. They can talk about sex and Sam masturbating
without repercussions. He sits down on the bed, the bed that Sammy had just
been writhing all over, and waits for the other boy to speak.
“I was…” Sam trails off and his face gets redder. “I was trying to find my
prostate.”
He says it so quietly, Dean almost misses it. But then he gets it and the words
go straight to his already hard cock. A piece of him snaps and it’s all he can
do not to tackle Sam back on the bed and show him every pleasurable act in the
book.
“Oh Sammy,” Dean says, trying to sound sympathetic but it comes out low and
rough and filled with arousal and Sam’s big eyes get even wider as his round
face gets a shade redder, so that he looks like a tomato.
“You…you know about sex, right, Dean?” And Sam’s crackling voice tripping over
the word “sex” almost does it for Dean. Almost. He closes his eyes and takes a
deep, cleansing breath.
“I know a little about a lot of things, Sammy,” Dean says in response, trying
to play it off with a joke. But Sam’s eyes remain wide and earnest and his
flushed little face gets that determined look on it that terrifies Dean as much
as it turns him on.
“Show me, Dean,” Sam asks, voice going breathy and pleading. Dean couldn’t
resist if he tried, Sam’s little plead breaks him in two. “Teach me how to find
my prostate.”
And oh, Dean is going to teach Sam a lot more than that, if he teaches him
anything. But they can start with this. Dean doesn’t know where his moral
compass goes, if he ever had one. He doesn’t know if he even thought of saying
no as Sam climbs onto the bed and drops the towel to reveal his pretty pink
cock and fluttering little hole. Dean has to bite down a lewd sound that comes
to the back of his throat.
Sam takes a bottle of lube from the bedside table and pours it all over the
first three fingers of his right hand.
Dean’s mind short circuits and he’s as good as sold on the idea when Sam starts
to finger himself again. Okay, he thinks bracingly, he can do this. Can hardy
think past the aching in his jeans, but he can do this.
“Are you sure, Sammy?” He asks, has to ask for his own sanity.
“Mhm,” Sam hums, practically chirps in a way that breaks Dean’s heart and does
terrible things to his libido.
Dean blows out a breath, shaky with nerves, but the lust quickly takes reign
and he walks close to the bed. Reaches forward to put his hand over the one Sam
has fingering himself. He takes it and starts to control the movements. Sam
gasps. Maybe this isn’t what Sam meant, but Dean can’t help but touch, feels
quenched after months of crawling the desert. The pale, soft skin is even
softer than he imagined and he wants to run his hands and lips all over it.
Again, he refrains, fights to just keep the contact to this, him guiding Sam’s
small hand in a way that will bring the boy pleasure.
“Wiggle your finger too, Sammy,” Dean directs, voice shot. “It’ll help you find
it if you move your finger around.”
Sam takes his advice and starts to move his finger around as Dean guides his
hand in and out. Dean watches, rapturously, taking in every little detail of
Sam’s dusky pink hole, closing around his thin finger with every movement.
“Still don’t feel anythin’, Dean,” Sam says, sounds like he’s pouting and Dean
wants to shove his cock between those sweet lips. He closes his eyes and opens
them again, taking another shuddering breath.
“Try addin’ another one,” Dean says, practically chokes when his suggestion is
taken. Watches as Sam works two fingers into himself, never moving his hand as
he continues to guide the movements even though Sam has probably picked up on
the rhythm by now.
Sam doesn’t protest, seems to happily let Dean control things. Dean forgets
himself, gets lost in the sweet soft sin of Sam’s body, the warm entrapment of
his guileless eyes and parted lips.
“Gotta get ‘em deep, Sammy,” Dean prompts, pushes Sam harder and further.
“Wiggle them fingers Sammy.”
Dean pushes up, gets Sam fingers deep and the boy wiggles them and his head
snaps back, mouth dropping open in a choked gasp.
“Dean!” Sam cries, and said like that, it almost ruins Dean. “Dean I found it!
Yeah, right there.”
Dean should stop now, should let Sam take care of the rest. But the sound of
his name on Sam’s lips is the sweetest thing he’s ever heard and he starts to
move Sam’s hand faster and harder, probably hurting the boy’s wrist but Sam
doesn’t seem to care, meets Dean’s guiding actions thrust for thrust.
“You like that, Sammy,” Dean asks, can’t help the way the words come. “It’s
good isn’t it? And if you do it a lot, you’ll be able to come like this one
day. Just from this.”
Sam lets out a long, low groan that sets Dean’s inside ablaze. He moves Sam’s
hand faster, continues to watch Sam’s wet fingers stretch open his pink hole.
Their combined actions start to make this delicious squelching sound that does
funny things to Dean’s stomach.
“Can you get a third one in there, Sammy?” and he’s just being greedy now, but
he wants to see it. Wants to see Sam take three of his own fingers, want’s to
imagine it’s his cock that Sam is losing his mind on.
Sam answers without words, working a third finger in along the other two and
Dean can’t hold back the groan this time at the sight. He finally stops guiding
Sam’s hands and, instead, uses his own hands to pull Sam’s cheeks apart so he
has a better view. Sam gets harder and more brutal with it, driving his fingers
inside of himself and calling out for Dean so often, Dean could drown in the
sound of it. His cock is impossibly hard in his jeans, leaking precome and he
wants nothing more than to jerk off all over Sam’s writhing little body but,
again, refrains.
The patron fucking saint of self-control, he swears.
He just keeps his gaze fixed on Sam’s working fingers. Wants to die a little
when Sam reaches down with his other hand to start tugging on his cock. The boy
loses the rhythm a bit and Dean brings his hands back to continue guiding. Sam
cries out thankfully and then his voice breaks as come dribbles out of his
pretty little cock, onto the sheets below.
Dean curses, waits to make sure Sam is okay and then bolts into the bathroom,
himself. He hastily undoes the button and zip of jeans before pulling his
aching cock out. He strokes furiously and it ends embarrassingly fast.
Calls out Sam’s name as he spills all over his hand. His heart is hammering and
his breathing is heavy after it’s over. He closes his eyes and his head thunks
back against the bathroom door. He wipes his hand off and then cracks the door
open, looks to see Sam under the covers, naked, eyes closed. Napping.
Dean huffs and closes the door again. He looks at himself in the mirror, waits
for disgust that doesn’t come. He imagines Sam’s sweet little face, red lips
and big eyes…covered in his big brother’s come. Dean’s spent cock twitches a
the mental image.  
Yeah, he thinks helplessly, he can do this.
End Notes
     More writing at veganweecest.tumblr.com
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