Prime of Life, Sam/Dean/Bela, NC-17
Prime of Life
Sam/Dean/Bela, 2050 words, NC-17
Bela joins up with Sam and Dean a few months before their deals come due. There are a few perks.
"Go on," Sam says to his brother. Dean's hesitating by Sam's side, looking at her, leaning back against the closed motel door.
Bela tightens her fingers in the motel covers to keep them from seeing her flinch at the raspiness of Sam's voice, acutely aware of the way one of her dress straps has slid down her arm. She reaches with long, manicured nails to pull it up- there's really no reason to let her standards drop despite half-heartedly joining on with their ramshuckle do-gooder crew- but has barely got the smooth fabric between her fingers before Sam's barking out, "No. Leave it."
Sam's a bossy thing. Too used to having his brother jump at his command, Bela supposes. And it looks like Dean's jumping now, if the way he's inching towards the bed is any indication.
Dean comes close enough to rest a heavy palm on her ankle, feeling at the smooth skin there. He's almost cute, the way his eyes are trapped where her dress is slipping down. She can't help but smirk- clearly all his experience with trailer trash haven't prepared him for an actual woman.
When she looks over at Sam, he's staring right back, and even if his face is perfectly blank she knows he's laughing at her, not kindly.
"Touch her knee," Sam says, not taking his eyes off her. Dean's not quite quick enough at biting down his gasp. Half on the bed, hovering over her, he's barely touching her with the pads of his fingers.
"Going to make your brother do all the work, Sam?" she says, angling her spine casually so that her errant strap slides down just a little farther. "Well, after all- don't they say, if you can't do-"
Dean leans down and bites the soft skin under her knee, not gently, warm palm gripping her calf tightly.
Sam smiles for real at her harsh intake of breath. For a second, she swears he's going to pat Dean on the head like a dog.
She does it instead, raking her fingers through Dean's hair and along his skull where he's bending over her lap. He turns his head into her hand, seeking more contact. His other hand comes up to stroke her thigh through her dress, his thumb edging closer and closer to the rucked folds of silk between her legs. Her dress rides up as she slides slightly forward.
Sam locks the door behind him and walks over to the motel room's only chair, a threadbare armchair that's just a little bit too small for his frame. He lets one hand dangle off the armrest casually and tucks the other behind his head, leaning back but keeping his eyes on the bed.
Dean's kissing at her belly, now, stroking at her ribs, almost brushing the bottom of her breasts but never quite fully touching.
"I've seen the way you look at him, " Sam says. Her chest feels tight with the weight of Dean's hand.
"Then you must be brighter than I thought," Bela says, trying to keep her words even despite the way her breath is coming faster.
"You can sass me all you like, Bela," Sam says, "but it just means you're going to have to wait longer before I let you taste him."
She shuts up. She'll play his little game if he likes, Bela thinks, looking down at Dean's bowed head.
"Come here," Sam says.
Bela hasn't even managed to pull her dress down before Dean's up and at his brother's side. Sam stands up and runs his hands up Dean's torso, pulling off layers- his jacket off, a flannel shirt, a tight undershirt- until Bela has a beautiful view of the muscles playing in Dean's back as he shifts nervously in front of his brother.
Sam puts one hand on the back of Dean's neck and the other on his wrist, pulling him in. He whispers something in Dean's ear- Bela can't catch it, even with that hearing-improvement charm she placed on herself ages back. It's come in useful more than once, but apparently not today. Sam lets his brother's wrist go, and Dean abruptly leans up and yanks his brother's face down for a kiss.
Bela wasn't actually too surprised to find out they were fucking. They hardly cared enough about her to hide it when she first started accompanying them on their little cross-country travels, promising them gas money in exchange for pooling their resources. The days flicked closer and closer to Dean and Bela's one-way trips to hell, and Sam had stopped even trying to maintain a platonic facade.
Last night, she'd walked in on Dean with his mouth full of cock and his hand down his pants. She'd backed away, not hastily, and when Sam had watched her go he'd looked thoughtful.
