Ficlet Repost
you gotta fall apart to be put back together
Sam/Dean/Jo - NC-17 - written for the Porn Battle (#3)
"Wanna watch you fuck her," Sam growls, pressing himself flush against Dean's back as he fumbles with his brother's belt. He rips it from the beltloops, and then thumbs open the button of Dean's jeans. "So fuckin' pretty, Dean, and I wanna watch."
Jo is watching them from where she's perched on the pool table, tank-top askew and white cotton panties dangling from one ankle like an afterthought. She's shifting anxiously against the green felt, one hand clenched on her thigh like she's trying hard not to touch herself, and Sam almost tells her to do it.
Instead he grabs a handful of Dean's boxers and jeans, and shoves it to his knees. Dean makes a choked sort of keening sound as the fabric drags over his dick, and as soon as he's free Sam wraps a hand around him. Dean tries to say something, a curse, or Sam's name, maybe both, but it's too garbled to tell.
"Shh," Sam says, condom packet crinkling as he tears it open with his teeth, and he rolls it quick and efficient over Dean's cock. "Gonna watch you fuck her, now."
He nudges Dean forward with his hips, baby steps that make Dean's cock bob and sway and bump against his abs, one step, two, and then he's nestling Dean's hips between Jo's outstretched legs. She reaches for them, but Sam is faster, reaches long arms around Dean, grabs her thighs, and pulls.
Jo gives a surprised exclamation, and her head makes a hollow thump when it connects with the table. She doesn't try to sit back up, just lies there with her eyes closed and her bottom lip between her teeth, breath coming in quick, shallow pants. Sam slides a hand up her thigh to the juncture of her legs, and presses his thumb into her pussy. She jerks against him (them), and cries out when his calluses catch across her clit. He can feel Dean's cock nudging his wrist, can hear Dean's breath harsh and labored in his ear. He turns his hand over to grip Dean's cock, and guides it forward until the tip is just touching Jo's cunt.
"Now," he murmurs, and pushes his hips forward, pushes Dean's hips forward. He watches as Dean's cock sinks into her cunt, one slow stroke, and they groan together beneath Jo's soft gasp. Sam lifts his hand from the juncture of their bodies and presses his wet thumb to Dean's lips, and Dean groans again, letting it slip inside. He licks it, and then bites down hard, and Sam moves his other hand from Jo's thigh to Dean's hip. "Now," he whispers again, and pulls Dean back before sinking forward again. He sets a rhythm, one they can all follow, listens to the sounds of their breathing and their moans and the slap of skin-on-skin for the tempo.
About a dozen thrusts in, Sam tugs his thumb from Dean's mouth to fumble with his own belt. His jeans hit the floor in a jangle of metal and loose change, and then he's got his dick in hand, knuckles brushing the curve of Dean's ass as he jerks himself in time with their thrusts. He's still got one hand on Dean's hip, but he's not guiding, now, so much as hanging on for the ride. He buries his lips in the curve of Dean's neck, watching through slitted eyes as he thrusts into Jo. Her cries are getting louder, and her eyes are open now, fingernails sliding over the pink nubs of her exposed nipples as she arches into Dean's thrusts, watching them. Sam meets her eyes and sinks his teeth into Dean's neck, listening as his brother cusses and groans in response, watching as Jo slides one hand down, down, and starts rubbing her clit, her eyes on him all the while.
Sam can feel the pressure building fast; he's not going to last much longer. "God, so fuckin' beautiful, Dean," he whispers, biting down on Dean's earlobe. "I need you ...need you to come for me. Now. C'mon, Dean, now."
He feels Dean's first bone-deep shudder like it's his own, and a moment later it is; he's jerking and coming across Dean's lower back, soaking the hem of his T-shirt. Dean's cussing and coming, one hand gripping the back of Sam's head hard enough to hurt, the other leaving bruises on the curve of Jo's hip. Jo's voice joins the chorus a split second later, and in that instant they're alone, and together, and it's ...
