Fic: SPN (Sam, Dean): Definitions of Normal | R | 1580 words
Title: Definitions of Normal
Author: dragonspell
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: Hard R
Warnings: Masturbation.
Summary: Sam and Dean watch porn together and jerk off. It's just a thing they've done for years.
Word Count: 1580
A/N: Written for the blindfold_spn prompt of Sam/Dean, masturbation, handjobs: Sam and Dean watch porn together and jerk off- it's just a thing they've done for years.
It’s just something that they’ve always done. He knows that some people wouldn’t exactly consider it normal but him and Sam have never been ‘normal’ anyway. Dean was fairly certain that the definition of the word in the classic sense had never actually applied to either of them.
“She’s kind of hot,” Dean says, nodding at the motel’s TV screen in front of them. They’re both stretched out on one of the beds-Sam’s actually because Dean doesn’t like to mess up his own until after he’s had a chance to sleep in it-side-by-side, doing a little brotherly bonding because they were both bored, though Sam would deny it. After about three hours of pointless searching for a new hunt and finding nothing, however, and dealing with Sam’s increasingly bitchy comments, Dean had been forced to call for a time out. He just couldn’t take it anymore.
“Whad’ya think?” He glances over at Sam who frowns, looking iffy about Dean’s statement. “Oh come on. You have to think that she’s a little hot.” The girl on the screen was just about perfect in Dean’s opinion with long blonde hair, a tiny little waist and big huge tits. She’s so damn perfect that he gives his dick an extra hard stroke in her honor, sending a nice little shiver up his spine. Sam, though, is flatly refusing to do the same.
They’re both naked on the bed, dicks supposed to be firmly in hand because Dean knows that it’s impossible to be too bitchy when jerking off-even for Sam. It might not be ‘normal’ for them to jerk off together but normal could go fuck itself because Sam and him had been doing this for years now. Dean found it was actually one of the better parts of his day.
Sam rolls his eyes over to Dean. “Boobs are too big,” he finally comments. “They look fake.” He’s not even jacking his cock at the moment, just letting it sit fat and heavy against his stomach because it just wouldn’t be a Sam thing to do not to criticize something. Sometimes, Dean thinks that it gets Sam hotter to find fault with the porn than actually watching it. Freak.
“Of course they look fake,” Dean replies. “She’s a pornstar. And there’s no such thing as boobs that are too big.” Sam shakes his head but whatever because Dean knows that she’s hot. He likes the way that she’s bouncing enthusiastically on the bed and he cups both hands around his dick, pretending that it’s him that she’s bouncing on.
Sam’s watching him with dark eyes, his hand finally grabbing his cock again which is good but he’s focusing more on Dean jerking off than the moaning girl on the TV in front of them. Part of it’s just because Sam prefers watching in full 3D instead of having to get it off a crappy motel TV but mostly, Dean knows, it’s Sam pointedly showing his disinterest in Dean’s choice of programming.
Okay. Fair enough. Dean’s well aware that Sam’s not a boob man. Dean thinks it’s a crime to humanity not to appreciate a good pair of tits, fake or not, but Sam’s allowed to have his opinions. “Fine,” Dean says, rolling his eyes. He grabs the remote and flips the channel of their stolen cable over to the one that he’d noticed before he’d found the blonde with big bouncy rack. It’s Latinas and Dean knows that Sam likes his spicy-flavored girls. Something about their perfect asses, he thinks.
Dean can dig that. Unlike some, he’s not picky.
Sam’s eyes snap back to the TV like a fucking magnet and Dean grins as Sam stares with rapt attention at the girl getting fucked good and hard. She’s moaning something in Spanish and Dean can’t understand a word but he thinks it’s sexy. He tightens the fingers of his hand around the shaft while he uses his thumb to play with the head, his dick twitching from the teasing. He glances beside him and sees that Sam’s cupping his balls, rolling them, but he’s not looking at the girl anymore-he’s looking at Dean again. Dean’s momentarily confused because Sam should be totally digging the chick that’s on right now but then an idea pops into his head. He stills, his hand pausing on his dick. “Did you want to switch hands?” Dean offers and he can see that Sam’s considering it.