Tonight, though, Sam lets go of his brother after biting his lower lip one last time.
"Get back on the bed," Sam says. "Don't touch her yet."
Dean goes, silently. He's been speaking less and less. It doesn't seem to impair his communication with Sam any.
When he settles next to Bela, he's shivering a little in the chilly air. She is too, and her dress is thin enough that her nipples are probably showing. She hasn't worn a bra in days, waiting for Sam to make his move.
Sam gets up and touches her for the first time, pulling her other strap off her collarbone and down her arm. He touches her neck with one finger, pushing her chin up until she's looking straight up at him. Sam runs his finger down her neck, over the slim silver line of her necklace, and then gently yanks down the front of her dress over her breasts, letting it fall around her waist.
Dean's watching her now, his whole body turned towards her.
"You're going to take Dean first," Sam says, considering. "And depending on how good you are," he fists a hand in her hair, pulling just hard enough to make her flinch- "Maybe I'll let him go down on you."
"Maybe?" Bela says, because it's one thing to indulge Sam's control issues and quite another to indulge them and not even get rewarded with Dean's mouth. She has a bet with herself, on how long he'll take to make her come. She's not interested in putting it off much longer.
Sam opens his mouth to speak, but hushes when Dean leans over and sucks one of her nipples into his mouth. It's unexpected enough to make her gasp out loud.
Sam pushes back on her naked shoulder, pressing her back onto the bed. Dean gets an arm under her waist and holds her up, pulling her dress off over her legs. She's not wearing anything under it.
"Damn," Dean says, voice rough- from lack of use or arousal, Bela's not sure. Sam's still fully dressed, but he's touching himself through his jeans.
Bela props herself up on one arm, ignoring the gentle clanking of her bracelets, and reaches for Dean's belt buckle where he's sitting next to her on the bed. Sam gets there first, pulling at Dean's belt with practiced ease, and Dean twists fully to stare up at his brother, looking like he might want another kiss.
"Up," says Sam, when he's slid the belt out of the loops, and Dean follows. Looks like all those 'goodbye cruel world' cheeseburgers haven't had much effect yet, because his jeans dangle dangerously low on his hips before Sam yanks them down. Cheap Wal-mart boxers, no surprise there. Sam hooks two fingers in the sides and slides those down too, pulling away to let Dean step out of the pile of clothes on the floor.
Sam cocks his head towards the bed and Dean climbs on, hard-on wobbling a little as he goes. He lies down on his back next to Bela, not quite looking at her- it's like he's shy, which is cute but inconvenient at the moment.
Bela sits up properly and straddles him, letting her knees lock around his waist. She's fidgeting, trying to get her dress up enough to sink down onto him. The way Dean's chest is heaving under her is a bit of a distraction- along with the way his cock is sliding along her inner thigh, leaving what feels like wet streaks.
"Here," says Sam from behind her, and slides careful fingers under her dress to pull it up. He hands her a condom over her shoulder, thank god- she's on the pill, but who knows where these boys have been, honestly.
When she unrolls the condom over Dean's cock, he shudders a little and grabs for her wrist.
"You want something, Dean?" Bela asks.
Sam scoffs. "Like it's not-"
"Ride me," Dean says. "I know you want to." He's almost smirking.
Sam's face, where he's settled near against the headboard, lights up for one second as he looks down at his brother. When he catches her staring, though, he turns cold again. "Go on," Sam says.
Her rings are probably uncomfortably cold around his cock when she fists it, sinking down slowly with her dress hiked up around her thighs.
Dean knocks his head back against the headboard gently as she settles, taking him in- all the way in, and it's been too long since she last had anything but a cold vibrator. Bela stills for a moment, stretching her arms above her head, then starts rocking above him.
Dean lets her ride him for a few minutes, his eyes practically rolling up in his head, and then seems to come back to himself. Her dress is too tight across her spread thighs to let him have direct access to her clit, so he yanks it up with sweaty fingers.
