Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/219967.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester
  Character:
      Dean_Winchester, Sam_Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      Weechesters, Wincest_-_Freeform, Sibling_Incest, Clubbing
  Stats:
      Published: 2011-07-06 Words: 3307
****** Things We Don't Talk About ******
by BewareTheIdes15
Summary
     It had to be the sex demon getting them to do this, right? Those
     things could do this kind of shit, make people all horny and crazy.
     He thought. He actually couldn't remember much of anything with
     Sammy's tongue flicking hesitantly at his, like he wasn't really sure
     if that was ok.
Dean cast his gaze around through the dark and the flashing lights to find
Sammy. It had only been about four seconds since the last time he'd looked, so
his little brother hadn't moved from his spot on the wall. Dean sighed again
with relief and let the girl trying to hump his leg and call it dancing, move a
little closer. If she noticed that he wasn't paying much attention to her, she
didn't seem to care.
He tried to look around the mass of dancing bodies for anyone suspicious, but
between the lights and whatever kind of mist stuff was floating in the air, he
doubted he would have seen it if a fucking chupacabra was running around.
His eyes slid back over to his brother - sometimes it was really convenient
that the kid was like half a foot taller than anyone else in the room, it made
keeping an eye on him in this mess a lot easier. Dean had not been happy with
the idea of Sammy coming out on this hunt, but he'd had to agree that Dad would
set off alarm bells the second he stepped inside the club.
The place had developed a reputation as the hottest nightspot around, and Dean
could see why, the air was so heavy with sex he'd gotten half-hard as soon as
they stepped through the door. Unfortunately, several of its patrons had turned
up as human raisins in their homes over the last couple of weeks which could
only mean a succubus or an incubus. Winchester's to the rescue!
Some guy was leaning against the wall with Sam now, clearly trying to hit on
his oblivious little brother. He wondered how Sammy would react, knowing that
he'd attracted a guy - a dark, secret part of him hoped that Sam might like it.
The bouncers hadn't even bothered to ask for Sammy's fake ID when they'd come
in; at almost 17 he was tall enough to pass for grown and hot enough that they
didn't really give a fuck if he was legal.
And he was fucking hot. Which was ok for Dean to think because attracting the
thing's attention with hotness was basically their job right then and there was
nothing wrong with noticing that his baby brother had grown into a good looking
guy. Or the fact that, if Dean hadn't been related to him, he would have been
putting that other guy's sad attempts at flirting with Sammy to shame. As long
as he didn't do anything about it, there was nothing wrong with looking.
Sammy was definitely worth looking at, too. Baggy ripped jeans - they didn't
even make anything form-fitting in 'freakishly tall and thin' sizes - slung low
on his hips, bunched around black motorcycle boots; skintight black t-shirt
that was just a little too short - because it was Dean's - and showed off a
delicious line of tan skin and hard abs and that fucking little muscle where
his hip and thigh joined that made Dean's mouth water. There wasn't an inch of
that exposed skin that didn't need his mouth's immediate, personal attention
and - fuck! Find the incubus, find the incubus, find the incubus.
Dean had never thought about his little brother being self-conscious - shy,
yeah, but what did Sammy have to be self-conscious about? - until the fight
over getting dressed that night. Sam had wanted at least two more layers on and
had flat out refused to wear the wifebeater that showed off his broad, muscular
shoulders and made Dean excuse himself to the bathroom for a minute after Sam
had tried it on.
Even after brow-beating Sammy into wearing what he had on, the kid had spent
half the night tugging at the shirt like he was going to make it bigger just
from pulling. Not to mention the fact that he had brushed off everybody - and
there had been several - who'd tried to pick him up, mainly by staring at the
ground and refusing to acknowledge them.
Mostly that would have been ok by Dean - his protective streak acted up at just
the idea of some stranger getting all grabby with Sammy the way the girl Dean
was dancing with was - but they were there to give off lots of sexual energy
and bait the monster into following them. Sam needed to do his job, damnit! And
that fucker needed to get his slutty little fingers off of that muscle on Sam's
hip!
