Teach Me Your Secrets I'll Give You All Of Mine 1/3
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: 5.5K (for this part)
Warnings and kinks: Underage (Sam is 14/15 and Dean is 18)
Summary: Sam asks Dean to teach him about sex. Dean agrees, but sets some limits. Sam tries to push those limits.
Disclaimer: I don't own Sam, Dean, or Supernatural.
This was originally written for this prompt over on the spn kink meme (the prompt contains major spoilers for this fic).
Dean’s “reading” a magazine when Sam finally works up his courage and knocks on the doorframe. The actual door is gone, as are various other parts of this broken down house, but it’s cheap and they get their own beds, so no one’s complaining. It’s March, drizzling, and they’re here on a hunt, one of those long weird ones that mean Sam and Dean have time to enroll in school again. Sam knocks again when Dean doesn’t respond, harder this time, and Dean just says, “What?” without looking up. Sam rolls his eyes and wanders over to sit on the edge of Dean’s bed. He stares at Dean until Dean finally sighs and closes the magazine, throwing it on the floor and meeting Sam’s eyes.
“I need a favor,” Sam starts, and stops at the glint in Dean’s eye. Dean’ll take any advantage he can get in their ridiculous sibling rivalry, but this isn’t like that time Sam asked Dean to teach him how to talk to girls and Dean made Sam make dinner, do laundry, and take out the trash for a month as payment. This is serious, this is Sam trusting Dean, and he wants Dean to get it.
“I wanna learn about sex,” Sam says, face flushing hot, and he fights not to look away from Dean. Dean blinks, tilts his head a little, then grins.
“I got you porn already, Sam. That not good enough for you?”
Sam shakes his head and opens his mouth, then closes it. He takes a deep breath and tries again.
“Sex with guys. Please, Dean.” Sam watches Dean’s eyes narrow, his face color slightly. Sam’s not supposed to know that Dean sometimes hooks up with guys, no one’s supposed to know, but Sam and Dean watch each other like hawks and the guys haven’t escaped Sam’s notice.
“You wanna... you want some gay porn?” Dean asks, and Sam feels a stab of annoyance at his intentional misunderstanding.
“I want you to teach me how to do stuff. How it works,” Sam says, getting redder and redder by the second.
Dean still looks a little confused, like he’s pretty sure he knows what Sam’s asking but doesn’t quite believe it. Sam finally takes a deep breath and leans in, pressing his lips softly to Dean’s. Sam’s trembling slightly, and he misses, only getting the corner of Dean’s lips. Dean fits a hand to Sam’s head and turns it slightly, slotting their lips together and kissing Sam back, running his tongue over Sam’s lower lip once before pulling away.
“Okay,” Dean says, and Sam’s gratified to see that he’s breathing a little harder.
The front door slams, and Sam falls off Dean’s bed in a heap of gangly limbs and too-big clothes. He scrambles to his feet, backing out of the room, nodding to Dean’s whispered, “Later”.
Later turns out to be a week later. Dad’s gone out for at least a day and a night, and Dean’s not home either, so Sam’s taking advantage of the precious time alone to jerk off. He’s barely started, just gotten his cock out and wrapped a hand around it, trying not to pretend Dean’s in the other room because really what’s the point of time alone if you’re just gonna do that, when he hears the front door open and close. He fumbles to put himself away and barely manages it before Dean’s in the doorway, holding a bag of food and raising his eyebrows, eyes on the obvious bulge in Sam’s sweatpants.
“C’mon, I got burgers,” Dean says, turning to the kitchen. Sam gives himself a moment before following.
Dean watches Sam even more closely than usual as they unwrap their burgers. He drags a fry through Sam’s little ketchup puddle and sucks it into his mouth, and Sam swallows hard.
“So I thought about that thing we talked about,” Dean starts. Sam pretends not to know what he’s talking about, just because Dean’s being a smug bastard.
“The gay sex 101 thing.”
Sam grins, can’t help it, then nods, trying to look serious.
“I think we need some ground rules, Sam. You’re not exactly legal. I’d ask you to wait a year or two, but--”
“I’ll find someone else if you don’t want to--” Sam starts, even though it’s a blatant lie and he’s pretty sure they both know it.
“But,” Dean continues, as if Sam hadn’t said a word, “I know you’re a stubborn little bitch so I might as well save us both some time and say yes now.”
Sam breathes a sigh of relief and Dean rolls his eyes before continuing.
“So. Ground rules. We’re not taking this too far.”
“What’s too far?” Sam asks, and isn’t at all surprised at Dean’s answer.
“Too far is whatever I say it is. I say stop, we stop. Same for you, obviously. Anytime you don’t want to anymore, or something’s weird, or you don’t like it, you say stop, and we stop. Deal?” Dean asks, dead serious for once, eyes fixed on Sam’s, not letting him look away.
“Deal.” Sam’s pretty sure that’s not going to happen, at least for him. He’s been waiting for this for longer than he thinks is normal, not that any of this is normal, not that anything in their lives is normal. Sam wants this, wants Dean in any and every possible way, and now he’s finally done something about it, he’s not stopping till he gets what he wants. Maybe Dean has a point when he calls Sam a brat.
They finish eating, somewhat faster than usual, and leave the wrappers and bag on the table. Dean leads the way to Sam’s room and sits down on the bed. Sam hovers awkwardly in front of him, unsure what he’s supposed to do. Dean wraps a hand around Sam’s wrist and tugs him down to sit beside him.
“Okay. Lesson one. Kissing,” Dean says quietly, leaning close so the words are spoken almost directly into Sam’s mouth. Dean lets Sam close the distance, and Sam does so eagerly, clashing their mouths together a little too hard, drawing a chuckle from Dean. Dean lays a hand on Sam’s jaw, tilts his head just right, and strokes a thumb along his cheek, soothing. Dean’s mouth opens on Sam’s lips, and Dean’s tongue is sliding along Sam’s lips, pressing slightly. Sam’s mouth opens to Dean, and Dean’s tongue slips in, pressing against Sam’s. Sam tries to do the same, to slide his tongue into Dean’s mouth, and feels Dean’s hand tighten on him. When Dean starts to draw away, Sam follows, and Dean laughs before maneuvering them down to lie on the bed. Sam immediately presses their lips back together.
Dean slides his hand down Sam’s neck, along his chest, grazing one nipple through his shirt. Sam shudders and Dean does it again, pulling away to watch Sam’s face. Sam’s hand drops down to grind his palm against his own painfully hard cock, and Dean grins before leaning in to kiss him again, hand slipping down to the hem of Sam’s tee shirt before coming back up under it. Dean brushes his fingers in light circles around Sam’s nipple, then skims a finger over it, and again, and again, before tugging gently on the hardening flesh. Sam shudders and writhes every time, trying to keep kissing Dean but caught between the pleasure from Dean’s hand on him and the friction he’s getting through his pants that’s barely enough and somehow perfect.
