Christmas Fic: "The Midas Touch" NC17 Sam/Dean
Title: The Midas Touch
Slash: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC17
Word Count: 1,704
Beta: the lovely and patient marys_scribbles
Warning: A leetle bit of kink
A/N: I wanted to write water sports, so I did. This takes place after the events of "A Very Supernatural Christmas"
It's Christmas, and there's contentment for once, each brother lost in his own thoughts of what this particular Christmas might mean - what it's already meant. Eggnog helps of course, and how could it not since Sam emptied a bottle of bourbon into it? The game progresses, and they love on each other silently while their eyes stay glued to the TV set, and nobody breaks the sweet, fragile silence.
It's half-time at last, and Sam puts his plastic beaker down on the coffee table, heaves himself to his feet and growls, "Got to piss."
Dean jumps up a half second behind. "Oh no! No you don’t," he laughs, attempting to beat his brother to the bathroom, just for the hell of it. Sam hip-checks him maliciously, gets the lift just right, and he laughs his ass off as Dean and the wall connect, eliciting a gasp of, "Fucker!".
"Hah!" crows Sam as he sprints for the bathroom. Dean is hot on his trail, and he piles into Sam, doing his best to jump on his back. It doesn't quite work, and he slides off, then gives it another go while his brother hoots with laughter. Dean’s too weak from laughing to get a decent grip on man-mountain Sam, so the result is more like a feeble hump than a tackle as he clutches at Sam’s shirt to hold him back. Sam moans, because he really really needs to pee. He’s dragging Dean along towards the toilet, while his brother does his best impression of a maiden deserted by her swain, clinging to Sam's leg and trailing behind him like a dead weight. Sam catches sight of them in the fly-speckled mirror and just looking at Dean sets him off giggling all over again.
Sam has to go - he has to. The eggnog is coming through. He staggers the last few steps to the toilet, still laughing almost too hard to breathe. He gets his fly unzipped, gets li’l Sammy out and pointed. Relaxes, lets go and ahhh….
And Dean grabs at his ankles, tries to climb Sam’s leg, succeeds only in tugging down his jeans. He tries to say something. Sam has no idea what because he’s concentrating on keeping the stream level. Thanks to Dean, he’s being joggled so hard his pee is going everywhere - everywhere in fact, except into the toilet.
Sam’s biting his lip, trying to point in the right direction, thinks that he's got it, and just then Dean sinks his teeth into his buttock.
"Holy shit!" he gasps. "What did you do that for, jerk?"
Dean bites again, snickering, and then settles in to gnaw his way into Sam’s ass. Sam writhes, trying to get away, screaming like a little girl. He’s still peeing when he turns, and Dean catches it face first, droplets sparkling on the tips of his lashes as the yellow stream cascades down over his shirt. That makes Sam gasp right along with him.
"Oh shit..." he says, but it doesn’t stop him pissing all over Dean, turning the denim he’s wearing dark blue where it hits, and, oh god, thinks that Dean just might kill him!
But Dean's not really laughing any more. His jaw drops open, his face stunned and soft, and when he turns his face into the stream Sam feels something melt inside him.
Dean's incandescent on his knees like that, covered in Sam’s piss. His eyes are closed, hair flattened to his head, and Sam suddenly wants him more than anything he’s ever wanted. His bladder's empty at last, and he shakes himself off. The drops spatter, and Dean blinks them off his lashes like rain. There's a pause, then Sam grabs Dean and manhandles him, dragging him up into a kiss.
There’s piss on his shirt, and his face is still hot. Sam can't believe this is happening. That his brother is letting him, but it’s true. Dean’s grinding against his thigh, kissing him back as if he's starving for Sam. He doesn’t say a word, but he doesn't really need to, because his body says it for him. He wants. He wants Sam, and he needs it now, right now.
Sam breaks the kiss, turns Dean around and bends him over the washbasin. Dean's hands slap the wall as he leans forward, presenting himself to Sam for whatever he chooses to do. Sam can’t resist running his hands over Dean, cupping his groin and squeezing, and a deep, harsh groan emerges from his brother’s chest.
Sam peels open Dean's zipper, swiftly deals with jeans and underwear. Dean steps out of them, to stand naked save for his piss-stained shirt. His knuckles whiten as Sam kicks Dean's legs apart, surveys the sexiest ass in the fucking country and does it again until Dean’s stance is to his satisfaction.
