(no subject)
Title: Heat
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~1.5k
Warnings/Kinks: a/b/o dynamics, dub-con, underage, knotting
“Dean!”
“No, Sam!” Dean sags back against the door to their shared bedroom. The house is empty, aside from them, and the condemned two-bedroom is probably the nicest place they’ve ever squatted in while Dad was out of town. Not that Dean’s thinking of the benefits of nice houses at this particular moment.
“C’mon, just-- please, Dean,I need--”
“I said no!” Dean pounds his fist against the door, and Sam’s pleas from the other side quickly die down. Dean sinks all the way down to the puke-colored carpet, sheer relief shooting through him and keeping him from being able to stand up properly.
It’s the first time he’s been able to relax since that morning, when he’d woken up to that smell, thick and earthy and amazing and coming from Sam. He knew what it was. Fucked enough girls by now, he’d be a fucking idiot not to recognize when someone was going into heat. But he shouldn’t have been able to smell it.
Or maybe it was that he shouldn’t have gotten hard when the scent hit him.
Whatever.
Either way, it shouldn’t have been a problem, because Sam is his brother; he’s his baby brother, who Dean helped learn to walk and ride a bike, who does his homework on Friday nights when he knows they’re leaving on Sunday, who bites his bottom lip when he’s really into his book, who’s getting taller every day, showing lean muscle and legs that go on for miles and a flat stomach and fucking enormous hands--
Shit.
He’d bolted as soon as he’d been awake enough to do so, but in his rush, he’d woken up Sam, and once Sam started talking...
Well. It was just easier not to get too far away.
Sam is silent, now, but Dean’s heart is still pounding, and he can smell him still. He takes a deep breath, shaking on the exhale, to try and rid himself of the scent, but to no avail. He stands, his legs protesting at the strain and his dick protesting at what he’s about to do, and he makes to head down the hall and into the tiny living room. He doesn’t get more than a step away when the air conditioner suddenly clicks off, and Dean hadn’t even noticed its whirr while it was on, but now that it’s gone the house is completely, utterly silent, and he can hear Sam, panting and moaning quietly.
The slick sound of skin on skin, Sam’s little gasps for air, and the breathless litany of Dean, Dean, Dean, all sound so loud in the now-silent house. Dean doesn’t hesitate before returning to his spot, dropping to his knees, and pressing his ear to the door. He moves a little too fast and knocks his head lightly against the door. It’s barely a hit, but it’s enough to rattle the wood on its hinges, and if the fact that his stream of words suddenly goes a lot more in the way of begging, it’s enough that Sam heard it.
“Dean, please, just-- God Dean, want you, please, want you to, shit, want you to fuck me, Dean, please, come in here, Dean god, want you so bad--”
Dean’s panting, now, resting his forehead against the door, because, fuck, he wants. He wants to slam the door open and pin Sam to the bed, fuck him hard and fast into the thin mattress and leave sam ruined for anyone else, fuck him so good Sam won’t ever want anyone else. He presses the heel of his palm to where his dick is trapped in his jeans, determined not to give in to Sam’s pleas.
“--want you to fuck me, please, Dean, come on, want you to knot me--”
Dean’s head snaps up, his nostrils flaring. His mouth opens to say stop Sammy stop, but all that comes out is a weak moan.
“--mark me up, please, Dean, Alpha--”
And that is it. Dean throws the door open, stopping only for a moment when he sees Sam, naked and hard and spread out on top of the sheets on Dean’s bed. Sam breaks him out of his stupor with a harsh whine, and Dean practically races to the bed, collapsing on top of his little brother, digging his hands into Sam’s thick hair and pulling him up for a bruising kiss, all tongues and biting and brutal, and if Dean had ever given any thought to what kissing Sam would be like, this isn’t it. Not by a long shot.
Sam kisses with a ferocity Dean had no idea he possessed, wrapping his legs around Dean’s waist and rocking upwards, his dick pressing against Dean’s, moving in time with their kisses. He reaches for the waistband of Dean’s boxers desperately, whining into Dean’s lips when he can’t get a good enough grip while they’re moving back and forth the way they are. Dean wraps his hands around Sam’s hips, pushing him down into the sheets to Sam can get his boxers off. Sams goes willingly, his muscles flexing under Dean’s fingers.
As soon as Dean’s boxers are off, kicked to the floor, Sam hitches his legs higher up, even hooking one knee over Dean’s shoulder.
