[Slash] Confidence Issues, Sam/Dean, Prompt 01: Reflection [Nano]
Title: Confidence Issues
Author anyothergirl415
Character(s)/Pairing: Sam/Dean
Theme: Nano Table
Prompt(s): 01 - Reflection
Words: ~1,150
Rating: High R, underage - 15/19
Disclaimer: If I had my way, this would be the show. Very seldom do I have my way.
Summary: Dean teaches Sam a thing or two about having confidence in himself.
“My face is weird,” Sam sighed quietly, poking at the still lingering baby fat around his cheeks. He was fifteen years old damnit, he shouldn’t still have things that could be classified as baby fat. It contrasted sharply to the extended lines of his chest, arms and legs that had become gangly and awkward with the sudden growth spurts he’d had over the past few months. “I wanna cut all my hair off and grow a beard.”
Dean snorted and flipped the page on the magazine he’d been pursuing for the last half hour. Sam had thought it was a Play Boy but he caught sight of an engine. Car porn. Dean was a bigger freak than Sam so that comforted him. “You can’t grow a beard dude. That would take years.”
“Fuck off,” Sam grunted, rolling his eyes at his brother’s reflection in the mirror. Sam ran his fingers along his jaw. At this point he only had to shave once a week. If he didn’t shave for a month he was pretty sure he’d have a full shadow. So it definitely wouldn’t take years. Maybe months. Okay maybe a year. But Sam was pretty sure he would look less like an awkward dodo bird or something along those lines. “Maybe I’ll grow a ‘stache.”
“Only douches say ‘stache,” Dean sought to inform him in that smug inferior tone that kind of made Sam want to punch him. Or a pillow because Sam knew he would totally fail if he attempted to wrestle his brother. Last time he’d been taught that lesson with a knee digging hard into his chest. Fuck that had sucked big time and Sam wasn’t eager for a repeat.
Puckering his lips toward his image, Sam tilted his head to the side and watched the slide of his hair across his forward. “Maybe I’ll give myself a Mohawk.”
“Hair’s not long enough,” Dean glanced up from the magazine once more and Sam watched the amused flicker along the corner of his eyes. “You’d just look like a punk wanna-be.”
Sam’s hand shifted up through his hair and it fell right back into place. “I could rock dreadlocks I bet.”
“Dude, do I have to kick your ass?” Dean flattened the magazine on the table and pushed up from the chair. Sam watched his hips give the slightest sway as he walked toward the mirror and he kind of hated Dean’s confidence level. Sam didn’t think he would ever feel that sure of himself to walk like he didn’t give a fuck if you were watching or not even if he knew you were.
Turning his eyes to his neck, Sam prodded at the stretched skin, “Am I a little giraffe-ish? Cause my neck is like, twenty feet long.”
Dean stepped up to his side in the mirror and reached out to trail his fingers down Sam’s neck. “Ah my brother, king of exaggerations.”
“Suck it,” Sam shrugged and curled his fingers under the hem of his shirt, lifting it up to expose the flat board that was his stomach. No curves of muscles or the define of a six pack like his brother’s. Stupid asshole with his toned belly and muscled arms. “Maybe I should start tanning. I’m like a fucking vampire.”
“This is getting a little old,” Dean mused and splayed his hand wide on Sam’s exposed chest, stepping in to Sam’s back while simultaneously pulling him flush against his chest. “You get your rocks off by being down on yourself or something?”
Sam’s body kind of molded into Dean’s, which felt a little impressive because Sam felt like he was too many lines to mold into anything. “You know how I get my rocks off perv. You listen to me.”
“I do,” Dean mused and Sam honestly hadn’t been expecting that. He’d been attempting to gain the upper hand but it was a little impossible while Dean’s fingers were sliding across his skin and ghosting across his nipples, tweaking him expertly like he was some type of a guitar.
It didn’t surprise Sam that much that his brother knew how to play him just like that. “Y-you do?” He whispered, head tilting back onto Dean’s shoulder and rolling toward him, lips sliding along warm and flushed skin.
“Hard not too, so noisy,” Dean’s voice was low and rich and Sam’s only ever heard it that once before when he called and interrupted on a Dean date. Sam had always had his suspicions as to what Dean and his date had been up too, now he knew for a fact.
