Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/115759.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester
  Character:
      Dean_Winchester, Sam_Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      AU, Alternate_Universe_-_Gender_Changes, Watersports, Underage_Character,
      Genderfuck, Winsister, Wordcount:_1.000-5.000
  Stats:
      Published: 2010-09-13 Words: 1482
****** take off my flesh and sit in my bones ******
by Signe_(oxoniensis)
Summary
     Tiny breasts, like sandcastles washed over by the tide, tan soft and
     warm like sand; body still bones and promise.
Notes
     Many thanks to vinylroad for the super-fast beta. Originally posted
     January 2008. Can also be read on livejournal, here.
Heat, ma'am! It was so dreadful here that I found there was nothing left for it
                but to take off my flesh and sit in my bones.
                   -- Sydney Smith, in Lady Holland, Memoir
Tiny breasts, like sandcastles washed over by the tide, tan soft and warm like
sand; body still bones and promise. Her shorts are scruffy, ragged edges soft
from washing. Her hair straggles down her back, scrapped carelessly off her
face and tucked behind her ears, salt soaked and damp, bleached from the end of
a summer's neglect. She turns cartwheels on the sand, just because she can.
Three, and then she falls, ends up on her ass on wet sand.
Sam thinks she's beautiful. Everyone else says she will be, when she grows into
herself, but he knows she's beautiful now. She makes him feel awkward, all too-
long limbs and bony feet.
"Put your fucking top on," Sam says. He doesn't want to keep looking at her.
"It's getting late, we need to get back."
"Dad won't like you swearing at me," she says, sharp and vicious, though he
knows she won't tell on him.
"Dad wouldn't like you running around half naked," he retorts.
"Ain't no one here to see." She shrugs. "Except you."
She has this little half smile, hint of a promise of something more in it.
Sam's seen her throw it at the boys at school, the older boys that hang around
after school, leaning sullen against their cars, waiting.
She smiles it now, at him, and Sam feels his skin flush. She hooks her thumbs
in the crooked waistband of her shorts, and tilts her hips. Hooker pose, and
the rush of the sea must cover the sound of Sam swallowing.
"Just one more hour," she says, and she's hidden the sharpness, let the soft
sweetness mask it and work on Sam.
He needs to go home now, homework waiting, study tempting him, a cool shower to
soothe the heat of the sun on his shoulders. And he needs to pee too,
desperately – they've been gulping down water all day, keeping the South
Carolina heat bearable.
"Half an hour," he suggests, and she smiles more. Knows she's won.
"An hour it is," she says, and he winces at the thought of holding his bladder
another hour, more by the time they get home.
She pulls off her shorts, and he screeches at her, "Dee, what the fuck?" She
turns and laughs and she's only wearing a tiny thong, dusky brown pubes peeking
out of the edges. She looks down and shrugs, pulling it off as simply as though
it's nothing, not worth keeping on.
White vee on her ass, contrast to the tan of her breasts, and he wonders if it
would taste different. Hates himself for how easily these thoughts pop into his
head.
He's stirring, between his legs, uncomfortable and shifting, hard to hide in
swim shorts. And he's not sure if the heat in his belly is more from the
fullness of his bladder or something else.
She runs into the sea, skinny legs jumping over waves. She stops and turns.
"Come in," she shouts.
He can't. He needs to pee too bad, but he can't pee in the sea – she'll know,
somehow, he's sure she will. She'll see it and tease him, and he can't take it.
"No," he says, and stumbles back a few steps, up onto drier sand, further from
the whoosh and swoop of the ocean.
"What is it?" she asks, quieter, walking back up the beach like there's some
cord between them, won't let them move too far apart.
"Nothing," Sam says, though he knows Dee won't leave it at that.
"Fuck nothing. Just tell me." She's up close now, salt water streaming off her
skinny body, and he gulps, weak.
"I need to take a piss," he admits.
