Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/200747.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M, M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester, Sam_Winchester/Original_Female_Character,
      Sam_Winchester/Original_Male_Character, Dean_Winchester/Original_Female
      Character
  Character:
      Sam_Winchester, Dean_Winchester, Original_Characters
  Additional Tags:
      Unrequited_Love
  Stats:
      Published: 2011-05-17 Words: 4304
****** The First Time Now I Come Alive ******
by transfixeddream
Summary
     Sam Winchester's had a lot of first times in his life.
     Also posted here.
The first time Sam gets kissed, he's twelve. Dad's working a case in Dover,
Ohio, and Sam and Dean have to be the new kids at a new school again, the third
time in two months. He gets invited to one of his classmates' birthdays--Jeremy
Milton, but that doesn't really matter. He's barely been in school for a week
at that point, and he knows he only got invited because Jeremy's mom made him
give invitations to his entire class, weird new kid included.
It's a typical birthday party, not that he's seen all that many, mind you, but
there's cake and ice cream and screaming kids and a piñata. Dean shoplifts a
toy truck from the local store and Sam wraps it up, brings it with him when he
goes, and ends up smiling awkwardly when Jeremy talks about how awesome it is.
Jeremy's mom doesn't pay attention to them once the party moves from the yard
to inside the house. They go down to the basement to play games and somehow,
Sam ends up locked in a closet with a girl. He doesn't even know her name, just
knows that she sits a couple rows ahead of him in class so her last name
probably starts with an L or an M.
She's nervous, and he is, too, but he doesn't think she's nervous because they
have to kiss. No, she seems more than nervous--she's scared. Scared of the
dark, probably, and Sam thinks to himself that she should be scared of it,
should be careful out in the world. He doesn't tell her any of that, just says,
Hey, look. All we gotta do is do it, 'n then they'll let us out, okay?
She nods, and then they lean in, noses getting in the way until they don't, and
they kiss; a peck on the lips and then they're both pulling away, relieved.
It's nothing like he's seen Dean do with girls, all tongue and spit and roaming
hands, but Sam thinks it still counts. Okay, guys, we did it, let us out now,
Sam calls.
There's giggling on the other side, but nobody moves to open the door. Sam
finds the knob in the dark, twists it left and right frantically, except it's
still locked and won't budge an inch.
The girl starts crying then, long sobs that drag on and on, and Sam pounds on
the door with his fists. He silently wishes Dad or Dean were stuck in here with
him instead of the crying girl, because they've had enough practice at breaking
down doors. As it is, Sam's trapped in the tiny, black closet with a crying
girl and his eyes start to tear up, too.
When it finally opens, it's Jeremy's mother looking frantic, and she ignores
Sam in order to comfort the crying girl. Before Sam steps out of the closet, he
wipes at his own eyes.
Dean picks him up and Jeremy's mom tells him what happened, and he acts like
the kind and considerate brother he's supposed to be. He gives Sam shit once
he's in the car, though, laughing, Man, Sammy, didn't know you had it in ya.
You slip her the tongue?
Sam's cheeks heat up and he stares out the window, mutters under his breath,
Fuck you, Dean.
And that's another first.
*
Sam's thirteen when he starts masturbating. It's been building up for a while,
dick going hard between his legs at weird times, and sometimes Dean sees it.
Sometimes he laughs at Sam, sometimes he just smirks, but Sam's angry at his
body for the way it's starting to behave.
Maybe if he had any other brother Sam wouldn't already know what to do, but
he's seen Dean do it a thousand times, quick pumps under the blanket that hides
everything from Sam's view. Still, Sam's accidentally walked in on Dean more
than once, saw with his own eyes just what his brother was doing before Dean
managed to cover up and shout, For fuck sakes, Sam!
He's heard Dean call it everything from beating off to spanking the monkey,
more often than not with a smirk and a crude hand gesture that tells Sam all he
needs to know, if he hadn't caught on already.
So yeah, Sam gets it.
He gets one of Dean's issues of Playboy, a small collection of nude women that
grows each time Dean's feeling particularly plucky enough to snatch one from a
convenience store. Sam already knows where Dean hides 'em: under the motel
mattress because it's one of the only places Dad doesn't look when he gets back
from hunts, like Dad doesn't already know his oldest son thinks about sex
constantly now.
