It's The Time of the Season
Title: It’s The Time of the Season
Author: verucasalt123
Pairing: Sam/Dean, established
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~1800
Warnings: No spoilers, set in some vague part of the series, but references to underage sex.
Disclaimer: These boys do not belong to me.
Author’s Note: For the prompt "I taste the summer on your peppery skin" for salt_burn_porn
Summary: He used to hate summer. Not so much now.
Sam always loved giving blow jobs. There was no feeling in the world like the hot, heavy weight on his tongue as he covered his teeth with his lips to avoid any unintentional injury. The stretch of his mouth, the stretch of his jaw, the stretch of this throat; they were all so wonderful, especially when he was in a position to get a look up to that face. To see the blown-dark pupils just under eyelids that were already at half mast, the parted lips gasping now and then when Sam got his tongue at the exact right spot in the exact right way.
Then, of course, there were the sounds. Not just those occasional soft gasps, but the sharp exhales when Dean realized he’d been holding his breath, actually forgotten to breathe because of what Sam was doing to him, and near the end, the constantly streaming words.
Please and more and fuck and yeah, just like that Sammy and his very favorite, the oh oh oh ohohohoh don’t stop don’t stop don’tstop.
He’d do it for as long as it took, and he did it pretty frequently, which was why he was the world’s foremost expert on sucking Dean’s cock. Sam had trained himself out of having a gag reflex before he finished high school, reveled in the rewarding fuck fuck fuck when he pulled off the spectacular act of tightening his throat around the head while still sucking for all he was worth. Because Dean loved getting blow jobs.
On his knees, across the back (or front) seat of the car, sprawled over the bed; there was no position that Sam couldn’t make work for giving head, if it was for Dean. There wasn’t much he wouldn’t do for Dean - in fact, if he had to make a list he would be hard-pressed to come up with a single thing to put on it.
But more than the physical pressure, more than the sounds and almost more than (but not quite as awesome) the feeling of power that came along with giving his brother head, it was the taste that blew him away at this time of year. There was really no explanation for it, it’s not like Dean was one to walk around naked outside, so his cock wasn’t sun-kissed or anything (which was probably for the best given how easily he got sunburned). But Sam swore he could taste it, every year for as long as he could remember. Not the first year, because it had started in summer, that one year they were left behind in a shitty duplex outside of Lincoln , Nebraska while their father left to track down some monster or another with a hunting buddy. Dean had been disappointed at first, not being asked to go along this time, but once the walls around their sexual feelings for each other had crumbled he hadn’t complained anymore. So at first, he just thought that was how Dean tasted. Or, you know, how cock in general tasted, because it wasn’t like he’d done that to anyone else. Until the seasons changed, their activities didn’t, and Dean had a different flavor once it got to be September or October.
Since then, though, Sam noticed the difference. He could probably predict the weather based on a blow job, because he swore Dean tasted different during the summer. Something like the humidity and the sunshine and the air creating this incredible and unique spice on Dean’s skin that he wasn’t really able to describe all that well. And that was okay because no explanation was necessary.
Sam, ever since he was a teenager, had no problem with letting a fat cock get stuffed down his throat (as long as it was this cock). He didn’t mind when hot reflexive tears escaped the corners of his eyes. Sam even loved it when he was held still and didn’t have to do shit because he was just kneeling or sitting or lying there getting his face fucked. But he loved it especially in summer, because the taste of Dean was different, and different was special. He had no plans to repeat these thoughts to his brother ever, in fear of being teased and mocked and being called a girl. Those things all happened with enough regularity that Sam wasn’t about to hand over more ammunition.
He just didn’t really want to be on the receiving end very often, was all. No matter how good Dean was at it (and he was Olympic gold medalist caliber good), it just took too fucking long. Maybe it felt like a tease, or like it wasn’t enough. He’d felt that way even when he’d been with girls. Maybe it was because he knew his own cock was way too big for anyone to even consider trying to deep-throat Sam the way that he did it to Dean. Maybe it was just a thing that didn’t really do it for him. Whatever the reason, Sam just didn’t want blowjobs. He was too impatient.
When it came to getting his brother off, he’d take all the time in the world; he’d take as long as he wanted, because he was kind of a tease and he wasn’t ashamed to admit it. Plus, Sam loved making him feel that good, loved hearing him beg, loved feeling those thighs start to twitch and shake as he started falling apart.
But when it got to be his turn, he didn’t want the favor returned. Sam had no objection to foreplay. Having his nipples licked and bitten was fantastic. Getting a dark bruise sucked into the skin above his collarbone made him dizzy. Hands roaming down the insides of his arms and across his stomach felt like heaven. So yeah, he liked those things just fine, but what he wanted was to get to the main event. He just didn’t really want to get his own dick sucked very frequently. At the same time, he always knew exactly when to stop, if things were going to end up going any farther. Sometimes all Dean wanted was for Sam to suck him off, and that was just fine with Sam most of the time.