Dean was already shoving his way through the crowd before he realized he'd
decided to go help Sammy out. After all, the kid was still pretty innocent; he
didn't need to have some club skank rubbing all over him. It was Dean's sacred
big brother duty to protect Sammy’s' virtue... or something. Whatever, that
sonofabitch was done touching his brother.
His hands hit to wall on either side of Sam's head, bodies molding into one
long line that forced that prick's hand out of the way. Sam looked too stunned
to move.
The bastard who'd been hitting on him shouted, "Hey!" over the music, grabbing
at Dean's shoulder. He shot the guy a smile then leaned in to Sammy's ear and
said,
"Kiss me."
Because the guy next to him wasn't going to give up without a little proof that
they were together and not at all because Dean had been thinking about it on a
daily basis for almost three years.
Sammy had at least regained enough motor function to blink stupidly at Dean for
a second before slowly leaning in. He didn't quite go far enough to touch their
lips together, hovering at almost-there like he thought maybe Dean was going to
start laughing at him any second and call him gullible. Which was basically the
very bottom of Dean’s 'stuff I want to do' list and to prove it, he pressed
forward just that little bit more to feel the slide of Sam's lips - was he
wearing lip gloss? Where the hell did he get lip gloss? - on his own.
And yes, definitely lip gloss, cherry flavored, which was nice on some random
girl Dean might make out with, but awful now because it was keeping him from
tasting Sam. The only logical solution was to take Sam's lips one at a time
into his mouth and suck them clean until there was nothing but the indefinable,
incomparable flavor of Sammy.
If the guy who'd been trying to pick Sam up was still standing there, Dean
hoped he was enjoying the show, because there wasn't even any point in
pretending he wasn't drinking down Sammy's moans like a man dying of thirst and
rolling his instantly hard dick against his brother for any reason other than
because Dean wanted to.
Sam didn't seem to mind either though; those big hands spreading across Dean's
hips to pull him even harder into Sam's engorged length. Dean spared half a
second to run his hands down his own body and reposition Sammy's to grip his
ass. Whatever the hell was going on here, he was damn well going to enjoy the
full-effect while it lasted.
It had to be the sex demon getting them to do this, right? Those things could
do this kind of shit, make people all horny and crazy. He thought. He actually
couldn't remember much of anything with Sammy's tongue flicking hesitantly at
his, like he wasn't really sure if that was ok. Sam could probably give him and
encyclopedic rundown on all things Incubi, but his mouth was busy doing much
more important things, and Dean coaxed the pink muscle of Sam's tongue to work
against his just to make sure it stayed that way.
If it hadn't been Sammy's mouth on his, it wouldn't have even ranked in the top
kisses of Dean's life - teeth clacking at random intervals when Sam tried to
move his head, noses bumping, way too sloppy with the tongue action - but it
was Sam's mouth on his, Sam's hands on his ass, Sammy's soft hair wrapped
around his fingers and Sam's scent and heat and taste just fucking everywhere,
so this took the number one slot, no questions asked.
Typical Sam, whatever he lacked in finesse, he made up for with pure
determination and it was kind of spine-melting to have all of that willpower
directed solely at making Dean feel good. He could only imagine what that would
be like in bed.
For a couple of seconds, the pure wrong of that thought almost made him stop,
even as the ache in his balls was screaming for more. But Sammy had always been
able to read him like a book on some stuff - fucking handy on a hunt, shitty
when he didn't want to talk about something - so he moved one of those massive
hands off of Dean's ass - he almost whined at the loss - and pressed it to the
back of Dean's head, keeping him exactly where he was. And, really, it was hard
to argue with an eloquent point like that, so Dean just licked his way back
into Sammy's mouth and enjoyed the way everything inside of him went liquid.
Except that it suddenly occurred to him that there was virtually everywhere on
Sam's body that he hadn't kissed yet and that just was not going to fly.