Sam jacks off looking at the glossy pictures, biting on his lip to stifle the
moans he wants to release, because Dean's just in the shower and he's always
got an ear open for Sam. He flips to the center, because Dean's always raving
about that when he's trying to gross Sam out, saying how she's always the best:
Good ol' Hugh, sure knows how to pick 'em. Sam comes in his hand, doesn't
really take time to question the warm texture in his palm before wiping it away
with some Kleenex and tossing it in the garbage can.
The magazine's back where Sam found it by the time Dean comes out of the
shower, hair wet and towel wrapped around his waist. He sniffs the air, twists
his mouth into a small frown, before shrugging it off and heading to his
duffle.
*
Sam figures out twenty-two months after what he thought counted as his first
kiss, really wasn't one. He's a couple months over fourteen and it's another
birthday party, funnily enough. Only it's a girl's birthday; her name's
Allison, she has short black hair and blue eyes, and Sam thinks she's pretty.
It doesn't make any sense for her to invite Sam, because she's a whole year
ahead of him and he only found out her name from the birthday invitation one of
her friends gave him. Still, he goes, because Sam's the kind of guy who doesn't
want to disappoint people. Doesn't really wanna be like Dad.
He has no idea what to get a fifteen year old girl for her birthday, so he
steals a fifty from Dean and stuffs it into a card and envelope. Dean finds out
what he did within five minutes, thumbing through his wallet before walking
over to Sam and slapping the back of his head. He mutters something Sam can't
make out, but he doesn't ask for the money back, either.
Allison greets him when Dean drops him off, takes the card from the end that
Sam's holding it from, her fingers brushing over his palm while she says, I'm
really glad you could make it, Sam.
Sam looks back at Dean, takes in his brother's raised eyebrow as Dean smirks at
Sam. Dean hits the wheel with his palm and then backs out, rolling down the
highway at a speed that breaks every law in the bumfuck little town they're in.
Then Sam turns back to Allison, who's grinning shyly, and smiles back.
The party ends at five, everybody cleared out by five-thirty, but Sam had told
Dean to pick him up at six. The invitation said six.
Allison shrugs apologetically, says, We can wait up in my room if you want. I
have a Nintendo.
He follows her up and sits down on the floor, back resting against the bed. He
picks up one of her controllers and asks, What games do you have? as he looks
up at her. She looks surprised for a second, then settles into a smile as she
brings herself down on Sam's legs until she's wrapped around his waist. Sam's
never had a girl on him before. He's had Dean, when Dad makes them practice
fighting, but this is new, and his dick is already filling with blood at the
feel of Allison against him.
I was thinking, she says, her mouth so very close to his, that we could play a
different game.
Sam kisses her then, jumps in blind because he's not sure what else to do. It
proves to be the right thing, because she kisses back, arms coming up to wrap
loosely around him, one hand hanging limp off his shoulder while the other
combs the back of his hair. Sam's never done this, either, and his hands settle
somewhere along her ribcage. Tongue comes next, and Sam thinks Allison tastes
sweet, like strawberry ice cream and chocolate cake, like the new bubblegum
lip-gloss she'd put on immediately after opening it a few hours ago.
She squirms a little in his lap, and then she pulls her hands back and wraps
one each around his wrists, guides his own hands until his palms are brushing
over her breasts. Sam gets the message, squeezes at them gently as she rocks
into him.
He feels like he's seconds away from loosing it in his jeans, but then,
Allison! Tell Sam his brother's here to pick him up, is echoing through the
room and they both back off like they've been burned.
I'll see you later, Sam, Allison says as he's exiting her room. She kisses him
one last time, and then Sam's hurrying down the stairs and hoping his erection
isn't visible to Dean or, God forbid, Allison's mother.
Looking a little red there, Sammy, Dean says as he enters the car. He's
smirking, which is Dean's default expression lately, and he smells like smoke.
Shut up, Sam says. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.
He still tastes bubblegum lip-gloss.
*
In Clarksdale, Mississippi, Sam gets his first girlfriend. Dean mocks him
endlessly for it, refers to her as Sammy's sweet little girl, but only when
it's just Sam and him. When Melissa is around, Dean shuts his trap, preferring
to smirk at Sam over the book he's pretending to read.