"So? What's stopping you?" She sounds genuinely puzzled.
He doesn't look at her. "I can't go here."
"Why not? Everybody else pisses in the sea."
"I just can't," he snaps, angry with her for not just letting this go. He
doesn't even know why now, why it's such a huge thing, why he can't just head
up into the dunes and find a hidden spot. She'd know, though, that's at the
center of it. She's always known everything about him, everything he's done,
brought him up practically, and now he needs her not to know everything any
more. Not to know what's in his mind, what his body does and wants every moment
of the day.
"It's easy," she says, and he envies her simple logic. "You just have to relax,
and it'll come."
He feels anything but relaxed. "It's not that—"
And she's squatting in the sand, right in front of him, and there's a trail of
pee hitting the sand, leaving a steaming dent. "See, it's easy."
He shakes his head and looks away, looks off to the side and tries not to hear
the sound of it streaming onto the sand, the sound of the waves hitting the
shore. Squeezes his legs together tighter, but it's not helping.
Dee stands up, and he wishes he was taller. He's growing fast, overtaking her,
but she can still look him in the eye. She sees too much.
"Do you need to come first?" she asks.
"Dee, fuck, you can't ask stuff like that?" he squawks, his voice breaking
halfway through.
For once, she doesn't tease him about his voice. Teases him a different way,
because she's in his space now, soft belly rubbing up against his dick, and
even through his shorts she must feel it, feel it bobbing, half hard. He's
miserable, embarrassed, but she just pushes her hand between them and pulls his
dick out. Pushes his shorts down with her other hand, and he kicks them aside
without thinking. Too aware of how bone-naked he is, how exposed.
Her hand on his dick, and she's not doing anything, just gripping it loosely.
She leans in even closer and whispers in his ear. "Just relax," she says. "I
know you can, Sammy."
And her voice, familiar, soothes him. His muscles relax, and his dick too,
softens, despite her touch, and the ache of his bladder is rushing through him
and the trickle of piss is slipping through her fingers, onto her belly,
streaming down her, darkening the hair over her pussy. And he leans his
forehead on her head and watches it all rush out of him, and "Dee," he says,
"Dee," and she says, "Shh, I've got you, Sammy."
She doesn't let go, even after his bladder's empty, holds on and rubs the head
of his soft little prick with wet fingers, salt and piss, and he can't help it.
He can't help it if he reaches down between her legs, finds the wet slit of her
cunt, matches the way she's moving on him. Slides his fingers inside her, and
she makes a little noise, assent, and the angle's all wrong, difficult, but it
maybe that's fitting. Nothing's ever easy between them these days.
One hand on his dick, and he can't stop it swelling in her grip, even though
it's not enough, not tight enough, and he thinks maybe she's not done this as
often as she'd like him to think. There's something in him that's pleased about
that. He's selfish.
He tries to tell her, tighter, but the words don't come out right, just a groan
into the tangle of her hair, so he pushes her hands aside, pushes into the vee
of her groin, ruts against her there. Not in her, not that, just up against
her, and she gets it, puts her hands on his ass and pulls him in and that's all
it takes. Feels his dick shudder against her damp skin and shoots his load
against her leg.
She wipes the trails of come off her legs with one hand, and puts the other
between her legs, takes over where he left off. He thinks he should help, but
he's shaking, so he watches her hand move in and out until she lets out a
little sound, relief and pleasure. He looks her in the face and there's a smile
there like the curled burnt edge of a piece of paper, so fragile the wind could
whip it away, and he's never seen her look like this before.
"S'okay, Dee, I've got you," he says, and holds her, head on his shoulder,
roles reversed. Just a moment, that's all she stays still before she's dragging
him to the water, and this time he lets her. Runs in fast, and the water races
up to meet them, scours them clean.
After, back on the beach, drying off on coarse towels, he kisses her. He licks
his lips, salty, and presses them against hers. Just once, almost chaste.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!