Almost painfully, Dean broke the kiss - taking the serious risk that doing so
was going to make his cock spontaneously combust - and started tugging Sammy
along the wall to where he could see the bathroom dimly illuminated. Sam was
almost stepping on top of him trying to keep close, that long hard dick
pressing into Dean's back. It took everything he had not to just stop and grind
his little brother off in front of all of those people.
Fuck if it wasn't the most wrong thing he had ever done to pull Sammy into the
men's room, past some guy taking a piss who shot them a look when Dean shoved
the younger man into a stall and followed him in. He hadn't even really paid
any attention to the look, but apparently Sam had because he was blushing like
he'd just walked through the club naked. Or maybe he was just nervous. Or
maybe... maybe he wanted to stop. Maybe this was too much - fuck that, this was
definitely too much - and Sam was trying to figure out how to tell Dean 'no'.
Maybe -
Maybe Sammy was going to shove him up against the stall door and start tongue
fucking him. The kid was nothing if not a fast learner.
"Dean, Dean, Dean," Sam was panting, pressing his name right into his skin as
he kissed frantically around Dean's chin and jaw. Which reminded him of why
he'd dragged them in there in the first place. Sam was humping up against him
like the horny teenager he was and - fuck, so messed up, so fucking wrong and
hot and yes - it took Dean two tries to get Sammy's pants sliding down.
Damn, just damn. He had sort of guessed it would be big before, what with
everything else on Sam's body just being fucking enormous and having seen it
soft more times than he could count, but actually looking down at Sammy's hard
length - dark purple and positively soaked with precome - made something weird
happen to his guts like all of his internal organs had decided to play musical
chairs.
There really wasn't any way in the world that he could not sink to his knees
and start licking at it like it was the best damn thing he'd ever tasted. Which
it so was. Bitter and salty and sweet and hot and just Sam all over the tongue,
turning his lips slick. Sam was trembling so hard it seemed like the only thing
keeping him upright was the death grip he had on the top of the stall.
There wasn't going to be much guesswork about what they were doing in there if
anybody came in, between Dean's clearly visible knees and Sam's fingers
sticking out and the fucked-out, getting-murdered-and-loving-it sounds pouring
out of Sammy's mouth but unless they planned on dragging Dean away - and just
let them fucking try - he wasn't going to stop until he had a whole mouthful of
white, hot Sam and could finally die happy.
Dean was giving his little brother everything he had, every trick he'd ever
used or had used on him to make sure that nobody who came after him - his
fingers dug into Sam's hips hard enough to leave perfect round bruises at the
thought of somebody else doing this - would ever come close to topping this for
Sam. No matter what happened when this was over, he was going to have a
permanent place in Sammy's head as the best damn blow job he ever got.
He took Sam down to the base, his nose pressed in tight dark curls and wished
he could breathe right so he could really enjoy Sam's musk. Doing his best to
keep his throat tight and flexing, he let his tongue sneak out just a little
bit and touch the soft skin of the sac and it was a really good thing that he
had those few years on Sam because it meant that he probably wasn't going to
blow his wad just from having his little brother's hands suddenly fist in his
hair.
The mantra of his name falling over Sammy's lips dripped like warm honey down
his spine and he could probably learn how to survive without breathing if it
meant this didn't have to stop. Except he could fucking feel the rush of blood
in Sam's dick pulsing against his tongue and he knew exactly how soon this was
going to be over. It took way more effort than it should have to haul himself
most of the way off of Sammy's dick, curling a stroking fist around the shaft
and concentrating all of his effort on the crown.
Sam's hissed breath as Dean circled the slit just added another spark to the
flash of heat that was going to consume him, burn him up until there was
nothing left but all of the bits that were touching Sam. He was drifting
somewhere strange; halfway between with the muggy haze that weighed down his
body and the razor-sharp focus that hunting had drilled into him, now all for
his brother and what he needed - it had never really been for anything else.
He was learning every twitch-flex of muscles under his flingers, across his
lips, dragging it out just a little bit longer because it was the chance of a
lifetime and he might never get it again. Sam was doing a hell of job hanging
on and he wondered if the same things were going through his little brother's
head.