Dean’s hand slides down, and around, and over Sam’s hand, pressing down on it once, drawing a moan from Sam, before sliding back to Sam’s ass. Sam’s suddenly aware that he’s been moving, been thrusting against his hand, practically humping it, and what’s more, he can’t seem to make himself stop. It just feels so good, Dean’s mouth and his hand gripping him and he’s so close and then he’s coming in his pants, pleasure flooding through him, mouth open and panting into Dean’s, body pressed tight against Dean.
Dean keeps kissing him as he comes down, then he rolls away and gets up, heading to the bathroom.
“Wait,” Sam says, “isn’t it supposed to be... Don’t you want me to..?”
“Nah, it’s cool. I got it,” Dean replies, shooting Sam a wink before disappearing into the bathroom.
Sam lies there, come cooling in his pants, and tries not to think about Dean’s cock, hard and so big, pushing against him just minutes ago. Tries not to think about Dean getting off in the bathroom right now, one hand wrapped around himself, the other bracing himself on the wall. Sam groans and rolls over, then groans again as the sticky wet mess squishes around.
***
That night, Sam lies in bed trying to get up the courage to ask Dean for another “lesson”. He’s hard again, and he wants to kiss Dean as he comes. He wants to be pressed against Dean again, and he wants to rub himself against him, and he wants Dean to get off too.
Sam slips his hand into his boxers and wraps it around his cock. He’s been hard for a while, gently stroking himself through his boxers, and it feels good to just give in. He slips his boxers down so the waistband is resting just under his balls, and brings his hand up to his mouth to lick his palm. He strokes himself once, base to tip, and gathers the precome that beads there. His hand is slick now, and the sweet drag along his cock makes him whimper. He tries to muffle it for a moment, before remembering that it’s just him and Dean in the house now.
After that, Sam puts on something of a show. He fucks his hand slow at first, letting out a moan every few strokes. He picks up the pace and pictures Dean lying in bed listening to him, wonders if Dean is hard, if he’s also touching himself. The thought has him coming all over his belly, hips lifting, toes digging into the mattress.
As he’s coming down, Sam swears he can hear rhythmic rustling and panting through the wall, and he strains to hear Dean. All he gets is creaking bedsprings as Dean rolls over, then silence.
***
It’s another week before Sam finally provokes Dean into giving him another lesson. Dad’s gone again, and Sam’s gotten desperate. He’s jerked off every night, as loud as he dares with Dad sleeping just down the hall, and he’s sure Dean’s heard him. Now that they’re alone, Sam figures he can be more direct.
When they get home from school, Sam announces he’s taking a shower. He doesn’t get dressed after, instead wandering casually over to the couch wearing just a towel. It’s not actually that warm in the house, but Sam doesn’t really care if he’s being obvious. He sits next to Dean, right next to him, even though there’s a whole two unoccupied cushions on the other side. Dean takes one look at him and narrows his eyes.
“This isn’t a nudist colony Sam. Get dressed,” Dean says, his eyes roaming Sam’s chest, down his stomach, along his legs.
Sam turns to face Dean.
“I thought now would be a good time for another lesson.”
Dean blinks, then nods.
“Take that off,” Dean says, indicating the towel. Sam does, untying it and letting it fall onto the couch. He leans in to kiss Dean, and Dean lets him, heavy hands falling onto Sam’s shoulders and holding him steady. Sam fumbles at Dean’s shirt, trying to pull it off, but Dean grabs Sam’s wrists and push them away.
“No,” Dean says firmly, before pushing Sam to lie back along the couch, head resting against the armrest. Dean crawls up between Sam’s legs and kisses him again, rougher this time, deeper. Dean bites Sam’s lip and Sam lets out a little moan. He’s about to be embarrassed when Dean does it again, harder, and this time Sam can’t help but arch up into Dean’s body. Sam’s hard, leaking, and his cock is rubbing against Dean’s jeans, the rough fabric too much for Sam’s oversensitized skin. He shudders, and Dean grins, slipping down to suck at the spot below Sam’s ear. Sam arches again, wrapping one leg around Dean’s hips. He can feel how hard Dean’s cock is through the denim, and he grinds against it, relishing the shudder that goes through Dean.
Dean’s hand comes down on Sam’s hip, holding him down, as he pulls away slightly.
“No.”
Sam’s about to argue, but Dean’s hand slips from Sam’s hip to his cock, and suddenly Sam’s not really capable of speech anymore.
He never really thought about how much better someone else’s hand might feel on him. This hand though. This hand is Dean’s, and it’s huge, and rough, and perfect. Dean jerks him slow, watching his face, occasionally leaning in to kiss him. Sam feels exposed, helpless, spread out under Dean like this, completely naked while Dean’s fully clothed. He can’t seem to do anything but wrap his hands around Dean’s arms, hold on as he thrusts up to meet Dean’s strokes, pleasure building in him until he’s gasping and moaning, and Dean tightens his grip, jerks him faster, and Sam comes, shaking, arching into Dean.
Dean works him through it and uses the towel to clean him off before letting Sam crawl half into his lap. Sam lays his head on Dean’s shoulder, and Dean doesn’t make fun of him for being cuddly, just rubs his back and encircles him with his arms.
***
The following weeks are torture for Sam. He can’t look at Dean without thinking about big hands and soft, plush lips and sharp teeth and how strong Dean is, how he could hold Sam down and take what he wants. Sam thinks he might be going crazy, and he thinks that would be okay if he could just act on it. Unfortunately, Dad’s back, and this time it looks like it’ll be a while before he leaves them alone again. Sam jerks off in the shower, and in his bed at night, and in his bed in the morning. He wonders if Dean knows, hopes he does.
They move to a new town, a new school, and for once Sam’s glad, because a new hunt means it’s more likely Dad’ll leave. Unfortunately, a week into this new hunt, Dad still hasn’t announced he’s going anywhere. Sam lies in bed one night, debating sneaking into Dean’s room. In this new house, they both have rooms on one side of the house, and Dad’s room is on the other side. There’s no way Dad’ll hear, except that he’s a hunter, sleeps with one eye open, and Sam’s brain can’t really wrap itself around the idea of Dad finding out.
Sam hears a door open, from Dean’s side of the house, and holds his breath, listening. Quiet feet make their way to the bathroom, and hears the light click on, the door shut softly. Sam slips out of bed, slowly, slowly opening his door, and pads down the hall to the bathroom door. He waits until he hears the toilet flush, then opens the door, heart thudding. Dean’s washing his hands, and turns, looking surprised. Sam blushes, and Dean grins.
“Time for another lesson?” he says knowingly, and Sam just nods. Dean reaches out and yanks Sam close, one hand on his waist, the other brushing his hair out of his eyes. Sam pushes up on his toes to kiss Dean, and Dean wraps his arms around Sam, hands sliding down his back to cup his ass. Sam moans a little, and Dean deepens the kiss, tongue tangling with Sam’s. Sam’s waited too long for this, can’t stop himself from rutting against Dean’s thigh when it presses between his legs. Dean lets him, just holds him and kisses him and guides him with his hands on Sam’s ass. Sam gets off like that, quick and dirty and completely shameless, coming in his pants with his mouth latched on Dean’s.
