Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1328125.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester, Dean_Winchester_&_Sam_Winchester, Dean/
      Sam
  Character:
      Sam_Winchester, Dean_Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      Wincest_-_Freeform, Weecest, Weechesters, Underage_-_Freeform, handjobs,
      Fingering
  Series:
      Part 2 of WDSFL
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-03-17 Words: 3537
****** What does sex feel like? pt. 2 ******
by RockSaltandCherryPie
Summary
     Sam wants more
Notes
     So many other fanfics to continue and I choose to continue this one,
     which was originally meant to just be some shameless smut but which
     now has kind of a plot? lol oh boy.
     from Dean's perspective this time. I thought it'd be fun to switch
     around. :)
     happy st patty's day, guys !
The next day, it was like nothing happened. After all, it was just Sammy. His
little brother. And Dean had just wanted to help him out, to show him the right
way to masturbate, so that he would feel good. That was his job, right, show
his little brother the ropes? And Sam had asked, goddamn it. So he obviously
knew what he was getting into. And Dean remembered the way Sam had wiggled his
hand out from under Dean's, the way he had enjoyed Dean's strokes. He had even
mentioned the word amazing.
And yet Dean found himself staring into his coffee cup thinking things over a
little too much because he was seventeen. Developed. Experienced. Older. He was
supposed to know the boundaries. Sam was only thirteen. Still a kid. He was
beginning to think he had taken things a little too far last night.
Sam shuffled into the kitchen in his too-baggy sweatpants, ruffling his bed-
head.
Just as Dean had expected, they ate breakfast together at the table as though
the events of last night hadn't taken place. Either that, or as though they
weren't big enough of a deal to even discuss. But even though they didn't
talkabout it, Sam was acting a little different. Small things, here and there.
Like staring longer than usual at Dean during breakfast. Like expecting Dean to
go easy on him when he said they needed to train out in the yard.
"But Dean, I'm tired. We trained all day Monday." Dean detected a hint of a
whine in his voice.
"Don't give me that, Sam. You know we have to." Dean cleared the table after
they were done eating and put Sam's cereal bowl in the sink. "Dad's expecting
us to. He left me explicit instructions. What do you think he's going to do if
he comes home and finds us sitting on our asses?"
Sam slumped forward, his palm catching his head. "I hatetraining."
Dean remembered that phase. It was the woe-is-me, everything is over-the-top
dramatic phase that occurred when you were a pre-teen. Dean went through the
same thing, only he was the only one who knew about it. Not like Sam, who made
sure everyone was aware of his displeasures — especially Dad. The only time Sam
didn't complain about the Family Business was when his head was buried in a
stuffy old book.
"You won't hate it when you find yourself face to face with a blood-thirsty
Wendigo. Now come on."
 
The one thing Dean loved about this old house they were renting was the yard.
It was this wide open space that was perfect for whatever you wanted to do,
including shoot a couple rounds, because there were no neighbors around to
complain about the noise.
Dean had planned sparring for today. Sam was small, but he was a fast learner.
He was already good in Dean's book, but often didn't know what to do when he
was pinned. Dean needed to teach him the techniques in maneuvering yourself out
of your opponent's hold, as Dad had taught him.
Standing in the yard, the pair faced each other.
"Okay, Sam, tackle me."
Sam sighed, before shifting on his feet.
"Come on!"
Then Sam was upon him quickly, using a specific take-down technique that Dean
knew all too well, with his forearm pushing flat across Dean's chest and his
calf twisting behind Dean's. Sam took him down successfully, but once on the
ground, Dean quickly spun them around by pushing on Sam's chest with his elbow
and pushing off the ground with his free leg.
Sam hit the ground with a huff and his body relaxed slightly.
"You're dead, Sam."
Sam tried to wiggle free but soon gave up. "I don't know what to do, Dean."
"Pretend I'm a werewolf. I'm about to eat you, Sam. You can't just give up."
Sam sighed again, his legs squirming under Dean. It was no use, though. Dean
had them both pinned; one with his shin, and one with his knee. The correct
move would be to use his free arm to catch his opponent in the jaw with his
fist and have them loosen their hold on the other one.
"I can't, Dean." Sam's eyes darted away and Dean noticed his cheeks looked a
little more flushed than usual. This was new.
Dean stared down at Sam, his grip loosening a little around his wrist. Sam
didn't even try to wriggle away like he usually did when Dean gave him the
leverage. He seemed to be breathing a little too heavy, too.
"Your arm, Sam," Dean pointed out to him, waiting for Sam to use it.