Then, because he had to, because he wanted the wet pulse of Sam's pleasure as
bad as he wanted to keep the weight of Sammy on his tongue forever, Dean slid
the pad of his free hand through the slick of saliva and precome smeared on
Sam's cock and reached around to feel that hot hidden pucker go tense. He
didn't even slide it in, just the pressure of it there enough to send Sammy
over the edge, filling him up faster than Dean could swallow so that some of it
poured down over his chin, splattering on his bent knees.
He sucked him through the aftershocks until Sam had gotten too sensitive and
let out a high whine.
Without Sam's need to focus on Dean's own came roaring back reminding him that,
hey, he had a dick - a really hard, desperate, going-to-shrivel-up-and-die-
without-some-attention-right-fucking-now dick. It felt like his balls were
trying to climb up into his intestines.
"Sammy," he panted, standing as gracefully as he could with his little brother
practically falling on him, "Need, God, I need-"
"Anything," Sam gasped, right against his ear, and that was almost enough right
there.
Dean jerked Sam's loose, pliant body face first up against the wall of the
stall - fucking miracle nobody had called the management on them yet - and
froze.
He could do it, spread Sam open and probably pop his cherry there in the dirty
bathroom of a club they were supposed to be hunting a monster in, with Dad
waiting for them back at the motel. But he didn't have any lube, and even with
a condom and spit, it would hurt like a mother fucker since he just knew he
didn't have the patience to wait and work Sam open really good. Yeah, he could
do that, but he wouldn't, even if not doing it felt like dying.
Instead he flipped his jeans open in record time and pressed his aching cock
between Sammy's thighs, the head sliding up against his balls making them both
shiver. Sam leaned back into him, tensing up his legs for Dean to fuck, fast
and hard.
"Sorry, I'm sorry," he mumbled into Sam's shoulder, not even sure which part he
was apologizing for. He slid his arms around Sam's front; one crossing his
chest to get a firm grip on his little brother's shoulder and really work some
leverage, the other finding Sammy's pebbled nipples through the thin shirt and
playing with them in little pinches and tugs that had the younger man
tightening up even more for him, and adding fresh moans to the overheated air.
"Not sorry," Sam gasped back after so long Dean had almost forgotten he'd said
anything, "'S good. So good, Dean. Come for me, please, want to feel it, Dean."
Dean's world went white hot at the words - he'd always been good at taking
orders - and every muscle in his body spasmed, jerking and thrusting, blunt
nails dragging down Sammy's chest to get him writhing too.
Dean came back from the haze of bliss slowly, to the feel of Sammy licking the
remains of his own come off of Dean's chin. The angle was just off enough to
prevent a kiss but not enough to keep Sam from pressing soft lips to the edges
of Dean's mouth. His own lips responded stumblingly, none of his usual prowess
apparent in the fumbling rub of their bruised mouths. He wondered if Dad would
notice the swelling.
It was more effort than it was worth to peel himself off of Sam, but they
really were supposed to be doing a job, not that he could remember why he
should care at the moment.
Sam pulled up his pants, not even bothering to clean up the mess Dean had
spilled all over his groin and gave Dean this lazy, raw sort of grin that was a
whole new expression on his little brother's face. Finally finished doing up
his pants and with absolutely nothing left to occupy him, Dean at last had to
meet those sex-blown hazel eyes.
Sam looked more completely content than Dean could remember seeing him in a
long time, just leaning against the stall door, daring Dean to try and open it.
Well, Dean Winchester did not back down from a dare, especially from his little
brother, so he took the half-step to close the distance between them and
flicked the lock open. Sam didn't move.
Dean was just gearing up his unresponsive muscles to pull Sammy out of the way,
when the younger man gave a full body roll that brought him away from the door,
pressing every inch of him into contact with Dean in the process.
"Next time I want you to fuck me," he whispered, breath tickling Dean's ear.
Then, cool as a cucumber, Sammy walked out, like committing incest in a public
bathroom was no big deal at all.
The kid might turn out to be a Winchester yet.
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