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justinedelarge) wrote2012-10-05 04:38 pm
Sure Got a Dirty Mouth Chapter 7: Let Me
Author: ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif){kind=small}
justinedelarge
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing(s): Sam/Dean
Rating: R
Warning: Wincest (Sam is at the age of legal consent)
Word Count: 1800
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Just for fun.
Summary: Sam doesn't let Dean sleep, intending to profit from John and Bobby being out of the house.
No sooner had Dean drifted off to sleep, head nestled on Sam’s chest, when he felt Sam’s hand brush against the curve of his lower back. He stirred, reflexively pressing his hips towards his brother, his cock already filling.
Sam made a quiet, satisfied sound, brushing his mouth over Dean’s throat. Dean started to move, but Sam’s hand on his chest stilled him. “Let me.”
Dean murmured sleepy nonsense as Sam brushed his mouth along Dean’s throat, throwing his head back and letting Sam lick and kiss his skin, so softly he barely felt it—and somehow that made him feel it even more keenly, as though a heavier pressure would have just dulled the sensation.
Sam slipped free of Dean’s grasp and let Dean settle onto the mattress on his stomach. Sam straddled his lower back, ghosting his fingertips over Dean’s skin, again barely touching, and again, somehow, the sensation was more intense for it.
Dean wasn’t used to this. Not to any part of it. Obviously, he wasn’t used to the sleeping with his brother part, but frankly, he found many social rules to be ridiculous under close inspection, and he and Sam didn’t live inside society anyway. So the general “ooh, incest is icky” thing? Not such a problem inside Dean’s head.
Guys, generally speaking, weren’t his thing. Just Sam. Somehow, Sam was outside all the rules and guidelines. He had barely begun to get to know and touch and learn his brother’s body, and already, it was all he wanted.
He wasn’t used to getting what he wanted. That was a big one. But Sam wanted him. After all this time of watching and wanting and wondering, it was really true. Sam wanted him. And not just wanted him. Wanted him like it was the only thing between him and dying. Wanted him like Dean wanted Sam. And wanted to give Dean everything.
But the key element in that exact moment was that Dean wasn’t used to being treated with such love and devotion. Sure, girls had fallen in “love” with Dean. Some even treated him like a movie star, gushing and fawning over him, and clearly full of adoration, but it was the kind of thing that rang false to Dean. Felt unhinged, unhealthy.
Yeah, his baby brother being in love with him should have struck him as unhealthy. But it actually wasn’t. And part of that was because Sam simply radiated purity. When Sam loved, that love was pure by definition, because it was Sam that felt it.
And here Dean was, dissolving under Sam’s touch as Sam—there was no other word for it—worshipped him with his touch, his gaze. Dean could feel it radiating through Sam’s fingertips, feel it soaking into his skin and sinking down to his bones. Feel how Sam touched him with such tenderness, such complete focus, such love.
Dean really wasn’t used to that.
Sam slid down a little farther, his weight positioned over Dean’s upper thighs, and trailed his fingertips along Dean’s lower back, down over the curve of his ass.
For perhaps the first time in his life, Dean gasped. Sam’s touch felt electric, sparking subtle sensations in his skin he’d never felt before.
He brushed his fingertips in slow circles, slipping down the outside into the indentations at the side of each hip, then back up.
Dean arched his back, skin coming alive under Sam’s touch.
Sam moved lower, brushing his fingertips down the back of Dean’s thighs. Dean made a soft, hushed sound he would never admit to in the light of day. Because Dean Winchester didn’t make soft, hushed sounds of pleasure.
Except when he did.
Sam moved between Dean’s knees and gently pressed them apart, laying down between them. He used his mouth in the same soft, barely-there pressure, ghosting his parted lips over the curve of Dean’s lower back, lower, brushing over the curve of his ass, exhaling warm and moist air over his skin.
Dean bit his lip. “Oh god.” He wasn’t going to… oh god, please, let him be about to…
Sam extended the tip of his tongue, licking Dean’s skin so, so softly, moving along his flank, down to the juncture where his ass met his upper thigh, tonguing that line so delicately.
“Sam, “ Dean whispered.
Sam dropped his hands to the backs of Dean’s thighs, gently pressed them outward. Asking.
Dean spread his legs for Sam. Saying yes.
Sam’s tongue brushed against the cleft in Dean’s ass, just on the topmost curve. Then again, pushing a little deeper. Closer.
Dean groaned, arching his back, canting his ass up, and spread his thighs wider, opening himself to Sam.
Sam kittenlicked between Dean’s ass cheeks, the tip slipping between them, barely touching where Dean now desperately wanted to feel Sam’s tongue.
Suddenly, Dean felt shy. All his dirty talk dried up. His sweet little brother was about to rim his ass, and he didn’t have words for that.
