Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/6009442.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester
  Character:
      Dean_Winchester, Sam_Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      Sibling_Incest, Sam_In_Panties, Consensual_Underage_Sex, Barebacking
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-02-14 Words: 3143
****** What the Girls Call Murder ******
by MJBadger
Summary
     Dean is definitely into panties, on girls at least. He’s into looking
     at them, that’s obvious from the porn he likes. He’s also into Sam,
     so maybe…
Notes
     Sibling incest, panties, underage, a random POV change. If you're
     offended by any of that, please back away from the fic. There's also
     a brief bit of het but it's not anything major.
     For my Moose, this is technically not a Valentine's Day present since
     we're not doing that this year but it's definitely a present. Love
     you.
See the end of the work for more notes
Dean thought he did better this year, at the very least he figured the gifts
might be for a kid much younger than Sam, but he was sure at least that they
wouldn’t be for a girl. He’d scouted quite a few houses on Christmas eve and
broke into the one that had presents wrapped in Star Wars paper.
The opposite happens, though. The gifts that Sam opens on Christmas morning are
age-appropriate, certainly, but they are most definitely not for a boy. Hair
clips. A diary with purple hearts on it (Sam, at least, tells Dean he can
redecorate this and use it as a journal, which makes Dean feel a little better,
even though he’s not sure what the difference is between a diary and a journal
and will definitely give Sam shit about it later, when it’s not Christmas). A
couple of CDs of really shitty music, which would be useless even if Sam was
secretly into Mariah Carey or Hootie and the Blowfish, since they don’t have a
CD player. A bottle of bubble bath that is freesia scented, whatever the fuck a
freesia is.
And last but not least, a package of panties, in various shades of pink, with
tiny bows at the top.
Sam rolls his eyes, tosses the package at Dean and laughs. “You got these for
yourself, didn’t you?”
“I don’t know, Sammy, they look like your size.” Dean opens the package and
unfolds a hot pink pair with the word ‘Cutie’ written on the butt. “And you’re
definitely cute.”
They toss the packages aside, and then Dean draws Sam a bubble bath, because
it’s Christmas and John’s not there and the tub in this hotel doesn’t look
particularly gross. Freesia smells pretty good, it turns out.
“You getting in?” Sam says, blowing a handful of bubbles at Dean. Dean’s
sitting on the toilet, just staring.
“What if dad shows up?”
“He’s not gonna show up,” Sam says.
Dean sighs. Sam puts one leg up on the edge of the tub, suds dripping off his
foot onto the floor.
“How about I just watch?”
Sam blushes, but Dean sees his hand go to his dick, obscured by the bubbles. He
pouts, actually sticks his lower lip out like the horrible brat he is, and
flexes his foot, curls his toes.
“Damn it,” Dean says. “I swear to God, Sam, if dad-”
Sam smirks. Dean gets his clothes off.
**
Sam’s not sure why he keeps the panties, other than that they were a present
from Dean and he knows Dean took a risk to steal them so it feels shitty to
throw them out. He keeps them stuffed in a corner of his duffel bag, mostly
forgets about them until one day when he’s at the laundry mat with Dean. He
remembers at the last second not to just dump the bag into the washer, takes
everything out carefully so the panties are left behind, then he shoves them
inside the front pocket of his hoodie when Dean’s back is turned. As soon as
his clothes are dry he stuffs them back into the bag when Dean’s not looking.
But now that he’s remembered they’re there, he can’t seem to get his mind off
them. It’s ridiculous, it’s not like he hasn't seen plenty of girls panties, on
actual girls. And truthfully even though he’s gotten into quite a few pairs of
girls panties he’s a hell of a lot more turned on by getting into Dean’s pants.
But Dean is definitely into panties, on girls at least. He’s into looking at
them, that’s obvious from the porn he likes. He’s also into Sam, so maybe…
Sam makes a face at himself. But once the thought’s there he can’t really get
it out of his head.
He waits until Dean’s off getting them food. It’s two in the morning, they’d
both woken up wanting pizza, and the 24 hour convenience store down the road
has semi-decent ones for five dollars.
John’s been gone for three days and hasn’t made mention of returning, but Sam
shuts himself in the bathroom of the motel, anyway, just to be safe.
