Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/493861.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      Spanking, Community:_salt_burn_porn, Painplay, Established_Relationship,
      Teenage_Winchesters, Pre-Canon
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-08-23 Words: 2174
****** Turning Point ******
by mistyzeo
Summary
     A little after Sam turned sixteen, he started beating Dean in their
     wrestling matches.
Notes
     Written for salt_burn_porn; and the prompt spankings. A thousand
     thanks to riyku for late-night beta and suggestions! Warning for use
     of a character under 18.
Five times out of ten, play-fighting with Dean turned into actual fighting. The
other five times, it turned into sex. It all depended on whether Dad was within
fifty miles of their insane wrestling on the bed, or on the floor, or on the
porch, or in the grass. If Dad was around, Dean's frustration was painfully
real, and Sam gave as good as he got. They'd come back in from a bout covered
in grass stains and fresh bruises, new cuts on their lips and scrapes on the
heels of their hands. Sam had to get stitches once in his eyebrow when Dean hit
him too hard and the metal button on the cuff of his jacket snagged. Dad wasn't
too happy about that one.
If he wasn't around, they moved much faster from innocent, fraternal wrestling
into forbidden territory. Sam would hook a leg around Dean's knees and Dean
would pin him to the ground.
Everything Sam knew about fucking he'd learned from Dean— first in words, when
he'd asked about girls at school, and later in action, when he'd reached for
Dean in the middle of the night. He knew that sex with girls was nothing like
sex with his brother, and he knew that sex with his brother was not something
he should feel so blasé about, but he preferred Dean's physical lessons to his
earlier, more halting, descriptive ones.
A little after Sam turned sixteen, he started beating Dean in their wrestling
matches. He was going to be taller than his brother, Dad had said, and he was
gaining fast. He was also gaining weight, getting stronger, and the first day
he pinned Dean they both stopped short, shocked.
"Let me up," Dean grunted, face screwed up in displeasure.
Sam settled his weight more firmly onto Dean's shoulders and hips. His knees
were locked in around Dean's ribs and the toes of his sneakers dug into the
carpet. This was a funny angle to see his brother: Sam felt tall, and for a
moment his brother looked helpless, all pissed off and sweaty. He grinned.
"Come on, you little shit," Dean said, struggling, hands grasping at Sam's
sides, "I said, let me up!"
"Oh," Sam said, "I heard you. I'm just not doing it."
"Fucker." Dean's hips bucked sharply, rocking Sam up into the air, but he kept
his grip tight and came back down again, square onto Dean's groin. Dean huffed
out a curse.
"Say uncle."
Dean snorted. His face was getting red with the effort it took to push against
Sam's restraining weight. "No way in hell, pipsqueak."
"I'm sorry, what was that?"
"No way in hell!"
"After that."
"Pipsqueak," Dean said, showing teeth. "Doesn't matter how big you get, Sammy-
boy, you'll always be the pipsqueak."
"You're just askin' for trouble," Sam said. He could get used to this, sitting
on his big brother's hips and winning the game for once.
It didn't last. In the second Sam was distracted by his victory Dean had
flipped him, flattening him to the carpet. He escaped the grip of Sam's thighs
and wrestled Sam efficiently onto his stomach, mashing his face into the rug
with a hand on the back of his neck and pinning him with one knee in the back
of Sam's.
"How's that?" Dean asked, while Sam huffed nasty carpet and cursed his own
weakness. "You like that?"
"Fuck you," Sam said, his words muffled. The carpet smelled like cat pee and
old mold. He struggled hard, writhing, and then Dean's hand came down— hard—
right on the center of his left butt cheek.
Sam shrieked. It wasn't manly at all, but neither was getting spanked on the
floor by your twenty-year-old brother. He scrabbled, trying to push up, but
Dean's grip on his neck had him immobile.
Dean was laughing, delighted and surprised. He shifted his weight, sliding his
shin into the crook of Sam's knee, and resettled himself almost on top of Sam.