Sam's not sure there's a point to girlfriends when you're fifteen. It seems
mostly a social thing; people can say they're taken, and that means somebody
wanted them enough to do that, which means you're not a total loser. That's
what he thinks; he doesn't really get it beyond that.
Sometimes, he and Melissa will kiss. Not often, because if Melissa comes over
to study after school, Dean seats himself in the motel room and doesn't go
anywhere. Doesn't even go to the bathroom, just sits there and delights in the
awkwardness that is Sam at fifteen, mere months away from a possibly even more
awkward sixteen. They don't go anywhere for the same reason; Dean has to drive
them and then he just watches them. Sam wants to punch Dean, not because he
wants to do things with Melissa, not really, but because Dean is making sure he
couldn't, even if he wanted.
Melissa's parents go away the same weekend that is Sam's last in Clarksdale. He
figures he owes it to her, since they're dating, or whatever, so he tells her
Saturday night when they're studying for a math test. Sam doesn't actually have
to worry about it since he won't be here come Monday, but he helps her study
regardless.
Afterwards, they sit on her bed and she touches Sam. Touches his crotch and
presses down, and Sam's eyes snap down, then back up in surprise. Please, she
says, and Sam's not really sure what she's asking for but he nods anyway.
She takes him out of his jeans and runs her hand down his dick, and it feels
weird--different--than when he does it to himself. It's stumbling strokes and
it's obvious she's never touched a penis before, in the same way that Sam's
never had his touched before. But she kisses him hard and follows him down when
he lies down on the bed. He gets off while tasting her lips, shooting into her
hand, and some of his come gets on his shirt. Some gets on hers, too.
He changes positions, lets her get on her back, then he pulls down her pants
and presses his palm to her. He wishes he knew what to do, wishes he paid more
attention to the motel porn he jacked off to instead of just on the release of
orgasm, but he does his best with what he's got. He rocks up a little, a slow
push, and watches her reaction. Is this okay? he asks, and she nods.
He breaks a couple of firsts that night.
*
He's barely sixteen, few weeks since his birthday, when Sam first figures out
that maybe he's into guys, at least as much as he's into girls. He's supposed
to be sleeping--Dean definitely thinks he is--and he is, until the chick Dean
takes back from the bar proves to be loud. Sam wakes up half way through the
sex and watches, wide-eyed, as Dean fucks into her, grunting harshly, one hand
rubbing between her legs, just above where his dick's sliding in and out. The
girl comes first and screams loud, and Dean quickly glances over at Sam, and
Sam snaps his eyes shut before Dean can catch him.
Come on, baby, the girl's saying then. Sam opens his eyes again and studies her
for a brief moment; she's pretty, but she looks a lot older than Dean. Near
thirty, has to be. Want you to come all over me.
Dean's thrusting slows and Sam watches his brother's face, because, it's just.
There's no way Dean's going to... do that. Sam watches, though, as Dean goes
from slack-jawed to smirking, and then he's nodding and pulling out. He rips
off the condom and then climbs up and over her, slips a knee on either side of
her waist and supports himself with one hand. He jacks off, messy and hard,
rough tugs of his dick, and the tent in Sam's underwear gets harder.
Swallowing, Sam slides his hand under the elastic and grips himself firmly,
jerking himself to the same rhythm as Dean. He keeps watching Dean's dick,
though; can't even bring himself to look at the girl when there's that for his
eyes instead. Even though Dean's been building his up for a while, watching
Dean's cock, thick and hard, head flushed and shiny with sex, slipping through
Dean's fist--Sam comes in his pants after a couple dozen quick pulls.
He ignores the stickiness and keeps watching until Dean's head knocks back and
he groans, low and guttural, as his balls empty. Sam's dick jerks once more.
Sam shuts his eyes, and he's asleep before Dean sees the girl out.
*
Her name is Elizabeth--Beth for short--and she's the first girl who blows him.
She gets down on her knees, between his legs, while they're alone in the motel
room. Dean is somewhere, Sam can't remember where exactly, just, somewhere that
isn't here.
She sucks him hard, uses her tongue to work his underside, gives a lot of
attention to the head of his dick before taking him down. She uses her hand for
what she can't reach, her other hand cupping his balls and rolling them. It's
sloppy and wet and it is, without a doubt, the best thing Sam has ever felt.
