FIC - Carry You Over To A New Morning
Title: Carry You Over To A New Morning
Fandom: SPN
Pairing: Dean/Sam
W/C: ~ 1250
Summary: It shouldn’t hurt. Not this much.
Warnings: underage, somnophilia
A/N: written for my hc_bingo card, which can be found here: http://verucasalt123.livejournal.com/173540.html#cutid1
Yeah, he’d done it before.
The first time started out as an accident, the two of them shoved into one bed, Dean waking up to find himself aching hard and rutting against his baby brother’s backside as he slept. Instinctively, he stopped, turned as much as he could without falling off the side of the bed, horrified with himself. He should have gotten up, he thought, gone into the bathroom and jerked himself off, but he was so warm and comfortable there, and Sam…Dean was ashamed of how much harder he got thinking that it was Sam’s sweet little ass he’d been rubbing off against. He pressed his hand against his dick, tried to keep himself from coming right that very second. There was no stopping the train now, though. Dean pulled his cock out, licked his own palm and stroked himself slowly, turning his head to the side and watching Sam’s innocent sleeping form next to him. Trying to force himself to think of hot girls at school or in magazines was useless. He knew, he’d tried before, but his mind always went back to Sammy, finally hitting a little growth spurt, Sammy, his voice cracking every other sentence as it changed, Sammy, sweet and beautiful and goddamnit, Dean was coming all over his hand before he knew it.
It hadn’t been the last time, though, and he only got bolder as time went on. The kid slept like the fucking dead, clearly not old enough yet to have developed that hunter’s instinct to startle at every sound. Thank Christ. Because Sam might not have appreciated that Dean had stopped turning away when he woke up with an I want to fuck my thirteen year old brother boner in the hours before dawn. Sam didn’t even stir when Dean just kept moving against him, using Sam’s body for friction and turning away only in the nick of time so that he wouldn’t cover Sammy with jizz, because yeah, that would be hard to explain.
Dean didn’t stop using his unconscious baby brother as a sex aid, but he did stop lots of other things.
He stopped ruffling Sam’s hair when they were joking around. Stopped himself from casually tossing an arm across Sam’s shoulder when they as trying to figure out what to make for dinner. Stopped letting Sam rest his feet in his lap while they watched TV. He figured he had no right, he was taking so many liberties when his brother was asleep, he didn’t deserve to touch him when he was awake.
Eventually, of course, everything caught up with him. Dean didn’t get breaks, he didn’t get lucky, he never fucking got away with anything. It took a while before Sam finally said something, and the hurt on the kid’s face was plain as day and more heartbreaking than Terms of Endearment (shut the fuck up).
“What’s wrong, Dean? Are you mad at me?”
Fucking fuck fuck. “No, Sammy, I swear, I’m not. You’re growing up, that’s all, I don’t want to treat you like a kid.”
“So if I’m not a kid, you can’t touch me? You have to get all distant and unattached?”
God, if he had any idea how attached Dean was…there was just no good way to explain it, nothing he could say that would make that wounded look in Sammy’s eyes any better. He was a failure, a total and complete perv, only giving Sam physical contact when he wasn’t aware it was happening. Dean couldn’t do a single damn thing right, because everything he did was wrong.
There was nothing on earth that could have prepared him for this night, though. Things had started as usual, Dean waking up with a massive boner somewhere around three in the morning and pressing it against his unconscious brother’s body, moving slowly, carefully, but with determination. He was well-practiced by now, and had gotten it down to a routine, getting all the friction he needed before pulling away at the last moment so he could blow his load into his own hand and clean up without Sammy being any the wiser.
Or so he thought.
Because this night…Jesus Christ, how the fuck? This night Sam was moving right back against him, breathy little moans escaping his perfect mouth and then oh no no nonono Sam was turning over, his eyes wide open and his hands clamped around Dean’s hips.