Bela misses Sam getting his cock out, too wrapped up in the sensation of Dean rubbing between her legs. His rhythm falters whenever she lets herself slide down fully, or whenever his eyes get caught on the way Sam's fisting his own cock, but it's enough to have her panting, beads of sweat rolling down her collarbone and into her cleavage. If she looks at Dean closely enough, she can almost see the ticking clock above his head, echoing her countdown that's been running for not quite ten years.
Maybe if they'd met in different circumstances- if he'd come looking to earn some quick cash with an artifact, or if they'd needed to borrow something for a case- no, Bela thinks- if they'd had more time, they probably would never have fucked at all.
When Dean comes, she's almost there but not quite, and she wants to pound something in frustration. She pulls off and slumps down on the bed next to him, letting the edges of her nails scrape against her clit, closing her eyes.
Sam makes a choked sound from over to her right. It's like he's never seen a woman take care of her own needs before- but when Bela opens her eyes, it's probably because Dean has taken care of the condom and is now settling down between her legs, sliding two thick fingers into her with no warning, licking at her, surprisingly adept. When she sees Sam spilling over his own belly, it's enough- the way she's gripping at Dean's head is probably impolite but it's hard to care at the moment. He doesn't roll off until her thighs have stopped shaking.
Dean passes out quickly, bags under his eyes betraying the way he hasn't slept properly since- well, since long before she showed up. Bela adjusts her dress straps and picks up her shoes, lets them dangle from her fingers as she walks out.
She's more than pleasantly sore, Bela thinks as she leans against the wall outside, strapping her heels back on.
Sam follows her out after a minute, closing the door silently behind him.
"Thanks," Sam says. He's almost the boy she first met, gentle and sweet and blatantly ogling her chest in that waitress uniform. Except slightly more ruffled, of course, lips swollen, shirt untucked.
She pulls out a cigarette, and he starts digging in his pockets, probably for a lighter. Bela pulls out her own, letting the smoke drag into her lungs.
"Really, Sam," she says, "it was my pleasure."
Sam/Dean/Bela, 2050 words, NC-17
Bela joins up with Sam and Dean a few months before their deals come due. There are a few perks.
"Go on," Sam says to his brother. Dean's hesitating by Sam's side, looking at her, leaning back against the closed motel door.
Bela tightens her fingers in the motel covers to keep them from seeing her flinch at the raspiness of Sam's voice, acutely aware of the way one of her dress straps has slid down her arm. She reaches with long, manicured nails to pull it up- there's really no reason to let her standards drop despite half-heartedly joining on with their ramshuckle do-gooder crew- but has barely got the smooth fabric between her fingers before Sam's barking out, "No. Leave it."
Sam's a bossy thing. Too used to having his brother jump at his command, Bela supposes. And it looks like Dean's jumping now, if the way he's inching towards the bed is any indication.
Dean comes close enough to rest a heavy palm on her ankle, feeling at the smooth skin there. He's almost cute, the way his eyes are trapped where her dress is slipping down. She can't help but smirk- clearly all his experience with trailer trash haven't prepared him for an actual woman.
When she looks over at Sam, he's staring right back, and even if his face is perfectly blank she knows he's laughing at her, not kindly.
"Touch her knee," Sam says, not taking his eyes off her. Dean's not quite quick enough at biting down his gasp. Half on the bed, hovering over her, he's barely touching her with the pads of his fingers.
"Going to make your brother do all the work, Sam?" she says, angling her spine casually so that her errant strap slides down just a little farther. "Well, after all- don't they say, if you can't do-"
Dean leans down and bites the soft skin under her knee, not gently, warm palm gripping her calf tightly.
Sam smiles for real at her harsh intake of breath. For a second, she swears he's going to pat Dean on the head like a dog.
She does it instead, raking her fingers through Dean's hair and along his skull where he's bending over her lap. He turns his head into her hand, seeking more contact. His other hand comes up to stroke her thigh through her dress, his thumb edging closer and closer to the rucked folds of silk between her legs. Her dress rides up as she slides slightly forward.
