SPN: Sam/Dean, NC-17
Title: Hell of a Thank You
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1,993
Notes: Written for the spn_fluffathon prompt: Dean buys Sam an engraved weapon. Thanks to neroli66 for the lovely beta!
Dean frowned when Sam sighed again - something he was particularly good at - and shifted his eyes to the only other occupied table in the all night diner. He’d spent half their meal checking them out, though Dean couldn’t fathom why. They were a typical, if overly touchy feely, couple who appeared to be fawning over each other.
“What’s up with you?” Dean asked, spearing a sausage with his fork.
“Nothing,” Sam mumbled into his coffee. He eyed Dean over the top of the cup, though, and Dean was sick of him. Their last hunt hadn’t been that bad, so it was most likely Sam PMSing.
“Bull,” Dean said, his mouth full of food, “Just tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it.”
“They’re so fucking happy,” Sam said, waving a hand at the table across the room. “It’s just...look at them. Everyone who sees them can tell they’re completely in love with each other. Did you spot that rock on her hand? Engaged, Dean. I guess I’m just sick of people not knowing about us. No one knows how I feel about you. It sucks.” He shrugged and hid his face in his coffee cup again.
Dean chewed on his lower lip and studied his brother. Sure, they had this…thing going on, and he had to admit he loved - really loved - Sam, but he wasn’t about to shout it to the world. Hell, it wasn’t exactly accepted by society. He toyed with the ring on his right hand, spinning it around his finger. He slipped it off and slid it across the table. It glistened in the light, and for a moment Sam just stared at it.
“What the hell?” he asked; scrunching up his nose is a way that could only be adorable on Sam.
“A symbol,” Dean said, gesturing to the ring. His hand already felt naked without it, but he was willing to give it up if it made Sam calm the fuck down. “Wear my ring, and people will know, ok?”
“Dude, what is this? The fifties? I’m not wearing your ring. It’s a part of you,” Sam said, rolling his eyes as he flicked the ring back to Dean.
“Ok, fine,” Dean grumbled. He held up the ring, turning it as he studied Sam. “Want me to switch hands? Wear it on the left? Some kind of commitment ring or some shit?”
“Dean,” Sam drawled out, giving the name a few extra syllables. “That would just make everyone think you’re married. Just forget it, ok? I’m in a funk and it’ll be fine.”
“Yeah, whatever,” Dean put his ring back on, surprised when he felt a thousand times more comfortable. He’d let this go...for now.
--
A few weeks later Dean walked into the motel room smiling. He had the package he’d picked up from one of their P.O. boxes tucked under his arm, and couldn’t wait to show it to Sam. His brother was passed out on one of the beds, snoring lightly in the darkened room. Being the best big brother possible, Dean flicked on the lights and jumped onto the bed, straddling Sam’s sleeping form. He wasn’t disappointed, and had to steady drop the package on the bed so he could grab Sam by the wrists and restrain his flailing.
“Dude, calm the fuck down,” Dean said, laughing as he bent down and kissed Sam quickly on the mouth. Then he leaned back and reached for the package. Tossing it at Sam, he smirked and gestured for him to open it.
“You’re never giddy,” Sam told him, chuckling, “I’m kinda terrified now.” He shook the box, a habit started years earlier, and then pulled his knife out of his back pocket, flipped it open, and cut through the tape on the box. He sat up a bit, pushing Dean further down his legs, and leaned back against the headboard.
Dean couldn’t stop grinning as he watched Sam ruffle through the bubble wrap and pull out the two knives. Sam raised an eyebrow and held one up, testing it by flicking his hand back and forth. Then he dug deeper into the box and found the custom made wrist sheaths. Those had taken a lot of sweet talking to get, since Sam had forearms that made tree trunks look small. Still, the look of awe on Sam’s face was worth it.
“They should fit,” Dean said as he reached out and took one out of the box. He fiddled with the straps for a minute before putting it on Sam, enjoying the smooth feeling of leather and Sam’s skin beneath his hands. He bit back a moan, feeling slightly stupid for getting turned on by the way the leather looked on Sam. But since he got half-hard whenever he picked up some of his custom guns, he figured it wasn’t that odd.