All Sam could think of was the quiet snick of the cap on their bottle of lube, the first wave of pressure and intentional relaxation of his muscles as nimble fingers made their way into him, the stars behind his eyes when Dean hit that one perfect spot. He didn’t complain about having his dick sucked while there were two or three of Dean’s fingers working him open so he’d be ready for that cock; it relaxed him enough to get past the initial burn and pain that would always be there no matters how many years they’d done this. But it was a means to an end for Sam, a way that got him closer to being able to stretch around Dean’s cock so that he could just hold the fuck on while he got pounded directly into the mattress or the floor or the wall or various surfaces in and on the car.
This was tough at first for Dean. All of his previous experience with sex was that taking a whole lot of time to make sure his partner was satisfied was an incredibly important aspect of pre-fucking behavior. Since he’d been a young teenager, he’d never been with a girl that he hadn’t given an orgasm before he would fuck her. It was like his own personal rule. Even though they’d come again most of the time while they were having sex, he had to make her come before he got started or he just couldn’t enjoy it as much. So yeah, it was definitely not easy getting used to the fact that his current partner, the one he’d been with off and on since well before either were legally old enough to consent (not that it would have gotten any more legal as the years passed), and the one he assumed now would be the one he’d spend the rest of his life with, just wasn’t so much into all that foreplay that Dean had mastered over the years. Even though he knew Sam was gonna blow his load while they were fucking, that jerking his cock in time with thrusting into his ass was a guarantee of an amazing orgasm for Sam, and that sometimes he didn’t even have to do that because Sam would come just from the friction of their bodies moving together or from perfectly placed jabs right against his prostate, Dean still had the instinct to do a whole lot of fooling around before getting his dick inside. So he just had to learn and accept the fact that making sure his partner was satisfied was different with Sam than it had been with others. No big surprise there.
And of course, Dean always knew when to expect an exceptionally enthusiastic blow job. Whatever the fuck it was with Sammy and the summertime, he wasn’t about to question it. No matter if there was no A/C in their motel room and they were both sweaty as shit, or if they were in the car with the sun’s heat magnified against the dark upholstery of the Impala, when it was hot out, Sam wanted to suck dick. Bad. Dean even made him beg for it a few times, just because he could. Usually, though, he just let his brother do what he wanted, because who the hell bitches about getting head? Only crazy people. And Sam.
Dean wouldn’t ever find out Sam’s secret, his own private little pleasure at the way Dean’s skin tasted during this time of year. But he really didn’t need to know, and Sam really didn’t need to tell him. As long as Sam had that amazing sunshine-spiked flavor on his tongue, in his mouth, there was no reason for anyone to ask questions or make explanations. They were, as usual, both getting what they wanted, rest of the world be damned.
Author: verucasalt123
Pairing: Sam/Dean, established
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~1800
Warnings: No spoilers, set in some vague part of the series, but references to underage sex.
Disclaimer: These boys do not belong to me.
Author’s Note: For the prompt "I taste the summer on your peppery skin" for salt_burn_porn
Summary: He used to hate summer. Not so much now.
Sam always loved giving blow jobs. There was no feeling in the world like the hot, heavy weight on his tongue as he covered his teeth with his lips to avoid any unintentional injury. The stretch of his mouth, the stretch of his jaw, the stretch of this throat; they were all so wonderful, especially when he was in a position to get a look up to that face. To see the blown-dark pupils just under eyelids that were already at half mast, the parted lips gasping now and then when Sam got his tongue at the exact right spot in the exact right way.
Then, of course, there were the sounds. Not just those occasional soft gasps, but the sharp exhales when Dean realized he’d been holding his breath, actually forgotten to breathe because of what Sam was doing to him, and near the end, the constantly streaming words.
Please and more and fuck and yeah, just like that Sammy and his very favorite, the oh oh oh ohohohoh don’t stop don’t stop don’tstop.
He’d do it for as long as it took, and he did it pretty frequently, which was why he was the world’s foremost expert on sucking Dean’s cock. Sam had trained himself out of having a gag reflex before he finished high school, reveled in the rewarding fuck fuck fuck when he pulled off the spectacular act of tightening his throat around the head while still sucking for all he was worth. Because Dean loved getting blow jobs.
On his knees, across the back (or front) seat of the car, sprawled over the bed; there was no position that Sam couldn’t make work for giving head, if it was for Dean. There wasn’t much he wouldn’t do for Dean - in fact, if he had to make a list he would be hard-pressed to come up with a single thing to put on it.
But more than the physical pressure, more than the sounds and almost more than (but not quite as awesome) the feeling of power that came along with giving his brother head, it was the taste that blew him away at this time of year. There was really no explanation for it, it’s not like Dean was one to walk around naked outside, so his cock wasn’t sun-kissed or anything (which was probably for the best given how easily he got sunburned). But Sam swore he could taste it, every year for as long as he could remember. Not the first year, because it had started in summer, that one year they were left behind in a shitty duplex outside of Lincoln , Nebraska while their father left to track down some monster or another with a hunting buddy. Dean had been disappointed at first, not being asked to go along this time, but once the walls around their sexual feelings for each other had crumbled he hadn’t complained anymore. So at first, he just thought that was how Dean tasted. Or, you know, how cock in general tasted, because it wasn’t like he’d done that to anyone else. Until the seasons changed, their activities didn’t, and Dean had a different flavor once it got to be September or October.