Before Dean can leave, Sam grabs his arm.
“Wait. Can I... can I get you off?” he asks, trying to sound like he knows what he’s doing.
“No Sammy. C’mon, remember, rules. We’ll do something special soon though. I was thinking for your birthday.” Dean departs with a wink, and Sam cleans himself up, already counting the days.
***
Sam’s birthday is two weeks later, two weeks of exquisite torture, of imagining all the possibilities any time he happens to catch Dean’s eye. On the day of, Dad’s gone, and Sam wonders if that’s good luck or if Dean had something to do with it. Sam gets whatever he wants for breakfast, and, like every other year, he wants chocolate chip waffles. Somehow, Dean found a waffle iron, and there’s whipped cream and the good orange juice and Sam is officially 15 years old, which Dean says is old enough to get a fake I.D., although not today. Today, Dean lets Sam drive the Impala to the lake. They fish and shoot stuff and generally fuck around until the sun starts getting low, then Sam gets to drive back . They get chinese takeout and pizza on the way home, and when they fight over the remote, Dean lets Sam win.
In some ways, it’s exactly like any other good birthday Sam’s had. Sam feels this tension though, like butterflies in his gut, barely there that morning, but getting stronger and stronger. By the time they’re done eating, he’s practically squirming with it. Dean seems to notice, and he grins.
“You want your present, Sammy?” Dean asks, amusement clear in his voice. Sam just nods.
Dean leans in and kisses Sam, soft at first, then harder until Sam’s whimpering into his mouth, needing more. Dean shifts to bite a trail down his neck, and Sam arches into it, cock thickening in his pants. Dean slides a hand up one of Sam’s thighs and rubs over the growing bulge, and Sam stifles a moan, pressing up into Dean’s palm. Dean unbuckles Sam’s belt and unzips his pants.
“Up,” Dean whispers, and it takes Sam a moment to understand. He lifts his hips, and Dean pulls his pants down with his boxers, yanking Sam’s socks off on the way down, laughing when Sam squirms. He reaches up to pull Sam’s shirt off as well, and throws the pile of clothes over the back of the couch. Sam’s just thinking that it’s not really fair that he’s always the naked one while Dean keeps his clothes on when Dean drops to his knees in front of the couch and Sam stops thinking at all.
Dean’s holding Sam’s cock in his hand, thumb brushing along the underside where the shaft meets the crown. His wet, plush lips are inches away from the head, and Sam’s fighting to hold back from pushing up, from rubbing his cock all over those lips. Dean gives him one last predatory grin before lowering his head to lick a stripe from Sam’s balls to the bead of precome gathering at the tip. Sam shudders at the sensation of Deans wet, firm tongue pressing into the slit. Dean licks around the head, then wraps his lips around it and sucks.
Sam can’t hold back then, and he fucks up into Dean’s mouth hard before Dean’s hands slam his hips back down. Dean pulls off to whisper hoarsely, “Not this time, Sammy,” before sliding back down onto Sam. Sam holds onto his self control by a thread as Dean’s head bobs up and down, his eyes never leaving Sam’s, his lips wet and shiny, getting puffier and redder with every stroke. Dean runs his tongue along the underside again, this time working his tongue against the bundle of nerves under the crown. Sam whimpers and throws his head back, digs his fingers into the couch cushions, fighting to hold on. When he looks back down, Dean’s still watching him, the head of Sam’s cock resting just inside Dean’s mouth. With Sam’s eyes back on him, Dean resumes his rhythm, picking up speed and hollowing his cheeks. He shifts slightly, and on the next stroke down, Sam’s cock pushes into the tightness of Dean’s throat. Sam’s legs start to shake with the effort of holding still, and then Dean swallows around him, and Sam feels pleasure bursting in him. He manages to spit out, “I’m gonna... Dean, I’m gonna,” before he’s coming down Dean’s throat. Dean sucks him through it, licking him clean until he’s softening.
This time, Sam can’t help but reach his hand toward the bulge in Dean’s pants as he’s standing up. Dean grabs his wrist, stopping him, and Sam whines.
“No,” Dean says, and it takes Sam a moment to pull himself together enough to remember how to speak.
“C’mon man. You gave me this, least I can do is pay you back, right?” Sam tries to make it sound reasonable, and really, he thinks, it is.
“No Sammy. You wanted to learn stuff, I’m gonna teach you stuff. You’re fifteen, man. I’m not gonna be some guy making his little brother get him off ‘cause he doesn’t know any better.”
“You’re not making me--”
“Look, we’ll talk about it when you’re legal. Okay?” Dean asks, and when Sam doesn’t answer right away, he adds, “Hey, if you’re not into this anymore...”
“No! I am,” Sam says, deciding to drop it for now. He’s pretty sure he can find a way to change Dean’s mind. In the meantime, Sam glances down at Dean’s obvious erection, and clears his throat pointedly. “You gonna take care of that?”
Dean grins and heads for the bathroom with a wink. Sam lays back on the couch, grabbing a blanket to cover up, feeling cold and a little lonely. The blowjob was.... well, Sam’s pretty sure it was the best thing he’s ever experienced and that now he knows it’s out there he’s going to want at least one every day for the rest of forever. Sam imagines what it’d be like to have a cock in his mouth, stretching his lips and shoving into his throat, and his cock twitches. He pictures himself on his knees, a big hand with a silver ring buried in his hair, tugging him forward as he gags a little before opening his throat. He imagines looking up at Dean’s heated green stare, his lips parted in pleasure, blush staining his cheeks. Sam squirms a little, and tries to get his growing erection to wilt before Dean gets back.
When Dean gets back, Sam‘s cock is still stubbornly hard and he’s pretty sure Dean knows, but he doesn’t say anything. He does get under the blanket and let Sam rest his head on his shoulder, snuggled up under one of Dean’s arms. Sam falls asleep like that and wakes up in his bed, his boxers put back on him, the memory of Dean’s lips wrapped around him still fresh in his mind.
It was a good birthday.
***
They stay in this house until school lets out in June. Sam gets another handjob from Dean, in the bathroom, both of them facing the mirror, Dean pressed against Sam’s back, hand wrapped around his cock and jerking him into the sink. Dean watches Sam’s face in the mirror the whole time, and when he leans in to bite Sam that spot where shoulder meets neck, Sam comes so hard he almost whites out.
Dean sucks him off again too, once in the woods, on his knees in front of Sam while Sam leans back against a tree, getting splinters from scrabbling for purchase against the trunk. Dean pulls away this time, to jerk Sam until he comes on Dean’s face, on his lips and across his cheeks and Sam can’t get that image out of his head for days, of Dean covered in Sam’s come, how Dean let him.
Sam’s discovering that no matter how much he thought he wanted Dean before, it’s nothing compared to now. At first, Dean seems to be trying to act completely normal whenever he’s not teaching Sam. Sam can’t stop himself from touching Dean more and more, staying tangled together longer after a wrestling match, sitting closer to him on the couch or in the car. Dean responds, can’t seem to help it, and every time he leaves his arm around Sam’s shoulder a little longer than usual, warmth fills Sam’s belly. He’s still trying to think of a way to get around Dean’s rules, but he doesn’t want Dean to call off their lessons if he pushes too far.