"Gorgeous," Sam whispers, because it is.
Angles and Edges
Sam/Dean - NC-17 - also written for the Porn Battle (#3)
Sam fumbles with the keys for a moment too long, "Sorry, sorry," and Dean nudges him aside with a "Here, let me-" The door is open too quickly, and they both hesitate at the threshold. There's a line there, an invisible one, but once they cross it they both know there's no going back.
Sam moves first, a sudden, jerky movement, and then he's inside and stripping off his jacket before he can think about it. Dean is slower, more careful - he steps inside, closes the door and locks it; checks that the blinds are closed tight and there's salt on the windowsills. He drops his keys on the table, and then empties his pockets: wallet, lighter, pocket knife, loose change, gum wrappers.
He doesn't quite startle when Sam puts a hand on his shoulder and slides it down his arm. Steps close enough to breathe on the back of his neck.
"Dean."
Dean's breath hitches, and he tenses, but Sam doesn't move, just stands there with his hand on Dean's elbow and his breath gusting warm across Dean's neck. It's Dean's turn to make a move, because Sam made the first one,and it's not fair to put all the blame on him.
"Are you sure-" he starts, but Sam's fingers tighten on his arm, and that's all the answer he needs. He turns, just enough to facilitate a hesitant brush of dry, chapped lips and bumping noses.
He licks his lips, tasting beer and Sam, and then Sam's hands are on his shoulders, turning him and backing him into the wall. His shoulderblades hit with a thump, and then Sam is on him, mouth open and wet, and tongue chasing his startled inhale. It goes from uncomfortably strange (kissing my brother) to unbelievably hot (kissing Sam) in the space of about 3.16 seconds.
Their shirts are discarded in a frantic tug-of-war that leaves Dean's with a rip in the seam and Sam's hair irreparably touseled. Suddenly their both half-naked, and Sam is staring at Dean like he's never even seen him before, and it makes Dean feel a little nervous and self-conscious. Sam bites his lip, strokes one hand tentatively down the side he was grabbing in enthusiastic handfuls a moment before, and says, "God, you're beautiful."
Dean snorts, and mimics teasingly, "God, you're such a girl," which makes Sam growl and slam him harder against the wall.
"I'll show you a girl," Sam rumbles, which doesn't even make sense, but he pushes Dean's legs apart with a thigh, and Dean's definitely not complaining. He's embarrassingly hard for a few quick kisses, but he kind of gives up on dignity when his hips stutter against Sam's thigh and he can't quite stop the groan. Dean doesn't even notice that Sam's got his hands pinned above his head until it's too late, because Sam's rubbing against him and nosing along his jawline, and it's just ...too much.
"Okay, I surrender, Ms. Man," Dean pants, but Sam just bites his nipple, showing no signs of letting up. "Seriously, Sam, I ...what the hell are you doing?" he interrupts himself, staring down at where Sam appears to be ...sniffing his armpit? It tickles faintly, sending a shiver up Dean's spine, and he tugs at his restrained hands.
And then Sam licks him. Sam honest-to-God licks his armpit, soft, wet warmth through the fine hairs, and it is possibly the most bizarre sexual moment of Dean's life.
He doesn't really want to think about how much it turns him on.
It's like there's a direct link between his armpit and his dick, and when Sam licks him again, he makes an embarrassing sound along the lines of "Aaahhgh." His hips buck, blindly seeking friction, and Sam presses back with his thigh obligingly, and then starts licking and nuzzling with an enthusiasm Dean usually reserves for muff-diving.
It's over so fast Dean almost misses it, a sudden blinding rush of sensation, and the come-down is slow and sweet, body slumped against the wall and fingers curled in Sam's hair. It's followed shortly by utter mortification. Not only was he turned on by Sam's bizarre armpit fetish, but he came in his pants like a freaking twelve-year-old. Sam will never let him live it down.
Sam is laughing, the stupid jerk, his face still tucked under Dean's arm.
"Freak," Dean growls affectionately, and swats him in the back of the head before reaching to reciprocate.
