Porn Battle Fic xplay: Sam/Dean- The Sirens Inside You
Title: The Sirens Inside You
Fandom- Pairing: Supernatural- Sam/Dean
Rating-Word count-notes: NC-17, ~1000 Words, for oxoniensis' Porn Battle under the prompt of Possession, Prey. This is Spoiler free, but features Dub-con and a somewhat Evil!Sam, so be forewarned.
"Come out, come out, wherever you are," Sam says, the darkness seeping into his voice, "I can smell how hot you are. I know how you get, Dean. Let me give you what you need."
"What do I need, Sam?" Dean asks from somewhere down the hall. Sam presses forward on the offensive, shotgun dragging behind him ominously. "Tell me what I need, Sammy."
"Need to get fucked," Sam says, all hunger in the pit of his stomach. He's hard as nails in his jeans, rough denim rubbing along the underside of his cock. He steels himself focusing and using his mind to reach out and feel for Dean, feel for that wet mouth, that heart as it beats, that adrenaline as it surges. It's funny to know how far Sam can take Dean, can read him like an open book. "Need to be mine, Don't you? Need it hard."
"You gonna give it to me hard, huh?" Dean calls. "This turns you on, doesn't it? Got me strung out and afraid at the same time, right? I bet this is a wet dream for you, Sammy."
"You bet," Sam says, biting his lip, thinking hard of invasion, of stroking Dean to completion, of biting and pulling at his nipples until they're as hard as the rest of him, parting him. He imagines his fingers tracing the curve of Dean's ass cheeks, the swell of his crack before finally granting mercy and slipping just inside. Dean moans.
"Don't cheat, Sam," Dean declares. "Gotta find me first."
"Fuck that," Sam growls. "If I want you now, I'll take you."
In Sam's head, he can watch Dean clawing at the walls, wetness seeping through his jeans with gritted teeth, sweet and tight, all sensation.
I'll take you until you're tired from it, and then I'll come and fuck you. Sam thinks, and Dean presses his forehead into the wall, shaking with it as he comes for the first time, blinding out both his vision and Sam's alike.
"Goddamnit, Sam, quit fuckin' around!" Dean calls.
"I've just started, Dean," Sam says. He starts walking again. "Bet I can fuck you complacent before I even get in you."
"Like to see you try," Dean snaps, and when Sam thinks it, Dean falls backward onto the old dusty floor of the house they're in. Sam turns his hand and knows full well that invisible hands strip Dean of his clothes before touching him all over in endless tease, keeping him on the edge of orgasm as Sam fucks him hard and deep like hips colliding against the back of his thighs. He can hear Dean's endlessly frothy and delicious moans as he urges himself in further, deeper, harder, make it feel like he's impaling Dean down on his cock, so deep he feels it in his stomach and chest. He's groaning, and Sam knows how Dean squrims, knows how he writhes like medusa's snakes, arching and trying for the best angle, so Sam thinks about it, gives it to him just right, so all Dean can think about is how his toes are curling under and he's turning away.
Sam thinks it and there's suddenly a hand holding both of Dean's wrists above his head, and another around his cock, pumping steadily. Sam makes Dean's hips too heavy to lift, pinned to the floor as he takes it.
"Open your mouth, Dean," he declares, and thinks of his cock fucking raw down Dean's throat. Suddenly, every part of Dean's open for him, his pretty little plaything.
Sam's walking with purpose, now, nuzzle of the shotgun tapping against the gaps in the floorboards, down the end of the hall until he presses open the door Dean's in. Sam sighs pleasantly, taking in the gorgeous view of Dean so helplessly his, writhing under Sam's power, gasping for breath and so full even though there's nothing to fill him with.
"So, so very pretty this way," Sam grins. "Wanna see you come. Wanna make you come."
Dean's mouth is full of nothing, but he can't talk. He just looks up at Sam watching him, gape mouthed while Sam uses his power to lift him into another position, legs bent at the knee as half of his body levitates off the ground, hole gaping open and toes curled under.
"Come for me, Dean," Sam says, makes it as innocent as he can muster. "Won't you?"
Dean's hands budge but Sam holds him firm, speeds up his pace on Dean's dick. Dean's shaking all over, coming in ropes that paint his chest as he shakes and his eyes rolll back into his head, looking thoroughly possessed in as many definitions of the word as Sam can think of with devoting so much of his head to this tableau. Sam keeps the pressure on him, keeps it everywhere and keeps it so that it's impossible to come down, no matter how bad Dean wants reprieve.
There's something beautiful about how Dean gives himself over to it, willingly plays this game so Sam can open him like a butterfly under glass. He's a human statue, living off what Sam lets him have for the moment, held eternally still under Sam's power and as images of that sweet little admission whisper from Sam's head to Dean's, he can't help but smile at how Dean shake with it, broadcasts back how he feels about it in open hips and happy squeals.
Sam strips, pumps his cock once or twice, slipping into the bend of Dean's knees, pressing his cock into Dean's pulled-open entrance and pounds in as hard as he can muscle, laying on the whammy so thick Dean feels every movement ten fold, feels it reflected in his mouth, feels it reflected on his cock and in his fingers and toes until he vibrates with it.
