Fic: Lazy Summer Afternoon. Sam/Dean. PG-13
For keepaofthecheez for giving me inspiration. I haven't written porn in MONTHS so bear with me, ok?
Title: Lazy Summer Afternoon
Paring: Sam/Dean
Rating: Ehm... PG13? The dirty kind. I have no idea.
Word count: 2474 words
Warnings: Wincest. Sam is 17.
Summary: Total PWP so there's nekkidness and stuff. That enough summary for ya?
Author's note: So not my own script, I just put words and thoughts into it. Oh, and it's unbeta'd because I just wrote this now in about the last two hours or so.
After driving around the whole fucking town for three hours the last thing Dean expects to see when he gets home is Sam, lying lazily on the lawn chair on the porch, eyes squeezed shut against the evening sun and one hand resting over his stomach. He’s only got his jeans on, his t-shirt tossed over the back of the railing and his sneakers and shoes toed off and thrown to the side. He looks like he hasn’t got a care in the world. Like he wasn’t supposed to be home four fucking hours ago when Dean got home from work.
Sam doesn’t move when Dean crosses the lawn and stomps up on the porch, anger in every step. 'Thinks he can pretend he’s sleeping? We’ll see about that,' Dean thinks and is just about to open his mouth to deliver the angriest speech Sam's heard since… well, this morning probably, when Sam moves his hand. It slides slowly down and slips underneath the waistband of his jeans, a movement disturbing enough any other day except this time it reveals more than Dean’s perversion. There’s a glimpse of silver and Dean stops dead in his track, mouth going slack for a moment before setting in an thin line.
“What the fuck is that?”
Sam doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t even open his eyes, the cocky little bitch, just smirks and says, “Like it?”
“No, I don’t fucking like it!” Dean lies. “What the hell were you thinking?”
He can see Sam falter for a moment but then the cocky smile is back and he cracks one eye open, looking at Dean in a way that should be fucking illegal. And well, is, if you look at it that way.
“I was thinking about how much you love it when I tongue your earring. Got one of those too,” he adds and turns his head, revealing a small silver ring in the upper cartilage of his right ear.
Oh for fuck’s sake. That’s so far from fair, it’s fucking evil. “Christ!”
Dean’s moving before he realizes what he’s doing. He’s pulling off his t-shirt and throwing it aside and then he’s straddling Sam’s hips, his tongue down his throat. Sam makes this surprised squeaky sound that turns into a breathy laugh that again turns into a moan and fuck if it ain’t driving Dean fucking crazy.
“Got that for me?” he growls into Sam’s ear before thrusting his tongue into the ring, tasting metal and disinfectant and the slightest hint of blood. Sam hisses and grabs him by the hair, pulling him off.
“Just got it now, you jerk! It’s gotta heal!”
“Won’t have time to heal,” Dean pants. “Dad’s gonna be home in a couple of days and this better be gone by then.”
He can feel Sam pouting against his shoulder and distracts him by licking up his neck. “Why you think I got mine when he went down to Georgia? Needed time for it to heal so I could take it out without the hole closing.”
“It’s not fair,” Sam sulks and Dean rolls his eyes but doesn’t comment. Instead he nibbles his way down Sam’s neck and across his collarbone, loving those needy little sounds Sam makes with every bite.
“Guess we gotta make the best out of it until then,” he says and licks his way down Sam’s chest and onto his stomach.
Sam arches off the lawn chair, skin stretching over his ribs and showing off every one of them. Sometimes it seems Sam’s too busy growing up to add muscle to all that length. He almost feels fragile under Dean’s calloused hands, his skin so thin the veins shine through, and soft and golden like a girl’s.
Dean loves telling him that, loves the pissy little look Sam gets on his face and the way he puffs out his chest to seem tougher, without even realizing what he’s doing. But most of all Dean loves when Sam tries to show him just how much he’s not a girl. Like grabbing Dean’s hips and flipping him over, then fucking him deep into the mattress as if every thrust will prove how much of a man he is.