Sam/Dean/Jo - NC-17 - written for the Porn Battle (#3)
"Wanna watch you fuck her," Sam growls, pressing himself flush against Dean's back as he fumbles with his brother's belt. He rips it from the beltloops, and then thumbs open the button of Dean's jeans. "So fuckin' pretty, Dean, and I wanna watch."
Jo is watching them from where she's perched on the pool table, tank-top askew and white cotton panties dangling from one ankle like an afterthought. She's shifting anxiously against the green felt, one hand clenched on her thigh like she's trying hard not to touch herself, and Sam almost tells her to do it.
Instead he grabs a handful of Dean's boxers and jeans, and shoves it to his knees. Dean makes a choked sort of keening sound as the fabric drags over his dick, and as soon as he's free Sam wraps a hand around him. Dean tries to say something, a curse, or Sam's name, maybe both, but it's too garbled to tell.
"Shh," Sam says, condom packet crinkling as he tears it open with his teeth, and he rolls it quick and efficient over Dean's cock. "Gonna watch you fuck her, now."
He nudges Dean forward with his hips, baby steps that make Dean's cock bob and sway and bump against his abs, one step, two, and then he's nestling Dean's hips between Jo's outstretched legs. She reaches for them, but Sam is faster, reaches long arms around Dean, grabs her thighs, and pulls.
Jo gives a surprised exclamation, and her head makes a hollow thump when it connects with the table. She doesn't try to sit back up, just lies there with her eyes closed and her bottom lip between her teeth, breath coming in quick, shallow pants. Sam slides a hand up her thigh to the juncture of her legs, and presses his thumb into her pussy. She jerks against him (them), and cries out when his calluses catch across her clit. He can feel Dean's cock nudging his wrist, can hear Dean's breath harsh and labored in his ear. He turns his hand over to grip Dean's cock, and guides it forward until the tip is just touching Jo's cunt.
"Now," he murmurs, and pushes his hips forward, pushes Dean's hips forward. He watches as Dean's cock sinks into her cunt, one slow stroke, and they groan together beneath Jo's soft gasp. Sam lifts his hand from the juncture of their bodies and presses his wet thumb to Dean's lips, and Dean groans again, letting it slip inside. He licks it, and then bites down hard, and Sam moves his other hand from Jo's thigh to Dean's hip. "Now," he whispers again, and pulls Dean back before sinking forward again. He sets a rhythm, one they can all follow, listens to the sounds of their breathing and their moans and the slap of skin-on-skin for the tempo.
About a dozen thrusts in, Sam tugs his thumb from Dean's mouth to fumble with his own belt. His jeans hit the floor in a jangle of metal and loose change, and then he's got his dick in hand, knuckles brushing the curve of Dean's ass as he jerks himself in time with their thrusts. He's still got one hand on Dean's hip, but he's not guiding, now, so much as hanging on for the ride. He buries his lips in the curve of Dean's neck, watching through slitted eyes as he thrusts into Jo. Her cries are getting louder, and her eyes are open now, fingernails sliding over the pink nubs of her exposed nipples as she arches into Dean's thrusts, watching them. Sam meets her eyes and sinks his teeth into Dean's neck, listening as his brother cusses and groans in response, watching as Jo slides one hand down, down, and starts rubbing her clit, her eyes on him all the while.
Sam can feel the pressure building fast; he's not going to last much longer. "God, so fuckin' beautiful, Dean," he whispers, biting down on Dean's earlobe. "I need you ...need you to come for me. Now. C'mon, Dean, now."
He feels Dean's first bone-deep shudder like it's his own, and a moment later it is; he's jerking and coming across Dean's lower back, soaking the hem of his T-shirt. Dean's cussing and coming, one hand gripping the back of Sam's head hard enough to hurt, the other leaving bruises on the curve of Jo's hip. Jo's voice joins the chorus a split second later, and in that instant they're alone, and together, and it's ...
"Gorgeous," Sam whispers, because it is.