“What’s the occasion?” Sam asked, sliding a knife into the sheath on his left wrist. Then he went to work putting the other one on his right wrist. Dean picked up the other knife, loving the solid weight of it in the palm of his hand. Oh yeah, the money had been worth it. Well, Sylvester Ferraro’s money had been worth it.
“Just wanted you to know you’re appreciated,” Dean said as he slipped the second knife into place. “They’re steel, but have as much silver in them as possible. Should work well on werewolves and other nasty sons of bitches.” He ducked his head and avoided Sam’s eyes before continuing. “They’re engraved,” he whispered, his voice nearly lost in the silent room.
“Going soft on me?” Sam joked as he turned his wrist and eyed the handle of one of the blades. It had the word love carved on it in simple block letters. A quick check of the other handle showed the word Dean. Sam traced the letter with his fingers and looked up to meet Dean’s worried gaze. “Thank you,” he said, tugging on Dean’s ear and pulling him in for a kiss.
It was impossibly soft, just a brush of lips, but Dean felt himself growing harder and falling a little more in love with Sam. It always hit him at the weirdest times.
“You’re welcome,” Dean said, his voice coming out in puffs against Sam’s neck. “We can’t tell everyone, but it’s something.”
“Everything,” Sam told him with a grin. “It’s everything.”
Then Sam was biting at Dean’s neck and working a hand into the front of his jeans. The wrist sheath made it difficult though, so he unzipped them instead. Dean moaned when Sam worked his pants over his hips and snuck a hand into his boxers. He knelt up, allowing Sam more access, and braced his hands on Sam’s shoulders.
The leather of the wrist sheath was worked smooth and felt amazing against his abs as Sam wrapped his long fingers around Dean’s cock and started to jack him slowly. He closed his eyes, giving in to the sensations as Sam pumped him, speeding up his hand when Dean whimpered against his neck.
“Christ...Sammy,” Dean choked out, his words lost in Sam’s hair. He nuzzled the side of Sam’s head, brushing his lips against the nape of Sam’s neck.
“Hell...love you too,” Sam grunted in Dean’s ear. Suddenly Dean was on his back, his head by the foot of the bed and Sam’s between his legs. Dean lifted his hips to help Sam tug his jeans off and leaned up on his elbows as Sam took him in his hand again. He bucked his hips when Sam’s tongue swirled around the head of his cock and bit back another moan.
Sam pressed him down, his hands splayed on Dean’s hipbones and holding him to the mattress. The cool metal of the knives dug into his flesh, and Dean realized he was mumbling. He couldn’t make out the words, all rational thought flew out of his brain when Sam swallowed him down, hollowing his cheeks as he sucked Dean’s cock. Dean was leaking pre-come, and his balls felt tight. He knew he wasn’t going to last, and gave up trying to.
Sam pumped him with one hand, the leather stroking his stomach as Sam’s fingers circled the base of his cock. Sam’s other hand was digging into Dean’s hip, his nails biting into the skin and marking him. Dean struggled to keep his eyes open, never taking his gaze from Sam’s face. His brother’s eyes were dark, the pupils blown as he sucked Dean, swiping at the underside of his cock with a flat tongue.
Dean cried out when Sam trailed his fingers behind his balls and rubbed circles against the skin there. He watched as Sam sucked a finger into his mouth, felt it against his cock as Sam slicked it up. When Sam pressed the digit into his ass, Dean shouted a hoarse “Sammy!” and came, emptying himself in thick strands down Sam’s throat. Sam kept sucking him, fucking him slowly with one finger as he caught most of his come.
A droplet hung on his lips when he pulled back, and Dean grabbed him under the armpits and hauled him up his body. He crushed their mouths together, flicking his tongue out to catch the drop Sam missed. He loved the taste of himself on Sam’s lips, reveled in the flavor of them mixed together.
