Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/319705.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester
  Character:
      Dean_Winchester, Sam_Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      Weechesters, Oral_Sex, Anal_Sex, Explicit_Language
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-01-14 Words: 1763
****** thunder crashes (want to make you mine) ******
by fragiledrug
Summary
     He didn’t like thunder, never had. The fear was irrational. After
     all, he knew thunder was just the sound of the lightning, of air that
     been rapidly heated and if he was going to be afraid of anything it
     should be the lightning itself but no, it was the thunder,
     particularly when it was so close it ricocheted through his body and
     disturbed the natural rhythm of his heart like the bass on some of
     Dean’s heavy metal music.
Notes
     Sam is seventeen in this but I marked it as underage/Weechesters just
     in case.
     Title shamelessly stolen from Thunder by The Runaways.
A white-blue flash illuminated the darkened sky barely even a second before the
deafening crack of thunder chased its heels, and both were so abrupt Dean
couldn’t keep from jumping slightly in surprise – and on the other side of the
car Sam woke from a sleep he hadn’t realized he’d fallen into with a violent
start, a distressed gasp caught in the back of his throat. Another flash,
another rumble, right overhead this time and nearly palpable in the way it
vibrated through the car. Sam cringed down in the seat, screwing his eyes shut
as tightly as he could. He didn’t like thunder, never had. The fear was
irrational. After all, he knew thunder was just the sound of the lightning, of
air that been rapidly heated and if he was going to be afraid of anything it
should be the lightning itself but no, it was the thunder, particularly when it
was so close it ricocheted through his body and disturbed the natural rhythm of
his heart like the bass on some of Dean’s heavy metal music.
“Dean.” He knew he sounded pathetic, more than halfway to panicking and on the
verge of tears, his voice strained and breaking.
“It’s okay, Sammy, I’m here.”
“Where are we?”
“We just crossed over the Colorado border about fifteen minutes ago.”
The sky lit up again, bright as day, and if Sam had been the least bit aware of
the keening whimper that escaped him when the thunder rolled deep and long
after the electric flash he would have been mortified. As it was, he sank
further down until the seatbelt was cutting into him uncomfortably.
“Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuccckkkk.” It was a rapid, breathless chant under
his breath.
Dean lifted one of his hands from the steering wheel, reaching for Sam to touch
his hair, reassure him, only to bite back a curse of his own as it suddenly
started down-pouring. The rain was thick, less like individual drops all coming
down at once but still separately and more like a consistent sheet of water. He
almost couldn’t see the road in front of him.
“Pull over. Please, Dean, please pull over.”
Dean complied without question, pulling over to what he believed was the side
of the road and cutting the engine off. The abrupt silence of the engine made
the rain seem infinitely louder. He barely had time to take a breath before Sam
was suddenly on top of him, having unlocked his seatbelt and crawled across the
seat to invade what little bit of personal space Dean had.
“Hey, it’s okay, I got you,” he soothed, even as Sam’s knee dug into his thigh,
making him wince at the pinch of pain. This was a lot easier when Sam was
younger and, consequently, smaller, but at seventeen he was all arms and legs
and elbows and knees and he didn’t seem to have complete control over any of
his limbs just yet. He almost laughed when Sam hit his head on the Impala’s
roof but then Sam was shifting against him, another keening whimper torn from
his throat and the sound went straight down Dean’s spine to his cock like an
invisible but all-too-real bolt of lightning. “Wait, wait, Sam.” Reaching up,
he managed to grab Sam’s face, stilling him long enough to press their mouths
together. It was a light, sweet slide of lips, Sam’s breath a shaky exhale that
Dean inhaled and trapped in his lungs for several seconds. He knew what his
little brother needed at times like this, when he was out of control and on the
verge of completely losing his shit; he needed Dean to let him fall apart under
his hands and put him back together. There wasn’t nearly enough room for that
in the driver’s seat, however, and Dean began the arduous process of coaxing
Sam into the back.
It only took three tries before Sam relented and crawled over the center
console to the back seat, dragging Dean with him as if he couldn’t stand to be
without physical contact for even that small amount of time. He stretched out
across the seat – or sort of stretched out, knees bent because he was way too
tall to fit in the car that way – on his back and Dean hovered above him, hands
on either side of his head and his knees on either side of his thighs. One of
Sam’s legs was pressed against his crotch and he couldn’t help rolling his hips
slightly, adding more pressure to the singular point of contact. Sam’s hazel
eyes were dilated, pupils blown wide in a combination of fear and lust, though
Dean had every intention of making Sam forget the former. Dean rolled his hips
again and this time Sam pushed up, his hands fisting into Dean’s too-short hair
and pulling him down for a brusque kiss that was more teeth and tongue than
lips.