Sam gets out of the shower one morning to find Dean in his room. Dad’s nowhere to be seen, and from the way Dean’s looking at him, Sam guesses he’s not going to be around anytime soon.
“You wanna try something new this time, Sammy?” Dean asked a wicked grin. Sam nods quickly; it’s been a while since their last “lesson”.
Dean pats the bedspread next to him, and Sam sits down. Dean gently pushes Sam until he’s lying back on the bed, Dean beside him, lying on his side, propped up on one elbow. Sam’s impatient, squirming a little, hands moving restlessly, but Dean takes his wrists and presses them down into the mattress before sliding his hands up Sam’s arms, to his shoulders. Dean gets on his knees, between Sam’s legs, and leans over Sam, above him. Sam wants to reach out, to curl a hand around the back of Dean’s neck and draw him in, kiss him, but Dean was pretty clear, so he leaves his hands where Dean put them, curling into the sheet under him.
Dean hovers above Sam’s mouth, less than an inch away, and Sam arches up, trying to reach. Dean laughs, just once, huskily, before pressing their mouths together. He kisses Sam without holding back now, not like at first when Sam was just learning. Now Dean’s tongue pushes in almost right away, claiming, exploring Sam’s mouth and drawing him out to do the same. When Dean finally lets Sam come up for air, Sam’s dazed, out of breath, and hard. Dean starts biting a trail under Sam’s jaw, down his neck, along his collarbone. Sam flushes, embarrassed at his scrawny fifteen year old body for a moment, but Dean drags his teeth down to Sam’s nipple and Sam forgets how to be embarrassed, just presses himself up into the tongue that’s now circling his nipple, flicking over it every few passes. Dean pulls away for a second to grin up at Sam before moving to the other nipple, this time sucking it into his mouth. Every touch is going straight to Sam’s cock, hard and heavy and curving up toward his belly, already leaking. Dean pulls off with a last drag of teeth that has Sam gasping and fisting the covers in a white knuckled grip. Dean trails biting kisses down Sam’s side, stopping to suck at the crest Sam’s sharp hipbone, blood rising under the skin.
Sam doesn’t realize his hips are moving in small circles until Dean grips his hips and holds him down, murmuring “Hold still for me Sammy.” Sam forces himself to hold as still as possible, barely daring to breathe, waiting to feel Dean’s mouth on his cock again, already remember slick lips and soft, wet tongue, the tight heat of Dean’s throat. Instead, he jumps at Dean’s tongue trailing the crease of his thigh, then curling around one ball, lifting it into his mouth. Dean pulls the other one in too, and groans, back arching, legs spreading unconsciously. Dean tongues them for a moment longer, before gently letting them go, and moving further down. He presses his tongue against the skin just behind Sam’s balls, and Sam feels a surge of pleasure, has to stop himself from grabbing his cock. Instead, he digs the fingers of his right hand into his thigh and holds on.
Dean’s tongue slips further still, around Sam’s hole, and Sam feels himself clench involuntarily. He theoretically knows this is something people do, but he didn’t think Dean would ever- -
Evidently Dean would, because he is, his tongue running over Sam’s hole over and over, getting it slick, and Sam can feel himself relaxing just a fraction. Then Dean’s tongue is there, right there, pressing in, and Sam takes a breath, willing his body to unclench. He feels the tip push inside, then more, Dean making his tongue firm, spreading Sam open. The intrusion feels weird, makes him feel too full, almost like he can’t breathe, and too open, like he’s exposed, on display. That feeling intensifies as Dean grips under Sam’s thighs and lifts, pressing Sam’s knees to his chest. Sam grabs his knees, keeps himself spread for Dean, and something about that sparks another rush of heat in his belly.
Dean’s tongue fucks in further, then out, and teases at the sensitive rim for a moment, before pushing in again, deeper this time. Sam throws his head back, trying to shift further down the bed, get Dean even deeper inside him, and Dean laughs a little, vibrations going straight into Sam. Dean pulls out again, and when he doesn’t push right back in, Sam whines a little. Dean chuckles again, voice lower than usual, rougher, and Sam feels something else pressing against his wet hole. He tenses for a moment, then realizes it’s Dean’s fingers, and relaxes. Dean pushes in to the first knuckle and twists, and Sam jolts at how good it feels. Dean pulls out, and pushes a second spit slick finger in with the first. There’s only the slightest hint of the pain Sam expected, nothing compared to the overwhelming pleasure spreading through him, both at the sensation and the thought of Dean inside him. Sam tries to push back against Dean’s fingers, and Dean gives a little groan before pulling his fingers out. Sam lets out a little sob, opening his mouth to beg, but Dean pushes and pulls at his limbs and hips until he flips over, knees spread, tucked under him, ass in the air. Dean pushes both fingers back in, and Sam understand why Dean moved him when he tries fucking back and finds it so much easier. Dean only pumps his fingers a couple more times before letting Sam take over, fucking himself back on Dean’s fingers. Dean crooks them a little and twists and Sam lets out a strangled cry as he hits something, something that sends a shot of almost unbearable pleasure through him.
Dean reaches his other hand around and wraps it around Sam’s heavy, leaking cock, and it only takes two strokes, Sam shoving himself back on Dean’s fingers then forward into Dean’s fist, before he’s shaking hard and coming onto Dean’s hand and the bed.
Sam collapses right away, grunting as Deans’ fingers are pulled out of him too fast. He tries to turn over, to look at Dean, but none of his limbs seem to be working and he can’t remember how to talk. He does manage a croaky little whine, which seems to work because Dean lies down beside him and puts his arms around Sam. Sam can feel Dean’s cock hard through his jeans, can even feel what might be a wet spot at the head, but he can’t seem to find any kind of energy to try and something about it. Instead, he curls himself against Dean and falls asleep.
***
Dad comes back the next day, but it’s just for supplies and when he takes off again Sam decides it’s time to see if he can get Dean to break his “rules”. He lies in bed at night, trying to figure out the best plan of attack, trying not to be discouraged by the fact that he knows next nothing about how to seduce someone. Dean never really has to do anything to get Sam hard and practically begging; Dean’s a paragon of self control in comparison.
Finally, Sam decides to corner Dean. He slips into the bathroom, naked, when Dean’s showering, and steps in with him. Dean turns with a start and a sigh of exasperation.
“What are you doing, Sam?” Dean asks, like it isn’t obvious.
“Just let me suck you, Dean. C’mon man, you know you want it, just let me...” Sam says, sliding his hand along Dean’s wet skin. Dean grabs Sam’s wrist and spins him around til Sam’s chest is pressed against the tiled shower wall. Dean’s mouth is against Sam’s ear, and his voice is gruff, low.
“I said no, Sam. I’m not gonna tell you again.”
Sam hears the shower curtain, then the door, and he’s left under the rapidly cooling spray. He’s breathing too fast and he tries not to wonder why this little encounter, essentially a rejection, left him blindingly hard.