Not now though. Now he’s trembling under Dean’s tongue, his belly moving in waves of labored breathing as Dean closes in on his goal. Sam’s right though. The piercing is too raw for him to risk it, no matter how much he wants to thrust his tongue into that small ring and fuck it into Sam’s navel. Instead he circles it and then gives it a wet kiss before licking a wet path through Sam’s beginning of a treasure trail, flattening the golden hairs to his stomach. Then reaches with fumbling fingers for the buttons of his jeans, undoing them one by one.
Sam is moaning openly by now and Dean’s never been so thankful for the relative seclusion of their present crappy place of living. He can hear kids far away, screaming and laughing, but the chances of them crossing the wild grown field around the house is minimal and for everyone else the hedge offers a good enough shelter. He still grinds the heal of his hand into Sam’s hard cock, just as a reminder, and Sam sucks in his breath, whimpering between clenched teeth as he breathes out again.
They are used to keeping it silent. Motel rooms have thin walls or sometimes none at all and no matter how drunk Dad is or how loud the TV is blaring, they never take that chance. Dean bites his fist and Sam yells into his pillow and just because Dad ain’t home that doesn’t change anything. Old habits die hard.
They don’t need sounds though. Don’t need words or groans and grunts to know what feels good or what they’d never say aloud anyway. Like ‘So beautiful, Sam. Let me taste you. Let me feel your heartbeat under my tongue.’ Or ‘God, yes, right there. Right there, Dean. Love when you do that. Love you when you do that. Love you.’ Instead they tone it down to the almost breathless whimpers that no will can suppress and the moans that stay deep in their throats, not daring to escape.
Sam lifts his ass eagerly when Dean tugs at his jeans, wriggling his hips to help them slide down and then kicking them off impatiently. Dean would roll his eyes at the fact that Sam’s not wearing any underwear if it wasn’t so damn hot. Sam’s got hunger in his eyes so fierce that for a moment Dean feels almost scared by the intensity. He lowers his head to cover it up, pushing Sam’s thighs apart and going straight for the prize.
Sam jumps when he feels Dean’s mouth on his balls and Dean grabs him by the ankles, holding him still. He just wants to taste, just wants to breathe in the smell of Sam that he’s been thinking of all damn day, stuck in that greasy diner, flipping burgers like the fucking high school drop out he is. They make him wear a hairnet for Christ’s sake! Only until dad gets back and then they’re out of here, thank fucking God. If he has to work there any longer he might never be able to eat a fucking burger again and that pretty much brings his total menu down to zero.
Sam’s a fucking girl when he’s getting his dick sucked. He keeps patting Dean’s hair and grabbing his hand, clutching it to his chest like he’s afraid his heart might burst out of it otherwise. Dean lets him, doesn’t hate it too much himself to tell the truth, feeling Sam’s heartbeat quickening under his palm.
Sam’s also the only guy Dean’s ever known that would rather kiss than get a blowjob. He has a thing for Dean’s lips or so it seems. Keeps mumbling filthy things about his mouth and what he wants to do with it, from feeding it his dick to Dean pushing his tongue into Sam’s ass but when it comes down to it what he likes best it Dean kissing him. Deep hot kisses and sloppy hungry kisses and sometimes just slow and almost gentle kisses that make Dean’s chest hurt.
The first time Sam leaned over to take Dean’s dick into his mouth he pushed him away and silenced Sam’s confusion by blowing him breathless. It worked a few more times after that. but Sam’s never been one to give up when he’s set his eyes on something and when that something happens to be Dean’s dick it became harder and harder to argue, pun totally intended.
In the end Dean had given in but it still hits him in all the wrong ways whenever he looks down at Sam’s lips stretched around his dick, swallowing him down like a damn pro. He loves it and he hates it and he loves Sam while he hates himself for allowing this to happen. Doesn’t matter that Sam practically begs him for it, that he loves giving head almost more than he loves getting it. Doesn’t matter that blowing someone has never felt degrading to Dean, no matter how much of a jerk the receiver of that blowjob is. He figures if he’s got a guy’s dick in his mouth he’s pretty much calling the shots. It feels different with Sam though. Sam should have more pride than that, to like being on his knees with someone’s dick down his throat, even if that someone is Dean. Especially if that someone is Dean.
