Fic: Lucky Number Seventeen (SPN, Sam/Dean, Rated R)
Title: Lucky Number Seventeen
Author: Moosesal
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: R
Warning: Herein lies some incest. But it's not graphic. I should warn you more about my attempt at humor.
Beta: Thanks to brandil for looking over the first half and helping me find direction and telling me that my jokes don't suck. Thanks to brynwulf for a final review. All remaining errors are my own, feel free to point them out to me.
Written for the CQ kink/cliche challenge
Prompt: Powerswap (not to be confused with mind/body swap, we've only got partial swapping going on here)
They had a plan for getting rid of her, but before they could get through all forty-six steps the crazy sorceress threw some grey powder on them and muttered some words they didn't catch before vanishing into thin air.
It only took two minutes for them to figure out that the powder was actually ashes.
It was two days before they figured out what the spell did to them.
*
Dean sat in a booth nursing a beer and scowling at his brother who was wrapped around some leggy blonde. He had her bent over the pool table to “help” her with her shot. Two other equally hot girls stood to the side waiting their turn. It seemed that the sorceress's little spell had transferred to Sam Dean's talent for pulling all the pussy he could play with and then some. And Dean? Well all he got were some crappy dreams that made his head hurt and an inexplicable desire to brood despite all the chicks Sam kept bringing over. This spell couldn't last forever.
At least he still had his looks.
“Hey," Sam slid into the seat across from him. “Wanna take these three back to the motel and play musical sit-on-my-face?"
Dean scowled. “This spell is fucked up. Musical sit-on-my-face? I would never say something like that." He sipped his beer and glanced over at the girls out of the corner of his eye. Okay, he had to admit he probably would have thought it, but he would never actually say it. Not sober, anyway.
“What's the matter Dean? Three too much for you? You losing your stamina in your old age?" Sam laughed and downed the rest of his beer.
“I've got a headache," Dean muttered.
“A headache?" Sam cracked up laughing. “That's supposed to be a girl's excuse."
“Yeah, well I feel like a girl after all this shit." He winced and rubbed his forehead. “That vision this morning damn near killed me."
“Sammy?" A soft girly voice called to them. “Can you help me with this shot? I don't know what to do." Dean looked over to see an easy straight shot lined up, but the blonde chick cocked her head and batted her eyelashes and Sam was gone.
“Duty calls," he said as he left the table.
“Right," Dean sighed. Could his life get any worse?
*
Dean woke to the sound of laughter and muffled voices outside the door, then a “Shhh, you'll wake my brother," as the door opened.
A giggle and “Ain't that the point, baby?" followed as Dean sat up and flicked on the light.
“What the fuck?" he groaned as he wiped the sleep from his eyes.
“Come on, Dean," Sam whined. “She's into it. Wants us both." He waggled his eyebrows and Dean winced at how wrong that expression was on his face.
“She's a god damn succubus!" He gestured at her and Sam turned around to see that she hadn't followed him into the room. Instead she stood with her toes just on the other side of the threshold staring at the line of salt separating her from her evening meal.
“Wh--?" Sam started and the girl looked up at him, smiling and twirling a lock of hair. She licked her lips and whispered “Come out here, baby. Let's do it under the stars."
Sam slammed the door in her face and dropped onto the empty bed next to Dean's. “Fuck," he groaned as he rolled onto his stomach. “Did you see the mouth on her? She was made to suck my cock."
Dean shook his head and snorted. “Dude. How is it that even with my sexual prowess, you still can't manage to get laid?"
“Screw getting laid. I'd settle for a handjob from someone other than myself." He thrust against the mattress and looked at Dean.
“You're fucking up my reputation." Dean snapped off the light and turned away from Sam. “And wait til I'm asleep before you beat off." He knew what thoughts went with that libido when hot girls weren't available.
*
Dean woke in a panic, his breath coming hard and fast. Sam was perched on the edge of his bed looking down with concern.