It’s not like they haven’t done that before, either. Sometimes, it just feels better to have another person do it and they both can understand that. It’s well within their comfort zone to offer each other a helping hand from time to time because they’ve been doing this for so long that it really doesn’t matter anymore. To them, it is ‘normal.’ Him and Sammy have been beating off next to each other ever since Dean had shown Sam his first porno mag when Sam turned thirteen. Sam hadn’t been able to control himself and, frankly, Dean hadn’t been able to either. After that, it had turned into something that they just did, no questions asked and no lingering weirdness about it. Actually, it even seem perfectly natural that it happened that way to Dean because it’s not like they ever had much space to themselves. Better to just get used to each other and, hell, why not do it at the same time? Felt better than doing it alone anyway and this one neither one had to wait for his turn.
Besides, this way they could debate the relative merits and hotness of porn and, well, that had always been one of Dean’s favorite topics to talk about.
Sam eventually shakes his head no and Dean raises his eyebrows. “You sure?” he asks. He’s good either way so if Sam needed a little something extra, Dean doesn’t care.
Sam huffs a laugh, his hand starting back up on his dick as he turns his eyes back towards the screen. “Don’t want to hear you bitch about me not doing it right,” he says and Dean mock-pouts.
“I don’t bitch,” he replies. “And it’s not my fault you don’t know how to grip it right.” He looks over at Sam’s steadily moving hand thinking it’s such a fucking shame, too, because Sam’s got nice hands. But he’s got this weird thing that he likes to do with his thumb, tucking it underneath his fingers when Dean thinks that he really should be using it to press against the underside of his dick. To each his own, Dean supposes.
“Just watch the damn screen,” Sam shoots back, speeding up. The camera moves in to get the close-up of the guy’s dick sliding into the girl’s tight pussy and Dean groans, having no problem following Sam’s order. They’re getting close to the end, he knows, and Dean likes to come just after the money shot. He strokes harder and faster, his hips starting to get into it, rolling with his rhythm. He presses his free hand against the upper part of his inner thigh and bites his lip. Awfully damn close now.
On screen, the girl squeals, shuddering through an apparent orgasm and whether it’s fake or not, Dean doesn’t know nor does he care because the guy’s yanking out of her and jacking his cock to jizz all over her stomach and that’s real enough. Dean’s own balls tighten and he closes his eyes, tilting his head back as he focuses on getting himself over the edge of climax. The world explodes into little white stars, Dean’s body seizing and he groans as he splatters come onto his own stomach.
Beside him, Sam’s huffing like a freight train, flat on his back and legs spread as he works his way to orgasm, too. It usually always takes a little bit longer for Sam to get there though why, Dean’s not quite sure. Sam jerks his head backward, hips slamming up into his grip as he’s starting to get rough and erratic-a sure sign that he’s close because Sam always gets a little violent whenever he’s there. Makes Dean feel a little sorry for any of the girls that Sam’s slept with over the years.
Sam bites his lip, choking back a whine as he wrenches to the side. His body jerks as his cock spasms, thick white jets shooting out to coat his skin and Dean smirks as Sam pants. “Feel better?” he asks.
“Fuck you,” Sam gasps, finally pulling his hand away, letting his dick drop against his stomach. He takes a deep breath, heaving a sigh and lets himself collapse bonelessly against the mattress.
“You know, Sammy,” Dean replies teasingly, “you’re supposed to feel less cranky after jerking off.” And Sam can pretend all he wants to, but Dean knows that he’s won his point when he sees the small smile quirk at the corners of Sam’s mouth. Not even Sam could keep up his bitchiness after an orgasm like that and Dean congratulates himself on a good call making Sam stop scouring the newspapers. Sam even looks ready to fall asleep now, lazily stretching against the sheets, and Dean’s okay with that. They could probably use some sleep anyway before going back to endlessly scanning the obituaries again. Fresh eyes and all that.