Dean swallowed Sam’s moan and snaked a hand between their bodies, undoing Sam’s ridiculously large belt buckle and thrusting his hand into his jeans. Thank god Sam wore baggy jeans. He fisted his hand around Sam’s cock, loving the solid feel of it against his palm. Using pre-come to ease his way, he started pumping Sam’s cock, brushing his thumb over the slit like Sam liked it.
“Dean,” Sam hissed against Dean’s lips. He trailed his tongue over Dean’s mouth before thrusting it back in and savoring Dean. He sucked on Dean’s tongue, scraping it lightly with his teeth before breaking the kiss and sighing against Dean’s neck.
“That’s it Sammy...come for me,” Dean whispered. He bit down on Sam’s neck hard enough to leave a mark and then ran his tongue over the forming bruise. “So gorgeous when you come for me.” He pressed a wet, open mouthed kiss against the bruise; a perfect imprint of his teeth.
Sam hissed again, a choked, squeaky sound that he always made right before coming. Dean pumped him quicker, and smiled against his neck when Sam shuddered and tensed up, his thighs shaking as Dean felt him explode in his jeans. Dean kept stroking him, drawing out the orgasm as Sam shot hot bursts of come into his hand.
When Sam stilled and collapsed on top on him, Dean pulled his hand out and caught Sam’s gaze before bringing it up to his mouth and lapping at it. He moaned around the salty taste and tongued Sam’s come from the space between his thumb and fingers. Sam watched him, eyes wide and dark as Dean cleaned all trace of him from his hand.
Then Sam rolled them over so Dean was on top and smiled at him, all teeth and flushed cheeks as he looked up at Dean. He palmed the side of Dean’s face and dragged him down, capturing his lips in a wet, sloppy kiss.
“Nice present,” Sam murmured against Dean’s mouth, chuckling as he broke the kiss.
“Hell of a thank you,” Dean said with a laugh. He rolled off of Sam and snuggled against him, just taking a break from their hectic lifestyle and worrying about their fucked up love affair. Sam was warm and comfortable next to him, and Dean couldn’t imagine any other way to live. He slung an arm over Sam’s chest and settled in for a nap, not giving a damn that his feet were resting on the pillows or that they had to pack up and leave in a few hours time.
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1,993
Notes: Written for the spn_fluffathon prompt: Dean buys Sam an engraved weapon. Thanks to neroli66 for the lovely beta!
Dean frowned when Sam sighed again - something he was particularly good at - and shifted his eyes to the only other occupied table in the all night diner. He’d spent half their meal checking them out, though Dean couldn’t fathom why. They were a typical, if overly touchy feely, couple who appeared to be fawning over each other.
“What’s up with you?” Dean asked, spearing a sausage with his fork.
“Nothing,” Sam mumbled into his coffee. He eyed Dean over the top of the cup, though, and Dean was sick of him. Their last hunt hadn’t been that bad, so it was most likely Sam PMSing.
“Bull,” Dean said, his mouth full of food, “Just tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it.”
“They’re so fucking happy,” Sam said, waving a hand at the table across the room. “It’s just...look at them. Everyone who sees them can tell they’re completely in love with each other. Did you spot that rock on her hand? Engaged, Dean. I guess I’m just sick of people not knowing about us. No one knows how I feel about you. It sucks.” He shrugged and hid his face in his coffee cup again.
Dean chewed on his lower lip and studied his brother. Sure, they had this…thing going on, and he had to admit he loved - really loved - Sam, but he wasn’t about to shout it to the world. Hell, it wasn’t exactly accepted by society. He toyed with the ring on his right hand, spinning it around his finger. He slipped it off and slid it across the table. It glistened in the light, and for a moment Sam just stared at it.
“What the hell?” he asked; scrunching up his nose is a way that could only be adorable on Sam.
“A symbol,” Dean said, gesturing to the ring. His hand already felt naked without it, but he was willing to give it up if it made Sam calm the fuck down. “Wear my ring, and people will know, ok?”
“Dude, what is this? The fifties? I’m not wearing your ring. It’s a part of you,” Sam said, rolling his eyes as he flicked the ring back to Dean.
“Ok, fine,” Dean grumbled. He held up the ring, turning it as he studied Sam. “Want me to switch hands? Wear it on the left? Some kind of commitment ring or some shit?”
