![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
justinedelarge) wrote2013-12-06 12:05 am
Sure Got a Dirty Mouth Chapter 88: 48 Hours (Part 1)
Author:
justinedelargeFandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: R
Warning: Wincest
Word Count:3400
Disclaimer: I don't own what I don't own. But I do own what I do own, such as my original characters and my plot.
Summary: Sam begins the 48 hours of being completely naked and at Dean’s mercy—and Dean being at his.
Warning: Come play
Master post of all chapters here
Sam flipped the grilled cheese sandwiches over. "What do you want to drink?" The front of his body from chest to mid-thighs was covered in the simple black apron that had been hanging on a hook in the kitchen, but the rest of him was completely naked.
"We got any soda left?" Dean cranked the heat up to 75. He didn't want Sam to get cold, and since he was still naked, he was also thinking of his own comfort.
Sam bent over to look in the refrigerator.
"Ginger ale…a couple cans of Seven-Up…I think most of the soda's still in the cabinets." He bent over to get a better look.
Dean shook his head, a broad smile on his face, staring at Sam's bare ass. "You sure? Maybe there's a can of Pepsi in the back."
Sam bent over even more, hunting around on the very back of the shelves. "I don't see anything. Sorry."
Dean's mouth twitched. "Keep looking."
Sam looked harder. Dean stared in wonder at the curve of Sam's ass and his strong thighs. Sam muttered something and got on his hands and knees to look deep into the bottom of the refrigerator, ass sticking up. Dean bit his lip. Sam leaned in to grab something. "Found one!" He craned his head around, holding up the last can of cold Pepsi in triumph.
Dean was already in the kitchen, had already snicked the knob to off and moved the frying pan off the still-warm burner. Before Sam knew what hit him, Dean was kneeling behind him, his hands on his hips, his teeth biting gently into the soft pale flesh of his ass. "Jesus Christ, Sammy," Dean breathed. "You should see yourself."
"Dean," Sam protested, looking up at the pan in which the grilled cheese sandwiches were almost ready. "You're hungry."
"Damn right, I am." The corner of Dean's mouth twitched. He grabbed Sam's ass with both hands and licked a stripe right up the center.
Sam squealed, and nearly dropped the can of Pepsi. Dean laughed softly and took it from him. "Don't want to shake that up, now." He licked Sam's hole again, still wet from their previous activities.
"Dean." Sam's voice was hushed, a faint shiver of shock in it. "I'm… I haven't cleaned up yet."
Dean ran the cold can of Pepsi down the back of Sam's thigh, eliciting a gasp. "I know."
"But Dean..." Sam trembled, unsure. "You…you came in me."
"I know." Dean lapped at Sam again, a long, lingering swipe of his tongue. "I can taste it."
With that, Sam was squirming, practically mewling, pushing back into Dean, his hands pressed against the inside of the refrigerator, his soft cock surging back to life. Dean swore, setting the can down, and gripped Sam's ass cheeks, pulling them apart, dipping his tongue inside. He moaned at the taste, and Sam went fucking nuts.
"Oh god. Oh Jesus."
"Gonna lick you clean, baby boy."
Sam moaned, the sound spilling out of him like a gurgling river breaching a dam. He spread his legs wider, raising his ass up higher. His cock twitched and began to fill. Dean swore again, the blood surging in him. Suddenly, he could barely see, barely think. All he could do was ride the current that had swept over him, and lick the taste of himself out of his Sammy's sweet little ass. He grabbed hold of Sam's ass, digging his fingers in, and devoured Sam's hole, pushing his way in with a groan. Sam convulsed, muscles tightening. A tiny trickle of pearly-white fluid emerged. Dean sealed his mouth over Sam's hole and sucked.
"Fuck. Fuck. Dean." Sam was practically sobbing. Dean swayed, dizzy with the indescribable sensation of it, the rush from doing something so profoundly taboo, something so pure and beautiful because it was with Sam.
It was with Sam.
"Come on, sweetheart. Give me more." Dean stabbed his tongue inside Sam, curling it and lapping out another droplet of his own come, his own seed that he'd just pumped inside his (baby brother soul mate love of his life) Sammy.
Sam's whole body shook with tremors. He whispered, "Are you sure?"
Dean gripped Sam's hips hard. "Fucking give me more."
Sam pushed down. A gleaming white pearl of come emerged at the center of his pink little hole. And Dean, completely devoid of shame, curled his tongue and licked it up. The blood roared in his head, the sound of his own heart beating hard and fast, completely and utterly high from it. There was nothing he wouldn't do for Sam. Nothing he didn't want to do with Sam. Nothing Sam wouldn't let him do.
Not a single thing.
