Fic: Sybarite
Title: Sybarite
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Sam/Dean/OFC
Word Count: About 2,500
Summary: My spn_j2_xmas fic for nos4a2no9, who gave me this amazing prompt: M/M/F, threesome, Wincest. Dean and Sam and a girl. Could be a familiar face, could be someone random. I'd just love some hot porn! Who doesn't love a good threesome? Sorry it’s so late!
They met her at a hole-in-the-wall joint on the outskirts of Chicago. They had just finished one of their rare big city jobs, and they were ready for a little down time. Dean had scoped out the place when they’d first arrived, thought it would be nice enough to attract a few high rollers who might be interested in a friendly game of pool or darts.
Neither of them had anticipated the bachelorette party raging in the back corner. It was hard to enjoy a quiet beer or two when a group of drunken girls were laughing and screaming out the names of suggestively-titled shots every few moments. Dean had leered in their direction at first, even suggested joining them, but soon his smiles slipped as they got worse as the night continued.
Sam was at the bar, waiting for their next round, when she appeared at his elbow. She paid for their drinks, picked up the bottles, and told Sam point-blank, "I need a favor." Then, she headed back to their table, leaving Sam momentarily stunned.
She was placing their beers in front of Dean once Sam caught up. "Have either of you heard of bachelorette bingo?" she asked as she took a seat next to Dean. The faux leather of the bench crackled beneath her as she slid into her spot, close but not encroaching on his personal space, inviting. "We're been playing all night over there, and I have one spot left before I blackout my card." With a flick of her wrist, she tossed a small cardboard sheet onto the table. Sam picked it up and held it so Dean could read the open spot as well.
Pick up two guys at once.
Her smile was just this side of coy. "That's where you both come in. Mind helping me look really good in front of the other girls?"
*****
Sam had doubts. Sure, she was cute. More than, actually, with her hair in tight ringlet curls and her flattering outfit. But, there was forward, and then there was forward, so Sam had his concerns.
Not that Dean seemed to care. His own competitive edge seemed to kick in once she made her proposition, and he was doing his best to make her look good, just as she had asked. And judging by the envious looks coming from the back corner table, he was going a damn fine job of it too.
And Sam could admit he was a little envious as well. At the moment, she was sitting between them on the bench, her back to Sam and her front very much to Dean, giving him all of her attention. Their kiss was heated, her fingers laced together behind Dean's neck while his carded through her curls.
When the catcalls and whistles started, they broke apart. She must have smiled at him, because Dean smirked right back.
"You know, Sammy," he said as he let his hand drop from her hair down her spine to her lower back. "She only wins if she gets both of us."
She glanced over her shoulder, and yeah, she was smiling, wide and joyful like she'd just won the lottery instead of a make-out session with two strangers. Using Dean's hold on her as a brace, she tipped backwards, her eyes locked on Sam's, until her head rested on Sam's collarbone. As if she could sense his reservations, her smile grew softer. "It's okay," she said. "Truth be told, I'm nervous too."
Their first kiss was awkward as he bent over her shoulder and tried to compensate for the weird angle, just a quick press of his lips against hers. She sighed, cocked her head a little further, and suddenly it was so much easier to capture her lips with his own. There was a slide to their kiss that had nothing to do with gloss and everything to do with Dean's saliva still slicking her lips, and fuck, that shouldn't have turned him on. It shouldn't have, but he found himself licking at the seams of her lips, chasing every bit of the slickness, and she opened so willingly to him after that.
She reached back with one hand, clutching at his hair as she deepened the kiss. He could taste the alcohol she'd been drinking all night, sweet on her tongue, and he swallowed it down as she moaned into his mouth. Slowly, he trailed the tips of his fingers down her arm draped around his neck, and her back arched up the lower he went. He started to wrap his arms around her body, intent on pulling her closer to him, but froze when he brushed against Dean's hand still bracing her back.
Sam pulled away. She tried to follow his mouth, but he was focused on Dean and the shell-shocked look on his brother's face. "Jesus, Sam," he whispered, barely audible over the din of the bar. "We really doing this?"
