Mmm, sweet and sticky
Title: Don't Forget the Pie
Author: captainswank
Pairing: wincest
Rating: PG
Words: ~1,000
Summary: Little domestic feedin'/belly kink thing, shockingly porn-free.
Everyone in the business knows that hunters don’t get old.
They don’t get to walk away from it all, to run from the life, or to retire. They certainly don’t get to buy a small home in a small town, tucked safely away from any danger. They don’t get to have barbeques in their backyard, flipping burgers and sipping beers, taking pleasure in the presence of each other on a warm summer evening.
Sam Winchester walked out of their house with a giant slice of pie in his hands, body open and easy, and slid the back door closed behind him.
“You ready for dessert, Dean? Look what that sweet old lady from down the street brought over!” Sam swirled the pie temptingly in front of his brother’s face, daring him to indulge.
“Mmf, I can’t, I’m full,” Dean protested. “And I, y’know, gotta watch what I eat…” The last few words were mumbled quickly under his breath as he looked to the side, face reddening, hands instinctively moving down to shield the front of his body.
The escape from the hunter life may have been good for the soul, but this post-hunt Dean had maintained his eating habits from the road without that old level of physical exertion. Where his belly was once flat and firm it was now just a little rounded, nice and soft, grab-able, kissable, biteable. Sam couldn’t help his mouth from watering when it pushed against his t-shirt a little, or if it strained against the front of an old button-down. But Sam could whisper sonnets composed in honour of Dean’s tummy against him, about how beautiful it looked pressing over his jeans; he could mutter for hours and hours and slide his lips against it and moan, and Dean would still be reddened and shy and distressed over this new look to his old body.
He had even started working out more and eating less, but Sam was clinging desperately to this undeniably adorable side of his brother. He sat down at his own side of the table, confident that this was a fight he could most definitely win.
“Well then, suit yourself. I’m gonna enjoy the fruits of Mrs. Peterson’s labour.” He scooped up a forkful of the pie and took it in his mouth. “Oh god, that’s amazing,” he moaned.
With each bite Sam could see Dean’s resolve rapidly evaporating, and oh, that look on his face, like he was just dying for it.
“Damnit, Sammy. Maybe just a bite…” Dean allowed, looking ashamed of his total lack of character.
“Why don’t you come and get some,” Sam murmured, voice deep, eyes narrowed, little smile underscoring the challenge written plainly on his face.
Dean scowled, trying to show his brother that he wasn’t impressed with his stupid little game. But Dean could only abstain from pie so long, and Sammy’s pie/sex voice could break even the strongest of wills. He rose from his chair to loom over Sam’s, waiting for him to offer the fork so he could try just a taste of that pie.
“Go ahead and take a seat,” Sam suggested, smiling up at him with that predatory face. Dean looked down at him with deep displeasure in his eyes, tried to glare I will murder you later, and slowly while his body gave in to sinking down onto Sam’s lap.
Dean could smother him with a napkin just for the smug self-satisfaction radiating off of his brother in waves. But that pie was so close, piping hot and delicious, and Dean leaned forward a little as Sam dug out another bite.
“Open,” Sam commanded, quietly, gently, and Dean’s sweet lips parted for the pie. Sam slipped the forkful between them and watched rapt as Dean worked it in his mouth, moaning in pleasure at the tart crispness of the apple and the softness of the thick crust. He couldn’t tear his eyes away as Dean’s throat worked to swallow it. “You like that, Dean?” Sam teased, his voice still a whisper. “You want some more?” he asked, laughing as Dean nodded, his eyebrows drawn tight together. “God, yeah, you love it, don’t you?” Sam encouraged, bringing bite after to bite to Dean’s lips, loving every second of Dean’s gentle moaning and his blissed out face as he savoured the pie.
“Mm, so good, but ‘s enough, Sam,” Dean protested. But Sam just brought some more pie up to Dean’s mouth and he had to turn his face away, his sticky lips sealed tight. “No, Sammy, ‘m so full, can’t take any more,” Dean moaned.
“Shh, baby,” Sam whispered into his ear, making Dean’s whole body shiver. “Know you can do it, want to see you take just a little bit more for me. You can do just a couple bites more, can’t you?” And with a little groan and nod Dean opened his mouth for more.
“So good,” Sam whispered against Dean’s warm, stubbled cheek. “Such a good boy for me.” And Dean was so full of pie and heat and his brother that he couldn’t even muster the energy to punch him in the face for that, could only moan and shake instead of enacting the deserved violence, because what the fuck? They haven’t been boys for a while.
Instead he let Sam’s hand sneak down low to his belly, rubbing soft slow circles to match his muttered praise. It was all he could do not to writhe helplessly on his brother's lap.
“Fuck, Sammy,” Dean let out on a shuddering breath. “You have the weirdest kinks, man.” Dean always tried to show he still had it together when Sam was taking him apart, but his brother never bought it.
“Shut up and let me take you to bed,” he breathed into Dean’s ear, forehead pressed up against him, hand slipping under his shirt to massage and stroke his full, tight belly.
“Not a fuckin’ girl,” Dean muttered, and turned his face away to hide the blush and the pleased, tiny smile. He punched Sam in the shoulder, once, to underline his point, and then with a quiet little laugh he rose and went willingly.