He looks for lube and growls a harsh, "Don't move." He returns to the living room for the newly gifted shaving foam and brings it back while Dean stands, bent forward, waiting, panting now, low and harsh.
Shaving foam spreads in his hand, and Sam reaches to stroke his cock, feels the foam on it cool and slick.
He lays his hand on Dean's lower back, slippery and smooth. Dean shudders at the touch, and Sam trembles in sympathy. "You sure?" he asks.
Dean gives a sob, wordless and needy. Sam knows it for yes, and please and now.
"Hold it, Dean, hold on..."
Slipping his finger into Dean's ass, Sam shivers again. His finger, slick and slippery with foam sinks slowly in as deep as it can reach. Dean moans, hitches, motion impaired by the position of his feet, still where Sam left them, thighs trembling with the effort of maintaining the stretch.
Sam slides his other hand around, cups Dean's balls, slides up and takes hold of his shaft. He's hard - hard as he’s ever been.
Sam finger fucks Dean slowly, strokes him gently with his other hand, fingers curled just so around Dean’s aching dick. He loves the way Dean's hips rock and jerk. He loves Dean’s steady, breathy moaning. He loves Dean.
The shaving foam is thick, slippery as cream. Sam thinks he's hard enough now to punch holes in metal. He slides his finger out and presses in two together. Dean twists again, his ass clenching against the invasion.
"I can't..." he whimpers.
"Shhh..." Sam says. "I got you." He kisses the soft hairs at the nape of his brother's neck, while his fingers twist inside him, opening him up. Dean is shuddering now under his touch, and he can't wait any more. Slowly he pulls his fingers free.
"I think you're ready," he says. The head of his cock eases along the slippery cleft, finding its own way between Dean's cheeks and sliding back and forth until Sam thinks it would be good enough to come like this. He moans at the very idea coming in his brother's ass, and that does it. He grips his cock, presses the head of it hard against Dean's opening and feels it relax to let him in. He slides in hard and fast and Dean gasps, up on his toes with the force of Sam's thrust.
Dean moans long and low, and Sam's own throat mirrors that sound. Sam is saying: "Oh, God, Dean, oh, God, oh God..." and every word is punctuated by another grinding thrust. They're both slick with the foaming gel, as he pounds into Dean's ass.
Slippery hands grip Dean's hipbones, and he drives himself into Dean hard enough he can feel himself brushing up against the little gland buried deep inside. Dean shudders, cries out, and Sam can feel his brother's knees trying to give. He clutches Dean tighter, holding him in place.
He gasps in a breath, lets it go again and slides his hands around to take hold of Dean's cock, stripping it with both his hands, fingers trailing down to tease at his balls. He licks at the back of Dean's neck, peach fuzz and softness beneath the collar of Dean's shirt. "You gonna come, dude?" Sam asks, lips sliding over tender skin.
Sam strokes him over and over again, can feel Dean shudder, feels tremors running down the long muscles of Dean's back. He can feel the liquid heat begin to pool at the base of his spine, feels orgasm build, snaking along the inside of his thighs and making him shake in turn. He needs to move now, needs it, knowing that one more deep, sliding thrust will set him alight.
"Come on, Dean," Sam begs. "I'm gonna come too. Oh, fuck!" And on the word 'fuck' he drives in hard, feels Dean's cock pulse in his hand and suddenly Dean's coming, jizz spurting to coat his fingers, cream mixing with the shaving foam as his cock swells and he shoots, and arches, and whimpers.
"Oh *yeah...*"
"Yeah...?" Sam growls. Dean's ass contracts around him on every spurt, and the sensation is too much. He can't hold back, has to give it up, feels his body come undone, unraveled as he loses it and empties his balls into Dean.
Arched in mutual ecstasy for a timeless moment, the two of them spasm and jitter, and then, finally sink down to land in a shaky heap together, still joined, now both needing a shower and a change of clothes.
Dean is uncharacteristically silent as Sam gathers him up and holds him, waiting for his sharp tongue to kick in and verbally flay him, but there's nothing. He finally whispers, "Dean? You okay?" But there's still nothing, and Dean remains pliant, leaning back against Sam's chest. Sam's starting to worry until all of a sudden his brother starts to laugh. And Sam joins him, guffawing as the two of them lie in their sated heap.
"Guess that's something to treasure in hell," Dean says, when he can speak again, and Sam slaps down onto Dean's bare ass, causing him to squawk.
"You can't go to hell now, dude. I ain't gonna let you."
And that's all they have except for smiles that are uncharacteristically shy as Sam scrambles up to start the shower. Sam hopes that will be enough.