He’s learned not to argue though, just lets Sam do what he wants and holds back with every grain of strength he has because fuck if he’s gonna choke Sam on his dick. He hates when guys do that, just thrust into his mouth like he’s a wet bottomless pussy. He doesn’t grab Sam’s hair either, just runs his fingers through it, loving how the silky strands slide between his fingers. Dad keeps pestering Sam about getting a haircut but Dean backs Sam up, says he can keep the damn mop as long as it doesn’t get in way of him seeing what he’s fighting. Sam smirks but it’s not as if he can tell Dad the real reason.
By the time Sam reaches for Dean’s belt he’s so damn hard he’s soaking through his jeans and he’s got no patience for waiting any longer. As soon as the jeans have been pushed down his thighs he’s kicking them off and pushing Sam back, still wearing his socks, with his underwear dangling from one ankle as he licks his way into Sam’s mouth. Sam’s stubborn though, he pushes Dean away again then leans over and sucks Dean’s cock back in between his lips, his spine curved like a cat’s and all Dean can do is hold on to him, hiding his face in Sam’s hair as he struggles to regain his breath and then moves on to kiss his neck and shoulders.
He doesn’t want to come like this though. He wants to see Sam’s face, wants to watch him as he fights to hold on and then finally loses it. He pushes Sam away, slicking up his brother’s dick with a few sloppy sucks of his mouth before returning to kissing Sam as he strokes his cock. Sam says he jerks off like a girl, holding him too loose in his hand like he’s afraid he’ll hurt him. Dean tells him to shut up, not admitting that he’s right. He is afraid of hurting him, always afraid of hurting him. Really not helped by the fact that he knows he is. Sam might not think so but one day he will. One day he will stop and realize his big brother destroyed his childhood.
“Come here,” Sam whispers, as if he can read Dean’s thoughts. He reaches out and wraps long slender fingers around Dean’s dick, stroking him the way he likes it, tight and hard. Dean can feel his face grow hot and he lets go off Sam’s cock and grabs his own, slapping Sam’s hand away. Sam doesn’t argue, just wraps his fingers around his own dick and they continue like that, fisting their cocks harder and faster as they stare into each other’s eyes.
Dean’s knees are getting weak and he lowers himself over Sam in the chair, finally tumbling to lay by his side. They keep kissing, their hands moving faster and faster as their breathing gets more erratic. Sam’s arm is around Dean’s neck, pulling him in tighter the closer he gets, his mouth open as he tries to breathe and stay silent at the same time and he doesn’t quite succeed. Small sounds of desperation escape his lips, almost painful whimpers of need that have Dean hitching his own breath and digging his fingers into Sam’s shoulder. He can feel it, Sam building up for his release, as every nerve in his body tenses and he starts arching off the chair, jerking himself off so hard it must hurt.
“It’s alright,” Dean whispers into Sam’s ear. “C’mon, Sammy. Yeah. Want to see you come.”
Sam jerks against him and Dean feels hot and wet come spill on his stomach and when he looks down there’s a pool forming in Sam’s bellybutton with splatters reaching up to his chest and spattering Dean’s skin. Oh God.
He keeps stroking himself, feeling Sam’s breathing slowly settling beside him and then he’s turning on his side, kissing Dean’s neck and jaw, licking his skin and pushing his tongue into Dean’s ear. Dean’s so close now but he doesn’t seem able to get there. Sweat is running down from his temple and pooling on his chest and he can feel Sam watching him in between kisses, urging him on and breathing into his face. It isn’t until he moves to cover Dean’s body with his own, kissing him deeply and rubbing his already hardening cock against Dean’s oversensitive one that Dean can feel himself climbing to the top and then finally, finally, he’s there. Sam laughs softly into Dean’s mouth as he pants through his orgasm, then lowers himself until he’s pressed up against Dean, half-hard cocks and cooling come squished between them.
“Fuck,” Dean breathes and Sam laughs again, then swoops down to scoop a taste of Dean’s and his come up on his tongue before surging back up and sharing it with Dean.
Later, when they’re clean and fed and lying in bed, Sam snoring in his arms, Dean will think of that taste. A bite of metal, a sting of disinfectant and the tiniest hint of blood but overpowering all that, his and Sam’s come, mixed together on Sam’s tongue.
It should taste disgusting but somehow it just tastes right.
fin
Story from me! Bet you didn't see that coming! *snorts* And now I'm going to bed because it's almost half past one in the morning. The things I do for porn.