His other knee was against Sam's hip, and Sam could feel the heat of his thigh
against his ass. He squirmed, suddenly aware that since Dad was eighty miles
away on a job, and Dean was nothing if not persistent, he was almost guaranteed
to be coming in his pants in less then ten minutes.
Dean smacked him again. The pain radiated up Sam's spine and down his left leg,
but the heat of the slap settled between his thighs, fattening his cock in his
boxers. He pushed harder against Dean's grip, suddenly embarrassed.
"What's wrong, Sammy?" Dean cooed. "Your big brother got the best of you?"
Sam shivered, hips twitching against the floor. He was wired wrong; that had to
be it.
The third smack didn't surprise Sam at all. Dean squeezed his cheek, like he
was pressing the shape of his hand into Sam's ass. Sam moaned, despite himself,
and Dean pressed even harder.
"You do like it," Dean said. The heel of his hand worked its way between Sam's
cheeks, pushing the denim of his jeans against his skin. "Guess I'd better
teach you a lesson about getting too cocky." He groped Sam deliberately between
the legs, feeling the shape of his cock trapped against his thigh, and laughed
softly. Sam spasmed, groaning, and tried once more to lift his head. This time,
Dean let him.
"Fuck off," Sam spat, pushing up on his hands. Dean's weight on his leg kept
his lower half down, though, and his hips ground into the carpet. His cock was
already throbbing, and his ass stung like hell.
Dean slapped him again and he jerked, pain and pleasure shooting through him.
Seriously, he was fucked up.
"Ah ah," Dean chided, giving him half a dozen quick slaps in a row. "You need
to learn some respect."
Sam twisted, trying to get his leg out from under Dean's. He didn't really want
it to stop, and he knew the second he stopped fighting and just told Dean to
quit it, Dean would be off of him. So he struggled, and Dean stayed where he
was, and when Sam tried to turn over he just slapped him again. Dean shifted
his weight away from Sam's leg, allowing Sam to pull himself to his knees, and
grabbed Sam around the middle like he was going to turn him upside-down. He
unbuttoned Sam's jeans with that hand and yanked them down his ass with the
other.
"Oh, god," Dean breathed, and the sound of it sent a shiver up Sam's spine.
"Your butt is so red, dude."
"Whose fault is that?" Sam asked, breathless, and Dean sank his teeth briefly
into the fleshy part of his side.
"Mine," he growled, and spanked Sam again. Sam's whole body twitched, trying to
get away, but he pushed back against the carpet into Dean's hand.
"Fuck yeah."
"You are so fucking kinky," Dean muttered, punctuating his words with sharp
little slaps.
"You're the one—!" Sam started, and broke off with a cry as Dean began to hit
him hard and fast, whap whap whap whap, presumably to shut him up. His cock was
rigid in his pants, twitching with every slap, and Sam could feel a wet spot
forming in his boxers. He tried to spread his legs but his jeans kept him
trapped.
Dean's cock was a hard line at Sam's hip, and he was rubbing it against Sam as
he smoothed his palm over Sam's aching cheeks. Sam trembled, afraid of the pain
and insanely turned on by it. He hung his head, hiding his face in the messy
fall of his hair, and Dean kissed the middle of his spine.
"You okay?" Dean asked.
Sam nodded. "Don't stop."
"Shit." Dean slapped him twice: reward. "You make me fucking crazy, I want you
so bad."
"So fuck me," Sam said.
"Huh uh." Another slap. "Gotta finish this."
Jesus. Dean wanted to make him come from it. Sam wasn't even sure it was
possible. He'd never been spanked like this. Sure, he'd had his share of
whuppings from Dad, when he was younger and misbehaving, but this was a whole
new ballgame. Dean knew exactly how hard to hit him to keep him from getting
seriously hurt; Sam could tell he was pausing between each bout of spankings to
gauge Sam's reaction. The knowledge of it made his head spin. Dean was taking
care of him even as he hurt him, and Sam trusted him with every cell in his
body.
