Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1905486.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester
  Character:
      Dean_Winchester, Sam_Winchester, John_Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      Oral, Coming_In_Pants, aged_up_character, aged_up_sam, cursed!boys,
      Underage_-_Freeform
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-07-06 Words: 5803
****** When you wish upon a witch ******
by BloodyFreckles
Summary
     SPN KINK MEME PROMPT: Twelve or thirteen year old Sam runs afoul of a
     witch or makes an ill considered wish to be a grown up, so he's given
     the body of 28 or y.o. Sam (think of how Sam looked in season six
     approx.)
     At first this is great, he and Dean think. They can buy beer! And
     porn! And that creepy motel manager stops hassling them. Dean also
     suddenly notices Sam in a way he never did before, a very non
     brotherly way. Sam's been pining for Dean for a while, so once he has
     Dean's attention, first time Wincest ensues.
     But while it's great at first, Sam gets tired of having to be the
     grown up. He just wants Dean to be his big brother and to be the
     little one. He wants to get taken care of.
     Up to you how it ends.
Notes
     Another one. I think I did this one wrong too (pretty sure the last
     one was supposed to be brothers, I just read it wrong) I just started
     writing and my brain went away with me, but I hope it still makes the
     prompter happy. If anyone wants to try their hand at this, here's the
     link: http://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/
     87167.html?thread=33365631#t33365631
Dean was somewhere close by, getting the one thing that would stop this wicked
hag from having her way with him. At least that's what she thought she was
attempting as she snaked up along his body, somehow, even though he was still
too short to ever be considered tall and masculine by any means. Infact, he was
wondering what this witch wanted with him when she whispered: What do you want
most in life?” and that opened a whole new door of thought because what did he
want?
Everything. his mind supplied in the darkest corners of it.
“Everything you say?,” The witch said with whispered delight.
Sam's eyes widened, staring into her wooden, old face that looked like it had
seen better days. She looked tired, yet wise beyond her years. The wispy
greying hair didn't help at all in that area. “No, I mean, I want nothing.”
“No, you want something. I can smell it on you,” She said in her deep, croaking
voice as she sniffed along his hair line.
He squeezed his eyes shut, wishing for the thousandth time in his life that he
was a grown up so he had some control of the situation, instead of being victim
to people bigger and stronger than him. Instead of being victim to his family's
whims of fancy when it came to moving around. Instead of... he closed his eyes
even tighter.
The witch laughed, strangely it was a soothing sound, like windchimes in a
breeze. “How delightful! I can give you that and more but with age comes
responsibility, young one.”
Sam shook his head. “No, like I said, I want nothing.”
The witch gave him a sharp look, her cold blue eyes vibrant. “If you disregard
my gift then I'll disregard your life,” she said with a sneer.
He panicked, mentally urging Dean to hurry up. “Okay, I accept!”
She stared long and hard into his eyes eyes before kindly dropping him to his
feet where her hand had cradled his neck like a newborn baby, keeping him from
the floor. “Very well. Your wish has been granted.”
Sam stilled, looking over the Witch's shoulder. Dean was right there, sneaking
up behind the witch. He tried not to make a sound but the witch gave a kind
smile. “I'm far too old to be playing this game with hunters anymore.”
And then Dean drove the holy stick, sharpened by Indian flint and soaked in
moonlight into her back, where she gasped out and whispered. “I hope... you
enjoy your wish.”
Sam watched helplessly as she fell to the ground. He felt, very bad and
wondered what she had granted him.
“Sammy?,” Dean asked, taking the stick out of her back as the woman bled out,
now a lifeless corpse.
Sam snapped to attention. “Yeah?”
“You okay? Little old witch didn't like take away your junk or curse you to a
man period did she?,” Dean asked, smile half cocked.
Sam rolled his eyes. “No, Dean. Nothing like that.” Except maybe something...
Dean nodded. “Alright, let's get going then. Dad's waiting at the motel and
we're heading to Ohio to hunker down for a month or two.”
Sam held back a sigh as he followed Dean out of the cabin, looking back at the
witch without Dean noticing and wishing he had a decision to stay in Ohio for
the remainder of the year if he so wished.