He didn’t pay much attention to which pair he grabbed out of the bag, but now
he unfolds and holds them up to see. They’re light pink, with a bow at the top
and little ruffles around the legs. Instead of words on the butt there’s just a
heart that seems to be strategically placed to end up right over a girl’s
asshole. Sam can’t help but giggle. He steps out of his sweatpants and sits
down on the edge of the tub, pulls the panties up over his thighs and stands up
to get them the rest of the way on.
They fit pretty well, or they would if it weren’t for his dick, which he ends
up having to maneuver around so it’s just against his belly with the head
poking out the top of the panties. It looks pretty stupid, actually, and the
panties are definitely too tight on his balls, but when he turns around and
looks over his shoulder to see how they look from the back, he can’t help but
grin a little. His ass really does look good in these things. He’s getting hard
and he’s not sure if it’s because he’s staring at himself or because he’s
thinking about Dean seeing this. In any case, it’s pretty fucked up.
He hears the motel door open.
“Sammy!”
“Shit!” Sam blurts, before he has a chance to think. He’s frozen for a second,
trying to calculate if he has enough time to get these off and stuff them
somewhere and yank his sweatpants back on, and decides he definitely doesn’t.
“What?” Dean’s voice is closer. “You okay?”
“I’m fine, just, uh. Hold on a minute!”
Dean laughs. “Are you jerking off in there?”
“No!”
Dean opens the door. The fucking lock didn’t work, of course. Sam should have
known.
“What are you-” Dean stops, stares. And then they hear the Impala outside.
“Shit!” They say it at the same time, this time, and Sam doesn’t have time to
think, he just pulls his sweatpants on. Right over the panties, while Dean’s
making a quick exit of the bathroom.
Sam pays little attention to what John says while they pack up their things.
He’s watching Dean, watching him. He’s hard, Sam can tell just by looking at
him even though he’s pulling down on his jacket enough to cover it. He’s
looking at Sam like he wants to fuck him into next week, and it’s definitely
not helping Sam’s boner situation, either. Of course he has the added
discomfort of the panty elastic getting tighter against his dick, too tight.
His balls hurt not only from being crammed into tiny panties but also because
he really needs to come.
Sam thinks about telling John he needs to change before they leave, but he’s
sure it would look weird. Usually if they’re traveling in the middle of the
night, Sam stays in the sweatpants he sleeps in until they’ve stopped somewhere
after sunrise. He tries to surreptitiously adjust, though, when Dean’s looking
and John isn’t. Dean’s eyes go comically wide, and he sucks his lower lip into
his mouth.
John goes to the bathroom to take a piss before they leave. Sam turns around,
puts a few more things in his bag, hooks his thumb in the waistband of his
sweatpants and pulls them down just enough to reveal a tiny sliver of the pink
fabric.
Dean crosses the room quickly and leans close to Sam’s ear. Sam wishes he’d
touch him, but he knows he won’t, not with John right behind the bathroom door.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Dean whispers, and Sam has a moment of panic,
feels his face get hot. Dean isn’t into it, of course he isn’t. He’s going to
tease Sam about this for the rest of his fucking life.
“I, um.” Sam squeaks. The bathroom door opens, and then they’re back in the
car, Dean sitting up front while Sam suffers in the back.
Dean doesn’t mention it after that. Sam keeps half hoping he will, so that he
can try to explain, but he’s also relieved that maybe they’re just both going
to ignore it. Dean’s still fucking him every chance he gets, and nothing else
seems to have changed.
And then the buttdial happens.
Sam’s restless, a little grumpy. Dean’s on a date, with a girl, and since it’s
been happening more lately Sam has already analyzed his feelings about it to
death. He’s past thinking about it and settled on just feeling slightly
frustrated and bitchy when it happens. It passes, always, when Dean comes home.
They’re staying at Bobby’s for a while, though ‘a while’ could mean anything
from a week to a few months, it’s never a sure thing with their dad. Sam’s
guessing this is going to be a longer spell, though, because he enrolled them
both back in school here after the Christmas break. Dean’s hardly been going,
though. He’s been talking about just quitting and getting his GED and Sam has a
feeling John’s going to let him do it once he turns seventeen. His birthday’s
in a week.