Yeah, Dean thinks with a small chuckle. Their lives were just so ‘normal’ like that.
Author: dragonspell
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: Hard R
Warnings: Masturbation.
Summary: Sam and Dean watch porn together and jerk off. It's just a thing they've done for years.
Word Count: 1580
A/N: Written for the blindfold_spn prompt of Sam/Dean, masturbation, handjobs: Sam and Dean watch porn together and jerk off- it's just a thing they've done for years.
It’s just something that they’ve always done. He knows that some people wouldn’t exactly consider it normal but him and Sam have never been ‘normal’ anyway. Dean was fairly certain that the definition of the word in the classic sense had never actually applied to either of them.
“She’s kind of hot,” Dean says, nodding at the motel’s TV screen in front of them. They’re both stretched out on one of the beds-Sam’s actually because Dean doesn’t like to mess up his own until after he’s had a chance to sleep in it-side-by-side, doing a little brotherly bonding because they were both bored, though Sam would deny it. After about three hours of pointless searching for a new hunt and finding nothing, however, and dealing with Sam’s increasingly bitchy comments, Dean had been forced to call for a time out. He just couldn’t take it anymore.
“Whad’ya think?” He glances over at Sam who frowns, looking iffy about Dean’s statement. “Oh come on. You have to think that she’s a little hot.” The girl on the screen was just about perfect in Dean’s opinion with long blonde hair, a tiny little waist and big huge tits. She’s so damn perfect that he gives his dick an extra hard stroke in her honor, sending a nice little shiver up his spine. Sam, though, is flatly refusing to do the same.
They’re both naked on the bed, dicks supposed to be firmly in hand because Dean knows that it’s impossible to be too bitchy when jerking off-even for Sam. It might not be ‘normal’ for them to jerk off together but normal could go fuck itself because Sam and him had been doing this for years now. Dean found it was actually one of the better parts of his day.
Sam rolls his eyes over to Dean. “Boobs are too big,” he finally comments. “They look fake.” He’s not even jacking his cock at the moment, just letting it sit fat and heavy against his stomach because it just wouldn’t be a Sam thing to do not to criticize something. Sometimes, Dean thinks that it gets Sam hotter to find fault with the porn than actually watching it. Freak.
“Of course they look fake,” Dean replies. “She’s a pornstar. And there’s no such thing as boobs that are too big.” Sam shakes his head but whatever because Dean knows that she’s hot. He likes the way that she’s bouncing enthusiastically on the bed and he cups both hands around his dick, pretending that it’s him that she’s bouncing on.
Sam’s watching him with dark eyes, his hand finally grabbing his cock again which is good but he’s focusing more on Dean jerking off than the moaning girl on the TV in front of them. Part of it’s just because Sam prefers watching in full 3D instead of having to get it off a crappy motel TV but mostly, Dean knows, it’s Sam pointedly showing his disinterest in Dean’s choice of programming.
Okay. Fair enough. Dean’s well aware that Sam’s not a boob man. Dean thinks it’s a crime to humanity not to appreciate a good pair of tits, fake or not, but Sam’s allowed to have his opinions. “Fine,” Dean says, rolling his eyes. He grabs the remote and flips the channel of their stolen cable over to the one that he’d noticed before he’d found the blonde with big bouncy rack. It’s Latinas and Dean knows that Sam likes his spicy-flavored girls. Something about their perfect asses, he thinks.
Dean can dig that. Unlike some, he’s not picky.
Sam’s eyes snap back to the TV like a fucking magnet and Dean grins as Sam stares with rapt attention at the girl getting fucked good and hard. She’s moaning something in Spanish and Dean can’t understand a word but he thinks it’s sexy. He tightens the fingers of his hand around the shaft while he uses his thumb to play with the head, his dick twitching from the teasing. He glances beside him and sees that Sam’s cupping his balls, rolling them, but he’s not looking at the girl anymore-he’s looking at Dean again. Dean’s momentarily confused because Sam should be totally digging the chick that’s on right now but then an idea pops into his head. He stills, his hand pausing on his dick. “Did you want to switch hands?” Dean offers and he can see that Sam’s considering it.