Words like oh my fucking god and gonna come before he touches me slammed to the forefront of Sam’s brain but he gained enough self awareness to not let them fall off the tip of his tongue. He did moan ridiculously loud however when Dean’s hand shoved roughly under the button and zipper that Sam hadn’t even felt him undoing.
“Watch,” Dean insisted and Sam rolled his neck to get a better view of them in the mirror. His cheeks were flushed with red, his chest was rising and falling in shaky staccato. Sam could feel the firm line of Dean’s cock against his ass and he watched his hips rock back into that heat.
Dean shoved at the denim and cotton until the jut of Sam’s hipbone was bathed with the cool air of the room followed by the sharp jolt of Dean’s fingers along his hard flesh. “Jesus Dean,” he moaned and stared wide eyed at Dean’s thick fingers dragging up his cock, swollen purplish red.
“You’re gorgeous like this Sam,” Dean breathed into Sam’s ear, sucking the lobe into his mouth as if Sam could handle any further stimulation. “So needy and wanton. Look at yourself, you can’t deny that.”
And that was true. Sam looked pretty fucking sexy, all flushed with color, hips moving steadily, cock sliding in and out of Dean’s hand at a quickening pace. “Gonna… Dean…” he whimpered and slumped heavier into Dean’s body.
A strong arm around his waist supported his weight and Dean urged him along with quick strokes and the gentle rock forward of his hips. “Yeah c’mon Sammy. Watch yourself come.”
“Fuck,” Sam growled and his eyes fixed on his cock as thin jets of white shot up onto Dean’s hand, along his abs. That was pretty fucking hot. He swallowed several times over as Dean’s hand stilled and finally released him. Forcing his eyes up, Sam met bright green in the mirror and smirked slightly, “Okay, so maybe no tan.”
Dean smirked and stepped back. “Better not.”
Sam turned away from the mirror and pushed Dean back to the bed, hands falling to his waist band. “Maybe I’ll just dye my hair blue.”
Dean’s laughter drifted into a moan as Sam shoved him onto the edge of the mattress and knelt between spread legs.
Author anyothergirl415
Character(s)/Pairing: Sam/Dean
Theme: Nano Table
Prompt(s): 01 - Reflection
Words: ~1,150
Rating: High R, underage - 15/19
Disclaimer: If I had my way, this would be the show. Very seldom do I have my way.
Summary: Dean teaches Sam a thing or two about having confidence in himself.
“My face is weird,” Sam sighed quietly, poking at the still lingering baby fat around his cheeks. He was fifteen years old damnit, he shouldn’t still have things that could be classified as baby fat. It contrasted sharply to the extended lines of his chest, arms and legs that had become gangly and awkward with the sudden growth spurts he’d had over the past few months. “I wanna cut all my hair off and grow a beard.”
Dean snorted and flipped the page on the magazine he’d been pursuing for the last half hour. Sam had thought it was a Play Boy but he caught sight of an engine. Car porn. Dean was a bigger freak than Sam so that comforted him. “You can’t grow a beard dude. That would take years.”
“Fuck off,” Sam grunted, rolling his eyes at his brother’s reflection in the mirror. Sam ran his fingers along his jaw. At this point he only had to shave once a week. If he didn’t shave for a month he was pretty sure he’d have a full shadow. So it definitely wouldn’t take years. Maybe months. Okay maybe a year. But Sam was pretty sure he would look less like an awkward dodo bird or something along those lines. “Maybe I’ll grow a ‘stache.”
“Only douches say ‘stache,” Dean sought to inform him in that smug inferior tone that kind of made Sam want to punch him. Or a pillow because Sam knew he would totally fail if he attempted to wrestle his brother. Last time he’d been taught that lesson with a knee digging hard into his chest. Fuck that had sucked big time and Sam wasn’t eager for a repeat.
Puckering his lips toward his image, Sam tilted his head to the side and watched the slide of his hair across his forward. “Maybe I’ll give myself a Mohawk.”
“Hair’s not long enough,” Dean glanced up from the magazine once more and Sam watched the amused flicker along the corner of his eyes. “You’d just look like a punk wanna-be.”