“Dean,” Sam drawled out, giving the name a few extra syllables. “That would just make everyone think you’re married. Just forget it, ok? I’m in a funk and it’ll be fine.”
“Yeah, whatever,” Dean put his ring back on, surprised when he felt a thousand times more comfortable. He’d let this go...for now.
--
A few weeks later Dean walked into the motel room smiling. He had the package he’d picked up from one of their P.O. boxes tucked under his arm, and couldn’t wait to show it to Sam. His brother was passed out on one of the beds, snoring lightly in the darkened room. Being the best big brother possible, Dean flicked on the lights and jumped onto the bed, straddling Sam’s sleeping form. He wasn’t disappointed, and had to steady drop the package on the bed so he could grab Sam by the wrists and restrain his flailing.
“Dude, calm the fuck down,” Dean said, laughing as he bent down and kissed Sam quickly on the mouth. Then he leaned back and reached for the package. Tossing it at Sam, he smirked and gestured for him to open it.
“You’re never giddy,” Sam told him, chuckling, “I’m kinda terrified now.” He shook the box, a habit started years earlier, and then pulled his knife out of his back pocket, flipped it open, and cut through the tape on the box. He sat up a bit, pushing Dean further down his legs, and leaned back against the headboard.
Dean couldn’t stop grinning as he watched Sam ruffle through the bubble wrap and pull out the two knives. Sam raised an eyebrow and held one up, testing it by flicking his hand back and forth. Then he dug deeper into the box and found the custom made wrist sheaths. Those had taken a lot of sweet talking to get, since Sam had forearms that made tree trunks look small. Still, the look of awe on Sam’s face was worth it.
“They should fit,” Dean said as he reached out and took one out of the box. He fiddled with the straps for a minute before putting it on Sam, enjoying the smooth feeling of leather and Sam’s skin beneath his hands. He bit back a moan, feeling slightly stupid for getting turned on by the way the leather looked on Sam. But since he got half-hard whenever he picked up some of his custom guns, he figured it wasn’t that odd.
“What’s the occasion?” Sam asked, sliding a knife into the sheath on his left wrist. Then he went to work putting the other one on his right wrist. Dean picked up the other knife, loving the solid weight of it in the palm of his hand. Oh yeah, the money had been worth it. Well, Sylvester Ferraro’s money had been worth it.
“Just wanted you to know you’re appreciated,” Dean said as he slipped the second knife into place. “They’re steel, but have as much silver in them as possible. Should work well on werewolves and other nasty sons of bitches.” He ducked his head and avoided Sam’s eyes before continuing. “They’re engraved,” he whispered, his voice nearly lost in the silent room.
“Going soft on me?” Sam joked as he turned his wrist and eyed the handle of one of the blades. It had the word love carved on it in simple block letters. A quick check of the other handle showed the word Dean. Sam traced the letter with his fingers and looked up to meet Dean’s worried gaze. “Thank you,” he said, tugging on Dean’s ear and pulling him in for a kiss.
It was impossibly soft, just a brush of lips, but Dean felt himself growing harder and falling a little more in love with Sam. It always hit him at the weirdest times.
“You’re welcome,” Dean said, his voice coming out in puffs against Sam’s neck. “We can’t tell everyone, but it’s something.”
“Everything,” Sam told him with a grin. “It’s everything.”
Then Sam was biting at Dean’s neck and working a hand into the front of his jeans. The wrist sheath made it difficult though, so he unzipped them instead. Dean moaned when Sam worked his pants over his hips and snuck a hand into his boxers. He knelt up, allowing Sam more access, and braced his hands on Sam’s shoulders.
The leather of the wrist sheath was worked smooth and felt amazing against his abs as Sam wrapped his long fingers around Dean’s cock and started to jack him slowly. He closed his eyes, giving in to the sensations as Sam pumped him, speeding up his hand when Dean whimpered against his neck.
“Christ...Sammy,” Dean choked out, his words lost in Sam’s hair. He nuzzled the side of Sam’s head, brushing his lips against the nape of Sam’s neck.