Dean let him go suddenly and staggered to his feet. Sam looked up at him,
shocked and dismayed, but Dean only sank back onto the bed a few feet away and
said, "C'mere."
Sam was there in a second, crawling into Dean's lap with his pants still down
and his whole body humming for touch. Dean curled one arm around Sam's neck and
shoulders, holding him up to press a kiss into his hair, and hitched Sam up a
little higher with the other. Sam braced himself on Dean's knees to keep
himself up, and Dean started to spank him again, slowly, one slap after another
making Sam jerk in his arms. He started to alternate, a few quick slaps
followed by a slow rub of his hand, and then a series of randomly spaced slaps
that made Sam spasm in surprise when they landed. Sam was panting, unable to
catch his breath. His ass felt like it was on fire. Dean slapped him once and
pushed the arc of his hand between thumb and forefinger into Sam's crack,
rubbing against his asshole, and Sam actually sobbed.
"Shit, Sammy," Dean rasped against his ear, "you gonna let me fuck this sore
ass later?"
Sam nodded frantically. He ached, and he knew that Dean's hips slapping roughly
against his ass would only make it worse; he couldn't think of anything better.
"You gonna come?" Dean asked.
"Touch me," Sam begged. He couldn't get off just from being spanked— and god,
what a world that would be— but he was pretty fucking close. His cock was
dripping, sliding in his boxers, and the friction of Dean's hard thigh against
it was driving him insane.
Dean let go of his shoulders and shoved his hand down into Sam's pants. He
started to spank Sam again, hard and fast, every slap sending Sam's hips
punching forward, into the grip of his hand. It wasn't much more than giving
Sam bare skin to rub on, but his fingers wiggled against Sam's balls and Sam's
cock head was rubbing against his wrist, and Sam groaned desperately. He was so
close— fuck, he needed it so bad.
"Come on, Sammy," Dean urged, squeezing Sam's ass cheek and making him cry out.
"Come on, babe."
"Fuck," Sam said.
"Only if you're good," Dean said, pushing his cock up against Sam's bare belly
where his shirt had ridden up. Sam's mouth watered. Dean's cock was so big, so
thick and hard, and he could practically feel it in his mouth, opening his
throat up. Dean's fingers pressed against his asshole, and Sam arched his hips
up into the pressure.
Dean started to spank him again, lingering between each slap to work his
fingers up and down Sam's crack, and the other hand in Sam's pants started to
move again, up and down the spine of Sam's dick. Sam could feel his balls
drawing up, his whole body tensing, and he pushed back into Dean's hand. He was
so fucking close he could taste it, and his cock was swelling, and his ass hurt
so bad, and Dean just wasn't going to stop, was just going to spank him until
he came.
Sam squirmed frantically, desperate to get off, and Dean slapped him just once
more as he started to come, spurting hard in his pants, up Dean's wrist. Sam
shouted, body spasming with the pulses of his orgasm.
Before he was even done, Dean shoved him roughly off his lap onto the bed and
was opening his pants. He pulled out his cock, huge and hard and so stiff, and
started to jack himself off over Sam's bare ass. Sam heard him grunt and felt
the hot splash of Dean's come on his skin. Dean pressed his open palm against
Sam's burning cheek, pushing down hard and making Sam jerk again in pain. He
was rubbing the come in, Sam realized, smearing the wet semen across Sam's skin
like it might ease the sting.
"Fuck," Dean groaned, and Sam slumped face-first into the bed. "I couldn't
wait."
"Ngh," Sam said. He hurt all over now, from the wrestling, from the spanking.
His dick felt chafed in his boxers, and his shoulders ached from pushing
against Dean's grip so hard.
"You good?" Dean asked, his voice soft. He pulled Sam's boxers up over his
naked butt and settled the elastic into place carefully.
Sam lifted his head. "I'm gonna get even," he said. "You watch out."
Dean grinned. "As if you could ever beat me for real."
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