Slash: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC17
Word Count: 1,704
Beta: the lovely and patient marys_scribbles
Warning: A leetle bit of kink
A/N: I wanted to write water sports, so I did. This takes place after the events of "A Very Supernatural Christmas"
It's Christmas, and there's contentment for once, each brother lost in his own thoughts of what this particular Christmas might mean - what it's already meant. Eggnog helps of course, and how could it not since Sam emptied a bottle of bourbon into it? The game progresses, and they love on each other silently while their eyes stay glued to the TV set, and nobody breaks the sweet, fragile silence.
It's half-time at last, and Sam puts his plastic beaker down on the coffee table, heaves himself to his feet and growls, "Got to piss."
Dean jumps up a half second behind. "Oh no! No you don’t," he laughs, attempting to beat his brother to the bathroom, just for the hell of it. Sam hip-checks him maliciously, gets the lift just right, and he laughs his ass off as Dean and the wall connect, eliciting a gasp of, "Fucker!".
"Hah!" crows Sam as he sprints for the bathroom. Dean is hot on his trail, and he piles into Sam, doing his best to jump on his back. It doesn't quite work, and he slides off, then gives it another go while his brother hoots with laughter. Dean’s too weak from laughing to get a decent grip on man-mountain Sam, so the result is more like a feeble hump than a tackle as he clutches at Sam’s shirt to hold him back. Sam moans, because he really really needs to pee. He’s dragging Dean along towards the toilet, while his brother does his best impression of a maiden deserted by her swain, clinging to Sam's leg and trailing behind him like a dead weight. Sam catches sight of them in the fly-speckled mirror and just looking at Dean sets him off giggling all over again.
Sam has to go - he has to. The eggnog is coming through. He staggers the last few steps to the toilet, still laughing almost too hard to breathe. He gets his fly unzipped, gets li’l Sammy out and pointed. Relaxes, lets go and ahhh….
And Dean grabs at his ankles, tries to climb Sam’s leg, succeeds only in tugging down his jeans. He tries to say something. Sam has no idea what because he’s concentrating on keeping the stream level. Thanks to Dean, he’s being joggled so hard his pee is going everywhere - everywhere in fact, except into the toilet.
Sam’s biting his lip, trying to point in the right direction, thinks that he's got it, and just then Dean sinks his teeth into his buttock.
"Holy shit!" he gasps. "What did you do that for, jerk?"
Dean bites again, snickering, and then settles in to gnaw his way into Sam’s ass. Sam writhes, trying to get away, screaming like a little girl. He’s still peeing when he turns, and Dean catches it face first, droplets sparkling on the tips of his lashes as the yellow stream cascades down over his shirt. That makes Sam gasp right along with him.
"Oh shit..." he says, but it doesn’t stop him pissing all over Dean, turning the denim he’s wearing dark blue where it hits, and, oh god, thinks that Dean just might kill him!
But Dean's not really laughing any more. His jaw drops open, his face stunned and soft, and when he turns his face into the stream Sam feels something melt inside him.
Dean's incandescent on his knees like that, covered in Sam’s piss. His eyes are closed, hair flattened to his head, and Sam suddenly wants him more than anything he’s ever wanted. His bladder's empty at last, and he shakes himself off. The drops spatter, and Dean blinks them off his lashes like rain. There's a pause, then Sam grabs Dean and manhandles him, dragging him up into a kiss.
There’s piss on his shirt, and his face is still hot. Sam can't believe this is happening. That his brother is letting him, but it’s true. Dean’s grinding against his thigh, kissing him back as if he's starving for Sam. He doesn’t say a word, but he doesn't really need to, because his body says it for him. He wants. He wants Sam, and he needs it now, right now.
Sam breaks the kiss, turns Dean around and bends him over the washbasin. Dean's hands slap the wall as he leans forward, presenting himself to Sam for whatever he chooses to do. Sam can’t resist running his hands over Dean, cupping his groin and squeezing, and a deep, harsh groan emerges from his brother’s chest.
Sam peels open Dean's zipper, swiftly deals with jeans and underwear. Dean steps out of them, to stand naked save for his piss-stained shirt. His knuckles whiten as Sam kicks Dean's legs apart, surveys the sexiest ass in the fucking country and does it again until Dean’s stance is to his satisfaction.
He looks for lube and growls a harsh, "Don't move." He returns to the living room for the newly gifted shaving foam and brings it back while Dean stands, bent forward, waiting, panting now, low and harsh.