He looked down at her, at her flushed cheeks and red, red lips, caused by the both of them. Her gaze met his head-on, and she whispered up at him, "My place isn't far." And he didn't even think. Just looked back up at Dean and smiled. So much for doubts.
Dean grabbed her hand, pulled her up from the bench, and led her through the maze of tables and out the door. Sam grabbed a nearby pen, scratched off the last spot on her bingo card, and tossed it on the girls' table as he passed them following the pair out.
The keys came sailing at Sam's head the moment he stepped outside, and he narrowly caught them before they connected. Dean already had her sitting in the back of the Impala, and he was in the process of climbing in after her. "You drive."
*****
She was right, her place wasn't far, but the drive there was torturous. To Sam, at least. Dean seemed to be having the time of his life, as did she.
Fuck, they didn't even know her name.
Sam caught glimpses in the rear view mirror, snapshots of the action. Dean lifting her leg so she'd straddle him, her sucking kisses down Dean's neck, him sliding a hand up the back of her shirt. And through it all, she managed to gasp out directions. Ten minutes later, Sam pulled the car into an apartment complex's parking lot, coughed, not so discretely letting them know they'd arrived, and watched them try to pull themselves apart. For a moment, it looked like Dean was about to say, "fuck it," but then she giggled and pushed him away, giving Sam an apologetic smile as she climbed out of the car.
She took both of their hands as she led them up the stairs to her place.
It took everything he had to stay still as she dug through her purse for her keys. Dean wasn't helping, fidgeting from one foot to the other until she slid her key home. Then, he pounced.
She shrieked with laughter as Dean tackled her inside, leaving Sam to shut the door behind them. He had a moment to nearly pout, left behind, until her small hand lit onto his forearm and dragged him away from the door and down the hall.
Her tidy bedroom wouldn't be considered small by most people, but the bed inside dwarfed it. "A guilty pleasure," she explained when they both paused to look at it. "I'm a bit of a hedonist, in case you haven't noticed."
"Oh, we've noticed," Dean said, and like that, any lingering hesitation vanished.
Sam grabbed her first, pulled her tight against him as he ducked in for a kiss. She gasped into his mouth, an echo of the noises he'd heard on their way over, and he wanted more. He wanted her loud and wild.
After a moment, she was suddenly crushed against him, and Sam cracked open his eyes to find Dean pressing up against her from behind. He had his face buried in her curls, his mouth slightly gaping as he breathed her in, the same traces of alcohol and sweet shampoo that Sam was experiencing.
Sam jumped slightly when knuckles skimmed across his stomach, Dean reaching around her to attack the zipper of her pants. The touch was light, unintentional, yet it felt monumental, and it stole Sam's breath for a second.
They really were doing this.
Dean had the zip undone with a twist of his wrist, and she shimmied the slacks down her legs. Sam tightened his arms around her and bodily lifted her so she could kick the pants completely off. She took it one step further, wrapping her legs around his waist and sinking her hands into his hair.
The new position had her tight against him, and if he wasn't hard already, the rock of her hips in just the right spot would have done the job. He moaned, unable to hold it back, and she tightened her fingers as she repeated the move.
"Anxious, isn't she?" Dean's voice was muffled as he peeled his shirt over his head. There was the click of his belt buckle, a shush of fabric falling, and when Sam was able to pull away from her lips again, Dean was standing a few feet away, wearing only his boxer.
"I'm feeling overdressed," Sam muttered, trailing his hands down her back until he had a hold of her ass. He ground into her, let the zip of his jeans drag across the fabric of her panties, and the grip in his hair turned painful with one short tug.
"She can help with that, I'm sure."
She answered by lowering her legs and releasing her hold on him enough so she could drop to her knees in front of him.
Her nimble fingers made quick work of his fly, and she hooked her fingers over the waistband to drag both jeans and boxers down his legs. Once he stepped free of them, she pressed her face to the curve of his hip. "There," she mouthed against his thigh. "Now you're ahead of the game."
Sam could only imagine the picture they made. He stood there, naked and proud, as she kissed and licked around him, her mouth never landing exactly where he needed it the most. Dean was close enough to touch, but Sam didn't dare, because that wouldn't... It would...