“C’mon, Dean, just--”
He rocks upwards again, and holy shit, Sam’s wet, his inner thighs tacky and slick with it.
“Dean, want you, c’mon, Dean, I-- ah!” Dean swipes his thumb lightly, curiously, across Sam’s hole, and Sam jerks like he’s been electrocuted, arching up and digging his fingers into the back of Dean’s neck.
So he does it again. And again. And once more, putting a little pressure behind it, pressing just the tip of his thumb inside Sam. A surge of arousal bursts through him when his finger slides in easily, and he pulls it out, marvelling only for a second at his now shiny thumb before he pushes his middle finger all the way in, and Sam fucking keens, scrabbling for purchase on Dean’s back, mouthing sloppily at Dean’s jawline, mumbling, “God, Dean, so fucking good, need more, I can take it, c’mon, Dean, just fuck me.”
And Dean shouldn’t. He should take his time, stretch Sam out, make sure that he’s not in any pain at all when Dean pushes in. But Sam is moaning, panting into Dean’s ear, nipping lightly at his lips, and saying he wants it, and, well. It would take a stronger man than Dean Winchester to resist.
He pulls his middle finger out, sucking a mark onto Sam’s collarbone when Sam whines at the emptiness, biting and licking for only as long as it takes for him to line himself up before he’s reclaiming Sam’s mouth, pushing in and swallowing Sam’s moans as he seats himself inside his baby brother. Sam bites at his lower lip and digs his heels into Dean’s back, urging him to move. Dean pulls back, trailing kisses and bites down Sam’s neck and chest until he slams back in, swallowing those sweet little noises and drawing more out with his tongue while he pulls out and hits home again and again. He doesn’t think he’s ever going to tire of the way his little brother sounds, spread out on thin blue sheets.
Dean can feel his knot starting to swell, making it harder for him to get back in every time, and Sam pulls him in even closer, mumbling, “C’mon, Dean, knot me, want you to,” and Dean’s helpless to do anything but thrust harder, faster, until the bedframe’s squeaks aren’t enough to drown out Sam’s surprised whimper as Dean’s knot pushes in and in and doesn’t come out. Sam laughs, more than a little triumphant, and mouths just under Dean’s ears.
“God, Dean, so good, so fucking full, big brother--”
And Dean is done for.
His body’s still urging him to pull out and thrust, fuck the body under him hard and fast to ride out his orgasm, but he can’t pull out, and can only helplessly rock inside Sam, clamping his teeth down on Sam’s shoulder to keep from shouting. Sam cries out and threads his fingers through Dean’s hair, pressing him harder to Sam’s shoulder, still running his mouth the way he has been this whole time.
When the waves of pleasure finally subside, Dean looks down a bit guiltily, happy to see Sam’s dick spent and flaccid, come splattering their chests. He may pride himself on his prowess in bed, but right now he feels boneless and heavy, and he doesn’t think he’d have been able to help sam get off if he hadn’t already.
Sam makes a strange noise, quiet and cut-off, and Dean looks up to meet sam’s eyes, surprised to find his brother looking scared, his eyes wide and his cheeks flushed.
“Sam?”
Sam unwraps his legs from around Dean, but their position keeps him from putting them back completely on the bed, so he sets them once again around Dean’s waist. Dean pulls Sam in close, post-coital bliss making him more than a little confused at Sam’s distinctly not-blissed-out state. Sam shouldn’t be looking scared. Sam should be looking happy.
Sam mumbles something against Dean’s neck, but it’s muffled, so Dean tugs him lightly back until he and Sam are eye-to-eye.
“I’m sorry,” Sam blurts, blush still staining his cheeks.
“Uh,” Dean blurts intelligently, “What?”
Sam looks down, guiltily. “You don’t want-- I shouldn’t have--”
“Hey.”
Sam looks back to Dean, and bites his lower lip. Dean leans forward and presses their mouths together. Sam gasps, and Dean takes the opportunity to lick his way inside his brother’s mouth, memorizing it the way he hadn’t taken the time to before.
When he pulls away, Sam’s mouth is perfectly swollen, and the hazel in his eyes is nearly swallowed up by his pupils.
Dean presses their foreheads together.
“Gotta work on your mouth, Sammy. I know all you’ve really gotten is cheesy motel porn, but, come on, that was kinda ridiculous.”
Sam laughs, slapping Dean’s arm lightly, and Dean can’t help but join him, relieved. They’re going to be okay.