“Jess," Dean gasped. “On the ... ceiling ... I couldn't--"
“Shhh, easy. Looks like you got not just the psychic dreams, but my dreams."
“Do you still--"
“Not as much as the first few weeks, but yeah."
They stared at each other in the dark room, while Dean's panic eased and he visibly relaxed. Sam started to move back to his own bed when Dean reached out and grabbed his wrist, his look asking Sam to stay.
Sam flipped his hair out of his eyes and nudged Dean's hip with his knee. “Shove over." He stretched out on top of the covers, their shoulders touching.
*
They woke up tangled together and sighed as they pushed closer before realizing something wasn't quite right. Their eyes popped open and they both screamed and rolled away from the other, falling off opposite sides of the bed. Dean pushed up from the floor and peeked across the bed to see Sam staring back at him.
“What the fuck?" Sam asked him.
“Excuse me? You're the one with his hand on my ass."
“Yeah? Well," he gestured wildly in the air, “y-y-you drooled all over my neck."
“I don't drool." Dean glared as he stood up.
“Oh noooo," Sam taunted as he rolled his eyes. “And you don't snore either."
“Fuck you."
“You'd like that wouldn't you?"
Dean didn't answer. In fact, neither spoke to the other for the rest of the day. That night they went out separately in search of a good lay. Dean succeeded.
*
Despite all the time Sam spent trying to pick up chicks and Dean spent brooding - which was way more time than either spent when in their proper state of mind - they managed to actually research the spell. The results? Not exactly what they'd hoped for.
Dean growled at the book in front of him, unhappy with the spell-breaking options he was finding.
“What's your problem?"
“This crap!" Dean gestured at the book and then jumped back when the book slammed itself shut and flew across the room. Sam ducked just in time to avoid getting whacked in the head.
“Oh shit," they muttered in unison.
They looked from the book to each other and back again. They added telekinesis to Dean's list of abilities.
“Fine," Dean capitulated. “Let's fuck."
“Huh-wha-huh?" Sam's eyes nearly popped out of his head.
It turned out that there were three ways to end the spell: kill the sorceress and burn her grimoire; wait four years, nine months, and two days plus each father a female child within the first 18 months; or have sex seventeen times.
They decided to kill the sorceress.
Unfortunately they couldn't find her. And it turned out that Sam - at least while in possession of Dean's sexual prowess - was shooting blanks. A trip to a sperm bank with the thought that that would be the easiest way to become fathers had proved Sam an unsuitable donor. Dean, on the other hand, had walked away with an extra fifty bucks in his pocket and a grin from nurse who'd shown him to his donation room.
So seventeen rounds of incest looked like their best option.
*
“Seventeen times?" Sam whined. “That's so fucking arbitrary."
“It could be worse, it could specify that you have to top."
Silence and then, “Wait a minute. You're not fucking me all seventeen times. That's ... that's not fair. I thought we were in this together."
Dean shrugged. “Hey man, I still have my looks and psychic powers. All you got was my appeal to the ladies and yet you bring home a succubus who'd fuck you anyway."
“Now wait a minute--"
“I'm content to stay as we are." Dean shrugged and flopped back on the motel bed.
Sam couldn't believe it. Dean was totally serious. What the fuck? “I-- I-- I want my self back, dammit."
“Then hand me the lube and bend over, bitch."
*
The first few times were incredibly awkward. Sam came too fast. Dean was embarrassed that he didn't have to think about hot blondes - Sam's tight ass seemed to be more than enough to get him off. And Sam's gasps of “Oh fuck, yeah, Dean, right there," seemed to work on both of them.
By the ninth day they were on their thirty-fourth time - their research was a little vague and they thought it might be seventeen times for each to fuck the other and even though the spell was clearly over at seventeen times combined they figured better safe than sorry. Anyway, the thirty-fourth time Sam was topping and Dean whispered “I love you” as he came and they realized that doubling up had turned the damned spell back on again. Dean really wasn't the type to say “I love you” in bed.