Sam smiles, all darkness. He'll keep this up all night.
Fandom- Pairing: Supernatural- Sam/Dean
Rating-Word count-notes: NC-17, ~1000 Words, for oxoniensis' Porn Battle under the prompt of Possession, Prey. This is Spoiler free, but features Dub-con and a somewhat Evil!Sam, so be forewarned.
"Come out, come out, wherever you are," Sam says, the darkness seeping into his voice, "I can smell how hot you are. I know how you get, Dean. Let me give you what you need."
"What do I need, Sam?" Dean asks from somewhere down the hall. Sam presses forward on the offensive, shotgun dragging behind him ominously. "Tell me what I need, Sammy."
"Need to get fucked," Sam says, all hunger in the pit of his stomach. He's hard as nails in his jeans, rough denim rubbing along the underside of his cock. He steels himself focusing and using his mind to reach out and feel for Dean, feel for that wet mouth, that heart as it beats, that adrenaline as it surges. It's funny to know how far Sam can take Dean, can read him like an open book. "Need to be mine, Don't you? Need it hard."
"You gonna give it to me hard, huh?" Dean calls. "This turns you on, doesn't it? Got me strung out and afraid at the same time, right? I bet this is a wet dream for you, Sammy."
"You bet," Sam says, biting his lip, thinking hard of invasion, of stroking Dean to completion, of biting and pulling at his nipples until they're as hard as the rest of him, parting him. He imagines his fingers tracing the curve of Dean's ass cheeks, the swell of his crack before finally granting mercy and slipping just inside. Dean moans.
"Don't cheat, Sam," Dean declares. "Gotta find me first."
"Fuck that," Sam growls. "If I want you now, I'll take you."
In Sam's head, he can watch Dean clawing at the walls, wetness seeping through his jeans with gritted teeth, sweet and tight, all sensation.
I'll take you until you're tired from it, and then I'll come and fuck you. Sam thinks, and Dean presses his forehead into the wall, shaking with it as he comes for the first time, blinding out both his vision and Sam's alike.
"Goddamnit, Sam, quit fuckin' around!" Dean calls.
"I've just started, Dean," Sam says. He starts walking again. "Bet I can fuck you complacent before I even get in you."
"Like to see you try," Dean snaps, and when Sam thinks it, Dean falls backward onto the old dusty floor of the house they're in. Sam turns his hand and knows full well that invisible hands strip Dean of his clothes before touching him all over in endless tease, keeping him on the edge of orgasm as Sam fucks him hard and deep like hips colliding against the back of his thighs. He can hear Dean's endlessly frothy and delicious moans as he urges himself in further, deeper, harder, make it feel like he's impaling Dean down on his cock, so deep he feels it in his stomach and chest. He's groaning, and Sam knows how Dean squrims, knows how he writhes like medusa's snakes, arching and trying for the best angle, so Sam thinks about it, gives it to him just right, so all Dean can think about is how his toes are curling under and he's turning away.
Sam thinks it and there's suddenly a hand holding both of Dean's wrists above his head, and another around his cock, pumping steadily. Sam makes Dean's hips too heavy to lift, pinned to the floor as he takes it.
"Open your mouth, Dean," he declares, and thinks of his cock fucking raw down Dean's throat. Suddenly, every part of Dean's open for him, his pretty little plaything.
Sam's walking with purpose, now, nuzzle of the shotgun tapping against the gaps in the floorboards, down the end of the hall until he presses open the door Dean's in. Sam sighs pleasantly, taking in the gorgeous view of Dean so helplessly his, writhing under Sam's power, gasping for breath and so full even though there's nothing to fill him with.
"So, so very pretty this way," Sam grins. "Wanna see you come. Wanna make you come."
Dean's mouth is full of nothing, but he can't talk. He just looks up at Sam watching him, gape mouthed while Sam uses his power to lift him into another position, legs bent at the knee as half of his body levitates off the ground, hole gaping open and toes curled under.
"Come for me, Dean," Sam says, makes it as innocent as he can muster. "Won't you?"
Dean's hands budge but Sam holds him firm, speeds up his pace on Dean's dick. Dean's shaking all over, coming in ropes that paint his chest as he shakes and his eyes rolll back into his head, looking thoroughly possessed in as many definitions of the word as Sam can think of with devoting so much of his head to this tableau. Sam keeps the pressure on him, keeps it everywhere and keeps it so that it's impossible to come down, no matter how bad Dean wants reprieve.
There's something beautiful about how Dean gives himself over to it, willingly plays this game so Sam can open him like a butterfly under glass. He's a human statue, living off what Sam lets him have for the moment, held eternally still under Sam's power and as images of that sweet little admission whisper from Sam's head to Dean's, he can't help but smile at how Dean shake with it, broadcasts back how he feels about it in open hips and happy squeals.
Sam strips, pumps his cock once or twice, slipping into the bend of Dean's knees, pressing his cock into Dean's pulled-open entrance and pounds in as hard as he can muscle, laying on the whammy so thick Dean feels every movement ten fold, feels it reflected in his mouth, feels it reflected on his cock and in his fingers and toes until he vibrates with it.
Sam smiles, all darkness. He'll keep this up all night.