Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1976553.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester
  Character:
      Sam_Winchester, Dean_Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      Masturbation, Showing_Off, Pre-Slash, Pre-Series, Slight_Voyeurism,
      Teasing, slight_exhibitionism
  Series:
      Part 1 of Next_Time
  Collections:
      Sinful_Desire
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-07-18 Words: 656
****** Through the Curtains ******
by fiendishkitty
Summary
     Sam watches and wants.
My thoughts are kinda jumbled as I round the corner of the block. I’m thinking
about school and the homework I have. I’m not paying attention or else the
sight that greets me in front of our current rental wouldn’t hit me so hard.
Dean. Dean in a grease stained white t-shirt with the sleeves ripped off. Dean
in low slung jeans. Dean covered in a sheen of sweat. Dean taking a drink from
a cold bottle of beer, licking missed drops from the rim then pressing it to
his forehead. Dean leaning so far over into the front of the Impala as he
tinkers with it that his shirt rides up in the back, baring the waistband of
his dark green boxers.
I shift my bag to cover the erection I now have. The erection that seems to
occur every time I get confronted with Dean doing something my hormones
consider sexy. Like, cleaning the guns. Or fixing the car. Or breathing. Or
smiling at me. Like he’s doing now as he looks up and sees me coming up the
driveway.
“Sammy! How was school, baby boy?” His shirt hitches up in the front as he
props his forearms on the open hood, exposing his tan stomach and I start
running calculus in my head in an effort to keep from coming on the spot.
“I’m seventeen, Dean. You can stop calling me baby boy any time now.” I know I
sound petulant and whiny, but it’s apparently my little brother default mode.
Dean stands up, hip cocked to lean on the fender. “No can do. You’ll always be
my baby boy.” He cards a hand through his hair, runs his tongue over his bottom
lip and smiles at me again.
“Whatever.” I readjust my bag and shove my hands in my pockets. “I got
homework.” I turn and shuffle up the walk to the front door. I’m pretty sure
it’s a miracle that I manage to keep myself in check long enough to get inside.
My pants are open, hand wrapping around my dick, moan escaping my mouth before
my bag even hits the ground. Propped against the arm of the couch, I watch Dean
through the sheer curtains covering the window. He’s still leaning against the
car and, as I watch, he stretches his arms over his head causing more of his
stomach to be exposed and my hand to speed up on my cock. I swipe my thumb over
the head and smooth the pre-come I collect around and down to help slick the
way.
A breeze blows through causing the curtains to flutter. Dean takes off his
shirt and stretches again, his tanned skin pulling taut over muscles honed from
years of hunting and I can’t help but moan as I think about tracing the lines
of those muscles with my tongue. I’m desperate to come, whimpering “please
please please” between moans. Rolling my balls in the hand that isn’t tugging
my cock. Staring at Dean so hard that I’m surprised he doesn’t collapse from
the weight of my gaze.
I reach the peak of my climb to orgasm when I see Dean suck his thumb (fucking
suck his thumb) for a second and swipe that thumb over his nipple then pinch
it. What. The. Fuck. I’m coming. Hot, wet and everywhere. I try to catch it
with my hand, but it’s just too much and my hands are shaking, my body is
shaking, my vision is whiting out. I’m left shuddering against the arm of the
couch, panting like I ran a marathon and thoroughly fucked out.
About thirty seconds after I start to come down from my high, my phone chirps
out that I have a text message. I pull it out of my pocket with the hand not
covered in jizz and flip it open. The message is only one sentence.
*Next time, baby boy, I wanna watch.*
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