So it was back to one again. And they didn't mind. King size beds were much nicer than doubles.
The End
Author: Moosesal
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: R
Warning: Herein lies some incest. But it's not graphic. I should warn you more about my attempt at humor.
Beta: Thanks to brandil for looking over the first half and helping me find direction and telling me that my jokes don't suck. Thanks to brynwulf for a final review. All remaining errors are my own, feel free to point them out to me.
Written for the CQ kink/cliche challenge
Prompt: Powerswap (not to be confused with mind/body swap, we've only got partial swapping going on here)
They had a plan for getting rid of her, but before they could get through all forty-six steps the crazy sorceress threw some grey powder on them and muttered some words they didn't catch before vanishing into thin air.
It only took two minutes for them to figure out that the powder was actually ashes.
It was two days before they figured out what the spell did to them.
*
Dean sat in a booth nursing a beer and scowling at his brother who was wrapped around some leggy blonde. He had her bent over the pool table to “help” her with her shot. Two other equally hot girls stood to the side waiting their turn. It seemed that the sorceress's little spell had transferred to Sam Dean's talent for pulling all the pussy he could play with and then some. And Dean? Well all he got were some crappy dreams that made his head hurt and an inexplicable desire to brood despite all the chicks Sam kept bringing over. This spell couldn't last forever.
At least he still had his looks.
“Hey," Sam slid into the seat across from him. “Wanna take these three back to the motel and play musical sit-on-my-face?"
Dean scowled. “This spell is fucked up. Musical sit-on-my-face? I would never say something like that." He sipped his beer and glanced over at the girls out of the corner of his eye. Okay, he had to admit he probably would have thought it, but he would never actually say it. Not sober, anyway.
“What's the matter Dean? Three too much for you? You losing your stamina in your old age?" Sam laughed and downed the rest of his beer.
“I've got a headache," Dean muttered.
“A headache?" Sam cracked up laughing. “That's supposed to be a girl's excuse."
“Yeah, well I feel like a girl after all this shit." He winced and rubbed his forehead. “That vision this morning damn near killed me."
“Sammy?" A soft girly voice called to them. “Can you help me with this shot? I don't know what to do." Dean looked over to see an easy straight shot lined up, but the blonde chick cocked her head and batted her eyelashes and Sam was gone.
“Duty calls," he said as he left the table.
“Right," Dean sighed. Could his life get any worse?
*
Dean woke to the sound of laughter and muffled voices outside the door, then a “Shhh, you'll wake my brother," as the door opened.
A giggle and “Ain't that the point, baby?" followed as Dean sat up and flicked on the light.
“What the fuck?" he groaned as he wiped the sleep from his eyes.
“Come on, Dean," Sam whined. “She's into it. Wants us both." He waggled his eyebrows and Dean winced at how wrong that expression was on his face.
“She's a god damn succubus!" He gestured at her and Sam turned around to see that she hadn't followed him into the room. Instead she stood with her toes just on the other side of the threshold staring at the line of salt separating her from her evening meal.
“Wh--?" Sam started and the girl looked up at him, smiling and twirling a lock of hair. She licked her lips and whispered “Come out here, baby. Let's do it under the stars."
Sam slammed the door in her face and dropped onto the empty bed next to Dean's. “Fuck," he groaned as he rolled onto his stomach. “Did you see the mouth on her? She was made to suck my cock."
Dean shook his head and snorted. “Dude. How is it that even with my sexual prowess, you still can't manage to get laid?"
“Screw getting laid. I'd settle for a handjob from someone other than myself." He thrust against the mattress and looked at Dean.
“You're fucking up my reputation." Dean snapped off the light and turned away from Sam. “And wait til I'm asleep before you beat off." He knew what thoughts went with that libido when hot girls weren't available.
*
Dean woke in a panic, his breath coming hard and fast. Sam was perched on the edge of his bed looking down with concern.
“Jess," Dean gasped. “On the ... ceiling ... I couldn't--"
“Shhh, easy. Looks like you got not just the psychic dreams, but my dreams."