“Sam. Sam, Sammy, shit, I’m sorry, I’m so fucking-”
“Shut up. You think that just because you do this when I’m asleep, it means you can’t touch me when I’m awake? That’s bullshit, Dean. It’s not fair. You’re not even giving me a chance to-”
Dean cut him off there, thinking there would never be a moment in his life when he’d feel more shame than this one. “To say no. I’m not giving you any choice at all, because I’m taking advantage of you while you’re not even conscious enough to make the decision. Hell, even if you were, you’re not old enough to make a decision. You shouldn’t have to.” The sting of tears in his eyes was too much to hold back. “I’m your brother. I’m supposed to take care of you, not…not this. Not fucking molest you in your sleep.” He tried to move away but Sam’s grip on him was strong.
“Dean, I knew. I knew, okay? I was sad on the mornings I woke up and couldn’t smell your cum in our bed. I’m sorry for not telling you. I was just afraid that you’d stop…”
“Christ, Sam, of course I would stop! You’re thirteen years old, I have no business doing this to you, it’s fucked up and wrong and Jesus fuck of course I would stop!”
“But I didn’t want you to. I don’t want you to.” Dean felt one of Sam’s move up to his cheek, brushing away a tear. “Please, don’t feel guilty and don’t stop and please, please, even if you decide you want to stop this, even though I don’t want you to, you have to quit pulling away from me all the other times, all the times when we’re not in bed. It’s killing me, Dean, I can’t stand it. I don’t want to lose this, but I’d give it up if it meant I got you back the rest of the time.”
Dean’s brain was overloaded by now, shame and guilt and hope and potential waging an all-out war. “You can’t want this, Sammy, you don’t even-”
“What about you, Dean? When you were my age? Did you know what you wanted? When you saw a pretty girl and thought about kissing her, even if maybe she was a couple years older, did you think you weren’t old enough to decide for yourself?”
“That’s different”, Dean replied weakly, feeling the hope starting to beat the shit out of the guilt.
“It’s not.”
Dean wasn’t able to speak anymore just then, because Sam started grinding his own hard dick against Dean’s. “It’s not different. It’s not. Forget the rest of it, just let us have this. We never get anything”, and now Sam was tearing up too, “never, not anything we want, ever, but we can have this. Right?”
The pleading look in Sam’s eyes was enough to push Dean right back into it. Hell, if they both wanted it, why not enjoy it while they were both conscious?
Fandom: SPN
Pairing: Dean/Sam
W/C: ~ 1250
Summary: It shouldn’t hurt. Not this much.
Warnings: underage, somnophilia
A/N: written for my hc_bingo card, which can be found here: http://verucasalt123.livejournal.com/173540.html#cutid1
Yeah, he’d done it before.
The first time started out as an accident, the two of them shoved into one bed, Dean waking up to find himself aching hard and rutting against his baby brother’s backside as he slept. Instinctively, he stopped, turned as much as he could without falling off the side of the bed, horrified with himself. He should have gotten up, he thought, gone into the bathroom and jerked himself off, but he was so warm and comfortable there, and Sam…Dean was ashamed of how much harder he got thinking that it was Sam’s sweet little ass he’d been rubbing off against. He pressed his hand against his dick, tried to keep himself from coming right that very second. There was no stopping the train now, though. Dean pulled his cock out, licked his own palm and stroked himself slowly, turning his head to the side and watching Sam’s innocent sleeping form next to him. Trying to force himself to think of hot girls at school or in magazines was useless. He knew, he’d tried before, but his mind always went back to Sammy, finally hitting a little growth spurt, Sammy, his voice cracking every other sentence as it changed, Sammy, sweet and beautiful and goddamnit, Dean was coming all over his hand before he knew it.
It hadn’t been the last time, though, and he only got bolder as time went on. The kid slept like the fucking dead, clearly not old enough yet to have developed that hunter’s instinct to startle at every sound. Thank Christ. Because Sam might not have appreciated that Dean had stopped turning away when he woke up with an I want to fuck my thirteen year old brother boner in the hours before dawn. Sam didn’t even stir when Dean just kept moving against him, using Sam’s body for friction and turning away only in the nick of time so that he wouldn’t cover Sammy with jizz, because yeah, that would be hard to explain.
Dean didn’t stop using his unconscious baby brother as a sex aid, but he did stop lots of other things.