Author: captainswank
Pairing: wincest
Rating: PG
Words: ~1,000
Summary: Little domestic feedin'/belly kink thing, shockingly porn-free.
Everyone in the business knows that hunters don’t get old.
They don’t get to walk away from it all, to run from the life, or to retire. They certainly don’t get to buy a small home in a small town, tucked safely away from any danger. They don’t get to have barbeques in their backyard, flipping burgers and sipping beers, taking pleasure in the presence of each other on a warm summer evening.
Sam Winchester walked out of their house with a giant slice of pie in his hands, body open and easy, and slid the back door closed behind him.
“You ready for dessert, Dean? Look what that sweet old lady from down the street brought over!” Sam swirled the pie temptingly in front of his brother’s face, daring him to indulge.
“Mmf, I can’t, I’m full,” Dean protested. “And I, y’know, gotta watch what I eat…” The last few words were mumbled quickly under his breath as he looked to the side, face reddening, hands instinctively moving down to shield the front of his body.
The escape from the hunter life may have been good for the soul, but this post-hunt Dean had maintained his eating habits from the road without that old level of physical exertion. Where his belly was once flat and firm it was now just a little rounded, nice and soft, grab-able, kissable, biteable. Sam couldn’t help his mouth from watering when it pushed against his t-shirt a little, or if it strained against the front of an old button-down. But Sam could whisper sonnets composed in honour of Dean’s tummy against him, about how beautiful it looked pressing over his jeans; he could mutter for hours and hours and slide his lips against it and moan, and Dean would still be reddened and shy and distressed over this new look to his old body.
He had even started working out more and eating less, but Sam was clinging desperately to this undeniably adorable side of his brother. He sat down at his own side of the table, confident that this was a fight he could most definitely win.
“Well then, suit yourself. I’m gonna enjoy the fruits of Mrs. Peterson’s labour.” He scooped up a forkful of the pie and took it in his mouth. “Oh god, that’s amazing,” he moaned.
With each bite Sam could see Dean’s resolve rapidly evaporating, and oh, that look on his face, like he was just dying for it.
“Damnit, Sammy. Maybe just a bite…” Dean allowed, looking ashamed of his total lack of character.
“Why don’t you come and get some,” Sam murmured, voice deep, eyes narrowed, little smile underscoring the challenge written plainly on his face.
Dean scowled, trying to show his brother that he wasn’t impressed with his stupid little game. But Dean could only abstain from pie so long, and Sammy’s pie/sex voice could break even the strongest of wills. He rose from his chair to loom over Sam’s, waiting for him to offer the fork so he could try just a taste of that pie.
“Go ahead and take a seat,” Sam suggested, smiling up at him with that predatory face. Dean looked down at him with deep displeasure in his eyes, tried to glare I will murder you later, and slowly while his body gave in to sinking down onto Sam’s lap.
Dean could smother him with a napkin just for the smug self-satisfaction radiating off of his brother in waves. But that pie was so close, piping hot and delicious, and Dean leaned forward a little as Sam dug out another bite.
“Open,” Sam commanded, quietly, gently, and Dean’s sweet lips parted for the pie. Sam slipped the forkful between them and watched rapt as Dean worked it in his mouth, moaning in pleasure at the tart crispness of the apple and the softness of the thick crust. He couldn’t tear his eyes away as Dean’s throat worked to swallow it. “You like that, Dean?” Sam teased, his voice still a whisper. “You want some more?” he asked, laughing as Dean nodded, his eyebrows drawn tight together. “God, yeah, you love it, don’t you?” Sam encouraged, bringing bite after to bite to Dean’s lips, loving every second of Dean’s gentle moaning and his blissed out face as he savoured the pie.
“Mm, so good, but ‘s enough, Sam,” Dean protested. But Sam just brought some more pie up to Dean’s mouth and he had to turn his face away, his sticky lips sealed tight. “No, Sammy, ‘m so full, can’t take any more,” Dean moaned.
“Shh, baby,” Sam whispered into his ear, making Dean’s whole body shiver. “Know you can do it, want to see you take just a little bit more for me. You can do just a couple bites more, can’t you?” And with a little groan and nod Dean opened his mouth for more.
“So good,” Sam whispered against Dean’s warm, stubbled cheek. “Such a good boy for me.” And Dean was so full of pie and heat and his brother that he couldn’t even muster the energy to punch him in the face for that, could only moan and shake instead of enacting the deserved violence, because what the fuck? They haven’t been boys for a while.
Instead he let Sam’s hand sneak down low to his belly, rubbing soft slow circles to match his muttered praise. It was all he could do not to writhe helplessly on his brother's lap.
“Fuck, Sammy,” Dean let out on a shuddering breath. “You have the weirdest kinks, man.” Dean always tried to show he still had it together when Sam was taking him apart, but his brother never bought it.
“Shut up and let me take you to bed,” he breathed into Dean’s ear, forehead pressed up against him, hand slipping under his shirt to massage and stroke his full, tight belly.
“Not a fuckin’ girl,” Dean muttered, and turned his face away to hide the blush and the pleased, tiny smile. He punched Sam in the shoulder, once, to underline his point, and then with a quiet little laugh he rose and went willingly.