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~1.5k
Warnings/Kinks: a/b/o dynamics, dub-con, underage, knotting
“Dean!”
“No, Sam!” Dean sags back against the door to their shared bedroom. The house is empty, aside from them, and the condemned two-bedroom is probably the nicest place they’ve ever squatted in while Dad was out of town. Not that Dean’s thinking of the benefits of nice houses at this particular moment.
“C’mon, just-- please, Dean,I need--”
“I said no!” Dean pounds his fist against the door, and Sam’s pleas from the other side quickly die down. Dean sinks all the way down to the puke-colored carpet, sheer relief shooting through him and keeping him from being able to stand up properly.
It’s the first time he’s been able to relax since that morning, when he’d woken up to that smell, thick and earthy and amazing and coming from Sam. He knew what it was. Fucked enough girls by now, he’d be a fucking idiot not to recognize when someone was going into heat. But he shouldn’t have been able to smell it.
Or maybe it was that he shouldn’t have gotten hard when the scent hit him.
Whatever.
Either way, it shouldn’t have been a problem, because Sam is his brother; he’s his baby brother, who Dean helped learn to walk and ride a bike, who does his homework on Friday nights when he knows they’re leaving on Sunday, who bites his bottom lip when he’s really into his book, who’s getting taller every day, showing lean muscle and legs that go on for miles and a flat stomach and fucking enormous hands--
Shit.
He’d bolted as soon as he’d been awake enough to do so, but in his rush, he’d woken up Sam, and once Sam started talking...
Well. It was just easier not to get too far away.
Sam is silent, now, but Dean’s heart is still pounding, and he can smell him still. He takes a deep breath, shaking on the exhale, to try and rid himself of the scent, but to no avail. He stands, his legs protesting at the strain and his dick protesting at what he’s about to do, and he makes to head down the hall and into the tiny living room. He doesn’t get more than a step away when the air conditioner suddenly clicks off, and Dean hadn’t even noticed its whirr while it was on, but now that it’s gone the house is completely, utterly silent, and he can hear Sam, panting and moaning quietly.
The slick sound of skin on skin, Sam’s little gasps for air, and the breathless litany of Dean, Dean, Dean, all sound so loud in the now-silent house. Dean doesn’t hesitate before returning to his spot, dropping to his knees, and pressing his ear to the door. He moves a little too fast and knocks his head lightly against the door. It’s barely a hit, but it’s enough to rattle the wood on its hinges, and if the fact that his stream of words suddenly goes a lot more in the way of begging, it’s enough that Sam heard it.
“Dean, please, just-- God Dean, want you, please, want you to, shit, want you to fuck me, Dean, please, come in here, Dean god, want you so bad--”
Dean’s panting, now, resting his forehead against the door, because, fuck, he wants. He wants to slam the door open and pin Sam to the bed, fuck him hard and fast into the thin mattress and leave sam ruined for anyone else, fuck him so good Sam won’t ever want anyone else. He presses the heel of his palm to where his dick is trapped in his jeans, determined not to give in to Sam’s pleas.
“--want you to fuck me, please, Dean, come on, want you to knot me--”
Dean’s head snaps up, his nostrils flaring. His mouth opens to say stop Sammy stop, but all that comes out is a weak moan.
“--mark me up, please, Dean, Alpha--”
And that is it. Dean throws the door open, stopping only for a moment when he sees Sam, naked and hard and spread out on top of the sheets on Dean’s bed. Sam breaks him out of his stupor with a harsh whine, and Dean practically races to the bed, collapsing on top of his little brother, digging his hands into Sam’s thick hair and pulling him up for a bruising kiss, all tongues and biting and brutal, and if Dean had ever given any thought to what kissing Sam would be like, this isn’t it. Not by a long shot.
Sam kisses with a ferocity Dean had no idea he possessed, wrapping his legs around Dean’s waist and rocking upwards, his dick pressing against Dean’s, moving in time with their kisses. He reaches for the waistband of Dean’s boxers desperately, whining into Dean’s lips when he can’t get a good enough grip while they’re moving back and forth the way they are. Dean wraps his hands around Sam’s hips, pushing him down into the sheets to Sam can get his boxers off. Sams goes willingly, his muscles flexing under Dean’s fingers.
As soon as Dean’s boxers are off, kicked to the floor, Sam hitches his legs higher up, even hooking one knee over Dean’s shoulder.