He’s laying on his bed, reading, when his phone rings.
“Hey,” Sam says, absentmindedly. He hears a lot of rustling, and then Dean’s
voice, slightly muffled, but definitely Dean. And then a girl’s giggle.
Sam knows immediately that Dean didn’t hear him, has no clue that his phone
dialed. He knows he should hang up, but he tells himself if it were the other
way around that Dean would definitely listen. He holds his breath.
“Did you wear these panties just for me?” Dean coos. Sam feels his face get
hot. “Got them all wet for me, too.”
The girl makes a noise that Sam’s heard plenty of times, and it makes his dick
twitch. He wants to hang up but he’s frozen, teeth clenched. And then Dean
sighs, grunts. The sound grows more muffled and distant, the phone having
either ended up on the floor or between the seats. Sam’s only making out every
few words, now, and there aren’t many. It’s mostly the girl’s squeaky little
gasps and Dean’s heavy breathing, but the few words he does hear finally make
him force himself to hang up. He almost can’t resist the urge to throw the
phone across the room.
*
The Christmas panties just won’t do, Sam decides. When Bobby takes him to the
mall to get Dean something for his birthday, he buys him a new pair of jeans
with Bobby’s money, a gift box of Hillshire Farms shit, and a new wallet since
the one he has is falling apart. When Bobby wanders off he goes into Hot Topic
to browse around.
It’s easy enough to steal, here, it’s just a matter of figuring out what to
get, and what he thinks Dean would like. He’s also fucking clueless about what
size to get and can’t really spend tons of time holding up the garments to see
how they’d look, so he just grabs the first set off the rack and stuffs it down
the front of his pants.
He tries them on later that night, when Dean’s sound asleep. He remembers to
lock the bathroom door, this time.
The panties are black and red, with ruffles, and he’s relieved to find they fit
a lot better than the Christmas panties, though he’s sure that once he’s hard
they won’t fit quite as well. The fabric’s a lot more stretchy, though.
There are stockings, long black-and-red striped ones, and matching gloves that
go to the elbows and cross over his palms, leaving his fingers free. He wishes
he’d thought to steal a matching skirt, then wonders if maybe that would be too
much. Maybe all of it will be too much, actually. Dean might laugh his ass off,
or call him a freak, or maybe even just nicely tell him that he is definitely
not into it. But somehow Sam doesn’t believe that will be the case. Especially
when he sees how his ass looks in the mirror.
He hides the outfit in the linen closet, under a clean, spare set of sheets
that they rarely use because they have a hole in them that Sam always gets
caught on his toe. He’s half hard when he gets back into bed.
Dean makes a grumpy sound, shoves up against Sam’s back and sighs into his
neck.
*
Sam’s relieved that John doesn’t come back for Dean’s birthday. He calls in the
morning, and he’s several states away so Sam knows he isn’t going to be back
that night, either. And Bobby, helpfully, is going ‘out’. Dean teases him,
asking if he has a date, but Bobby doesn’t answer. He just leaves them money
for a pizza and tells them he’ll be home late.
Sam goes upstairs while they’re in the middle of a movie. They’ve been making
out off and on during the whole thing, but Dean’s been pretty distracted,
stopping to rewind when they miss something, reassuring Sam that they have all
night.
It takes a while to set his phone up at a good angle, propping it with books
and a pillow and taking a few test photos before he figures out a good setup.
He’s expecting Dean to come looking for him the whole time, or at least to yell
up the stairs, but he is clearly too engrossed in the movie to notice how long
he’s been gone. Sam goes to the bathroom and gets the outfit out of the linen
closet and changes.
He’s amazed at how well the photos come out, given they were taken on his
shitty camera phone. He spends a few minutes just rolling around on the bed,
staring at himself on the screen. And then he goes for the lube.
His stomach is in a knot, wondering what Dean’s reaction will be. He takes a
moment to work himself up enough to send the text, and then he adjusts the
panties, sits up on the bed and tries to look more confident than he feels. His
face is burning up.
Dean bounds up the stairs and flings the door open so fast that Sam gasps,
covers himself with his hands momentarily until he remembers that’s the point.