"I..."
"Sam, punch me, damn it!"
And then there was an elbow to his face, not hard enough to bruise, but still
enough for Dean to release his firm grip on Sam and for Sam to get the upper
hand. In a blink Sam was on top of him. That was his advantage over Dean - the
kid was agile, freaking quick.
Sam was straddling his hips, one hand at Dean's collarbone and the other
enclosed around his wrist which was pinned to the ground over his head. Not
bad, Dean felt like saying, but didn't.
They were both silently heaving. Sam's hair hung in front of his face, some of
it sticky with sweat and clinging to his forehead. His hips shifted,
grazedhowever unintentionally, and Dean felt a heaviness begin to form in the
pit of his stomach.
After he swallowed, he was all too aware of his body overheating. "Get off,
Sam."
Sam loosened his frame and then Dean pushed him off of his hips, causing Sam to
topple to the ground next to him with a thud.
"That's enough for today." Dean brushed the grass and dirt from his jeans and
started towards the house. "You should shower, you stink."
 
It took a little longer than usual for Sam to come in from outside, and when he
did, he shuffled across the hallway, gripping the bottom of his worn-out tee.
"You stink too, you know," he said in a defensive tone, making his way to the
bathroom.
Dean sighed on the couch, picking up the TV remote and switching it on. It was
one of those old sets that only got like fifteen channels.
 
The hours seemed to stretch on much longer with Dad gone. Meals were hard to
prepare, too. Usually they just got take out or something, but Dad only left
them with a little bit of money to last them the week, so Dean thought they
should keep it in case of emergencies.
For supper he made a can of beans and some toast. Sam poked at the beans
questionably but ate them silently.
"So did I do okay today?" He asked after a few minutes, dipping his toast in
the beans.
Dean swallowed his mouthful. "What do you mean?"
"Well, I don't think you've ever told me to get off before. You usually find a
way to get out of it, show me more moves." Sam was chewing, staring down in his
bowl.
Dean eyed around, as if the words he was looking for would be on the walls.
Then he took a sip of beer from the bottle in front of him. An upside to Dad
being out of town. "Yeah, you did okay."
"So are you gonna show me more moves?" Sam asked, a vibrant eagerness in his
voice.
Dean almost choked on his beer. With a sickening flash he realized there was a
chance Sam wasn't talking about sparring. He never got this excited over it. He
never anticipated learning new moves.
To be sure, Dean looked over Sam's face but found it hard to read. His puppy
dog eyes were full, hopeful.
"I don't know what you're talking about, Sam." Dean looked away and took
another sip from his bottle.
"I mean, y'know, new moves." Sam's fork swayed between his fingers and the
bowl. He was smiling like a four year-old.
"Very funny, Sam." Thankfully, Dean wasn't hungry anymore, so he brought his
bowl to the sink.
"Aw, come on," Sam giggled, and suddenly Dean felt like the whole situation
might just be something to laugh about, but somehow he couldn't bring himself
to smile.
"No, Sam."
When Dean turned Sam was giving him his best little-brother-pout.
"Finish your beans. It's your turn to wash up." Dean hopelessly attempted to
change the subject because this whole thing was ridiculous. Sam actually wanted
them to do things together again? Like one time wasn't enough? A shower. A
shower was a good idea. Dean closed himself in the bathroom and turned the
water on, getting under the heavy stream.
No. Sam didn't know what he wanted. He was a kid. He was just experimenting
with these new changes and Dean was accessible. That was all. Dean remembered
what it was like the first few times he jacked off, how exciting and new it all
was. That's what was happening with Sam. He saw it all as a game. But now, Dean
knew better than to play.
 
xxx
 
They were lying in bed again, the crickets outside resuming their nightly song.
Dean lay flat on his back, unable to sleep. Thirty whole minutes had passed
since his head hit the pillow and yet he was still wide awake.
"Dean?" Sam's small voice came from the bed beside his.
Dean sighed. "What, Sam?"
"Can we..." Sam's voice was shaky, hesitant, but Dean didn't let him finish.
"Sam, I said no," Dean asserted.
Sam huffed. "But why not?"
"Because." Dean sighed, softening slightly. "Look, we shouldn't have done
anything last night. It's my fault."
The fact was, Dean hadn't even thought twice last night before crawling into
bed with his little brother. Because at the time, it had meant nothing. It was
different now. Why it was different, well, he wasn't really sure.
"But we didn't, really. You were just showing me —"
"Well I shouldn't have even done that. Go to sleep, Sam."