Part II
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: 5.5K (for this part)
Warnings and kinks: Underage (Sam is 14/15 and Dean is 18)
Summary: Sam asks Dean to teach him about sex. Dean agrees, but sets some limits. Sam tries to push those limits.
Disclaimer: I don't own Sam, Dean, or Supernatural.
This was originally written for this prompt over on the spn kink meme (the prompt contains major spoilers for this fic).
Dean’s “reading” a magazine when Sam finally works up his courage and knocks on the doorframe. The actual door is gone, as are various other parts of this broken down house, but it’s cheap and they get their own beds, so no one’s complaining. It’s March, drizzling, and they’re here on a hunt, one of those long weird ones that mean Sam and Dean have time to enroll in school again. Sam knocks again when Dean doesn’t respond, harder this time, and Dean just says, “What?” without looking up. Sam rolls his eyes and wanders over to sit on the edge of Dean’s bed. He stares at Dean until Dean finally sighs and closes the magazine, throwing it on the floor and meeting Sam’s eyes.
“I need a favor,” Sam starts, and stops at the glint in Dean’s eye. Dean’ll take any advantage he can get in their ridiculous sibling rivalry, but this isn’t like that time Sam asked Dean to teach him how to talk to girls and Dean made Sam make dinner, do laundry, and take out the trash for a month as payment. This is serious, this is Sam trusting Dean, and he wants Dean to get it.
“I wanna learn about sex,” Sam says, face flushing hot, and he fights not to look away from Dean. Dean blinks, tilts his head a little, then grins.
“I got you porn already, Sam. That not good enough for you?”
Sam shakes his head and opens his mouth, then closes it. He takes a deep breath and tries again.
“Sex with guys. Please, Dean.” Sam watches Dean’s eyes narrow, his face color slightly. Sam’s not supposed to know that Dean sometimes hooks up with guys, no one’s supposed to know, but Sam and Dean watch each other like hawks and the guys haven’t escaped Sam’s notice.
“You wanna... you want some gay porn?” Dean asks, and Sam feels a stab of annoyance at his intentional misunderstanding.
“I want you to teach me how to do stuff. How it works,” Sam says, getting redder and redder by the second.
Dean still looks a little confused, like he’s pretty sure he knows what Sam’s asking but doesn’t quite believe it. Sam finally takes a deep breath and leans in, pressing his lips softly to Dean’s. Sam’s trembling slightly, and he misses, only getting the corner of Dean’s lips. Dean fits a hand to Sam’s head and turns it slightly, slotting their lips together and kissing Sam back, running his tongue over Sam’s lower lip once before pulling away.
“Okay,” Dean says, and Sam’s gratified to see that he’s breathing a little harder.
The front door slams, and Sam falls off Dean’s bed in a heap of gangly limbs and too-big clothes. He scrambles to his feet, backing out of the room, nodding to Dean’s whispered, “Later”.
Later turns out to be a week later. Dad’s gone out for at least a day and a night, and Dean’s not home either, so Sam’s taking advantage of the precious time alone to jerk off. He’s barely started, just gotten his cock out and wrapped a hand around it, trying not to pretend Dean’s in the other room because really what’s the point of time alone if you’re just gonna do that, when he hears the front door open and close. He fumbles to put himself away and barely manages it before Dean’s in the doorway, holding a bag of food and raising his eyebrows, eyes on the obvious bulge in Sam’s sweatpants.
“C’mon, I got burgers,” Dean says, turning to the kitchen. Sam gives himself a moment before following.
Dean watches Sam even more closely than usual as they unwrap their burgers. He drags a fry through Sam’s little ketchup puddle and sucks it into his mouth, and Sam swallows hard.
“So I thought about that thing we talked about,” Dean starts. Sam pretends not to know what he’s talking about, just because Dean’s being a smug bastard.
“The gay sex 101 thing.”
Sam grins, can’t help it, then nods, trying to look serious.
“I think we need some ground rules, Sam. You’re not exactly legal. I’d ask you to wait a year or two, but--”
“I’ll find someone else if you don’t want to--” Sam starts, even though it’s a blatant lie and he’s pretty sure they both know it.
“But,” Dean continues, as if Sam hadn’t said a word, “I know you’re a stubborn little bitch so I might as well save us both some time and say yes now.”
Sam breathes a sigh of relief and Dean rolls his eyes before continuing.
“So. Ground rules. We’re not taking this too far.”
“What’s too far?” Sam asks, and isn’t at all surprised at Dean’s answer.
“Too far is whatever I say it is. I say stop, we stop. Same for you, obviously. Anytime you don’t want to anymore, or something’s weird, or you don’t like it, you say stop, and we stop. Deal?” Dean asks, dead serious for once, eyes fixed on Sam’s, not letting him look away.
“Deal.” Sam’s pretty sure that’s not going to happen, at least for him. He’s been waiting for this for longer than he thinks is normal, not that any of this is normal, not that anything in their lives is normal. Sam wants this, wants Dean in any and every possible way, and now he’s finally done something about it, he’s not stopping till he gets what he wants. Maybe Dean has a point when he calls Sam a brat.
They finish eating, somewhat faster than usual, and leave the wrappers and bag on the table. Dean leads the way to Sam’s room and sits down on the bed. Sam hovers awkwardly in front of him, unsure what he’s supposed to do. Dean wraps a hand around Sam’s wrist and tugs him down to sit beside him.
“Okay. Lesson one. Kissing,” Dean says quietly, leaning close so the words are spoken almost directly into Sam’s mouth. Dean lets Sam close the distance, and Sam does so eagerly, clashing their mouths together a little too hard, drawing a chuckle from Dean. Dean lays a hand on Sam’s jaw, tilts his head just right, and strokes a thumb along his cheek, soothing. Dean’s mouth opens on Sam’s lips, and Dean’s tongue is sliding along Sam’s lips, pressing slightly. Sam’s mouth opens to Dean, and Dean’s tongue slips in, pressing against Sam’s. Sam tries to do the same, to slide his tongue into Dean’s mouth, and feels Dean’s hand tighten on him. When Dean starts to draw away, Sam follows, and Dean laughs before maneuvering them down to lie on the bed. Sam immediately presses their lips back together.
Dean slides his hand down Sam’s neck, along his chest, grazing one nipple through his shirt. Sam shudders and Dean does it again, pulling away to watch Sam’s face. Sam’s hand drops down to grind his palm against his own painfully hard cock, and Dean grins before leaning in to kiss him again, hand slipping down to the hem of Sam’s tee shirt before coming back up under it. Dean brushes his fingers in light circles around Sam’s nipple, then skims a finger over it, and again, and again, before tugging gently on the hardening flesh. Sam shudders and writhes every time, trying to keep kissing Dean but caught between the pleasure from Dean’s hand on him and the friction he’s getting through his pants that’s barely enough and somehow perfect.