Title: Lazy Summer Afternoon
Paring: Sam/Dean
Rating: Ehm... PG13? The dirty kind. I have no idea.
Word count: 2474 words
Warnings: Wincest. Sam is 17.
Summary: Total PWP so there's nekkidness and stuff. That enough summary for ya?
Author's note: So not my own script, I just put words and thoughts into it. Oh, and it's unbeta'd because I just wrote this now in about the last two hours or so.
After driving around the whole fucking town for three hours the last thing Dean expects to see when he gets home is Sam, lying lazily on the lawn chair on the porch, eyes squeezed shut against the evening sun and one hand resting over his stomach. He’s only got his jeans on, his t-shirt tossed over the back of the railing and his sneakers and shoes toed off and thrown to the side. He looks like he hasn’t got a care in the world. Like he wasn’t supposed to be home four fucking hours ago when Dean got home from work.
Sam doesn’t move when Dean crosses the lawn and stomps up on the porch, anger in every step. 'Thinks he can pretend he’s sleeping? We’ll see about that,' Dean thinks and is just about to open his mouth to deliver the angriest speech Sam's heard since… well, this morning probably, when Sam moves his hand. It slides slowly down and slips underneath the waistband of his jeans, a movement disturbing enough any other day except this time it reveals more than Dean’s perversion. There’s a glimpse of silver and Dean stops dead in his track, mouth going slack for a moment before setting in an thin line.
“What the fuck is that?”
Sam doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t even open his eyes, the cocky little bitch, just smirks and says, “Like it?”
“No, I don’t fucking like it!” Dean lies. “What the hell were you thinking?”
He can see Sam falter for a moment but then the cocky smile is back and he cracks one eye open, looking at Dean in a way that should be fucking illegal. And well, is, if you look at it that way.
“I was thinking about how much you love it when I tongue your earring. Got one of those too,” he adds and turns his head, revealing a small silver ring in the upper cartilage of his right ear.
Oh for fuck’s sake. That’s so far from fair, it’s fucking evil. “Christ!”
Dean’s moving before he realizes what he’s doing. He’s pulling off his t-shirt and throwing it aside and then he’s straddling Sam’s hips, his tongue down his throat. Sam makes this surprised squeaky sound that turns into a breathy laugh that again turns into a moan and fuck if it ain’t driving Dean fucking crazy.
“Got that for me?” he growls into Sam’s ear before thrusting his tongue into the ring, tasting metal and disinfectant and the slightest hint of blood. Sam hisses and grabs him by the hair, pulling him off.
“Just got it now, you jerk! It’s gotta heal!”
“Won’t have time to heal,” Dean pants. “Dad’s gonna be home in a couple of days and this better be gone by then.”
He can feel Sam pouting against his shoulder and distracts him by licking up his neck. “Why you think I got mine when he went down to Georgia? Needed time for it to heal so I could take it out without the hole closing.”
“It’s not fair,” Sam sulks and Dean rolls his eyes but doesn’t comment. Instead he nibbles his way down Sam’s neck and across his collarbone, loving those needy little sounds Sam makes with every bite.
“Guess we gotta make the best out of it until then,” he says and licks his way down Sam’s chest and onto his stomach.
Sam arches off the lawn chair, skin stretching over his ribs and showing off every one of them. Sometimes it seems Sam’s too busy growing up to add muscle to all that length. He almost feels fragile under Dean’s calloused hands, his skin so thin the veins shine through, and soft and golden like a girl’s.
Dean loves telling him that, loves the pissy little look Sam gets on his face and the way he puffs out his chest to seem tougher, without even realizing what he’s doing. But most of all Dean loves when Sam tries to show him just how much he’s not a girl. Like grabbing Dean’s hips and flipping him over, then fucking him deep into the mattress as if every thrust will prove how much of a man he is.
Not now though. Now he’s trembling under Dean’s tongue, his belly moving in waves of labored breathing as Dean closes in on his goal. Sam’s right though. The piercing is too raw for him to risk it, no matter how much he wants to thrust his tongue into that small ring and fuck it into Sam’s navel. Instead he circles it and then gives it a wet kiss before licking a wet path through Sam’s beginning of a treasure trail, flattening the golden hairs to his stomach. Then reaches with fumbling fingers for the buttons of his jeans, undoing them one by one.