"I don't want to. I'm not tired."
"What do you want from me? Go watch TV or something." Dean turned on his side,
away from Sam. He shut his eyes tight and tried to suppress the memory of what
it felt like having Sam's dick in his hand and his whole body twitching with
his touch. His heart was thumping so fast.
He heard the springs of the mattress squeak behind him and relaxed a little
because finally, Sam was listening to him and was probably going to the living
room.
But then Dean felt his bed sink down a little behind him, and a wave of warmth
flushed against his back as he felt Sam pressing up against him.
"You're so good at it, Dean..."
Dean swallowed hard and bit his tongue.
"Please...?"
"Sammy..." It was so hard to flat out say nowhen his little brother pleaded
like that, but he knew there was no way around it. "It's not right."
"But it's just us, nobody has to know. And it doesn't matter. You said it
yourself, everybody does it."
"I was talking about jacking off! That means you do it on your own."
Sam sighed, and then Dean felt him shifting beside him. From the way his
breathing changed, Dean figured he was now on his back.
"It felt so good when you did it..." Sam repeated softly. The sound of pure
longingin his voice had Dean more than aroused. He was probably trying to
praise him so that he would cave. God, he knew Dean so well it pissed him off.
"Especially when you rubbed me back there... right... here..." Sam was almost
whispering, and now he was making little noises, too. Dean could tell he was
touching himself. He was so turned on there was a huge lump in his throat. He
was a lot more turned on than last night and he wasn't even looking at Sam.
That was why this was so dangerous. And so nothappening.
"Want you to touch me again, Dean... Please..."
Oh god,he felt his cock give a little leap at the sound of Sam's voice, and now
his whole body was overheating just like it had in the yard.
"Please..."
That was all it took for Dean to shift around in the bed and face Sam finally.
He saw him there, covers up to his chest, with his lips parted and his hair
sticking to his forehead in little clumps. His head turned toward Dean and he
bit his bottom lip, catching Dean's eyes with his own. They were desperate and
dark. The look on his face was a look no thirteen year-old should know yet, and
Dean hated that it was partially his fault he even wore it.
Dean's palm went to Sammy's forehead like it did often when he was sick, wiping
the dampness from his brow and pushing his hair from his eyes. "Okay, Sammy,
okay." His other hand was sliding over his stomach, and as soon as Sam felt
him, he moved his own hands out of the way. Dean felt Sam's stomach rising and
falling quickly under his palm. There was so much heat under the covers Dean
could feel a sweat starting to form at his back under his tank top. His fingers
slipped under the cotton of Sam's t-shirt and when he touched skin he heard Sam
let out a small gasp.
They were so close that Dean actually felt Sam's sporadic breaths on his cheek,
humid and hot. Things were so different tonight. So different. He felt Sam's
small hand reach his, encouraging the touches. Then he felt it slide up his
arm, and Sam shifted his whole body even closerin, maneuvering himself so that
he was more underDean than beside him. And Sam's hip grazed Dean's dick ever so
slightly as he shifted. It was like he did it on purpose.
Sam's mouth hung open, right there under his own, and Dean found himself unable
to tear his eyes away from its red fullness.
Dean's hand made its way down further, under the waistband of Sam's boxers. The
little bastard wasn't even wearing pants this time. He found him already hard
and leaking, waiting to be touched. When Dean's fist closed tightly around his
hot flesh, Sam whimpered small in his ear. Their faces met when Dean looked
back up and he hated himself because he just wanted to devour those little
noises, that glistening mouth. He was done for when Sam's tongue darted out
ever so slightly. Dean pressed his mouth to Sam's, who was now arching up,
needy for the feel of his brother. Sam's tongue was wet and slippery and tasted
so sweet. He let out a small high-pitched mewl in Dean's mouth when Dean
pressed his thumb under the head of his dick.
Sam's hips were now thrusting into the movement of his hand, causing a constant
friction against Dean's erection.
Sam pulled back, away from Dean's mouth so he could talk. "Want to make you
feel good, too, Dean..." And his hand snaked its way between their bodies until
his fist was closing around Dean's full cock. His inexperienced fingers were
not enough, too gentle, and Dean couldn't help but groan against Sam's neck at
the contact. Sam was rubbing a lot at the head of Dean's dick and it was
beginning to be too much it hurt.
Dean's hand switched over to guide Sam's. "Here, like this..." Together they
went all the way down to the base of his cock, squeezing tight, then back up
again.