                                  ----------
The motel smelled like moths, the towels were scratchy, the diner food was
greasy and floppy like a wet noodle. How could fried chicken be like a wet
noodle? Ask Leroy's diner. Basically everything sucked and he didn't even have
any homework to keep him busy from his boredom as Dean flipped through the
channels and kept landing on scrambled porn that didn't give a goddamn that it
sounded faked and cheesy enough to be every Pizza Delivery Boy's dream.
He resorted to reading The Catcher in the Rye for the fifth time. Certainly one
of his most favorite books but you got bored after awhile when you didn't have
a regular card at a library to spare you some entertainment.
Every now and then he glanced at Dean who's hand was sitting on his crotch like
he wanted to jack it but having annoying little brothers in the room equated to
zero privacy and there were some things that you didn't do around your
siblings, even when you were in each other's living spaces a little too much,
all the time.
But in reality, Sam wouldn't have minded. Disgusted with himself he would have
been, but he would have drank up every breathless groan and the sick slapping
of flesh on flesh for his own visual fantasies later when he stood in the
shower and tried to think of other people he had met along these countless
journeys, only for it to get stuck on repeat on luminescent green eyes like
forest moss and a splattering of freckles across cheeks and nose that begged to
be licked in the sunlight.
The sixth time Sam glanced over, Dean was looking at him and they stared at one
another for a few moments before Sam sighed. “I'll go take a shower. Beat one
off and don't let me hear you. Some of us like to make it through life without
being scarred by a family member.”
Dean grinned. “You're the best little brother a guy could have.”
“If walking in on dad was as horrific as you made it out to be, then there's no
best about it,” Sam said as he laid his book down and trouted off toward the
shower.
Dean groaned. “Shut up, Sam. You'll ruin any visual aid I have by the snow of
saving grace.”
“Dad. Groaning. As. He. Thinks. About. Mom. From. Behind,” Sam empathized with
a grin, holding back a snicker.
“Sam! You little shit!,” Dean roared, bed groaning as he moved.
Sam quickly ran into the bathroom, locked it and let out a roaring laugh.
The last thing he heard before running water was something smacking off the
door.
                                  ----------
Sleep came fitfully that night, he tossed, and turned, felt heated all over.
His limbs somehow felt too long, his body somehow felt too tight. He couldn't
get comfortable as he kicked off blankets and woke himself up with moans and
groans, face pressed into the pillow as he wanted to scream at his body for not
allowing him any rest. Was it too much to ask? He was scared shitless by a
witch earlier. He wanted a good night's sleep and to put it all behind him
until the next monster of the week came along and put a damper on his mood with
cryptic and weird sayings.
Finally he sat up, face half smooshed and hair disheveled as he looked around
in the darkness. Eyes adjusting to the light, he could see Dean with the
blankets half kicked off him and his stomach on display as a streetlight came
through the window and exposed his stomach for the world to see. He felt a hot
burning below his stomach and he turned his eyes away, no need for that right
now. All he wanted was sleep.
He tried swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, but they only went half
way and he stopped a moment to look down, frowned and then got the rest of his
legs off the bed. As he went to stand up, he promptly fell to the floor with a
hard thud, legs giving out and body filled with pain at the contact with the
hard carpet. He groaned, loud and long and he realized that very groan
sounded... nothing like his prepubscent voice that he hated.
“Sammy?,” Dean asked, switching on the light in a flash, voice thick with
sleep.
“I'm okay,” he said awkwardly as he tried sitting up, only to suddenly be
tackled to the floor again.
“Where the fuck's my brother?,” Dean groused, enraged as he pinned Sam to the
floor on his stomach.
“Uh, Dean. I am your brother,” Sam said carefully, confused but then he
realized he didn't sound like himself either.
“No, you're not, you lying piece of shit. Where's Sam?,” Dean persisted,
jacking a knee into his lower spine and holding his wrists in a handcuff
position.
Sam went still for a moment, not sure what to do here. “Dean, I swear. I'm
Sam.”
“Prove it!,” Dean threatened, driving his knee even deeper and bringing a
pained groan out of Sam.
“Okay, Okay, so...,” Sam trailed off, thinking of anything that would make Dean
believe him. “I... back in Kentucky, there was a sixteen year old girl
interested in me instead of you. You were kinda acting like a jerk about it,
and I decided to let you have her instead because I don't freaking know, you
seemed really down about it.”
Dean snorted. “Not good enough, asshole.”