His own hands are fists, one trapped in her hair, holding it back because once
he saw Dean do that for a girl, the other with a ball of cheap motel bed sheets
in it.
Sam tugs at her hair when he's close, but she keeps going. At first, Sam thinks
maybe she didn't understand, so he pulls again and Beth squeezes the base of
his cock hard for it. Reluctantly, he lets her keep going until he shoots off
with a shout.
She takes him through orgasm, swallowing his load and then some, sucking at the
shaft and draining him completely before pulling off. She tucks him back in and
says as she rises to her feet, I've gotta get home, my parents are expecting
me. Sam nods, says back, Yeah, my brother'll probably be back soon anyway. She
nods then kisses him, open mouth with tongue.
It's March 21, 2000, and it's the first time that Sam tastes his own come.
*
The first time Sam has sex, real sex, he's seventeen. He's sprouted up tall,
matching Dean's height with a potential to grow even more, and he's all long,
thin, dangly limbs. He feels awkward in his body, but somehow he still ends up
being the object of Tricia Gilbert's affections, at least, that's what Davey
Henderson calls it. Sam's not so sure.
In all honesty, Tricia is more Dean's type than Sam's; long, blonde hair and
full lips that are always painted red. She's a preacher's daughter, and she
fills every stereotype ever written about 'em. Sam learns that when she smiles
at him and pulls him into a dark classroom at school, presses up against him
and whispers filth in his ear. She runs her hand along the outline of his
already hard dick, because he's a teenager and getting hard is as simple as
breathing to him.
Want you to fuck me, Sam, she says, all soft, dirty words, and Sam groans in
response. Want you to fuck me against a wall, Sam. Hard. I want it hard, Sam.
He's noticed that about her, the way she always ends sentences with the name of
who they're directed to. And his name sounds good on her lips, so all he can
say is, Yes, yeah, right.
She smirks then, pops his button and reaches her hand in. His dick is the one
thing he's not self-conscious about; he knows he's got a good size, maybe even
bigger now that it's grown more along with the rest of him. Tricia jerks him
off fast and rough, like she's had practice, and Sam sputters into her touch
until he's wrung out. She pulls her hand out and licks it clean, keeps eye
contact until her palm is just glistening with spit. She says, After school,
Sam. Want it after school, Sam, and then she leaves.
Dean comes to pick him up, and Sam's palms are sweaty as he makes up bullshit
that Dean doesn't buy. His brother must sense something, though, because
finally he says, Sure, whatever. Just makes sure you're back to the motel by
six, man. Dad'll have a fit.
Later, Sam's got a condom on and he's pushing into Tricia. They're on a back
road in Oklahoma, off to the side, and Sam's sinking into her as she squirms
against the backseat. His hair is hanging sweaty in his eyes and she's tight
all around him, and he knows now that she wasn't lying about this.
Come on, Sam, she says finally, when he's deep inside. Fuck me with your big
cock, Sam, she says, and then he pulls back and pushes back in. She swears,
horrible curses that her dad would disown her for, each time following it up
with Sam. Sam, Sam, Sam, like the best prayer he's ever heard. He fucks her to
it, lets his gasps and moans join hers, doesn't say anything apart from oh. He
fucks her, but not hard like she wanted, because it still hurts for her, no
matter what she tries to say; he's seen Dean deny when he's in pain enough to
know when somebody's trying to pretend otherwise.
It's not long before his balls draw up and he spills into the latex. He pulls
out, ties the condom and tosses it and its wrapper in the ditch. Tricia hikes
up her panties and her jeans, drops him off at the motel with a simple,
Goodbye, Sam. Dean looks up from the knife he's sharpening, but doesn't say
anything for once.
Two days later he hears via Matthew Weatherly that Chad Johnson's been bragging
about getting head from Tricia Gilbert. Sam listens and shrugs it off. Not like
it matters much either way; they're leaving in three days.
*
He's still seventeen, closer to eighteen now, though, when he first tastes a
girl.
It's probably weird, Sam thinks. It's probably weird that despite no longer
being a virgin, that this, right here, is the first time he's ever gone down on
a chick. He's had sex a couple of times, got sucked off even more than that,
but Cathy Roberts' legs spread wide, his mouth pressed against her and his
tongue sliding between her wet folds--this is new.