"Sit on the bed, Sam." Dean sounded out of breath, and Sam chanced a glance at him, only to find Dean had at some point removed the last of his clothing, and fuck, he was stroking himself, already hard and glinting, just from watching this girl kneeling in front of Sam.
"Christ, Dean." It was difficult, pulling himself away from the warm pressure of her lips, but with one step, the backs of his knees hit the mattress, and Sam sank to the bed. She followed, never fully standing up, until she was kneeling between his spread legs at the foot of the bed. Then her mouth was on him again, this time surrounding the tip of his cock. Sam made a strangled sound, words impossible as she lipped around him, and he gently placed a hand into her hair in appreciation. She must have taken it as encouragement, however, because she began moving in earnest, sharp and quick bobs of her head that felt absolutely amazing. He couldn't help it, he thrust up into her mouth, meeting her on a downstroke, and she moaned needy and hot around him.
"Fuck, Sammy, you should see this. Fuck, she looks so hot sucking you off. Her on her knees in front of you, me on mine behind her. God, look, Sam."
He couldn't remember closing his eyes, but when he opened them again, it was better than he could have imagined from Dean's description. Her red lips were tight around his cock, and as she moved he caught flashes of her tongue trailing up his shaft. Her hands were braced on his thighs, nails leaving white trails that quickly filled red.
And kneeling behind her was Dean, staring directly at Sam. He had unbuttoned her blouse and unhooked her bra, both articles only shoved aside enough so that he could get to her breasts. He cupped and squeezed them gently, rolling her tight pink nipples between his fingers as Sam watched.
“Fuck, Dean,” Sam groaned.
"I know, right? Think you can hold out before coming? Wait until we're both in her and she's screaming on both of our cocks?"
Sam couldn’t remember being this turned on in his life. He was about to watch Dean fuck this girl while she sucked him off; why was that the hottest thing he’d ever experienced? "Make it quick, jerk."
The angle of her mouth changed, and she cried out around him, Dean echoing her with a groan. Sam looked down, and god, he could see his brother buried balls deep inside her. She closed her eyes tight, her hands grasping at Sam’s thighs once more and then the bedspread. "God, you should feel her," Dean gasped as he rocked into her, sending her mouth sliding along Sam's cock involuntarily. "So fucking tight, Sam, I swear."
"I don't care. Just move, Dean, cause she..." Dean interrupted him with a vicious thrust that caused both her and Sam to cry out.
"Fine, but remember you asked for it. Both of you should hold onto something."
Sam's eyes slipped shut again as Dean began to move, because Sam could feel through her, a slow pivot to harsh bucking, and she moaned so prettily through it all. And when Dean finally found the rhythm he liked, it only escalated, until each sharp thrust got harder and faster and her breasts bounced against Sam's knees with every shove of Dean's hips. Sam could imagine how Dean's fingers were clutching her hips for dear life, probably bruising her as he drove into her again and again, but Sam didn't care because he was so fucking close.
Sam couldn't help it. He opened his eyes and looked straight at his brother. He was only vaguely aware of her tiny whimpers against his groin as he held her in place, ready to flood her mouth, but he didn't miss Dean's choked cry as he gave one last harsh thrust into her and froze.
"Oh, fuck, Dean..." and then Sam shouted, thrusting deep as he came hot and bitter into her mouth, climax ripping through him.
When the room stopped spinning, Sam found himself collapsed backwards on the mattress, one arm flung over his face. Dean and the girl had crawled onto the bed at some point, and she was sandwiched between them, her back to Dean's chest and her arm flung over Sam.
Dean was staring at him.
"You know what would make my night?" she sighed into Sam's chest.
"You mean besides winning bachelorette bingo?" Dean asked her without taking his eyes off Sam.
"Yeah."
"What?" Sam asked her.
"Watching two of the hottest guys I'd ever met in my life kiss. Icing on the fucking cake."
Sam knew Dean caught his sudden swallow, and for a moment, Dean looked uncertain. "Well Sam, we doing this?" And under that uncertainty, Sam saw, well...
Again, he didn't think. Just stared right back at Dean and smiled.