Sam sighed. “When we were much younger, about four and eight. Dad would always
buy donuts for breakfast on Saturdays. He only bought one chocolate donut
though, just one and before we'd fight over it but then you started giving them
to me. You explained to me just last year it was because you figured dad was
training you to take care of me, to put me first and you always hated the eyes
I used to give you when you won.”
Dean relented a little, easing off his back. “You're not out of the woods yet.”
“Dean, I swear to holy god. I am your brother. Born 1983, of May 2nd. Our
mother died in a housefire, it was demonic in nature and our father has been
leading us on a chase ever since because he wants revenge for what whatever it
is took away from us.”
“You sure you're not some lunatic after my dad for some reason?,” Dean asked,
finally letting his arms go.
Sam sagged with relief and shook his head. “No, much as dad and I don't get
along. I wouldn't hurt him. I promise.” He sat up and went back on his ass,
reaching up to touch his face as he mapped out his features. They felt...
strange yet the same. Bigger and more narrow, no baby fat.
Dean looked at him long and hard, assessing him in the lamplight. His eyes
traveled from Sam's face to his body and then he whistled. “Witch must have
cursed your ass.”
Sam looked down, there was a very obvious bulge in his pants, not to mention
his pajama pants were so tight, they looked like skin tight woman's capris.
“She... yeah, that must be it.”
“She say anything weird to you before she passed?,” Dean asked, eyebrow cocked.
“Just what did I want most, something like that,” Sam said, frowning. “What the
heck do I look like, Dean?”
Dean pursed his lips with a shrug. “Like you, only not... go look in a mirror
for a better picture than I could paint.”
Sam nodded, holding onto the bed as he stood up on wobbly legs. He was reminded
of watching The Little Mermaid for the first time and wondering if it'd be
really that hard to stand on new legs, and he owed Ariel an apology for
assuming she was faking it. He nearly staggered to the bathroom, with Dean
chuckling behind him and Sam grumbling as he flipped him the finger with arms
that were longer, hairer than he remembered.
Once he made it into the bathroom, and flicked on the light. His face came in
contact with the mirror and he let out an unmanly scream.
“I know you're ugly, Sam, but don't let it bring you down,” Dean said from the
other room.
“Fuck you, I'm good looking,” Sam said with as much dignity as he could muster
because holyshit, he actually was. Gone was the light acne that had been
plaguing him, and it was replaced with a narrow, good looking face, not to
mention his nose was sleeker, like someone did a nose job on him and did it
well.
He looked down at his pants, at his shirt and realized it was so tight it was
starting to hurt. He took it off and threw it on the bathroom floor, admiring
his muscles and smiled to himself. ”But with age comes responsibility. he
blinked and frowned a little, okay yeah, so she did say that.
But he forgot it in the next moment as pulled back the elastic of his waist and
saw his dick. “Dean! Think we could hold a penis measuring contest?” He called
out.
“If you can't say dick, then nope!,” Dean retorted.
“Fine, dick measuring contest. Whatever,” Sam muttered.
“Still a nope. I'm sure you're big man on campus now but what we should worry
about is you getting back to normal and some clothes that fit,” Dean said
rather rationally.
Sam sighed, coming out of the bathroom, as he pulled down his pants. “While I
agree, look how huge this thing is!”
Dean looked aghast. “Put that thing the hell away!”
Sam chuckled. “Bet it's bigger.”
“Put it the fuck away now!,” Dean all but cacked.
The motel remote came flying at his head and Sam ducked, retreating to the
bathroom. “Geez, sorry for ruining your madamely honor.”
“Just...,” Dean trailed off. “I'll find you some clothes and go wake up, dad.
We gotta fix this before we go anywhere.”
Sam frowned. Guess being an adult isn't going to be all it's cracked up to be.
                                 ------------
“Dad this deserves some beer,” Dean argued, trying to stand his ground.
“Sam's still underage and so are you, you're not allowed to drink when we got a
potential job coming up,” John argued back.
“The only job we got right now is getting Sam back to normal,” Dean said
stubbornly.
Sam decided to stay out of this, looking like a hillbilly reject in his
father's clothes that were somehow too loose on him despite having almost the
same build now.
“I said no, and that's final. I've never come across a curse that can age
someone up before and that means I've got no clue what alcohol might do to
him,” John said in final.
Dean sighed. “Fine. We'll go to the library and figure something out.”