Sam’s hand shifted up through his hair and it fell right back into place. “I could rock dreadlocks I bet.”
“Dude, do I have to kick your ass?” Dean flattened the magazine on the table and pushed up from the chair. Sam watched his hips give the slightest sway as he walked toward the mirror and he kind of hated Dean’s confidence level. Sam didn’t think he would ever feel that sure of himself to walk like he didn’t give a fuck if you were watching or not even if he knew you were.
Turning his eyes to his neck, Sam prodded at the stretched skin, “Am I a little giraffe-ish? Cause my neck is like, twenty feet long.”
Dean stepped up to his side in the mirror and reached out to trail his fingers down Sam’s neck. “Ah my brother, king of exaggerations.”
“Suck it,” Sam shrugged and curled his fingers under the hem of his shirt, lifting it up to expose the flat board that was his stomach. No curves of muscles or the define of a six pack like his brother’s. Stupid asshole with his toned belly and muscled arms. “Maybe I should start tanning. I’m like a fucking vampire.”
“This is getting a little old,” Dean mused and splayed his hand wide on Sam’s exposed chest, stepping in to Sam’s back while simultaneously pulling him flush against his chest. “You get your rocks off by being down on yourself or something?”
Sam’s body kind of molded into Dean’s, which felt a little impressive because Sam felt like he was too many lines to mold into anything. “You know how I get my rocks off perv. You listen to me.”
“I do,” Dean mused and Sam honestly hadn’t been expecting that. He’d been attempting to gain the upper hand but it was a little impossible while Dean’s fingers were sliding across his skin and ghosting across his nipples, tweaking him expertly like he was some type of a guitar.
It didn’t surprise Sam that much that his brother knew how to play him just like that. “Y-you do?” He whispered, head tilting back onto Dean’s shoulder and rolling toward him, lips sliding along warm and flushed skin.
“Hard not too, so noisy,” Dean’s voice was low and rich and Sam’s only ever heard it that once before when he called and interrupted on a Dean date. Sam had always had his suspicions as to what Dean and his date had been up too, now he knew for a fact.
Words like oh my fucking god and gonna come before he touches me slammed to the forefront of Sam’s brain but he gained enough self awareness to not let them fall off the tip of his tongue. He did moan ridiculously loud however when Dean’s hand shoved roughly under the button and zipper that Sam hadn’t even felt him undoing.
“Watch,” Dean insisted and Sam rolled his neck to get a better view of them in the mirror. His cheeks were flushed with red, his chest was rising and falling in shaky staccato. Sam could feel the firm line of Dean’s cock against his ass and he watched his hips rock back into that heat.
Dean shoved at the denim and cotton until the jut of Sam’s hipbone was bathed with the cool air of the room followed by the sharp jolt of Dean’s fingers along his hard flesh. “Jesus Dean,” he moaned and stared wide eyed at Dean’s thick fingers dragging up his cock, swollen purplish red.
“You’re gorgeous like this Sam,” Dean breathed into Sam’s ear, sucking the lobe into his mouth as if Sam could handle any further stimulation. “So needy and wanton. Look at yourself, you can’t deny that.”
And that was true. Sam looked pretty fucking sexy, all flushed with color, hips moving steadily, cock sliding in and out of Dean’s hand at a quickening pace. “Gonna… Dean…” he whimpered and slumped heavier into Dean’s body.
A strong arm around his waist supported his weight and Dean urged him along with quick strokes and the gentle rock forward of his hips. “Yeah c’mon Sammy. Watch yourself come.”
“Fuck,” Sam growled and his eyes fixed on his cock as thin jets of white shot up onto Dean’s hand, along his abs. That was pretty fucking hot. He swallowed several times over as Dean’s hand stilled and finally released him. Forcing his eyes up, Sam met bright green in the mirror and smirked slightly, “Okay, so maybe no tan.”
Dean smirked and stepped back. “Better not.”
Sam turned away from the mirror and pushed Dean back to the bed, hands falling to his waist band. “Maybe I’ll just dye my hair blue.”
Dean’s laughter drifted into a moan as Sam shoved him onto the edge of the mattress and knelt between spread legs.