Dean made a guttural sound, sucking hard, eating Sam out, groaning as he licked out every droplet Sam gave him until there was only a faint mineral tang and the subtle, clean taste of Sam himself. Sam's cock was fully hard, a clear thread of precome dangling from the slit. Dean reached up and grabbed the cream cheese from the open refrigerator door, yanked the foil apart and dug his fingers in. He pulled Sam around so his back was against the open door, and smeared cream cheese down his chest and over his cock.
Sam panted, his cheeks flushed red. Dean grinned at him, the corner of his mouth going up, then brought his mouth down, smearing his mouth over the cream cheese, licking it from his collarbone, off his right nipple, then drove his mouth down on Sam's. Sam moaned into his mouth, licking the cream cheese off his lips. Dean wrapped his other hand in Sam's hair and held his head still, kissing and licking into his mouth as he rubbed the flat of his hand over the underside of Sam's cock. Sam whimpered, pushing his hips up. He didn't even have to ask.
Dean sank his mouth down on Sam's cock, hollowing his mouth and sucking hard, pulling the cream cheese from his flesh. Sam's head fell back. Dean licked Sam clean, drunk from the sounds Sam was making. He reached into the refrigerator again, pulled out the strawberry jam.
Sam bit his lip, eyeing the jar. Dean stuck his fingers inside and pulled them out, red and sticky, and painted his lips with them.
Sam panted, just looking at them, at Dean's green eyes watching him, at the red smear on Dean's perfect pink lips. Then Dean leaned in and kissed him, letting Sam lick the taste of strawberry from his mouth. He dipped his fingers in again and brought them to Sam's lips. Sam's eyes fluttered shut and he lowered his mouth, took Dean's fingers inside, and sucked at the jam, licking between Dean's fingers.
Dean gasped, a shudder of unexpected pleasure moving through him. Sam noticed, took hold of Dean's wrist, and sucked on his fingers again, lapping between them. Dean shuddered, running his left hand through his hair. Sam teased and licked at the sensitive bit of flesh he'd discovered, eyes locked onto Dean's.
"Fucking hell."
Suddenly, Sam was laughing, a clear, happy sound that rang through the air like a bell. He reached behind him, scrabbled for something, pulled out a jar.
"Mayo?"
Sam's hand was in the jar, scooping out a thick dollop of mayonnaise, and he smeared it across Dean's bare chest. Dean found himself on his back, still holding the jar of strawberry jam, Sam straddling him, licking the mayonnaise from his skin. He reached up, pulled Sam down, kissed him, making a little face at the combination of strawberry jam and mayonnaise, smearing their chests together. Sam giggled, scooped up more mayonnaise, slathering Dean's belly with it, then leaned in and rubbed against him, skin slick and slippery.
"Sam." Dean's voice dropped lower, a sudden need in his eyes. Sam got the idea. He reached in the jar a third time and withdrew his fingers, slathered his cock with it and then Dean's. He sat up, positioned his cock on top of Dean's, took hold of both in his hand, and began to pump them slowly, pushing his hips forward to slide his cock along Dean's.
Dean's head fell back against the kitchen floor with a thump. "Oh god." Sam grinned down at him, rubbing their cocks together, balls warm and heavy against each other. Dean's eyelids fluttered shut. "Oh god."
Sam slid his cock against Dean's, mouth open, watching the pleasure animate Dean's features, softening them, eyes gone wide and dreamy. He caressed their cocks together, rubbing his hand over both of them, the sensitive undersides sliding against each other.
Dean raised his head, his own cheeks stained pink now, mouth open. "Sam."
Sam wrapped both hands around their cocks, holding them in place, and pumped his hips, sliding his cock on top of Dean's, squeezing them together at the head.
Dean's thighs began to shake, the keen pleasure of it, the surprising intimacy of it, beginning to tip him over. The tip of Sam's tongue stuck out between his lips as he stared down at Dean in wonder, barely holding it together. "Are you gonna?" he whispered.
"Shit. Yes. Fuck yes." Dean was rapt, looking at their cocks, the heads engorged and red, one on top of the other, looking straight down in the slits as they opened and shut with Sam's movements. Suddenly Sam groaned, head falling forward, chanting Dean's name, his body shaking. Dean watched as a jet of come emerged from the slit in Sam's cock, and another pulse, falling in a perfect stripe down the center of his own slit, warm and wet, his own cock opening up and pulsing out his own release in response, spilling onto his belly where it mingled with Sam's.
Sam moved his hand on them both, coaxing out the aftershocks, shivering and making those little cries of pleasure and joy that sounded almost like laughter.
"Fucking hell, Sam."