“Good idea, I'll make some calls and see what I can come up with,” John waved
them off, not seeming too worried about the whole thing.
That made Sam feel better actually, like he knew something they didn't and it
was possible to reverse. If he even wanted it reversed. He had a new lease on
life. It was worth exploring.
                                  ----------
Sam sat in the passenger seat as they passed the library, he blinked and turned
to look at Dean, eyebrow raised. “You uh, passed the library, funktard.”
Dean grinned. “Much better things to do than read away your problems.”
“Dean,” Sam warned.
“Come on, Sam. You look old enough to buy anything you want. Why not take
advantage of this and actually see how much alcohol you can hold before you end
up passing out? Dad won't even notice, hell, he didn't even seem like he was
too concerned. Bet he comes up with the answer all on his own.”
Sam took his bottom lip between his teeth in thought. Dean had a point. He was
about to say something when he caught Dean staring at him out of the corner of
his eye and the fact that his brother almost swerved off the road. “ The road,
dude!”
“Sorry, sorry,” Dean muttered, getting back in the line.
Sam frowned a little. “You okay, Dean?”
Dean blinked, face flushing as he shrugged. “Yeah, let's go get that alcohol if
you're in.”
Sam nodded, a little perplexed. “Yeah, I'm in.”
                                  ----------
Dean swaggered into their motel room, with Sam behind him. He put the bags of
beer on the table and started rifling through them. “You bought cigarettes?”
Dean turned to look at him with a quirked eyebrow.
Sam shrugged. “Wanted to try it, never have before.”
“They taste like death, yellow your teeth and stink you up like a funeral,”
Dean said with a shake of his head.
“Can't be any worse than alcohol,” Sam said, knowing that wasn't the truth.
“Alcohol in moderation, cigarettes never,” Dean quipped as he opened a
bottleneck six pack of corona and popped off the top, taking a long sip. “Not
as good as Corona Del Sol but it'll do.”
“It was on sale,” Sam answered as he walked over to the pack and took one for
himself. Sam sat down at the table, taking the pack of marlboros he often seen
others smoking and ripped open the pack, reaching for the lighter he bought to
go with it. The next thing he knew, he was taking a puff and hacking out a
lung.
Dean laughed. “Alcohol can be bitter but goes down smooth. Something that makes
you cough? Can't be good for you.”
Sam shrugged, taking another drag and it went down smoother. He looked at the
cigarette, analyzing it before taking yet another puff and exhaling. “It's not
so bad, it kinda does taste like an ashtray but maybe it's an acquired taste.”
Dean took a cigarette from the pack and lit one up too. “Dad won't kill us for
the beer, but he might kill us for this.”
Sam smirked. “I'm a grown man, dad can't do shit to me now.”
Dean snorted. “And you're giving this stuff to your underage brother. So he
might.”
Sam paled. “Good point.”
Six hours later, two cases of beer and half a pack of cigarettes gone, the
brothers lay back on Dean's bed with their bodies up against the headboard. Sam
was hazy with alcohol, his brother was a little too close and he was needing a
distraction besides Mama's family on TBS.
“Remember that time with our very first werewolf where you ended up getting
scratched by some branches and we freaked out thinking you were going to
turn?,” Dean asked, muting the show.
“Yeah, that was... man, I hated that. Honestly thought you guys would have to
pump me full of silver,” Sam recalled, glad the tv wasn't talking anymore. It
was making his head feel funny.
“Almost had me in tears,” Dean whispered, far away look in his eyes.
“We should go to a bar,” Sam said, closing his eyes as he let the bud course
through his veins.
“I'd never get in,” Dean said somberly. “I barely grow a beard.”
“If I'm still this way two weeks from now, you have to grow a beard so we can
get in,” Sam said in his grown man voice, that sounded too much like a whiney
teenager begging for a promise.
Dean looked at him with a smile. “Okay, I'll promise on that.”
Sam grinned and fell forward, head on Dean's shoulder as he nuzzled it. “Okay.”
Dean stiffened. “Sam, geroff me.”
Sam blinked. “I'm sorry, Dean?”
“You're just... you're too big right now to be doing stuff like that. You're
not all cute and fuzzy like a kitten anymore. Dad walks in and he'll be yelling
at us,” Dean explained, but it sounded like bullshit to Sam.
Sam sat up, feeling extra frowny. “Yeah, and he won't be pissed about
everything else. Got it.”