“Hell...love you too,” Sam grunted in Dean’s ear. Suddenly Dean was on his back, his head by the foot of the bed and Sam’s between his legs. Dean lifted his hips to help Sam tug his jeans off and leaned up on his elbows as Sam took him in his hand again. He bucked his hips when Sam’s tongue swirled around the head of his cock and bit back another moan.
Sam pressed him down, his hands splayed on Dean’s hipbones and holding him to the mattress. The cool metal of the knives dug into his flesh, and Dean realized he was mumbling. He couldn’t make out the words, all rational thought flew out of his brain when Sam swallowed him down, hollowing his cheeks as he sucked Dean’s cock. Dean was leaking pre-come, and his balls felt tight. He knew he wasn’t going to last, and gave up trying to.
Sam pumped him with one hand, the leather stroking his stomach as Sam’s fingers circled the base of his cock. Sam’s other hand was digging into Dean’s hip, his nails biting into the skin and marking him. Dean struggled to keep his eyes open, never taking his gaze from Sam’s face. His brother’s eyes were dark, the pupils blown as he sucked Dean, swiping at the underside of his cock with a flat tongue.
Dean cried out when Sam trailed his fingers behind his balls and rubbed circles against the skin there. He watched as Sam sucked a finger into his mouth, felt it against his cock as Sam slicked it up. When Sam pressed the digit into his ass, Dean shouted a hoarse “Sammy!” and came, emptying himself in thick strands down Sam’s throat. Sam kept sucking him, fucking him slowly with one finger as he caught most of his come.
A droplet hung on his lips when he pulled back, and Dean grabbed him under the armpits and hauled him up his body. He crushed their mouths together, flicking his tongue out to catch the drop Sam missed. He loved the taste of himself on Sam’s lips, reveled in the flavor of them mixed together.
Dean swallowed Sam’s moan and snaked a hand between their bodies, undoing Sam’s ridiculously large belt buckle and thrusting his hand into his jeans. Thank god Sam wore baggy jeans. He fisted his hand around Sam’s cock, loving the solid feel of it against his palm. Using pre-come to ease his way, he started pumping Sam’s cock, brushing his thumb over the slit like Sam liked it.
“Dean,” Sam hissed against Dean’s lips. He trailed his tongue over Dean’s mouth before thrusting it back in and savoring Dean. He sucked on Dean’s tongue, scraping it lightly with his teeth before breaking the kiss and sighing against Dean’s neck.
“That’s it Sammy...come for me,” Dean whispered. He bit down on Sam’s neck hard enough to leave a mark and then ran his tongue over the forming bruise. “So gorgeous when you come for me.” He pressed a wet, open mouthed kiss against the bruise; a perfect imprint of his teeth.
Sam hissed again, a choked, squeaky sound that he always made right before coming. Dean pumped him quicker, and smiled against his neck when Sam shuddered and tensed up, his thighs shaking as Dean felt him explode in his jeans. Dean kept stroking him, drawing out the orgasm as Sam shot hot bursts of come into his hand.
When Sam stilled and collapsed on top on him, Dean pulled his hand out and caught Sam’s gaze before bringing it up to his mouth and lapping at it. He moaned around the salty taste and tongued Sam’s come from the space between his thumb and fingers. Sam watched him, eyes wide and dark as Dean cleaned all trace of him from his hand.
Then Sam rolled them over so Dean was on top and smiled at him, all teeth and flushed cheeks as he looked up at Dean. He palmed the side of Dean’s face and dragged him down, capturing his lips in a wet, sloppy kiss.
“Nice present,” Sam murmured against Dean’s mouth, chuckling as he broke the kiss.
“Hell of a thank you,” Dean said with a laugh. He rolled off of Sam and snuggled against him, just taking a break from their hectic lifestyle and worrying about their fucked up love affair. Sam was warm and comfortable next to him, and Dean couldn’t imagine any other way to live. He slung an arm over Sam’s chest and settled in for a nap, not giving a damn that his feet were resting on the pillows or that they had to pack up and leave in a few hours time.