Sam’s tongue lapped tentatively, as though he was nervous it might be not so nice. A soft sigh, and another swipe of the tongue, more firmly this time.
Dean groaned, balling his fists in the sheets. An answering moan from Sam, as he began lapping at Dean’s tight little hole, licking him again and again.
“Jesus Christ mother of god holy shit, Sam.” Dean found words again. Not delicate words but it was not the time for eloquence.
Sam chuckled, and Dean squirmed because it tickled. “Am I doing it right?”
Dean blew out a sharp puff of air. “Guh.” He laughed. “Yeah. Fuck yeah, you’re doing it right.”
Another lap of Sam’s tongue, then a swirl around the rim, and a long, slow lick all the way up the center again. Goddamn, that kid was going to be a ninja master of sex without much practice at all, Dean thought.
Sam pulled off slightly, blew a puff of breath over the wet flesh. Dean shivered. “More?”
By way of answer, Dean got up on his hands and knees and offered his ass to Sam.
Sam accepted. Greedily. Apparently, Sammy loved licking Dean’s ass as much as Dean loved licking Sam’s. For such a sweet, virginal kid, Sam was shockingly forthright when it came to sex. Once he was shown the ropes, he wasn’t restrained by inhibition or shyness.
By the way he moaned and licked and sucked with total abandon, Sam genuinely loved his tongue in Dean’s ass.
By the way he groaned and gasped and writhed with total abandon, Dean loved Sam’s tongue in his ass every bit as much.
“Christ, Sammy. Not gonna last…”
Sam gnawed on Dean’s right ass cheek. “Told you. Wanna make you come a bunch of times tonight.” And he lapped up into Dean’s ass, making Dean soften, open up, let him in, pushing past the outer sphincter, shivering when he got his first taste of the sweet, silky soft skin just inside.
At that feel of Sam’s clever, probing tongue entering him, Dean cried out, collapsing down on one arm, right hand going to his cock as he began coming untouched, fisting his cock hard and fast, orgasm rapidly building into holy-shit-this-is-too-much territory, voice breaking, uttering a half-chant, half-sob, “Sam. Fuck. Oh god. Sam.”
Sam grabbed Dean’s ass cheeks with both hands and fucked Dean with his tongue, driving in as deep as he could, licking inside him, going even deeper, and Dean, for the first time in his life, screamed Sam's name.
It took him a few minutes to regain control of his body, shaking and gasping for air. Then he dropped flat on the bed and rolled over, pulling Sam down so he straddled Dean, holding his hair, kissing him slow and deep, then licking at Sam’s lips, teaching Sam there was nothing they could do together that was dirty or gross. When Dean did that, Sam began to tremble violently, making helpless little panting sounds into his mouth.
“You like that too? Me licking the taste of my ass out of your mouth? Christ, Sammy, you’re fucking perfect. Perfect.” Sam’s hips bucked uncontrollably, fucking the air, desperate for Dean, desperate to come. “My sweet baby boy.” Sam shuddered. So close to breaking. To coming on nothing… just desire and the sound of Dean’s voice.
Dean decided he loved this idea beyond measure, and wanted to try it out—later. “Wanna come for me so bad, don’t you.”
Sam groaned and gyrated his hips, not lowering down to press his cock against Dean, instinctively knowing that Dean wanted him to ask permission. Liked the game of it. Liked making him say please. Liked it being absolutely clear that Sam wanted this.
“Please. Let me.”
Dean placed his come-slick hand on Sam’s cock and began jacking him off. When Sam realized what was making Dean’s hand so slippery, realizing it was Dean’s come all over his cock, he made a surprised cry and spasmed, coming so hard and fast he was sobbing by the end, Dean staring up at him in wonder, whispering, “So good. So good. So good.”
Sam collapsed into Dean’s arms, crying. After a few moments, he sniffled and said, “Sorry. Dunno why I’m like this.”
Dean brushed Sam’s hair out of his eyes. “Hush. Don’t you ever apologize for that. Not ever. It’s awesome.”
Sam looked up at Dean through wet eyelashes. “You don’t think I’m being a baby?”
“Are you kidding? Hell no. You’re… dude. You just came so hard for me it made you cry. That’s… you don’t even get it, how awesome that is.” Dean’s face was lit up like Christmas morning. And in a way, it was. If Santa was a kinky, pervy, benevolent pagan god.
Sam shoved the back of his hand across his eyes. “It’s… it’s a good thing?”
Dean brushed his hand along Sam’s cheek. “It’s the best.” He took Sam’s mouth in his and kissed him soft and sweet. “You. Are the best.”
And it was like this, laced in each other’s arms, that Sam and Dean fell asleep. And did not hear the sound of Bobby’s truck pull up to the house. And did not hear the sound of John and Bobby’s footsteps up the stairs, moving past their closed door and into their separate bedrooms at the end of the hall.
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