Dean sighed. “It's not like that, Sammy. It's just you get to a certain age and
the play fighting and the cuddling shit we do. It won't be right anymore.”
Sam felt then, extra sulky as he shrugged. “Whatever.”
“It's the truth, Sam,” Dean said, playfully smacking him on the shoulder.
But Sam didn't feel like playing. “I understand. Just drop it.”
“Sam,” Dean whined in his drunken voice.
“I said drop it,” Sam hissed, getting up off the bed and nearly stomping over
to his, having his own version of a tantrum.
“Big baby,” Dean muttered as Sam dropped into his bed.
Problem was, he wasn't a big baby. He was still supposed to be small. Small
enough for Dean to let him hang all over him and not make a big deal out of it.
Part of him wanted to remain an adult but if it meant Dean didn't love him
anymore. It might not be worth it.
                                  ----------
They're back in Warsaw, Kentucky. The town is as dead and little as they
remember it, the Witch's cabin not too far into the forest. They're at a second
motel and Sam has noticed Dean looking at him more and more lately, like he's
trying to burn holes into Sam's skin, and Sam wonders if he's too weird looking
now, that Dean won't smile at him like he used to. Like he was his world and
having his little brother meant everything to him.
It's really starting to depress him how much Dean seems to be distancing
himself. Not even making sure Sam takes his nightly shower or brushes his
teeth. Just asks him what he wants to eat and drops it on the bed in front of
him when they don't go out to eat in diners. Dad's making it worse by acting
like he doesn't need protected, he's let him go out by himself and look around
town without so much as making a big deal out of it.
Grown men get ambushed by creepers too, you know. At least he thinks so.
It's weird how all the things he thought were a big deal, like being over
protected and not having any breathing room, mean everything to him. Two days
ago he would have wished for being able to walk around somehow without Dean
walking by his side like he was still five years old and now that they're
giving it to him, he doesn't really want it anymore.
He sighs, flipping through a library book the pilfered looking for anything on
aging and deaging he can find.
“Okay, that's it,” Dean says as he gets off the bed and grabs his coat.
“What's it?,” Sam asks, glancing over.
“We're going out. Get on your shoes and grab your jacket,” Dean commands.
Sam stares at him a few minutes, about to tell him fuck off when he realizes
this is what he wants. Partly anyway, and does as he's told.
Forty five minutes later, they have turkey bacon club sandwiches and beer to
wash down their meals, sitting on the hood of the Impala as the early dawning
stars twinkle in the sky. Sam eats slowly, not really hungry with his onset
depression. He finishes half despite his protesting stomach and sets it off to
the side, glancing at Dean in realization that he's far taller than his older
brother now. He's pretty much a mammoth of a man. Somehow that sinks his
stomach too.
Dean catches him looking, gives him that 'I smell bullshit' look and opens his
mouth. “What's bothering you?”
Sam shrugs, arms placed over his knees. “Nothing, just haven't felt well.”
“Something to do with the curse?,” Dean aks cautiously, like he's about to
reach out and start taking temperatures. Sam wants that so bad, he can taste
it.
“No, it's...,” Sam trails off.
“It's what, Sammy?,” Dean asks softly.
“I... you and dad have been treating me differently. Like I'm not a kid,” Sam
admits, looking off in the distance.
Dean laughs. “Sam, that's what you've always wanted. You're upset that you got
it?”
“No, it's... feeling like … I don't know, like you don't hug me anymore or
touch me or anything like I'm some kind of diseased adult who lost the use of
being a carebear once I got too tall,” Sam answered, glancing at Dean before
looking away.
Dean sighed. “Sam, it's nothing like that.”
“Then what is it, Dean?,” Sam asked, turning to face him.
Dean's eyes fell to his lips and he uttered. “I Uh...”
Sam's eyes narrowed, then it hit him all at once. The looking, the non-
touching, the need to distance himself. “You freaking.... you're attracted to
me!”
Dean's whiplashed back. “What?”
“You're... you like me like this,” Sam accused.
Dean turned away and there was an obvious blush tinting his cheeks in the dying
sunlight. “That freak you out?”
Sam bit his lip, smiling inwardly as he shook his head. “No, it doesn't.”
“I'm not going to do anything to you, you're still just a kid and we're
brothers, so just know I'm not going to force myself on you, alright?,” Dean
asked, barely looking Sam in the eye.