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Sam/Dean/OFC
Word Count: About 2,500
Summary: My spn_j2_xmas fic for nos4a2no9, who gave me this amazing prompt: M/M/F, threesome, Wincest. Dean and Sam and a girl. Could be a familiar face, could be someone random. I'd just love some hot porn! Who doesn't love a good threesome? Sorry it’s so late!
They met her at a hole-in-the-wall joint on the outskirts of Chicago. They had just finished one of their rare big city jobs, and they were ready for a little down time. Dean had scoped out the place when they’d first arrived, thought it would be nice enough to attract a few high rollers who might be interested in a friendly game of pool or darts.
Neither of them had anticipated the bachelorette party raging in the back corner. It was hard to enjoy a quiet beer or two when a group of drunken girls were laughing and screaming out the names of suggestively-titled shots every few moments. Dean had leered in their direction at first, even suggested joining them, but soon his smiles slipped as they got worse as the night continued.
Sam was at the bar, waiting for their next round, when she appeared at his elbow. She paid for their drinks, picked up the bottles, and told Sam point-blank, "I need a favor." Then, she headed back to their table, leaving Sam momentarily stunned.
She was placing their beers in front of Dean once Sam caught up. "Have either of you heard of bachelorette bingo?" she asked as she took a seat next to Dean. The faux leather of the bench crackled beneath her as she slid into her spot, close but not encroaching on his personal space, inviting. "We're been playing all night over there, and I have one spot left before I blackout my card." With a flick of her wrist, she tossed a small cardboard sheet onto the table. Sam picked it up and held it so Dean could read the open spot as well.
Pick up two guys at once.
Her smile was just this side of coy. "That's where you both come in. Mind helping me look really good in front of the other girls?"
*****
Sam had doubts. Sure, she was cute. More than, actually, with her hair in tight ringlet curls and her flattering outfit. But, there was forward, and then there was forward, so Sam had his concerns.
Not that Dean seemed to care. His own competitive edge seemed to kick in once she made her proposition, and he was doing his best to make her look good, just as she had asked. And judging by the envious looks coming from the back corner table, he was going a damn fine job of it too.
And Sam could admit he was a little envious as well. At the moment, she was sitting between them on the bench, her back to Sam and her front very much to Dean, giving him all of her attention. Their kiss was heated, her fingers laced together behind Dean's neck while his carded through her curls.
When the catcalls and whistles started, they broke apart. She must have smiled at him, because Dean smirked right back.
"You know, Sammy," he said as he let his hand drop from her hair down her spine to her lower back. "She only wins if she gets both of us."
She glanced over her shoulder, and yeah, she was smiling, wide and joyful like she'd just won the lottery instead of a make-out session with two strangers. Using Dean's hold on her as a brace, she tipped backwards, her eyes locked on Sam's, until her head rested on Sam's collarbone. As if she could sense his reservations, her smile grew softer. "It's okay," she said. "Truth be told, I'm nervous too."
Their first kiss was awkward as he bent over her shoulder and tried to compensate for the weird angle, just a quick press of his lips against hers. She sighed, cocked her head a little further, and suddenly it was so much easier to capture her lips with his own. There was a slide to their kiss that had nothing to do with gloss and everything to do with Dean's saliva still slicking her lips, and fuck, that shouldn't have turned him on. It shouldn't have, but he found himself licking at the seams of her lips, chasing every bit of the slickness, and she opened so willingly to him after that.
She reached back with one hand, clutching at his hair as she deepened the kiss. He could taste the alcohol she'd been drinking all night, sweet on her tongue, and he swallowed it down as she moaned into his mouth. Slowly, he trailed the tips of his fingers down her arm draped around his neck, and her back arched up the lower he went. He started to wrap his arms around her body, intent on pulling her closer to him, but froze when he brushed against Dean's hand still bracing her back.
Sam pulled away. She tried to follow his mouth, but he was focused on Dean and the shell-shocked look on his brother's face. "Jesus, Sam," he whispered, barely audible over the din of the bar. "We really doing this?"