Since then, though, Sam noticed the difference. He could probably predict the weather based on a blow job, because he swore Dean tasted different during the summer. Something like the humidity and the sunshine and the air creating this incredible and unique spice on Dean’s skin that he wasn’t really able to describe all that well. And that was okay because no explanation was necessary.
Sam, ever since he was a teenager, had no problem with letting a fat cock get stuffed down his throat (as long as it was this cock). He didn’t mind when hot reflexive tears escaped the corners of his eyes. Sam even loved it when he was held still and didn’t have to do shit because he was just kneeling or sitting or lying there getting his face fucked. But he loved it especially in summer, because the taste of Dean was different, and different was special. He had no plans to repeat these thoughts to his brother ever, in fear of being teased and mocked and being called a girl. Those things all happened with enough regularity that Sam wasn’t about to hand over more ammunition.
He just didn’t really want to be on the receiving end very often, was all. No matter how good Dean was at it (and he was Olympic gold medalist caliber good), it just took too fucking long. Maybe it felt like a tease, or like it wasn’t enough. He’d felt that way even when he’d been with girls. Maybe it was because he knew his own cock was way too big for anyone to even consider trying to deep-throat Sam the way that he did it to Dean. Maybe it was just a thing that didn’t really do it for him. Whatever the reason, Sam just didn’t want blowjobs. He was too impatient.
When it came to getting his brother off, he’d take all the time in the world; he’d take as long as he wanted, because he was kind of a tease and he wasn’t ashamed to admit it. Plus, Sam loved making him feel that good, loved hearing him beg, loved feeling those thighs start to twitch and shake as he started falling apart.
But when it got to be his turn, he didn’t want the favor returned. Sam had no objection to foreplay. Having his nipples licked and bitten was fantastic. Getting a dark bruise sucked into the skin above his collarbone made him dizzy. Hands roaming down the insides of his arms and across his stomach felt like heaven. So yeah, he liked those things just fine, but what he wanted was to get to the main event. He just didn’t really want to get his own dick sucked very frequently. At the same time, he always knew exactly when to stop, if things were going to end up going any farther. Sometimes all Dean wanted was for Sam to suck him off, and that was just fine with Sam most of the time.
All Sam could think of was the quiet snick of the cap on their bottle of lube, the first wave of pressure and intentional relaxation of his muscles as nimble fingers made their way into him, the stars behind his eyes when Dean hit that one perfect spot. He didn’t complain about having his dick sucked while there were two or three of Dean’s fingers working him open so he’d be ready for that cock; it relaxed him enough to get past the initial burn and pain that would always be there no matters how many years they’d done this. But it was a means to an end for Sam, a way that got him closer to being able to stretch around Dean’s cock so that he could just hold the fuck on while he got pounded directly into the mattress or the floor or the wall or various surfaces in and on the car.
This was tough at first for Dean. All of his previous experience with sex was that taking a whole lot of time to make sure his partner was satisfied was an incredibly important aspect of pre-fucking behavior. Since he’d been a young teenager, he’d never been with a girl that he hadn’t given an orgasm before he would fuck her. It was like his own personal rule. Even though they’d come again most of the time while they were having sex, he had to make her come before he got started or he just couldn’t enjoy it as much. So yeah, it was definitely not easy getting used to the fact that his current partner, the one he’d been with off and on since well before either were legally old enough to consent (not that it would have gotten any more legal as the years passed), and the one he assumed now would be the one he’d spend the rest of his life with, just wasn’t so much into all that foreplay that Dean had mastered over the years. Even though he knew Sam was gonna blow his load while they were fucking, that jerking his cock in time with thrusting into his ass was a guarantee of an amazing orgasm for Sam, and that sometimes he didn’t even have to do that because Sam would come just from the friction of their bodies moving together or from perfectly placed jabs right against his prostate, Dean still had the instinct to do a whole lot of fooling around before getting his dick inside. So he just had to learn and accept the fact that making sure his partner was satisfied was different with Sam than it had been with others. No big surprise there.
And of course, Dean always knew when to expect an exceptionally enthusiastic blow job. Whatever the fuck it was with Sammy and the summertime, he wasn’t about to question it. No matter if there was no A/C in their motel room and they were both sweaty as shit, or if they were in the car with the sun’s heat magnified against the dark upholstery of the Impala, when it was hot out, Sam wanted to suck dick. Bad. Dean even made him beg for it a few times, just because he could. Usually, though, he just let his brother do what he wanted, because who the hell bitches about getting head? Only crazy people. And Sam.
Dean wouldn’t ever find out Sam’s secret, his own private little pleasure at the way Dean’s skin tasted during this time of year. But he really didn’t need to know, and Sam really didn’t need to tell him. As long as Sam had that amazing sunshine-spiked flavor on his tongue, in his mouth, there was no reason for anyone to ask questions or make explanations. They were, as usual, both getting what they wanted, rest of the world be damned.