Dean stands in the doorway, hand on the door frame.
“Happy birthday?” Sam says. He turns around, partly because he is a little too
embarrassed to look at Dean right now and partly because he knows the whole
ensemble looks better from the back. He sprawls out on his stomach, lifts his
hips off the bed so his ass is in the air a little. He bends his knees, wiggles
his feet in his stockings.
“Sammy,” Dean says, and it comes out soft, not at all what Sam expected. He
hears the door close quietly, and then Dean’s weight on the bed. “Holy fuck,
Sammy.”
Sam goes up on his forearms, finally chances a glance over his shoulder. He
bites his lip. Dean puts a hand on his ass, slides it up under the panties,
squeezes. His lips are parted, and he looks shocked. But also definitely,
definitely turned on.
“Do I look pretty?” Sam says, cringing a little at how it sounds, more sincere
than he meant it to.
“Prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” Dean says. He leans down and kisses Sam’s
back, trails his lips down to the waistband of the panties. Sam reaches back,
slides his hand into them so his fingers brush Dean’s. He moves his hips in a
slow circle, and Dean groans. He pulls off his shirt, gets his jeans off
somehow without his hand ever leaving Sam’s ass.
Sam’s hard, now, cock stretching the front of the panties, leaking. He moves
his hand away from Dean’s, presses it against his dick. The rough lace of the
panties against his shaft and the silky fabric of the gloves over the head of
his cock feels good enough to make him gasp.
Dean shuffles closer, rubs the head of his cock against Sam and the panties,
moans softly. “Mmm wish I could just sink my cock right into you like this.
Like-”
“You can,” Sam says, whine. “Fuck me.”
“Mmm fuck, baby.” Dean moves the panties aside, rubs against him with the pad
of his finger. “My pretty girl. I wouldn’t want to hurt that tight little-”
“You won’t,” Sam says. “I’m all wet for you, Dean.”
Dean pushes two fingers into him, makes a choking sort of sound in his throat.
“You are, aren’t you, baby? Got yourself all ready for me.”
“Yeah,” Sam gasps, words not coming so easily now.
“So wet for me,” Dean says. He presses the head of his cock against Sam’s hole,
waits a breath and starts to push in. “Unnnh, you take my cock so good,
sweetheart. Pretty little girl.” He runs his hands over Sam’s ass, gently,
fucks into him slowly.
“Harder,” Sam whines, and Dean grabs him by the ankles, leans back.
“Fuck yourself right on my cock, Sammy. Just how you like it.”
“Dean,” Sam moans, whimpers, fucks himself deep on Dean’s cock, feels himself
so, so close already.
“Better than any pussy could ever be,” Dean says. “God, Sammy. You’re so
fucking…” Dean moves, wraps his arms around Sam’s waist and sits back. “Pretty
little ass riding my dick. You’re so good to me, Sammy. So fucking pretty.”
Sam leans forward, hands on Dean’s thighs, and rides him. Dean’s hands spread
him wider, play at the panties, shifting them over so he can get a better view
and then sliding them back to rub against his cock, to chafe at Sam when he
grinds down on his dick.
Sam shoves the front of the panties down, can’t take it anymore, and wraps both
hands around his dick.
“I’m gonna fill you up so good, Sammy,”  Dean says, voice raspy.
Sam shouts, long and loud, soaking the panties, the gloves, coming so hard he
can’t hold himself up, but Dean’s holding onto him, bruising grip on his hips,
lips against the back of his neck.
“So good, sweetheart,” Dean moans. “So pretty.” He holds himself deep when he
comes, gasping breaths against Sam’s skin, and then he holds him there for a
long while. “Turn around so I can kiss you, baby boy.”
Sam lifts off of him, wincing a little, turns around on his knees. His dick’s
out of the panties in the front, and he’s a mess of stickiness, come all over
his stomach and thighs.
“Jesus,” Dean breathes, and he kisses him, slow and deep. “Might need to take a
few more pictures.”
 
End Notes
     Inspired by these pictures, enjoy.
     http://oi63.tinypic.com/1o99fk.jpg
     http://oi67.tinypic.com/2cosyv9.jpg
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