Sam reached forward, hand sliding underneath Dean's chin as he brought his eyes
to meet his. “Dean. You have no clue how long I've wanted you.”
Dean blinked in surprise. “You're thirteen for chrissake. You have no clue what
want is.”
“Oh believe me. I think I do,” Sam said, smiling lopsidedly. “Been in love with
you since I was about eight.”
Dean groaned. “That makes me feel all kinds of wrong, Sammy.”
Sam shrugged. “I just want you to know I know what it is. If it makes you feel
any better, I didn't start having any concrete ideas about it until I was
eleven.”
Dean laughed. “I just recently before this started thinking you were... I
started...it doesn't matter.”
Sam blinked, letting go of his chin as he slid his hands down on his shoulders.
“No, finish that thought.”
Dean turned his eyes away, grumbling. “Last year.”
Sam grinned. “Last year what?”
“Last year I started having feelings for you. You happy now?,” Dean asked with
a little embarrassment and rage.
“Dean Winchester. You had a raging hard on for me when I was barely past your
chest? You naughty dog you,” Sam said with a laugh.
“Shut the fuck up and kiss me already,” Dean demanded, glaring at him.
Sam couldn't argue. He leaned forward, being his first kiss, he missed
altogether and his lips landed on Dean's chin. Dean decided to take control of
things and grabbed him by his face to bring their lips together, Sam's mouth
tingled but he allowed himself to be lead around, to be loved, to be cherished
with his brother's sinful mouth.
Soon as Dean's tongue entered his mouth, he wished for just a second that the
girl so long back had decided to pursue him a little more so he knew how to
kiss but he got a hang of the rope's quickly as he took control of things,
ravishing Dean's mouth with inexpert but fluid movement. Making Dean moan into
his mouth as his hands slid down to Sam's neck in a gentle hold, his thumbs
making indentations on his adam's apple.
He swallowed around the thick of it, swallowing Dean's tongue into his mouth as
he massaged it with his own and soon he was being pushed back on the hood of
the car, his mind briefly wondering if they turned the everything off inside so
they didn't end up with a dead battery but his mind was back on the movie reel
of dean and this being real, so close to home, more than anything has ever
been.
Dean broke off, the car thunking down as the metal indented and his big brother
looking down at him like he was a Christmas feast. “What are you doing?,” Sam
asked, his lips bruised and beaten, his tongue swollen in his mouth.
“Giving you a taste of what it's like in adulthood when you're old enough to
have sex,” Dean said with a swarmy smirk as he pulled off the hood and pulled
Sam's legs along with him, the next thing he knew he was being unzipped and a
hand was reaching inside his pants, pulling his half hard cock out. Sam hissed,
closing his eyes as he knew what was coming next, yeah, he was thirteen but he
wasn't a mind virgin by a long shot.
“Shit, you do have an impressive cock, baby brother but I still think mine is
bigger,” Dean said with a chuckle.
Sam snorted through his lust filled haze. “I somehow I doubt that.”
“We'll compare later,” Dean said amused as he pulled Sam the rest of the way
down the hood and onto the ground, where Dean got between his legs, laying flat
on his stomach and licking a stripe up his cock from root to tip that had Sam
suddenly moaning loud and hard.
Sam's back arched against the car, he would note the pain but having your cock
in someone's mouth was enough to write home about and then some. Dean's mouth
was like molten hot lava on his skin as he took him all the way in his mouth,
relaxing around his bigger than most cock and Sam had to wonder if his brother
had done this before, the way he was suctioning around the head, licking like
no tomorrow at the slit and then slamming him back inside his mouth like he was
a deep canal only for him.
Sam panted. “Fuck, yes, Dean. Yes, just like that.”
Dean didn't say anything as he went to town, sucking and licking and doing
everything in the book to get Sam off. Sam arched, moaned and groaned, hands
wringing tight in Dean's hair as he helped him push his mouth up and down on
Sam's cock like a popsicle. “Dean, I'm gonna cum if you keep this up.”
Dean pulled off, looking up at him with a cocky grin. “Isn't that the point?”
Sam grunted, wanting Dean's luscious mouth back on him. “Yeah, but...”
“Later, much later. Let me do this for now,” Dean said as he went back down,
pulling Sam's angry red cock into his mouth as he picked up from where he was
before.
