Untitled Wincest
Summary: Sam acts an idiot. Dean loses it.
Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester.
Pairings: Wincest.
Wordcount: 581
Warnings: Porn. D/s situations. Incest. Spanking. Lots of fun, basically.
Sam shouldered his duffel, dropping it on the bed. But then Dean was pushing the bag to the floor and Dean pushed Sam up against the wall. Sam stared at his brother, swallowing.
“Dude, wh-“
“Shut up, Sam. You don’t get to talk.” Sam blinked. “Get the fuck on the bed. Ass up.” He obeyed slowly, trembling a little as he lay over the side of the bed. What had he done?
Roughly, Dean undid the buckle on Sam’s belt, reaching under him like Sam was nothing more than a doll, and threw the strip of leather to the side of the room. And pulled Sam’s jeans and pants off too, leaving bruises on his brother’s thighs as he did so.
“So. Fucking. Stupid.” Dean hissed at him, landing a clean smack across Sam’s now bare ass. Sam yelped and gripped at the bedsheets. “Throwing yourself in the way like that. He could have killed you, Sam!” Dean brought his hand down thrice more, loud, painfully clear cracks that made Sam whimper.
He understood now. The demon had been about to lunge at one of the teen kids, and he’d pushed him away. The demon had a knife, but Sam’d ganked him before he’d had chance to use it.
“Dean, I-“
“You don’t get to talk.” Dean growled, pushing Sam’s head against the mattress where he’d lifted it to speak. “You don’t treat yourself as important? Fine. I won’t either. Your ass is mine tonight. Whatever the fuck I want, you do. You don’t get to talk.” Sam shivered, but nodded and looked down.
Dean started really spanking him, now. Sam yelped and mewled and moaned, but Dean didn’t stop for what felt like years. When he was done, Sam felt like he was on fire, the skin bruised and aching.
Dean roughly prepared him before thrusting in, making Sam hiss at both the famililar burn and the feel the other’s skin on his. Dean thrust hard and deep, holding Sam down with a hand at the base of his neck, and Sam couldn’t help but clench hard around the other at that.
“I was so scared.” Dean growled, moving his hand up to tighten in Sam’s hair and pulling the other’s head back so he could bite at the underside of the other’s neck. “Thought I was gonna lose you, Sammy.”
Sam started crying. Loud sobs as he tried to rock back against Dean, his cock hard and leaking and he wanted to come and he was so sorry.
Dean’s other hand started fisting Sam’s cock, with little twists of the wrist and thumbs over the head like he knew Sam liked, and Sam kept sobbing even as he came, staining the horrible pattern of the motel bed sheets with white. Dean came soon after, giving a deep thrust and pressing a kiss to Sam’s collarbone as he did.
When Dean pulled out, Sam crawled into the smaller man’s lap as best he could, sobbing and crying and mumbling apologies and promises.
“Sshh, shush, Sammy.” Dean whispered, carding more gently through his brother’s hair now, and rocking him gently. “It’s OK, I know, I know. You’re safe, you’re OK. I love you, dude.” That brought on a new wave of tears.
Sam ended up falling asleep that way, face stained with tears and body stained with Dean, huddled against the other’s shoulder with his face in the other’s neck. He was sorry, and it was OK.
‘Cause Dean forgave him.
Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester.
Pairings: Wincest.
Wordcount: 581
Warnings: Porn. D/s situations. Incest. Spanking. Lots of fun, basically.
Sam shouldered his duffel, dropping it on the bed. But then Dean was pushing the bag to the floor and Dean pushed Sam up against the wall. Sam stared at his brother, swallowing.
“Dude, wh-“
“Shut up, Sam. You don’t get to talk.” Sam blinked. “Get the fuck on the bed. Ass up.” He obeyed slowly, trembling a little as he lay over the side of the bed. What had he done?
Roughly, Dean undid the buckle on Sam’s belt, reaching under him like Sam was nothing more than a doll, and threw the strip of leather to the side of the room. And pulled Sam’s jeans and pants off too, leaving bruises on his brother’s thighs as he did so.
“So. Fucking. Stupid.” Dean hissed at him, landing a clean smack across Sam’s now bare ass. Sam yelped and gripped at the bedsheets. “Throwing yourself in the way like that. He could have killed you, Sam!” Dean brought his hand down thrice more, loud, painfully clear cracks that made Sam whimper.
He understood now. The demon had been about to lunge at one of the teen kids, and he’d pushed him away. The demon had a knife, but Sam’d ganked him before he’d had chance to use it.
“Dean, I-“
“You don’t get to talk.” Dean growled, pushing Sam’s head against the mattress where he’d lifted it to speak. “You don’t treat yourself as important? Fine. I won’t either. Your ass is mine tonight. Whatever the fuck I want, you do. You don’t get to talk.” Sam shivered, but nodded and looked down.
Dean started really spanking him, now. Sam yelped and mewled and moaned, but Dean didn’t stop for what felt like years. When he was done, Sam felt like he was on fire, the skin bruised and aching.
Dean roughly prepared him before thrusting in, making Sam hiss at both the famililar burn and the feel the other’s skin on his. Dean thrust hard and deep, holding Sam down with a hand at the base of his neck, and Sam couldn’t help but clench hard around the other at that.
“I was so scared.” Dean growled, moving his hand up to tighten in Sam’s hair and pulling the other’s head back so he could bite at the underside of the other’s neck. “Thought I was gonna lose you, Sammy.”
Sam started crying. Loud sobs as he tried to rock back against Dean, his cock hard and leaking and he wanted to come and he was so sorry.
Dean’s other hand started fisting Sam’s cock, with little twists of the wrist and thumbs over the head like he knew Sam liked, and Sam kept sobbing even as he came, staining the horrible pattern of the motel bed sheets with white. Dean came soon after, giving a deep thrust and pressing a kiss to Sam’s collarbone as he did.
When Dean pulled out, Sam crawled into the smaller man’s lap as best he could, sobbing and crying and mumbling apologies and promises.
“Sshh, shush, Sammy.” Dean whispered, carding more gently through his brother’s hair now, and rocking him gently. “It’s OK, I know, I know. You’re safe, you’re OK. I love you, dude.” That brought on a new wave of tears.
Sam ended up falling asleep that way, face stained with tears and body stained with Dean, huddled against the other’s shoulder with his face in the other’s neck. He was sorry, and it was OK.
‘Cause Dean forgave him.