Sam locks the door behind him and walks over to the motel room's only chair, a threadbare armchair that's just a little bit too small for his frame. He lets one hand dangle off the armrest casually and tucks the other behind his head, leaning back but keeping his eyes on the bed.
Dean's kissing at her belly, now, stroking at her ribs, almost brushing the bottom of her breasts but never quite fully touching.
"I've seen the way you look at him, " Sam says. Her chest feels tight with the weight of Dean's hand.
"Then you must be brighter than I thought," Bela says, trying to keep her words even despite the way her breath is coming faster.
"You can sass me all you like, Bela," Sam says, "but it just means you're going to have to wait longer before I let you taste him."
She shuts up. She'll play his little game if he likes, Bela thinks, looking down at Dean's bowed head.
"Come here," Sam says.
Bela hasn't even managed to pull her dress down before Dean's up and at his brother's side. Sam stands up and runs his hands up Dean's torso, pulling off layers- his jacket off, a flannel shirt, a tight undershirt- until Bela has a beautiful view of the muscles playing in Dean's back as he shifts nervously in front of his brother.
Sam puts one hand on the back of Dean's neck and the other on his wrist, pulling him in. He whispers something in Dean's ear- Bela can't catch it, even with that hearing-improvement charm she placed on herself ages back. It's come in useful more than once, but apparently not today. Sam lets his brother's wrist go, and Dean abruptly leans up and yanks his brother's face down for a kiss.
Bela wasn't actually too surprised to find out they were fucking. They hardly cared enough about her to hide it when she first started accompanying them on their little cross-country travels, promising them gas money in exchange for pooling their resources. The days flicked closer and closer to Dean and Bela's one-way trips to hell, and Sam had stopped even trying to maintain a platonic facade.
Last night, she'd walked in on Dean with his mouth full of cock and his hand down his pants. She'd backed away, not hastily, and when Sam had watched her go he'd looked thoughtful.
Tonight, though, Sam lets go of his brother after biting his lower lip one last time.
"Get back on the bed," Sam says. "Don't touch her yet."
Dean goes, silently. He's been speaking less and less. It doesn't seem to impair his communication with Sam any.
When he settles next to Bela, he's shivering a little in the chilly air. She is too, and her dress is thin enough that her nipples are probably showing. She hasn't worn a bra in days, waiting for Sam to make his move.
Sam gets up and touches her for the first time, pulling her other strap off her collarbone and down her arm. He touches her neck with one finger, pushing her chin up until she's looking straight up at him. Sam runs his finger down her neck, over the slim silver line of her necklace, and then gently yanks down the front of her dress over her breasts, letting it fall around her waist.
Dean's watching her now, his whole body turned towards her.
"You're going to take Dean first," Sam says, considering. "And depending on how good you are," he fists a hand in her hair, pulling just hard enough to make her flinch- "Maybe I'll let him go down on you."
"Maybe?" Bela says, because it's one thing to indulge Sam's control issues and quite another to indulge them and not even get rewarded with Dean's mouth. She has a bet with herself, on how long he'll take to make her come. She's not interested in putting it off much longer.
Sam opens his mouth to speak, but hushes when Dean leans over and sucks one of her nipples into his mouth. It's unexpected enough to make her gasp out loud.
Sam pushes back on her naked shoulder, pressing her back onto the bed. Dean gets an arm under her waist and holds her up, pulling her dress off over her legs. She's not wearing anything under it.
"Damn," Dean says, voice rough- from lack of use or arousal, Bela's not sure. Sam's still fully dressed, but he's touching himself through his jeans.
Bela props herself up on one arm, ignoring the gentle clanking of her bracelets, and reaches for Dean's belt buckle where he's sitting next to her on the bed. Sam gets there first, pulling at Dean's belt with practiced ease, and Dean twists fully to stare up at his brother, looking like he might want another kiss.