Dean could feel him trembling, fine shudders that quaked through his body, and
he shifted to be able to place a hand on Sam’s stomach, inching the fabric of
his shirt up until his fingers grazed flesh. Sam was hot, always so hot, like
he ran at least three degrees higher than everyone else. It was nice in the
winter and it was nice then, with the cold of the weather trying to seep inside
the car. His stomach muscles flexed and twitched involuntarily beneath Dean’s
touch and he slid his hand higher, pushing under the shirt, over the defined
planes of Sam’s abdomen and to his chest, where he thumbed over a nipple. Sam
hissed in response, teeth catching on Dean’s bottom lip. Dean broke the kiss
with a groan, pulling his hand out from under Sam’s shirt to lean back and
attack the button of Sam’s jeans, then the zipper. The sound of the zip was
drowned out by the combined cadence of rain pelting the roof in a relentless
torrent and their heavy, panted breaths. Sam lifted his ass without being told
and Dean tugged the jeans down until his hipbones were visible. He had to pause
then, ducking down to drag his tongue along the sharp, tempting curve of one.
After that, he yanked his jeans the rest of the way off, discarding them
somewhere on the floor. Before Sam could get settled again he took hold of his
cock, giving it a firm squeeze, and then licked a hot, wet stripe from base to
head, tasting the precome that had gathered at the tip. Sam made a broken noise
when Dean’s tongue drew across his slit, something that sounded like a plea for
more and his name but he was too far gone to enunciate. “Relax, baby,” Dean
murmured, right against Sam’s cock. “You’re so damn beautiful like this, all
spread out for me.” Sam made another broken noise, this time because Dean took
him into his mouth, sucking hard, just the way he knew Sam liked. He took him
as deep as he could, forcing past his gag reflex, feeling the head of Sam’s
cock at the back of his throat. His throat would be sore later, voice raw as a
result, and for some reason that thought was way hotter than it had any right
to be. Guiding Sam’s hips up once in permission, Dean let him fuck his mouth,
six, seven thrusts until he was crying out with his orgasm – Dean, oh fuck,
Dean! – and Dean tried to swallow it all down but some escaped from the corner
of his mouth as he pulled off.
Sam laughed at the sight, breathless and beautiful, and Dean smiled despite
himself. “You look obscene. Like, porn star obscene.”
“Shut up.” Still smiling, Dean stretched over Sam and pressed their mouths
together. Sam immediately opened for him, licking away the last traces of his
own come from Dean’s lips and tongue. Dean broke the kiss to trail a series of
nips and licks along Sam’s jaw line, one hand unzipping and unbuttoning his own
pants with a practiced dexterity. Pushing them down enough that his cock was
free, he repositioned Sam, moving his legs on either side of his hips and
lifting his ass. Sam allowed himself to be manipulated, head thrown back to
give Dean better access to his throat. Dean spent a few more minutes marking
him, sucking his skin red and making him writhe until he tightened his legs
with a desperate, begging whine and rolled his hips, rubbing his quickly
recovering erection against Dean’s lower stomach and consequently smearing come
on his shirt – not that Dean cared just then.
Taking his cock in hand, Dean guided himself to Sam’s entrance and pushed in,
slowly, his head slipping past the tight ring of muscle with a groan he wasn’t
certain which of them made. He meant to keep going slow, to drive Sam mad
little by little until he was incoherent with need, but Sam had other ideas;
arching beneath Dean, he forced him deeper, drawing a shuddering gasp from him
as he sank further into the inviting heat of his body. In reprimand, Dean bit
down on his shoulder hard enough to leave a bruise. Sam merely groaned, the
pain embraced with the pleasure. Licking the bite, Dean began to thrust in
earnest, each pull out and push back in taking him deeper until he was sheathed
to the hilt, his hips pressed to Sam’s ass, his cock grazing his prostate
almost continuously. He panted against the hollow of Sam’s shoulder, hips
stuttering slightly when Sam raked blunt nails down his back and sides.
Reaching between them, he gripped Sam’s cock, stroking it in time with his
thrusts. They gradually lost any semblance of true rhythm as Dean pounded into
Sam, drawing bitten-off groans and cries from him.
“Sam, oh, Sam, Sammy, fuck, Sam.” It was litany whispered into Sam’s sweat-
soaked skin. Sam dragged his nails down Dean’s back again, reveling in the hiss
of breath, the way he thrust harder. Turning his head, he caught Dean’s earlobe
with his teeth – and that was all it took; Dean went rigid and came with a low
cry, spilling liquid heat inside him. The feeling was enough to take Sam over
the edge as well, his breath right against Dean’s ear. They rode it out
together, and when the waves of pleasure finally subsided Dean slumped against
him. For several long moments they didn’t move, their harsh breathing the only
sound in the car, and that was when Dean realized it had stopped storming.
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