"Right. Sorry," Sam mumbled, but he caught on quick. When Dean let go, Sam's
hand continued, moving up and down Dean's hard cock. Dean bit his lip and
closed his eyes because it felt so amazing. But then he felt Sam's little wet
lips pressing at his again and he opened his mouth to let him in.
Dean began thrusting hard into Sam's hand, because he was getting close. The
covers hung low over his back now, and Sam pulled away to look down at what he
was doing.
"Fuck," Dean uttered, letting both his hands support him now on either side of
Sam. "Yeah, like that, yeah..." And he knew he shouldn't have but he came all
over Sam, all over his bare stomach and abdomen and hand, and goddamn it it was
so hot. Sam seemed to love it, rubbing it in with his free hand in small
circles and moaning under him.
"Sammy... Ah..." Dean winced a little and retreated when Sam's caressing hand
was beginning to be a little too much. He didn't seem to want to let go. Dean
guided Sam's hand away and back onto his own cock, shuddering at the taboo
sight of the white flecks all over his little brother's skin.
Still so needy for touch, Sam's hips canted and bucked around, his little dick
twitching as he closed his hand around it. Dean pushed the covers lower and
drank in the sight before touching, because there was a very slim chance this
was ever happening again. What the hell,he thought as he lowered his body so
that his head was flush with Sam's groin, might as well make the most of it.
Sam's breathing picked up as he became more desperate. Dean let Sam's dick
slide against his cheek, enjoying listening to his small whimpers. He smirked a
little as he watched Sam bite his lip, a deep flush taking to his brother's
cheeks.
"You liked when I did this, Sammy?" Dean whispered, not believing the words
that were escaping his mouth. His finger gently rubbed at Sam's opening, behind
his balls, and Sam's breath caught. He nodded bashfully, his hand going up to
his mouth to play with his quivering lips. He was quite a vision. Sammy spread
his legs open a little further and bent his knees slightly. Dean's finger
persisted, gently caressing Sam's small hole.
Sam was sensitive down there, Dean could tell. Every little touch had Sam
bucking his hips and whimpering hopelessly. Dean sucked on his finger to get it
wet, then returned it to rub gently against Sam's entrance. Sam had probably
never done anything like thisbefore.
"Oh, Dean..." Sam couldn't stop moving. And his hand had shot down a while ago
to grip at the base of his dick probably to keep from coming too soon.
Dean's wet finger wriggled past the tight ring of muscle, which was hard enough
to do withoutSam moving all over the place.
Sammy gasped, clamping down on his finger and bucking up at the same time.
"Dean."
"That feel good, Sammy?" And then Dean's tongue darted out, flicked over Sam's
sensitive skin and his finger which was now knuckle-deep, and he watched Sam
lose it.
With a gasp, Sam arched up off the bed and then Dean reached up with his free
hand and helped him jack off his dick through his orgasm. Dean loved the way
his face scrunched up and he tossed his head around. He was endlessly writhing
on the mattress, and Dean actually felt the muscles around his finger
contracting as his dick pushed out thin, clear fluid.
When Sam relaxed enough to sink back down into the mattress, Dean pulled out
his finger and pushed himself up. He smiled at the sight of Sam completely
drained and out of breath, but he couldn't shake this feeling of guilt.
Dean flopped back next to Sam and stared up at the ceiling. He felt Sam shift
onto his side and press closer in to him, his hot mouth opening breathlessly on
the skin of Dean's bare shoulder.
"Didn't think it could feel betterthan last night," he whispered, almost
inaudible.
Dean turned his head to Sam, letting his nose get buried in Sam's hair which
was exuding heat and smelt faintly of shampoo. Then Sam's small hand came up
and rested on top of Dean's which lay flat on his stomach, and Dean shut his
eyes tight because it was getting to be a little too much, too overwhelming.
Sex, when he did it with girls, was always just something fun and exciting and
that got him off easy. It never meant anything. He never got that tightness in
his stomach like he did with Sam. He had never, god forbid, lovedany of the
girls. Certainly not like he loved Sammy and maybe that's why this whole thing
was giving him such an unsettling feeling, because he was starting to enjoy —
possibly a little too much — making his little brother come.
Sam huffed tiredly against his shoulder and shut his eyes.
And it scared Dean a lot but he thought he never even needed — or wanted— to be
with a girl again. Because there would be no point. Did that make sense?
He rubbed small circles over Sam's knuckles, soothing him to sleep like he did
every night when they were younger. He knew things were different now, would be
different in the morning, but he just couldn't bring himself to care.
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