Shaving foam spreads in his hand, and Sam reaches to stroke his cock, feels the foam on it cool and slick.
He lays his hand on Dean's lower back, slippery and smooth. Dean shudders at the touch, and Sam trembles in sympathy. "You sure?" he asks.
Dean gives a sob, wordless and needy. Sam knows it for yes, and please and now.
"Hold it, Dean, hold on..."
Slipping his finger into Dean's ass, Sam shivers again. His finger, slick and slippery with foam sinks slowly in as deep as it can reach. Dean moans, hitches, motion impaired by the position of his feet, still where Sam left them, thighs trembling with the effort of maintaining the stretch.
Sam slides his other hand around, cups Dean's balls, slides up and takes hold of his shaft. He's hard - hard as he’s ever been.
Sam finger fucks Dean slowly, strokes him gently with his other hand, fingers curled just so around Dean’s aching dick. He loves the way Dean's hips rock and jerk. He loves Dean’s steady, breathy moaning. He loves Dean.
The shaving foam is thick, slippery as cream. Sam thinks he's hard enough now to punch holes in metal. He slides his finger out and presses in two together. Dean twists again, his ass clenching against the invasion.
"I can't..." he whimpers.
"Shhh..." Sam says. "I got you." He kisses the soft hairs at the nape of his brother's neck, while his fingers twist inside him, opening him up. Dean is shuddering now under his touch, and he can't wait any more. Slowly he pulls his fingers free.
"I think you're ready," he says. The head of his cock eases along the slippery cleft, finding its own way between Dean's cheeks and sliding back and forth until Sam thinks it would be good enough to come like this. He moans at the very idea coming in his brother's ass, and that does it. He grips his cock, presses the head of it hard against Dean's opening and feels it relax to let him in. He slides in hard and fast and Dean gasps, up on his toes with the force of Sam's thrust.
Dean moans long and low, and Sam's own throat mirrors that sound. Sam is saying: "Oh, God, Dean, oh, God, oh God..." and every word is punctuated by another grinding thrust. They're both slick with the foaming gel, as he pounds into Dean's ass.
Slippery hands grip Dean's hipbones, and he drives himself into Dean hard enough he can feel himself brushing up against the little gland buried deep inside. Dean shudders, cries out, and Sam can feel his brother's knees trying to give. He clutches Dean tighter, holding him in place.
He gasps in a breath, lets it go again and slides his hands around to take hold of Dean's cock, stripping it with both his hands, fingers trailing down to tease at his balls. He licks at the back of Dean's neck, peach fuzz and softness beneath the collar of Dean's shirt. "You gonna come, dude?" Sam asks, lips sliding over tender skin.
Sam strokes him over and over again, can feel Dean shudder, feels tremors running down the long muscles of Dean's back. He can feel the liquid heat begin to pool at the base of his spine, feels orgasm build, snaking along the inside of his thighs and making him shake in turn. He needs to move now, needs it, knowing that one more deep, sliding thrust will set him alight.
"Come on, Dean," Sam begs. "I'm gonna come too. Oh, fuck!" And on the word 'fuck' he drives in hard, feels Dean's cock pulse in his hand and suddenly Dean's coming, jizz spurting to coat his fingers, cream mixing with the shaving foam as his cock swells and he shoots, and arches, and whimpers.
"Oh *yeah...*"
"Yeah...?" Sam growls. Dean's ass contracts around him on every spurt, and the sensation is too much. He can't hold back, has to give it up, feels his body come undone, unraveled as he loses it and empties his balls into Dean.
Arched in mutual ecstasy for a timeless moment, the two of them spasm and jitter, and then, finally sink down to land in a shaky heap together, still joined, now both needing a shower and a change of clothes.
Dean is uncharacteristically silent as Sam gathers him up and holds him, waiting for his sharp tongue to kick in and verbally flay him, but there's nothing. He finally whispers, "Dean? You okay?" But there's still nothing, and Dean remains pliant, leaning back against Sam's chest. Sam's starting to worry until all of a sudden his brother starts to laugh. And Sam joins him, guffawing as the two of them lie in their sated heap.
"Guess that's something to treasure in hell," Dean says, when he can speak again, and Sam slaps down onto Dean's bare ass, causing him to squawk.
"You can't go to hell now, dude. I ain't gonna let you."
And that's all they have except for smiles that are uncharacteristically shy as Sam scrambles up to start the shower. Sam hopes that will be enough.