He looked down at her, at her flushed cheeks and red, red lips, caused by the both of them. Her gaze met his head-on, and she whispered up at him, "My place isn't far." And he didn't even think. Just looked back up at Dean and smiled. So much for doubts.
Dean grabbed her hand, pulled her up from the bench, and led her through the maze of tables and out the door. Sam grabbed a nearby pen, scratched off the last spot on her bingo card, and tossed it on the girls' table as he passed them following the pair out.
The keys came sailing at Sam's head the moment he stepped outside, and he narrowly caught them before they connected. Dean already had her sitting in the back of the Impala, and he was in the process of climbing in after her. "You drive."
*****
She was right, her place wasn't far, but the drive there was torturous. To Sam, at least. Dean seemed to be having the time of his life, as did she.
Fuck, they didn't even know her name.
Sam caught glimpses in the rear view mirror, snapshots of the action. Dean lifting her leg so she'd straddle him, her sucking kisses down Dean's neck, him sliding a hand up the back of her shirt. And through it all, she managed to gasp out directions. Ten minutes later, Sam pulled the car into an apartment complex's parking lot, coughed, not so discretely letting them know they'd arrived, and watched them try to pull themselves apart. For a moment, it looked like Dean was about to say, "fuck it," but then she giggled and pushed him away, giving Sam an apologetic smile as she climbed out of the car.
She took both of their hands as she led them up the stairs to her place.
It took everything he had to stay still as she dug through her purse for her keys. Dean wasn't helping, fidgeting from one foot to the other until she slid her key home. Then, he pounced.
She shrieked with laughter as Dean tackled her inside, leaving Sam to shut the door behind them. He had a moment to nearly pout, left behind, until her small hand lit onto his forearm and dragged him away from the door and down the hall.
Her tidy bedroom wouldn't be considered small by most people, but the bed inside dwarfed it. "A guilty pleasure," she explained when they both paused to look at it. "I'm a bit of a hedonist, in case you haven't noticed."
"Oh, we've noticed," Dean said, and like that, any lingering hesitation vanished.
Sam grabbed her first, pulled her tight against him as he ducked in for a kiss. She gasped into his mouth, an echo of the noises he'd heard on their way over, and he wanted more. He wanted her loud and wild.
After a moment, she was suddenly crushed against him, and Sam cracked open his eyes to find Dean pressing up against her from behind. He had his face buried in her curls, his mouth slightly gaping as he breathed her in, the same traces of alcohol and sweet shampoo that Sam was experiencing.
Sam jumped slightly when knuckles skimmed across his stomach, Dean reaching around her to attack the zipper of her pants. The touch was light, unintentional, yet it felt monumental, and it stole Sam's breath for a second.
They really were doing this.
Dean had the zip undone with a twist of his wrist, and she shimmied the slacks down her legs. Sam tightened his arms around her and bodily lifted her so she could kick the pants completely off. She took it one step further, wrapping her legs around his waist and sinking her hands into his hair.
The new position had her tight against him, and if he wasn't hard already, the rock of her hips in just the right spot would have done the job. He moaned, unable to hold it back, and she tightened her fingers as she repeated the move.
"Anxious, isn't she?" Dean's voice was muffled as he peeled his shirt over his head. There was the click of his belt buckle, a shush of fabric falling, and when Sam was able to pull away from her lips again, Dean was standing a few feet away, wearing only his boxer.
"I'm feeling overdressed," Sam muttered, trailing his hands down her back until he had a hold of her ass. He ground into her, let the zip of his jeans drag across the fabric of her panties, and the grip in his hair turned painful with one short tug.
"She can help with that, I'm sure."
She answered by lowering her legs and releasing her hold on him enough so she could drop to her knees in front of him.
Her nimble fingers made quick work of his fly, and she hooked her fingers over the waistband to drag both jeans and boxers down his legs. Once he stepped free of them, she pressed her face to the curve of his hip. "There," she mouthed against his thigh. "Now you're ahead of the game."
Sam could only imagine the picture they made. He stood there, naked and proud, as she kissed and licked around him, her mouth never landing exactly where he needed it the most. Dean was close enough to touch, but Sam didn't dare, because that wouldn't... It would...