Dean’s hand slides down, and around, and over Sam’s hand, pressing down on it once, drawing a moan from Sam, before sliding back to Sam’s ass. Sam’s suddenly aware that he’s been moving, been thrusting against his hand, practically humping it, and what’s more, he can’t seem to make himself stop. It just feels so good, Dean’s mouth and his hand gripping him and he’s so close and then he’s coming in his pants, pleasure flooding through him, mouth open and panting into Dean’s, body pressed tight against Dean.
Dean keeps kissing him as he comes down, then he rolls away and gets up, heading to the bathroom.
“Wait,” Sam says, “isn’t it supposed to be... Don’t you want me to..?”
“Nah, it’s cool. I got it,” Dean replies, shooting Sam a wink before disappearing into the bathroom.
Sam lies there, come cooling in his pants, and tries not to think about Dean’s cock, hard and so big, pushing against him just minutes ago. Tries not to think about Dean getting off in the bathroom right now, one hand wrapped around himself, the other bracing himself on the wall. Sam groans and rolls over, then groans again as the sticky wet mess squishes around.
***
That night, Sam lies in bed trying to get up the courage to ask Dean for another “lesson”. He’s hard again, and he wants to kiss Dean as he comes. He wants to be pressed against Dean again, and he wants to rub himself against him, and he wants Dean to get off too.
Sam slips his hand into his boxers and wraps it around his cock. He’s been hard for a while, gently stroking himself through his boxers, and it feels good to just give in. He slips his boxers down so the waistband is resting just under his balls, and brings his hand up to his mouth to lick his palm. He strokes himself once, base to tip, and gathers the precome that beads there. His hand is slick now, and the sweet drag along his cock makes him whimper. He tries to muffle it for a moment, before remembering that it’s just him and Dean in the house now.
After that, Sam puts on something of a show. He fucks his hand slow at first, letting out a moan every few strokes. He picks up the pace and pictures Dean lying in bed listening to him, wonders if Dean is hard, if he’s also touching himself. The thought has him coming all over his belly, hips lifting, toes digging into the mattress.
As he’s coming down, Sam swears he can hear rhythmic rustling and panting through the wall, and he strains to hear Dean. All he gets is creaking bedsprings as Dean rolls over, then silence.
***
It’s another week before Sam finally provokes Dean into giving him another lesson. Dad’s gone again, and Sam’s gotten desperate. He’s jerked off every night, as loud as he dares with Dad sleeping just down the hall, and he’s sure Dean’s heard him. Now that they’re alone, Sam figures he can be more direct.
When they get home from school, Sam announces he’s taking a shower. He doesn’t get dressed after, instead wandering casually over to the couch wearing just a towel. It’s not actually that warm in the house, but Sam doesn’t really care if he’s being obvious. He sits next to Dean, right next to him, even though there’s a whole two unoccupied cushions on the other side. Dean takes one look at him and narrows his eyes.
“This isn’t a nudist colony Sam. Get dressed,” Dean says, his eyes roaming Sam’s chest, down his stomach, along his legs.
Sam turns to face Dean.
“I thought now would be a good time for another lesson.”
Dean blinks, then nods.
“Take that off,” Dean says, indicating the towel. Sam does, untying it and letting it fall onto the couch. He leans in to kiss Dean, and Dean lets him, heavy hands falling onto Sam’s shoulders and holding him steady. Sam fumbles at Dean’s shirt, trying to pull it off, but Dean grabs Sam’s wrists and push them away.
“No,” Dean says firmly, before pushing Sam to lie back along the couch, head resting against the armrest. Dean crawls up between Sam’s legs and kisses him again, rougher this time, deeper. Dean bites Sam’s lip and Sam lets out a little moan. He’s about to be embarrassed when Dean does it again, harder, and this time Sam can’t help but arch up into Dean’s body. Sam’s hard, leaking, and his cock is rubbing against Dean’s jeans, the rough fabric too much for Sam’s oversensitized skin. He shudders, and Dean grins, slipping down to suck at the spot below Sam’s ear. Sam arches again, wrapping one leg around Dean’s hips. He can feel how hard Dean’s cock is through the denim, and he grinds against it, relishing the shudder that goes through Dean.
Dean’s hand comes down on Sam’s hip, holding him down, as he pulls away slightly.
“No.”
Sam’s about to argue, but Dean’s hand slips from Sam’s hip to his cock, and suddenly Sam’s not really capable of speech anymore.
He never really thought about how much better someone else’s hand might feel on him. This hand though. This hand is Dean’s, and it’s huge, and rough, and perfect. Dean jerks him slow, watching his face, occasionally leaning in to kiss him. Sam feels exposed, helpless, spread out under Dean like this, completely naked while Dean’s fully clothed. He can’t seem to do anything but wrap his hands around Dean’s arms, hold on as he thrusts up to meet Dean’s strokes, pleasure building in him until he’s gasping and moaning, and Dean tightens his grip, jerks him faster, and Sam comes, shaking, arching into Dean.
Dean works him through it and uses the towel to clean him off before letting Sam crawl half into his lap. Sam lays his head on Dean’s shoulder, and Dean doesn’t make fun of him for being cuddly, just rubs his back and encircles him with his arms.
***
The following weeks are torture for Sam. He can’t look at Dean without thinking about big hands and soft, plush lips and sharp teeth and how strong Dean is, how he could hold Sam down and take what he wants. Sam thinks he might be going crazy, and he thinks that would be okay if he could just act on it. Unfortunately, Dad’s back, and this time it looks like it’ll be a while before he leaves them alone again. Sam jerks off in the shower, and in his bed at night, and in his bed in the morning. He wonders if Dean knows, hopes he does.
They move to a new town, a new school, and for once Sam’s glad, because a new hunt means it’s more likely Dad’ll leave. Unfortunately, a week into this new hunt, Dad still hasn’t announced he’s going anywhere. Sam lies in bed one night, debating sneaking into Dean’s room. In this new house, they both have rooms on one side of the house, and Dad’s room is on the other side. There’s no way Dad’ll hear, except that he’s a hunter, sleeps with one eye open, and Sam’s brain can’t really wrap itself around the idea of Dad finding out.
Sam hears a door open, from Dean’s side of the house, and holds his breath, listening. Quiet feet make their way to the bathroom, and hears the light click on, the door shut softly. Sam slips out of bed, slowly, slowly opening his door, and pads down the hall to the bathroom door. He waits until he hears the toilet flush, then opens the door, heart thudding. Dean’s washing his hands, and turns, looking surprised. Sam blushes, and Dean grins.
“Time for another lesson?” he says knowingly, and Sam just nods. Dean reaches out and yanks Sam close, one hand on his waist, the other brushing his hair out of his eyes. Sam pushes up on his toes to kiss Dean, and Dean wraps his arms around Sam, hands sliding down his back to cup his ass. Sam moans a little, and Dean deepens the kiss, tongue tangling with Sam’s. Sam’s waited too long for this, can’t stop himself from rutting against Dean’s thigh when it presses between his legs. Dean lets him, just holds him and kisses him and guides him with his hands on Sam’s ass. Sam gets off like that, quick and dirty and completely shameless, coming in his pants with his mouth latched on Dean’s.
Before Dean can leave, Sam grabs his arm.