Sam's hands twisted in Dean's head and his brother moaned around his dick, Sam
wasn't sure if he had caused him pain or pleasure but if the way Dean was
rubbing himself against the soft Earth was anything to go by, that was a good
thing.
Soon he felt his body tighten like a string, hands stilling in Dean's hair as
cum started pulsing out of his manhole. Dean's tongue licking and laving all
around his member as he drank down every last seed that came to him and Sam no
longer had to wonder if he was the type of male that would have liked to be
swallowed or spit out. It was definitely swallow, by Dean at least.
Sam's head thunked back against the trunk as Dean saddled up next to him,
licking his lips, face flushed as the moon was finally out. Sam hadn't even
noticed. “Good for your first blow job, right?”
“What? You want a play by play?,” Sam retorted, but he felt himself smiling
cheesily. His own face flushed and dick hanging out of his jeans.
“Wouldn't hurt,” Dean said with a chuckle, as he reached down to tuck Sam back
in with such care that Sam ached to be all of thirteen again and hope to keep
this.
“You were good, really good,” Sam answered honestly. Dean just hmmed like the
arrogant bastard he was. “Okay you were fucking great. Did you...?”
Dean patted his crotch, Sam couldn't see but he bet there was a wet stain.
“Good enough for me.”
“I'll return the favor later,” Sam said, leaning over to kiss Dean on the lips,
tasting himself on his tongue. It tasted exactly where he wanted to be.
                                  ----------
“Think that will do her,” John said as he lit the match and the bowl went up in
flames but as soon as the little bit of smoke cleared, Sam was still towering
over both father and brother.
“Um, did it work?,” Sam asked, looking at his massive hands that hadn't gone
down even a little bit.
“No,” Dean said a bit dejectedly.
“It can take anywhere from two to twenty four hours, so get get some sleep,”
John recommended.
“What if it doesn't work, dad?,” Sam questioned, feeling antsy.
“Then we'll try something else,” John answered, clapping him on the shoulder as
he went to sit on his bed and pick up the remote.
Sam looked at Dean helplessly, something in him felt near tears and he wished
he didn't feel this way.
As they trudged back to their motel, Sam kicked off his shoes and flopped down
on Dean's bed before he suddenly let out a dry heave, eyes watering and
finally, feeling like he wasn't loved due to his size caught up to him. He
cried, let out a sob.
“Sammy,” Dean said gently as he sat down next to him and brought his head to
his shoulder.
“What if it doesn't work, Dean?”,” Sam asked the same question again, but he
knew Dean didn't have the answer.
“I don't know but we'll think of something. You can't stay this way forever, I
know that much,” Dean whispered, kissing his forehead.
Sam sniffled, using the sleeve of his father's plaid shirt to wipe the snot off
his nose. “Can I sleep with you tonight?”
“Anything you want, bud,” Dean said.
They dragged themselves up on the bed, curling underneath blankets. Sam tried
to fit himself into Dean like he normally would have but it was Dean who did
the fitting.
                                  ----------
It was the same song and dance, he felt hot and achey, kept pulling away from
Dean, who kept pulling him back, finally he fell out of bed and thumped his
head against the night stand. “Ow!,” he cried in a voice that he admittedly
missed.
“You alright?,” Dean asked, flicking on the light as he crawled down to peer at
his brother.
Sam looked up, then looked down in his body in clothes that were now obviously
too big for him. He looked up again and smiled wide. “I'm back.”
Dean dropped his chin to the bed and smiled back. Hair messy. “Yeah, you are.
Think I like this version better too. For now at least.”
Sam pushed himself up using the night stand and stripped out of his clothes, he
considered putting on a fresh pair of boxers but instead crawled into bed with
Dean, naked and all.
“Uh, Sammy?,” Dean questioned, voice a little high.
“You don't want me anymore?,” Sam asked, frowning.
“It's not that...,” Dean trailed off, easily wrapping his arms around Sam's
middle and bringing him close to him.
“Oh god, not that again,” Sam muttered.
“What if dad walks in unexpected?,” Dean said in his once again rational voice.
“We'll be covered up, he'll never know,” Sam said with a small smile.
“In that case...,” Dean whispered, capturing Sam's lips in a sweet kiss.
Sam's arms went around his brother's neck and kissed him back. In that case,
indeed.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!