Angles and Edges
Sam/Dean - NC-17 - also written for the Porn Battle (#3)
Sam fumbles with the keys for a moment too long, "Sorry, sorry," and Dean nudges him aside with a "Here, let me-" The door is open too quickly, and they both hesitate at the threshold. There's a line there, an invisible one, but once they cross it they both know there's no going back.
Sam moves first, a sudden, jerky movement, and then he's inside and stripping off his jacket before he can think about it. Dean is slower, more careful - he steps inside, closes the door and locks it; checks that the blinds are closed tight and there's salt on the windowsills. He drops his keys on the table, and then empties his pockets: wallet, lighter, pocket knife, loose change, gum wrappers.
He doesn't quite startle when Sam puts a hand on his shoulder and slides it down his arm. Steps close enough to breathe on the back of his neck.
"Dean."
Dean's breath hitches, and he tenses, but Sam doesn't move, just stands there with his hand on Dean's elbow and his breath gusting warm across Dean's neck. It's Dean's turn to make a move, because Sam made the first one,and it's not fair to put all the blame on him.
"Are you sure-" he starts, but Sam's fingers tighten on his arm, and that's all the answer he needs. He turns, just enough to facilitate a hesitant brush of dry, chapped lips and bumping noses.
He licks his lips, tasting beer and Sam, and then Sam's hands are on his shoulders, turning him and backing him into the wall. His shoulderblades hit with a thump, and then Sam is on him, mouth open and wet, and tongue chasing his startled inhale. It goes from uncomfortably strange (kissing my brother) to unbelievably hot (kissing Sam) in the space of about 3.16 seconds.
Their shirts are discarded in a frantic tug-of-war that leaves Dean's with a rip in the seam and Sam's hair irreparably touseled. Suddenly their both half-naked, and Sam is staring at Dean like he's never even seen him before, and it makes Dean feel a little nervous and self-conscious. Sam bites his lip, strokes one hand tentatively down the side he was grabbing in enthusiastic handfuls a moment before, and says, "God, you're beautiful."
Dean snorts, and mimics teasingly, "God, you're such a girl," which makes Sam growl and slam him harder against the wall.
"I'll show you a girl," Sam rumbles, which doesn't even make sense, but he pushes Dean's legs apart with a thigh, and Dean's definitely not complaining. He's embarrassingly hard for a few quick kisses, but he kind of gives up on dignity when his hips stutter against Sam's thigh and he can't quite stop the groan. Dean doesn't even notice that Sam's got his hands pinned above his head until it's too late, because Sam's rubbing against him and nosing along his jawline, and it's just ...too much.
"Okay, I surrender, Ms. Man," Dean pants, but Sam just bites his nipple, showing no signs of letting up. "Seriously, Sam, I ...what the hell are you doing?" he interrupts himself, staring down at where Sam appears to be ...sniffing his armpit? It tickles faintly, sending a shiver up Dean's spine, and he tugs at his restrained hands.
And then Sam licks him. Sam honest-to-God licks his armpit, soft, wet warmth through the fine hairs, and it is possibly the most bizarre sexual moment of Dean's life.
He doesn't really want to think about how much it turns him on.
It's like there's a direct link between his armpit and his dick, and when Sam licks him again, he makes an embarrassing sound along the lines of "Aaahhgh." His hips buck, blindly seeking friction, and Sam presses back with his thigh obligingly, and then starts licking and nuzzling with an enthusiasm Dean usually reserves for muff-diving.
It's over so fast Dean almost misses it, a sudden blinding rush of sensation, and the come-down is slow and sweet, body slumped against the wall and fingers curled in Sam's hair. It's followed shortly by utter mortification. Not only was he turned on by Sam's bizarre armpit fetish, but he came in his pants like a freaking twelve-year-old. Sam will never let him live it down.
Sam is laughing, the stupid jerk, his face still tucked under Dean's arm.
"Freak," Dean growls affectionately, and swats him in the back of the head before reaching to reciprocate.