It’s not like they haven’t done that before, either. Sometimes, it just feels better to have another person do it and they both can understand that. It’s well within their comfort zone to offer each other a helping hand from time to time because they’ve been doing this for so long that it really doesn’t matter anymore. To them, it is ‘normal.’ Him and Sammy have been beating off next to each other ever since Dean had shown Sam his first porno mag when Sam turned thirteen. Sam hadn’t been able to control himself and, frankly, Dean hadn’t been able to either. After that, it had turned into something that they just did, no questions asked and no lingering weirdness about it. Actually, it even seem perfectly natural that it happened that way to Dean because it’s not like they ever had much space to themselves. Better to just get used to each other and, hell, why not do it at the same time? Felt better than doing it alone anyway and this one neither one had to wait for his turn.
Besides, this way they could debate the relative merits and hotness of porn and, well, that had always been one of Dean’s favorite topics to talk about.
Sam eventually shakes his head no and Dean raises his eyebrows. “You sure?” he asks. He’s good either way so if Sam needed a little something extra, Dean doesn’t care.
Sam huffs a laugh, his hand starting back up on his dick as he turns his eyes back towards the screen. “Don’t want to hear you bitch about me not doing it right,” he says and Dean mock-pouts.
“I don’t bitch,” he replies. “And it’s not my fault you don’t know how to grip it right.” He looks over at Sam’s steadily moving hand thinking it’s such a fucking shame, too, because Sam’s got nice hands. But he’s got this weird thing that he likes to do with his thumb, tucking it underneath his fingers when Dean thinks that he really should be using it to press against the underside of his dick. To each his own, Dean supposes.
“Just watch the damn screen,” Sam shoots back, speeding up. The camera moves in to get the close-up of the guy’s dick sliding into the girl’s tight pussy and Dean groans, having no problem following Sam’s order. They’re getting close to the end, he knows, and Dean likes to come just after the money shot. He strokes harder and faster, his hips starting to get into it, rolling with his rhythm. He presses his free hand against the upper part of his inner thigh and bites his lip. Awfully damn close now.
On screen, the girl squeals, shuddering through an apparent orgasm and whether it’s fake or not, Dean doesn’t know nor does he care because the guy’s yanking out of her and jacking his cock to jizz all over her stomach and that’s real enough. Dean’s own balls tighten and he closes his eyes, tilting his head back as he focuses on getting himself over the edge of climax. The world explodes into little white stars, Dean’s body seizing and he groans as he splatters come onto his own stomach.
Beside him, Sam’s huffing like a freight train, flat on his back and legs spread as he works his way to orgasm, too. It usually always takes a little bit longer for Sam to get there though why, Dean’s not quite sure. Sam jerks his head backward, hips slamming up into his grip as he’s starting to get rough and erratic-a sure sign that he’s close because Sam always gets a little violent whenever he’s there. Makes Dean feel a little sorry for any of the girls that Sam’s slept with over the years.
Sam bites his lip, choking back a whine as he wrenches to the side. His body jerks as his cock spasms, thick white jets shooting out to coat his skin and Dean smirks as Sam pants. “Feel better?” he asks.
“Fuck you,” Sam gasps, finally pulling his hand away, letting his dick drop against his stomach. He takes a deep breath, heaving a sigh and lets himself collapse bonelessly against the mattress.
“You know, Sammy,” Dean replies teasingly, “you’re supposed to feel less cranky after jerking off.” And Sam can pretend all he wants to, but Dean knows that he’s won his point when he sees the small smile quirk at the corners of Sam’s mouth. Not even Sam could keep up his bitchiness after an orgasm like that and Dean congratulates himself on a good call making Sam stop scouring the newspapers. Sam even looks ready to fall asleep now, lazily stretching against the sheets, and Dean’s okay with that. They could probably use some sleep anyway before going back to endlessly scanning the obituaries again. Fresh eyes and all that.
Yeah, Dean thinks with a small chuckle. Their lives were just so ‘normal’ like that.