“Do you still--"
“Not as much as the first few weeks, but yeah."
They stared at each other in the dark room, while Dean's panic eased and he visibly relaxed. Sam started to move back to his own bed when Dean reached out and grabbed his wrist, his look asking Sam to stay.
Sam flipped his hair out of his eyes and nudged Dean's hip with his knee. “Shove over." He stretched out on top of the covers, their shoulders touching.
*
They woke up tangled together and sighed as they pushed closer before realizing something wasn't quite right. Their eyes popped open and they both screamed and rolled away from the other, falling off opposite sides of the bed. Dean pushed up from the floor and peeked across the bed to see Sam staring back at him.
“What the fuck?" Sam asked him.
“Excuse me? You're the one with his hand on my ass."
“Yeah? Well," he gestured wildly in the air, “y-y-you drooled all over my neck."
“I don't drool." Dean glared as he stood up.
“Oh noooo," Sam taunted as he rolled his eyes. “And you don't snore either."
“Fuck you."
“You'd like that wouldn't you?"
Dean didn't answer. In fact, neither spoke to the other for the rest of the day. That night they went out separately in search of a good lay. Dean succeeded.
*
Despite all the time Sam spent trying to pick up chicks and Dean spent brooding - which was way more time than either spent when in their proper state of mind - they managed to actually research the spell. The results? Not exactly what they'd hoped for.
Dean growled at the book in front of him, unhappy with the spell-breaking options he was finding.
“What's your problem?"
“This crap!" Dean gestured at the book and then jumped back when the book slammed itself shut and flew across the room. Sam ducked just in time to avoid getting whacked in the head.
“Oh shit," they muttered in unison.
They looked from the book to each other and back again. They added telekinesis to Dean's list of abilities.
“Fine," Dean capitulated. “Let's fuck."
“Huh-wha-huh?" Sam's eyes nearly popped out of his head.
It turned out that there were three ways to end the spell: kill the sorceress and burn her grimoire; wait four years, nine months, and two days plus each father a female child within the first 18 months; or have sex seventeen times.
They decided to kill the sorceress.
Unfortunately they couldn't find her. And it turned out that Sam - at least while in possession of Dean's sexual prowess - was shooting blanks. A trip to a sperm bank with the thought that that would be the easiest way to become fathers had proved Sam an unsuitable donor. Dean, on the other hand, had walked away with an extra fifty bucks in his pocket and a grin from nurse who'd shown him to his donation room.
So seventeen rounds of incest looked like their best option.
*
“Seventeen times?" Sam whined. “That's so fucking arbitrary."
“It could be worse, it could specify that you have to top."
Silence and then, “Wait a minute. You're not fucking me all seventeen times. That's ... that's not fair. I thought we were in this together."
Dean shrugged. “Hey man, I still have my looks and psychic powers. All you got was my appeal to the ladies and yet you bring home a succubus who'd fuck you anyway."
“Now wait a minute--"
“I'm content to stay as we are." Dean shrugged and flopped back on the motel bed.
Sam couldn't believe it. Dean was totally serious. What the fuck? “I-- I-- I want my self back, dammit."
“Then hand me the lube and bend over, bitch."
*
The first few times were incredibly awkward. Sam came too fast. Dean was embarrassed that he didn't have to think about hot blondes - Sam's tight ass seemed to be more than enough to get him off. And Sam's gasps of “Oh fuck, yeah, Dean, right there," seemed to work on both of them.
By the ninth day they were on their thirty-fourth time - their research was a little vague and they thought it might be seventeen times for each to fuck the other and even though the spell was clearly over at seventeen times combined they figured better safe than sorry. Anyway, the thirty-fourth time Sam was topping and Dean whispered “I love you” as he came and they realized that doubling up had turned the damned spell back on again. Dean really wasn't the type to say “I love you” in bed.
So it was back to one again. And they didn't mind. King size beds were much nicer than doubles.
The End