Cathy knows, had dug it out of him and laughed off his sheepish smile after
they'd fucked, said, Well, we can fix that right now if you'd like.
Sam pulls back a little, slides his finger inside her tight heat and twists it.
Cathy moans, her hand rubbing incessantly at her clit, and Sam runs his tongue
along it, slicking Cathy's clit and fingers with spit. He adds another finger,
then trails his tongue down to slide with his fingers.
Eventually, he pulls his fingers free and sucks them into his mouth, tastes her
flavor on his tongue again. He's like a druggie getting a fix right then; he
pushes her thighs further apart and presses his face against her. He runs the
flat of his tongue across her cunt, licking his way inside. Cathy's thighs
threaten to close and he lets them go, relishes in the squeeze of them around
his head as he delves in more, eats her out. His dick is hard again between his
legs, a thick fullness to remind him needlessly that Cathy's not the only one
enjoying this.
He tries something Dean had mentioned years ago, back when he used sex as a
weapon to make Sam blush and sputter. Make sure you always know your ABCs,
Sammy. Never know when it'll come in handy. The way Cathy groans and pushes
back on his tongue, he thinks Dean had a point. Briefly, he wonders if this how
Dean does it. If he still uses this trick when he's tongue-deep in a girl. His
cock throbs harder, and Sam slips one hand down to rub the head.
When he's done, his chin, lips and cheeks are covered in her juices, and she
smiles and pulls him in close, licks his face clean. It makes his cock jerk up
harder, and he covers himself with another condom and sinks back into her.
*
He's at Stanford by the time he realizes there's something he's never done. He
hasn't been here long, just a couple of months, and he's spent those keeping
busy and making sure he knows what he's doing, what he's getting himself into.
People have asked him occasionally to head out to bars with them, student ones
he can get into, but Sam's turned them down every time. Every time until
tonight.
There's a bottle of beer in his hand, half full--it's a wonder what a fake ID
and a couple inches over the tallest guy in the place can get you--and he feels
good. Happier and more content than he's felt since Dad kicked him to the curb
and Dean watched, silent. He swallows, drains the last half of his beer in one
drink.
Sam heads back to the bar, signals the bartender for another, when a hand falls
on his arm. He looks, swallows hard at shining green eyes, freckles and too-
blond hair. Hey, the guy says, conversationally, what're you drinkin'? He licks
his lips, eyes casting down to scan Sam's body, and Sam should tell him to piss
the hell off.
Tap, but I could go for some tequila, he says instead, and the guy grins. Sam
doesn't ask for his name, just plants himself on the barstool, grins back, and
downs the alcohol when it comes. Let's himself enjoy the ride to the main
event.
Sam's fingers twist into the guys hair sometime later, trying to scrape at his
scalp but he's only getting thick locks instead. The guy bobs on Sam's cock,
and it's obvious he's done this before; many times before, with how easy he
sucks Sam down to the root, opening his throat for Sam's cock. Spit is slicking
down Sam's balls, and the guy's knees are probably sore from the rough ground,
but he says nothing, pushes his dick a little firmer into the guy. From the
darkness of the alley and the alcohol in Sam's system, the guy's hair can pass
for a familiar brown.
He thinks that Dean's probably good at this, maybe even better than this guy
right here. There's no proof in the theory--Sam's never seen Dean even show
mild interest in anything that doesn't have a nice set of tits--but he thinks
it all the same. Sam knocks his head back against the building's wall, imagines
it's his brother on his knees in this alley, opening up for Sam's dick, sucking
him down greedily. Sam doesn't have time to give a warning, just shoots down
the guy's throat while his own throat feels raw.
The guy pulls off with a wet sound, stands up and Sam shoves a hand down the
front of his pants and jerks him off roughly, because it's only polite, and
lets the guy suck at his throat. Sam tries not to, but he can't help himself;
he pretends that it's Dean's stubble scratching at his neck, until the guy
hisses against Sam's skin and comes.
Thanks, Sam says, after a short moment, and the guy nods, says with a smirk, No
problem, then tucks himself in and heads back into the bar.
Sam's eighteen, it's a Saturday in January, and for the first time he realizes
just how fucked up he is.
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