"Up," says Sam, when he's slid the belt out of the loops, and Dean follows. Looks like all those 'goodbye cruel world' cheeseburgers haven't had much effect yet, because his jeans dangle dangerously low on his hips before Sam yanks them down. Cheap Wal-mart boxers, no surprise there. Sam hooks two fingers in the sides and slides those down too, pulling away to let Dean step out of the pile of clothes on the floor.
Sam cocks his head towards the bed and Dean climbs on, hard-on wobbling a little as he goes. He lies down on his back next to Bela, not quite looking at her- it's like he's shy, which is cute but inconvenient at the moment.
Bela sits up properly and straddles him, letting her knees lock around his waist. She's fidgeting, trying to get her dress up enough to sink down onto him. The way Dean's chest is heaving under her is a bit of a distraction- along with the way his cock is sliding along her inner thigh, leaving what feels like wet streaks.
"Here," says Sam from behind her, and slides careful fingers under her dress to pull it up. He hands her a condom over her shoulder, thank god- she's on the pill, but who knows where these boys have been, honestly.
When she unrolls the condom over Dean's cock, he shudders a little and grabs for her wrist.
"You want something, Dean?" Bela asks.
Sam scoffs. "Like it's not-"
"Ride me," Dean says. "I know you want to." He's almost smirking.
Sam's face, where he's settled near against the headboard, lights up for one second as he looks down at his brother. When he catches her staring, though, he turns cold again. "Go on," Sam says.
Her rings are probably uncomfortably cold around his cock when she fists it, sinking down slowly with her dress hiked up around her thighs.
Dean knocks his head back against the headboard gently as she settles, taking him in- all the way in, and it's been too long since she last had anything but a cold vibrator. Bela stills for a moment, stretching her arms above her head, then starts rocking above him.
Dean lets her ride him for a few minutes, his eyes practically rolling up in his head, and then seems to come back to himself. Her dress is too tight across her spread thighs to let him have direct access to her clit, so he yanks it up with sweaty fingers.
Bela misses Sam getting his cock out, too wrapped up in the sensation of Dean rubbing between her legs. His rhythm falters whenever she lets herself slide down fully, or whenever his eyes get caught on the way Sam's fisting his own cock, but it's enough to have her panting, beads of sweat rolling down her collarbone and into her cleavage. If she looks at Dean closely enough, she can almost see the ticking clock above his head, echoing her countdown that's been running for not quite ten years.
Maybe if they'd met in different circumstances- if he'd come looking to earn some quick cash with an artifact, or if they'd needed to borrow something for a case- no, Bela thinks- if they'd had more time, they probably would never have fucked at all.
When Dean comes, she's almost there but not quite, and she wants to pound something in frustration. She pulls off and slumps down on the bed next to him, letting the edges of her nails scrape against her clit, closing her eyes.
Sam makes a choked sound from over to her right. It's like he's never seen a woman take care of her own needs before- but when Bela opens her eyes, it's probably because Dean has taken care of the condom and is now settling down between her legs, sliding two thick fingers into her with no warning, licking at her, surprisingly adept. When she sees Sam spilling over his own belly, it's enough- the way she's gripping at Dean's head is probably impolite but it's hard to care at the moment. He doesn't roll off until her thighs have stopped shaking.
Dean passes out quickly, bags under his eyes betraying the way he hasn't slept properly since- well, since long before she showed up. Bela adjusts her dress straps and picks up her shoes, lets them dangle from her fingers as she walks out.
She's more than pleasantly sore, Bela thinks as she leans against the wall outside, strapping her heels back on.
Sam follows her out after a minute, closing the door silently behind him.
"Thanks," Sam says. He's almost the boy she first met, gentle and sweet and blatantly ogling her chest in that waitress uniform. Except slightly more ruffled, of course, lips swollen, shirt untucked.
She pulls out a cigarette, and he starts digging in his pockets, probably for a lighter. Bela pulls out her own, letting the smoke drag into her lungs.
"Really, Sam," she says, "it was my pleasure."