“C’mon, Dean, just--”
He rocks upwards again, and holy shit, Sam’s wet, his inner thighs tacky and slick with it.
“Dean, want you, c’mon, Dean, I-- ah!” Dean swipes his thumb lightly, curiously, across Sam’s hole, and Sam jerks like he’s been electrocuted, arching up and digging his fingers into the back of Dean’s neck.
So he does it again. And again. And once more, putting a little pressure behind it, pressing just the tip of his thumb inside Sam. A surge of arousal bursts through him when his finger slides in easily, and he pulls it out, marvelling only for a second at his now shiny thumb before he pushes his middle finger all the way in, and Sam fucking keens, scrabbling for purchase on Dean’s back, mouthing sloppily at Dean’s jawline, mumbling, “God, Dean, so fucking good, need more, I can take it, c’mon, Dean, just fuck me.”
And Dean shouldn’t. He should take his time, stretch Sam out, make sure that he’s not in any pain at all when Dean pushes in. But Sam is moaning, panting into Dean’s ear, nipping lightly at his lips, and saying he wants it, and, well. It would take a stronger man than Dean Winchester to resist.
He pulls his middle finger out, sucking a mark onto Sam’s collarbone when Sam whines at the emptiness, biting and licking for only as long as it takes for him to line himself up before he’s reclaiming Sam’s mouth, pushing in and swallowing Sam’s moans as he seats himself inside his baby brother. Sam bites at his lower lip and digs his heels into Dean’s back, urging him to move. Dean pulls back, trailing kisses and bites down Sam’s neck and chest until he slams back in, swallowing those sweet little noises and drawing more out with his tongue while he pulls out and hits home again and again. He doesn’t think he’s ever going to tire of the way his little brother sounds, spread out on thin blue sheets.
Dean can feel his knot starting to swell, making it harder for him to get back in every time, and Sam pulls him in even closer, mumbling, “C’mon, Dean, knot me, want you to,” and Dean’s helpless to do anything but thrust harder, faster, until the bedframe’s squeaks aren’t enough to drown out Sam’s surprised whimper as Dean’s knot pushes in and in and doesn’t come out. Sam laughs, more than a little triumphant, and mouths just under Dean’s ears.
“God, Dean, so good, so fucking full, big brother--”
And Dean is done for.
His body’s still urging him to pull out and thrust, fuck the body under him hard and fast to ride out his orgasm, but he can’t pull out, and can only helplessly rock inside Sam, clamping his teeth down on Sam’s shoulder to keep from shouting. Sam cries out and threads his fingers through Dean’s hair, pressing him harder to Sam’s shoulder, still running his mouth the way he has been this whole time.
When the waves of pleasure finally subside, Dean looks down a bit guiltily, happy to see Sam’s dick spent and flaccid, come splattering their chests. He may pride himself on his prowess in bed, but right now he feels boneless and heavy, and he doesn’t think he’d have been able to help sam get off if he hadn’t already.
Sam makes a strange noise, quiet and cut-off, and Dean looks up to meet sam’s eyes, surprised to find his brother looking scared, his eyes wide and his cheeks flushed.
“Sam?”
Sam unwraps his legs from around Dean, but their position keeps him from putting them back completely on the bed, so he sets them once again around Dean’s waist. Dean pulls Sam in close, post-coital bliss making him more than a little confused at Sam’s distinctly not-blissed-out state. Sam shouldn’t be looking scared. Sam should be looking happy.
Sam mumbles something against Dean’s neck, but it’s muffled, so Dean tugs him lightly back until he and Sam are eye-to-eye.
“I’m sorry,” Sam blurts, blush still staining his cheeks.
“Uh,” Dean blurts intelligently, “What?”
Sam looks down, guiltily. “You don’t want-- I shouldn’t have--”
“Hey.”
Sam looks back to Dean, and bites his lower lip. Dean leans forward and presses their mouths together. Sam gasps, and Dean takes the opportunity to lick his way inside his brother’s mouth, memorizing it the way he hadn’t taken the time to before.
When he pulls away, Sam’s mouth is perfectly swollen, and the hazel in his eyes is nearly swallowed up by his pupils.
Dean presses their foreheads together.
“Gotta work on your mouth, Sammy. I know all you’ve really gotten is cheesy motel porn, but, come on, that was kinda ridiculous.”
Sam laughs, slapping Dean’s arm lightly, and Dean can’t help but join him, relieved. They’re going to be okay.