“Wait. Can I... can I get you off?” he asks, trying to sound like he knows what he’s doing.
“No Sammy. C’mon, remember, rules. We’ll do something special soon though. I was thinking for your birthday.” Dean departs with a wink, and Sam cleans himself up, already counting the days.
***
Sam’s birthday is two weeks later, two weeks of exquisite torture, of imagining all the possibilities any time he happens to catch Dean’s eye. On the day of, Dad’s gone, and Sam wonders if that’s good luck or if Dean had something to do with it. Sam gets whatever he wants for breakfast, and, like every other year, he wants chocolate chip waffles. Somehow, Dean found a waffle iron, and there’s whipped cream and the good orange juice and Sam is officially 15 years old, which Dean says is old enough to get a fake I.D., although not today. Today, Dean lets Sam drive the Impala to the lake. They fish and shoot stuff and generally fuck around until the sun starts getting low, then Sam gets to drive back . They get chinese takeout and pizza on the way home, and when they fight over the remote, Dean lets Sam win.
In some ways, it’s exactly like any other good birthday Sam’s had. Sam feels this tension though, like butterflies in his gut, barely there that morning, but getting stronger and stronger. By the time they’re done eating, he’s practically squirming with it. Dean seems to notice, and he grins.
“You want your present, Sammy?” Dean asks, amusement clear in his voice. Sam just nods.
Dean leans in and kisses Sam, soft at first, then harder until Sam’s whimpering into his mouth, needing more. Dean shifts to bite a trail down his neck, and Sam arches into it, cock thickening in his pants. Dean slides a hand up one of Sam’s thighs and rubs over the growing bulge, and Sam stifles a moan, pressing up into Dean’s palm. Dean unbuckles Sam’s belt and unzips his pants.
“Up,” Dean whispers, and it takes Sam a moment to understand. He lifts his hips, and Dean pulls his pants down with his boxers, yanking Sam’s socks off on the way down, laughing when Sam squirms. He reaches up to pull Sam’s shirt off as well, and throws the pile of clothes over the back of the couch. Sam’s just thinking that it’s not really fair that he’s always the naked one while Dean keeps his clothes on when Dean drops to his knees in front of the couch and Sam stops thinking at all.
Dean’s holding Sam’s cock in his hand, thumb brushing along the underside where the shaft meets the crown. His wet, plush lips are inches away from the head, and Sam’s fighting to hold back from pushing up, from rubbing his cock all over those lips. Dean gives him one last predatory grin before lowering his head to lick a stripe from Sam’s balls to the bead of precome gathering at the tip. Sam shudders at the sensation of Deans wet, firm tongue pressing into the slit. Dean licks around the head, then wraps his lips around it and sucks.
Sam can’t hold back then, and he fucks up into Dean’s mouth hard before Dean’s hands slam his hips back down. Dean pulls off to whisper hoarsely, “Not this time, Sammy,” before sliding back down onto Sam. Sam holds onto his self control by a thread as Dean’s head bobs up and down, his eyes never leaving Sam’s, his lips wet and shiny, getting puffier and redder with every stroke. Dean runs his tongue along the underside again, this time working his tongue against the bundle of nerves under the crown. Sam whimpers and throws his head back, digs his fingers into the couch cushions, fighting to hold on. When he looks back down, Dean’s still watching him, the head of Sam’s cock resting just inside Dean’s mouth. With Sam’s eyes back on him, Dean resumes his rhythm, picking up speed and hollowing his cheeks. He shifts slightly, and on the next stroke down, Sam’s cock pushes into the tightness of Dean’s throat. Sam’s legs start to shake with the effort of holding still, and then Dean swallows around him, and Sam feels pleasure bursting in him. He manages to spit out, “I’m gonna... Dean, I’m gonna,” before he’s coming down Dean’s throat. Dean sucks him through it, licking him clean until he’s softening.
This time, Sam can’t help but reach his hand toward the bulge in Dean’s pants as he’s standing up. Dean grabs his wrist, stopping him, and Sam whines.
“No,” Dean says, and it takes Sam a moment to pull himself together enough to remember how to speak.
“C’mon man. You gave me this, least I can do is pay you back, right?” Sam tries to make it sound reasonable, and really, he thinks, it is.
“No Sammy. You wanted to learn stuff, I’m gonna teach you stuff. You’re fifteen, man. I’m not gonna be some guy making his little brother get him off ‘cause he doesn’t know any better.”
“You’re not making me--”
“Look, we’ll talk about it when you’re legal. Okay?” Dean asks, and when Sam doesn’t answer right away, he adds, “Hey, if you’re not into this anymore...”
“No! I am,” Sam says, deciding to drop it for now. He’s pretty sure he can find a way to change Dean’s mind. In the meantime, Sam glances down at Dean’s obvious erection, and clears his throat pointedly. “You gonna take care of that?”
Dean grins and heads for the bathroom with a wink. Sam lays back on the couch, grabbing a blanket to cover up, feeling cold and a little lonely. The blowjob was.... well, Sam’s pretty sure it was the best thing he’s ever experienced and that now he knows it’s out there he’s going to want at least one every day for the rest of forever. Sam imagines what it’d be like to have a cock in his mouth, stretching his lips and shoving into his throat, and his cock twitches. He pictures himself on his knees, a big hand with a silver ring buried in his hair, tugging him forward as he gags a little before opening his throat. He imagines looking up at Dean’s heated green stare, his lips parted in pleasure, blush staining his cheeks. Sam squirms a little, and tries to get his growing erection to wilt before Dean gets back.
When Dean gets back, Sam‘s cock is still stubbornly hard and he’s pretty sure Dean knows, but he doesn’t say anything. He does get under the blanket and let Sam rest his head on his shoulder, snuggled up under one of Dean’s arms. Sam falls asleep like that and wakes up in his bed, his boxers put back on him, the memory of Dean’s lips wrapped around him still fresh in his mind.
It was a good birthday.
***
They stay in this house until school lets out in June. Sam gets another handjob from Dean, in the bathroom, both of them facing the mirror, Dean pressed against Sam’s back, hand wrapped around his cock and jerking him into the sink. Dean watches Sam’s face in the mirror the whole time, and when he leans in to bite Sam that spot where shoulder meets neck, Sam comes so hard he almost whites out.
Dean sucks him off again too, once in the woods, on his knees in front of Sam while Sam leans back against a tree, getting splinters from scrabbling for purchase against the trunk. Dean pulls away this time, to jerk Sam until he comes on Dean’s face, on his lips and across his cheeks and Sam can’t get that image out of his head for days, of Dean covered in Sam’s come, how Dean let him.
Sam’s discovering that no matter how much he thought he wanted Dean before, it’s nothing compared to now. At first, Dean seems to be trying to act completely normal whenever he’s not teaching Sam. Sam can’t stop himself from touching Dean more and more, staying tangled together longer after a wrestling match, sitting closer to him on the couch or in the car. Dean responds, can’t seem to help it, and every time he leaves his arm around Sam’s shoulder a little longer than usual, warmth fills Sam’s belly. He’s still trying to think of a way to get around Dean’s rules, but he doesn’t want Dean to call off their lessons if he pushes too far.