"Sit on the bed, Sam." Dean sounded out of breath, and Sam chanced a glance at him, only to find Dean had at some point removed the last of his clothing, and fuck, he was stroking himself, already hard and glinting, just from watching this girl kneeling in front of Sam.
"Christ, Dean." It was difficult, pulling himself away from the warm pressure of her lips, but with one step, the backs of his knees hit the mattress, and Sam sank to the bed. She followed, never fully standing up, until she was kneeling between his spread legs at the foot of the bed. Then her mouth was on him again, this time surrounding the tip of his cock. Sam made a strangled sound, words impossible as she lipped around him, and he gently placed a hand into her hair in appreciation. She must have taken it as encouragement, however, because she began moving in earnest, sharp and quick bobs of her head that felt absolutely amazing. He couldn't help it, he thrust up into her mouth, meeting her on a downstroke, and she moaned needy and hot around him.
"Fuck, Sammy, you should see this. Fuck, she looks so hot sucking you off. Her on her knees in front of you, me on mine behind her. God, look, Sam."
He couldn't remember closing his eyes, but when he opened them again, it was better than he could have imagined from Dean's description. Her red lips were tight around his cock, and as she moved he caught flashes of her tongue trailing up his shaft. Her hands were braced on his thighs, nails leaving white trails that quickly filled red.
And kneeling behind her was Dean, staring directly at Sam. He had unbuttoned her blouse and unhooked her bra, both articles only shoved aside enough so that he could get to her breasts. He cupped and squeezed them gently, rolling her tight pink nipples between his fingers as Sam watched.
“Fuck, Dean,” Sam groaned.
"I know, right? Think you can hold out before coming? Wait until we're both in her and she's screaming on both of our cocks?"
Sam couldn’t remember being this turned on in his life. He was about to watch Dean fuck this girl while she sucked him off; why was that the hottest thing he’d ever experienced? "Make it quick, jerk."
The angle of her mouth changed, and she cried out around him, Dean echoing her with a groan. Sam looked down, and god, he could see his brother buried balls deep inside her. She closed her eyes tight, her hands grasping at Sam’s thighs once more and then the bedspread. "God, you should feel her," Dean gasped as he rocked into her, sending her mouth sliding along Sam's cock involuntarily. "So fucking tight, Sam, I swear."
"I don't care. Just move, Dean, cause she..." Dean interrupted him with a vicious thrust that caused both her and Sam to cry out.
"Fine, but remember you asked for it. Both of you should hold onto something."
Sam's eyes slipped shut again as Dean began to move, because Sam could feel through her, a slow pivot to harsh bucking, and she moaned so prettily through it all. And when Dean finally found the rhythm he liked, it only escalated, until each sharp thrust got harder and faster and her breasts bounced against Sam's knees with every shove of Dean's hips. Sam could imagine how Dean's fingers were clutching her hips for dear life, probably bruising her as he drove into her again and again, but Sam didn't care because he was so fucking close.
Sam couldn't help it. He opened his eyes and looked straight at his brother. He was only vaguely aware of her tiny whimpers against his groin as he held her in place, ready to flood her mouth, but he didn't miss Dean's choked cry as he gave one last harsh thrust into her and froze.
"Oh, fuck, Dean..." and then Sam shouted, thrusting deep as he came hot and bitter into her mouth, climax ripping through him.
When the room stopped spinning, Sam found himself collapsed backwards on the mattress, one arm flung over his face. Dean and the girl had crawled onto the bed at some point, and she was sandwiched between them, her back to Dean's chest and her arm flung over Sam.
Dean was staring at him.
"You know what would make my night?" she sighed into Sam's chest.
"You mean besides winning bachelorette bingo?" Dean asked her without taking his eyes off Sam.
"Yeah."
"What?" Sam asked her.
"Watching two of the hottest guys I'd ever met in my life kiss. Icing on the fucking cake."
Sam knew Dean caught his sudden swallow, and for a moment, Dean looked uncertain. "Well Sam, we doing this?" And under that uncertainty, Sam saw, well...
Again, he didn't think. Just stared right back at Dean and smiled.