He stopped ruffling Sam’s hair when they were joking around. Stopped himself from casually tossing an arm across Sam’s shoulder when they as trying to figure out what to make for dinner. Stopped letting Sam rest his feet in his lap while they watched TV. He figured he had no right, he was taking so many liberties when his brother was asleep, he didn’t deserve to touch him when he was awake.
Eventually, of course, everything caught up with him. Dean didn’t get breaks, he didn’t get lucky, he never fucking got away with anything. It took a while before Sam finally said something, and the hurt on the kid’s face was plain as day and more heartbreaking than Terms of Endearment (shut the fuck up).
“What’s wrong, Dean? Are you mad at me?”
Fucking fuck fuck. “No, Sammy, I swear, I’m not. You’re growing up, that’s all, I don’t want to treat you like a kid.”
“So if I’m not a kid, you can’t touch me? You have to get all distant and unattached?”
God, if he had any idea how attached Dean was…there was just no good way to explain it, nothing he could say that would make that wounded look in Sammy’s eyes any better. He was a failure, a total and complete perv, only giving Sam physical contact when he wasn’t aware it was happening. Dean couldn’t do a single damn thing right, because everything he did was wrong.
There was nothing on earth that could have prepared him for this night, though. Things had started as usual, Dean waking up with a massive boner somewhere around three in the morning and pressing it against his unconscious brother’s body, moving slowly, carefully, but with determination. He was well-practiced by now, and had gotten it down to a routine, getting all the friction he needed before pulling away at the last moment so he could blow his load into his own hand and clean up without Sammy being any the wiser.
Or so he thought.
Because this night…Jesus Christ, how the fuck? This night Sam was moving right back against him, breathy little moans escaping his perfect mouth and then oh no no nonono Sam was turning over, his eyes wide open and his hands clamped around Dean’s hips.
“Sam. Sam, Sammy, shit, I’m sorry, I’m so fucking-”
“Shut up. You think that just because you do this when I’m asleep, it means you can’t touch me when I’m awake? That’s bullshit, Dean. It’s not fair. You’re not even giving me a chance to-”
Dean cut him off there, thinking there would never be a moment in his life when he’d feel more shame than this one. “To say no. I’m not giving you any choice at all, because I’m taking advantage of you while you’re not even conscious enough to make the decision. Hell, even if you were, you’re not old enough to make a decision. You shouldn’t have to.” The sting of tears in his eyes was too much to hold back. “I’m your brother. I’m supposed to take care of you, not…not this. Not fucking molest you in your sleep.” He tried to move away but Sam’s grip on him was strong.
“Dean, I knew. I knew, okay? I was sad on the mornings I woke up and couldn’t smell your cum in our bed. I’m sorry for not telling you. I was just afraid that you’d stop…”
“Christ, Sam, of course I would stop! You’re thirteen years old, I have no business doing this to you, it’s fucked up and wrong and Jesus fuck of course I would stop!”
“But I didn’t want you to. I don’t want you to.” Dean felt one of Sam’s move up to his cheek, brushing away a tear. “Please, don’t feel guilty and don’t stop and please, please, even if you decide you want to stop this, even though I don’t want you to, you have to quit pulling away from me all the other times, all the times when we’re not in bed. It’s killing me, Dean, I can’t stand it. I don’t want to lose this, but I’d give it up if it meant I got you back the rest of the time.”
Dean’s brain was overloaded by now, shame and guilt and hope and potential waging an all-out war. “You can’t want this, Sammy, you don’t even-”
“What about you, Dean? When you were my age? Did you know what you wanted? When you saw a pretty girl and thought about kissing her, even if maybe she was a couple years older, did you think you weren’t old enough to decide for yourself?”
“That’s different”, Dean replied weakly, feeling the hope starting to beat the shit out of the guilt.
“It’s not.”
Dean wasn’t able to speak anymore just then, because Sam started grinding his own hard dick against Dean’s. “It’s not different. It’s not. Forget the rest of it, just let us have this. We never get anything”, and now Sam was tearing up too, “never, not anything we want, ever, but we can have this. Right?”
The pleading look in Sam’s eyes was enough to push Dean right back into it. Hell, if they both wanted it, why not enjoy it while they were both conscious?