"Yeah." Sam caught his breath.
"God, we're a mess." He moved to sit up and reach for a hand towel. Sam placed his hand on Dean's chest and held him down.
"You cleaned me up."
Dean's mouth fell open, not believing what Sam was about to say.
"My turn."
And Sam slipped down between Dean's parted thighs, and drew his tongue in a long, slow swipe up Dean's belly. And true to his word, he cleaned Dean up and didn't leave a single drop.
They showered, washing the condiments off their skin, laughing and stroking each other with easy grace. Sam did not register much discomfort at all so long as the spray wasn't directly on his face or neck. Dean would have mentioned it, praised Sam for being so much better, but he promised. 48 hours of not thinking of any of the myriad things that weighed on Sam.
On both of them.
So he soaped up Sam's hair and scratched his fingernails lightly over Sam's scalp, and just loved him.
After toweling themselves off, Dean insisted on sitting Sam down on the toilet seat lid and blow-drying his hair. "Gonna keep you naked. Don't want you catching cold from wet hair." Sam closed his eyes and let Dean dry his hair, little shivers of pleasure rattling him as the warm air moved over his scalp, Dean lifting his hair up with his hands, moving the pads of his fingers over Sam's scalp, massaging it, blowing the warm air down his back and over his chest sometimes. Just because.
Then he brought Sam into the living room. "You warm enough, Sam?"
Sam nodded. The heat was quite efficient, and the apartment was perfectly comfortable even for someone not wearing a stitch of clothing.
"I'll heat up the sandwiches in a minute." He put on another tape of Twin Peaks, and made a point of getting dressed. When he came out of the bedroom in his dark grey sweats, blue t-shirt and grey flannel, sat on the couch, and had Sam sit cross-legged on the floor in front of him totally naked, Sam couldn't repress a shiver.
"I like you like this, Sammy." He put his hand on Sam's chest, the flannel of his shirt gentle against Sam's bare shoulder.
Sam made a soft sound.
Dean took the hairbrush and began to brush Sam's hair. He brushed it for a long time, Sam's eyes barely focused on the TV. Then he put the brush down and began working his fingers in Sam's hair.
Sam moaned softly.
"S that feel good, Sammy?"
"Yeah."
Sam closed his eyes and let Dean do whatever it was he was doing. After a long time, he opened his eyes. "Are you braiding my hair?"
"Yep."
"…why?"
"Because it feels good."
Sam was quiet.
"Right?"
"Yeah."
Dean braided Sam's hair, multiple little braids all over, then undid them, brushed his hair again slowly, letting the bristles scrape gently against his scalp, and then did it all again.
He put Sam on the couch and reheated their grilled cheese sandwiches, bringing them out on a single plate along with a can of ginger ale for Sam, and the can of Pepsi for him.
They ate slowly, and licked the butter off each other's fingers. Then Dean pulled Sam up onto the couch with him and pulled the throw over both of them. They drifted in and out of sleep, as Twin Peaks played, and then Dean turned off everything, and led Sam down the hall to the bedroom, without even stopping to brush their teeth.
Sam collapsed into bed, sleepy and high from endorphins. He was asleep 60 seconds after his head hit the pillow. Dean snuggled up against him and he too fell asleep.
Sam woke up a few hours later to a warm rush of pleasure suffusing him. He shook his head, consciousness rising to the surface, and gasped as the source of that pleasure became clear to him.
Dean was inside him.
His thick cock speared him, filled him, possessed him, hard and warm inside him. Dean rocked his hips slowly, so slowly, moving in and out a fraction of an inch. When he heard Sam gasp, felt him erupt in a full body shiver and arch his back, pressing into Dean more deeply, he murmured something unintelligible and put his hand on Sam's throat. Softly. Not a grip of ownership, but a tender, light touch on Sam's most vulnerable spot.
Sam shook, sweat erupting on his brow, nerves firing haphazardly at being woken up by Dean fucking him deep and slow, just like he'd told him he could do. The sounds he made were needy and primal, little cries and whimpers, wordlessly telling Dean it felt so, so good, telling Dean how much he loved it, how bad he needed it, how nothing felt this good. The movements he made were hungry and wanton, showing Dean how his body just opened to him like it was born for this purpose, showing Dean how hard his cock was for him, how aching and ready he was to come for him, again and forever.
"Shh, baby." Dean stroked Sam's chest. "I just want to be inside you a little longer." He fluttered his fingertips over Sam's skin, rocking inside him, sliding in and out just an inch at a time. He did this for a long time, until Sam was shaking, whispering how he needed more, please, throwing his top leg over Dean's thigh and spreading himself wide, taking Dean's hand and putting it on his achingly hard cock, so engorged it would have looked nearly purple in the light.