Sam is moaning openly by now and Dean’s never been so thankful for the relative seclusion of their present crappy place of living. He can hear kids far away, screaming and laughing, but the chances of them crossing the wild grown field around the house is minimal and for everyone else the hedge offers a good enough shelter. He still grinds the heal of his hand into Sam’s hard cock, just as a reminder, and Sam sucks in his breath, whimpering between clenched teeth as he breathes out again.
They are used to keeping it silent. Motel rooms have thin walls or sometimes none at all and no matter how drunk Dad is or how loud the TV is blaring, they never take that chance. Dean bites his fist and Sam yells into his pillow and just because Dad ain’t home that doesn’t change anything. Old habits die hard.
They don’t need sounds though. Don’t need words or groans and grunts to know what feels good or what they’d never say aloud anyway. Like ‘So beautiful, Sam. Let me taste you. Let me feel your heartbeat under my tongue.’ Or ‘God, yes, right there. Right there, Dean. Love when you do that. Love you when you do that. Love you.’ Instead they tone it down to the almost breathless whimpers that no will can suppress and the moans that stay deep in their throats, not daring to escape.
Sam lifts his ass eagerly when Dean tugs at his jeans, wriggling his hips to help them slide down and then kicking them off impatiently. Dean would roll his eyes at the fact that Sam’s not wearing any underwear if it wasn’t so damn hot. Sam’s got hunger in his eyes so fierce that for a moment Dean feels almost scared by the intensity. He lowers his head to cover it up, pushing Sam’s thighs apart and going straight for the prize.
Sam jumps when he feels Dean’s mouth on his balls and Dean grabs him by the ankles, holding him still. He just wants to taste, just wants to breathe in the smell of Sam that he’s been thinking of all damn day, stuck in that greasy diner, flipping burgers like the fucking high school drop out he is. They make him wear a hairnet for Christ’s sake! Only until dad gets back and then they’re out of here, thank fucking God. If he has to work there any longer he might never be able to eat a fucking burger again and that pretty much brings his total menu down to zero.
Sam’s a fucking girl when he’s getting his dick sucked. He keeps patting Dean’s hair and grabbing his hand, clutching it to his chest like he’s afraid his heart might burst out of it otherwise. Dean lets him, doesn’t hate it too much himself to tell the truth, feeling Sam’s heartbeat quickening under his palm.
Sam’s also the only guy Dean’s ever known that would rather kiss than get a blowjob. He has a thing for Dean’s lips or so it seems. Keeps mumbling filthy things about his mouth and what he wants to do with it, from feeding it his dick to Dean pushing his tongue into Sam’s ass but when it comes down to it what he likes best it Dean kissing him. Deep hot kisses and sloppy hungry kisses and sometimes just slow and almost gentle kisses that make Dean’s chest hurt.
The first time Sam leaned over to take Dean’s dick into his mouth he pushed him away and silenced Sam’s confusion by blowing him breathless. It worked a few more times after that. but Sam’s never been one to give up when he’s set his eyes on something and when that something happens to be Dean’s dick it became harder and harder to argue, pun totally intended.
In the end Dean had given in but it still hits him in all the wrong ways whenever he looks down at Sam’s lips stretched around his dick, swallowing him down like a damn pro. He loves it and he hates it and he loves Sam while he hates himself for allowing this to happen. Doesn’t matter that Sam practically begs him for it, that he loves giving head almost more than he loves getting it. Doesn’t matter that blowing someone has never felt degrading to Dean, no matter how much of a jerk the receiver of that blowjob is. He figures if he’s got a guy’s dick in his mouth he’s pretty much calling the shots. It feels different with Sam though. Sam should have more pride than that, to like being on his knees with someone’s dick down his throat, even if that someone is Dean. Especially if that someone is Dean.
He’s learned not to argue though, just lets Sam do what he wants and holds back with every grain of strength he has because fuck if he’s gonna choke Sam on his dick. He hates when guys do that, just thrust into his mouth like he’s a wet bottomless pussy. He doesn’t grab Sam’s hair either, just runs his fingers through it, loving how the silky strands slide between his fingers. Dad keeps pestering Sam about getting a haircut but Dean backs Sam up, says he can keep the damn mop as long as it doesn’t get in way of him seeing what he’s fighting. Sam smirks but it’s not as if he can tell Dad the real reason.
By the time Sam reaches for Dean’s belt he’s so damn hard he’s soaking through his jeans and he’s got no patience for waiting any longer. As soon as the jeans have been pushed down his thighs he’s kicking them off and pushing Sam back, still wearing his socks, with his underwear dangling from one ankle as he licks his way into Sam’s mouth. Sam’s stubborn though, he pushes Dean away again then leans over and sucks Dean’s cock back in between his lips, his spine curved like a cat’s and all Dean can do is hold on to him, hiding his face in Sam’s hair as he struggles to regain his breath and then moves on to kiss his neck and shoulders.
He doesn’t want to come like this though. He wants to see Sam’s face, wants to watch him as he fights to hold on and then finally loses it. He pushes Sam away, slicking up his brother’s dick with a few sloppy sucks of his mouth before returning to kissing Sam as he strokes his cock. Sam says he jerks off like a girl, holding him too loose in his hand like he’s afraid he’ll hurt him. Dean tells him to shut up, not admitting that he’s right. He is afraid of hurting him, always afraid of hurting him. Really not helped by the fact that he knows he is. Sam might not think so but one day he will. One day he will stop and realize his big brother destroyed his childhood.
“Come here,” Sam whispers, as if he can read Dean’s thoughts. He reaches out and wraps long slender fingers around Dean’s dick, stroking him the way he likes it, tight and hard. Dean can feel his face grow hot and he lets go off Sam’s cock and grabs his own, slapping Sam’s hand away. Sam doesn’t argue, just wraps his fingers around his own dick and they continue like that, fisting their cocks harder and faster as they stare into each other’s eyes.
Dean’s knees are getting weak and he lowers himself over Sam in the chair, finally tumbling to lay by his side. They keep kissing, their hands moving faster and faster as their breathing gets more erratic. Sam’s arm is around Dean’s neck, pulling him in tighter the closer he gets, his mouth open as he tries to breathe and stay silent at the same time and he doesn’t quite succeed. Small sounds of desperation escape his lips, almost painful whimpers of need that have Dean hitching his own breath and digging his fingers into Sam’s shoulder. He can feel it, Sam building up for his release, as every nerve in his body tenses and he starts arching off the chair, jerking himself off so hard it must hurt.
“It’s alright,” Dean whispers into Sam’s ear. “C’mon, Sammy. Yeah. Want to see you come.”
Sam jerks against him and Dean feels hot and wet come spill on his stomach and when he looks down there’s a pool forming in Sam’s bellybutton with splatters reaching up to his chest and spattering Dean’s skin. Oh God.
He keeps stroking himself, feeling Sam’s breathing slowly settling beside him and then he’s turning on his side, kissing Dean’s neck and jaw, licking his skin and pushing his tongue into Dean’s ear. Dean’s so close now but he doesn’t seem able to get there. Sweat is running down from his temple and pooling on his chest and he can feel Sam watching him in between kisses, urging him on and breathing into his face. It isn’t until he moves to cover Dean’s body with his own, kissing him deeply and rubbing his already hardening cock against Dean’s oversensitive one that Dean can feel himself climbing to the top and then finally, finally, he’s there. Sam laughs softly into Dean’s mouth as he pants through his orgasm, then lowers himself until he’s pressed up against Dean, half-hard cocks and cooling come squished between them.
“Fuck,” Dean breathes and Sam laughs again, then swoops down to scoop a taste of Dean’s and his come up on his tongue before surging back up and sharing it with Dean.
Later, when they’re clean and fed and lying in bed, Sam snoring in his arms, Dean will think of that taste. A bite of metal, a sting of disinfectant and the tiniest hint of blood but overpowering all that, his and Sam’s come, mixed together on Sam’s tongue.
It should taste disgusting but somehow it just tastes right.
fin
Story from me! Bet you didn't see that coming! *snorts* And now I'm going to bed because it's almost half past one in the morning. The things I do for porn.