Sam gets out of the shower one morning to find Dean in his room. Dad’s nowhere to be seen, and from the way Dean’s looking at him, Sam guesses he’s not going to be around anytime soon.
“You wanna try something new this time, Sammy?” Dean asked a wicked grin. Sam nods quickly; it’s been a while since their last “lesson”.
Dean pats the bedspread next to him, and Sam sits down. Dean gently pushes Sam until he’s lying back on the bed, Dean beside him, lying on his side, propped up on one elbow. Sam’s impatient, squirming a little, hands moving restlessly, but Dean takes his wrists and presses them down into the mattress before sliding his hands up Sam’s arms, to his shoulders. Dean gets on his knees, between Sam’s legs, and leans over Sam, above him. Sam wants to reach out, to curl a hand around the back of Dean’s neck and draw him in, kiss him, but Dean was pretty clear, so he leaves his hands where Dean put them, curling into the sheet under him.
Dean hovers above Sam’s mouth, less than an inch away, and Sam arches up, trying to reach. Dean laughs, just once, huskily, before pressing their mouths together. He kisses Sam without holding back now, not like at first when Sam was just learning. Now Dean’s tongue pushes in almost right away, claiming, exploring Sam’s mouth and drawing him out to do the same. When Dean finally lets Sam come up for air, Sam’s dazed, out of breath, and hard. Dean starts biting a trail under Sam’s jaw, down his neck, along his collarbone. Sam flushes, embarrassed at his scrawny fifteen year old body for a moment, but Dean drags his teeth down to Sam’s nipple and Sam forgets how to be embarrassed, just presses himself up into the tongue that’s now circling his nipple, flicking over it every few passes. Dean pulls away for a second to grin up at Sam before moving to the other nipple, this time sucking it into his mouth. Every touch is going straight to Sam’s cock, hard and heavy and curving up toward his belly, already leaking. Dean pulls off with a last drag of teeth that has Sam gasping and fisting the covers in a white knuckled grip. Dean trails biting kisses down Sam’s side, stopping to suck at the crest Sam’s sharp hipbone, blood rising under the skin.
Sam doesn’t realize his hips are moving in small circles until Dean grips his hips and holds him down, murmuring “Hold still for me Sammy.” Sam forces himself to hold as still as possible, barely daring to breathe, waiting to feel Dean’s mouth on his cock again, already remember slick lips and soft, wet tongue, the tight heat of Dean’s throat. Instead, he jumps at Dean’s tongue trailing the crease of his thigh, then curling around one ball, lifting it into his mouth. Dean pulls the other one in too, and groans, back arching, legs spreading unconsciously. Dean tongues them for a moment longer, before gently letting them go, and moving further down. He presses his tongue against the skin just behind Sam’s balls, and Sam feels a surge of pleasure, has to stop himself from grabbing his cock. Instead, he digs the fingers of his right hand into his thigh and holds on.
Dean’s tongue slips further still, around Sam’s hole, and Sam feels himself clench involuntarily. He theoretically knows this is something people do, but he didn’t think Dean would ever- -
Evidently Dean would, because he is, his tongue running over Sam’s hole over and over, getting it slick, and Sam can feel himself relaxing just a fraction. Then Dean’s tongue is there, right there, pressing in, and Sam takes a breath, willing his body to unclench. He feels the tip push inside, then more, Dean making his tongue firm, spreading Sam open. The intrusion feels weird, makes him feel too full, almost like he can’t breathe, and too open, like he’s exposed, on display. That feeling intensifies as Dean grips under Sam’s thighs and lifts, pressing Sam’s knees to his chest. Sam grabs his knees, keeps himself spread for Dean, and something about that sparks another rush of heat in his belly.
Dean’s tongue fucks in further, then out, and teases at the sensitive rim for a moment, before pushing in again, deeper this time. Sam throws his head back, trying to shift further down the bed, get Dean even deeper inside him, and Dean laughs a little, vibrations going straight into Sam. Dean pulls out again, and when he doesn’t push right back in, Sam whines a little. Dean chuckles again, voice lower than usual, rougher, and Sam feels something else pressing against his wet hole. He tenses for a moment, then realizes it’s Dean’s fingers, and relaxes. Dean pushes in to the first knuckle and twists, and Sam jolts at how good it feels. Dean pulls out, and pushes a second spit slick finger in with the first. There’s only the slightest hint of the pain Sam expected, nothing compared to the overwhelming pleasure spreading through him, both at the sensation and the thought of Dean inside him. Sam tries to push back against Dean’s fingers, and Dean gives a little groan before pulling his fingers out. Sam lets out a little sob, opening his mouth to beg, but Dean pushes and pulls at his limbs and hips until he flips over, knees spread, tucked under him, ass in the air. Dean pushes both fingers back in, and Sam understand why Dean moved him when he tries fucking back and finds it so much easier. Dean only pumps his fingers a couple more times before letting Sam take over, fucking himself back on Dean’s fingers. Dean crooks them a little and twists and Sam lets out a strangled cry as he hits something, something that sends a shot of almost unbearable pleasure through him.
Dean reaches his other hand around and wraps it around Sam’s heavy, leaking cock, and it only takes two strokes, Sam shoving himself back on Dean’s fingers then forward into Dean’s fist, before he’s shaking hard and coming onto Dean’s hand and the bed.
Sam collapses right away, grunting as Deans’ fingers are pulled out of him too fast. He tries to turn over, to look at Dean, but none of his limbs seem to be working and he can’t remember how to talk. He does manage a croaky little whine, which seems to work because Dean lies down beside him and puts his arms around Sam. Sam can feel Dean’s cock hard through his jeans, can even feel what might be a wet spot at the head, but he can’t seem to find any kind of energy to try and something about it. Instead, he curls himself against Dean and falls asleep.
***
Dad comes back the next day, but it’s just for supplies and when he takes off again Sam decides it’s time to see if he can get Dean to break his “rules”. He lies in bed at night, trying to figure out the best plan of attack, trying not to be discouraged by the fact that he knows next nothing about how to seduce someone. Dean never really has to do anything to get Sam hard and practically begging; Dean’s a paragon of self control in comparison.
Finally, Sam decides to corner Dean. He slips into the bathroom, naked, when Dean’s showering, and steps in with him. Dean turns with a start and a sigh of exasperation.
“What are you doing, Sam?” Dean asks, like it isn’t obvious.
“Just let me suck you, Dean. C’mon man, you know you want it, just let me...” Sam says, sliding his hand along Dean’s wet skin. Dean grabs Sam’s wrist and spins him around til Sam’s chest is pressed against the tiled shower wall. Dean’s mouth is against Sam’s ear, and his voice is gruff, low.
“I said no, Sam. I’m not gonna tell you again.”
Sam hears the shower curtain, then the door, and he’s left under the rapidly cooling spray. He’s breathing too fast and he tries not to wonder why this little encounter, essentially a rejection, left him blindingly hard.
Part II