Dean chuckled and kissed the back of his neck. "Poor baby. God, you're so hard."
Sam whimpered.
"You want me to fuck you harder?" Dean whispered.
Sam nodded frantically.
"You want me to make you come?"
"Yeah."
"Soon, baby boy."
Dean slid in and out the entire length of his cock, holding it at the end so the head stretched out Sam's rim until Sam was quivering, then sliding back in, nice and slow. He cupped Sam's balls in his hand as he did this. Slowly in until he bottomed out, nibbling on Sam's neck and back, then slowly, so slowly back out, rolling his balls in his fingers.
Slowly, in and out, until Sam was shaking.
Slowly, in and out, until Sam was begging.
Slowly, in and out, until Sam swore, pushed Dean onto his back and climbed on top of him.
Dean began to laugh, a low, sweet sound. "I've been waiting for that."
Sam's eyebrows went up. "Oh yeah?" He rose up and sank down, rolling his hips, running his hands over his chest. And again, until Dean's legs were trembling. "Jesus, Sammy, yes, gonna make me come."
And Sam slowed way down and whispered, "Not yet."
He did this for the next fifteen minutes, teasing Dean like he'd teased Sam, bringing him to the edge and then stopping, until Dean was begging for it just like Sam had been.
"Come on, Sammy."
"Not yet." A roll of the hips, a suckling of Dean's fingers in his mouth while he batted his eyelashes and clenched his inner muscles.
"Fuck. Sam. I'm dying here."
"Not yet." A long slow rise and fall with an achingly needy groan, thighs splayed wide open, spearing himself on Dean's cock.
"Jesus fucking Christ, Sammy, let me come. Please."
"I wonder how long you can take it, Dean."
Cursing. Then bargaining. Followed by a heartfelt plea. Dean wrapped his arms around Sam, breath warm on Sam's neck and whispered, "Sammy. I love you. I love you so much. Please."
Sam let out a huge sigh. He leaned down and took Dean's mouth in his, feeling how eagerly it opened for him, then rose up and drove down on Dean's cock, harder and faster, leaning in so his belly was pressed tight against Dean's, mouth on his throat, harder and faster until he hit the pace that Dean loved, deep groans of satisfaction roaring out of him, rising into guttural cries, and a throaty growl as his orgasm finally began to get its teeth into him. "Yeah. Sammy. Fucking ride me."
Sam cried out, and did as he was told. He slammed himself down, grabbing onto Dean's shoulders, thighs stretched as wide as they could go, knees sliding over the sheets, his back undulating as he fucked himself on Dean's cock, angling himself so it scraped against that special patch of flesh inside him even harder, little cries punched out of him. Dean reached for his cock and Sam lightly slapped his hand away. "Don't need it," he gasped. Dean bit his lip and arched up, hips stuttering upward. "Fuck. Sam. Yeah. Jesus, Sammy. Come on my cock. Come on my fucking cock like a good boy."
Sam cried out, a sharp, surprised sound, frantically riding Dean's cock, coming untouched, spattering Dean's chest and face, his cries escalating in pitch as Dean grabbed onto his back and pulled him down on his cock even deeper, coming inside him with a series of cries, each pulse throbbing against Sam's tight rim, spilling into Sam, fucking up into him, the thrusts suddenly slick and wet, Sam wailing as he came, Dean pulling Sam down and kissing him, sealing his lips over him so Sam screamed out the last of his orgasm into Dean's mouth.
They shook and settled and cooled, wrapped up in each other, stroking each other's back, murmuring forevers into their flesh. "I can't get enough of you," Dean whispered, stroking Sam's hair.
"Good." Sam pulled himself off reluctantly and fell over onto his side, curling up in Dean's arms. They lay in perfect repose, breathing as one. Sam finally spoke, tongue thick with sleep. "Want you to do that."
"Do what, sweetheart."
"What I just did."
Dean blew out a breath. "You want me to ride you like that?"
"Mmm." Sam murmured.
"Jesus fucking Christ."
"'S that a yes?" Sam kissed Dean's chest.
"Fuck yes." Dean closed his eyes. "Fuck yes." He began playing with Sam's hair. "I'll do anything, Sam. Anything you want."
"Ride me like that." Sam was nearly asleep.
"Tomorrow, baby."
"Promise?"
"Shh. Go to sleep. I promise."
Sam made a happy sound and promptly fell asleep. And Dean, as always, was not far behind.
no subject
no subject
Love the way you write wincest, always so sweet and gorgeous! Needed this after this week's episode.
THANK YOU!
♥
no subject
no subject
no subject
So glad you liked it.
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject