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justinedelargeTitle: Sure Got a Dirty Mouth Chapter 90: 48 Hours (Part 3)
Author:
justinedelarge
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: R
Word Count: 4067
Summary: The 48 hours of Sam naked at Dean’s mercy continues. As Dean promised, this time, he bottoms. Sam has a vision.
Warning: Wincest
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.
Dean awoke, tangled in the blankets, disoriented. “What time is it?”
Sam rubbed his eyes with his fists and glanced at the nightstand. “Noon.”
Dean eyed Sam with a wicked grin. “24 hours down. 24 to go.”
Sam, already instinctively reaching for his sweatpants, pulled back, a faint flush of color suffusing his cheeks. Dean snatched the blankets off and propped himself up on his elbow, staring at Sam unabashedly. “Naked. All day. All night.”
Sam’s blush deepened. “Dean.”
Dean pursed his lips. “So cute. Everything we’ve done, you’re still shy.” He trailed his finger down Sam’s chest.
Sam batted his hand away softly. “Am not.”
Dean patted Sam’s face. “You’re blushing.”
“I can’t help it. It’s physiological.”
“I know something else that’s physiological.” Dean grinned.
“Dude. I gotta pee.”
Dean fell back into bed. “Fine.”
“And shower.”
“Sure.”
Dean let Sam use the bathroom, knowing how he liked to urinate in privacy, and then staggered into the bathroom. “Mind if I just…”
Sam shrugged, turning on the shower to let the water get warm.
“You wanna hold it for me?”
Sam snorted. “Maybe I should. Make sure you don’t piss on the seat.”
“Dude.” Dean frowned. “I never.”
Sam rolled his eyes. But he came to Dean and stood behind him, holding his soft penis in his wet hands, leaning down to rest his chin on Dean’s shoulder.
Dean tipped his head back, closing his eyes, and let loose.
“See? You hold it steady.”
“I hold it fucking steady.” Dean grumbled. “And I shake it off.”
“Hah!”
Dean opened his eyes. “What?”
Sam reached over and pulled a single square of paper off the roll, then rolled it between the fingers of his left hand and dabbed carefully at Dean’s slit. He didn’t say a word. Just dropped the tissue into the bowl, waggled Dean’s perfectly dry penis a few times to make his point, and kissed Dean on the side of the neck.
Dean flushed the toilet, noticing how the seat was perfectly dry. “Huh.” He thought for a few moments, and then nodded. “Alright.”
“Now get your ass in the shower.”
“I get all tingly when you take control like that.”
Sam smacked Dean’s bare ass. “Shower. In.”
They soaped each other up slowly, simply taking pleasure in feeling each other’s bodies, the firm lines of muscle and soft skin. Sam was exquisitely careful of Dean’s cuts and bruises. They slowly washed each other’s hair, fingernails scratching the scalp lightly, rinsing each other clean. Dean lathered up his hands and brought them between Sam’s legs, sudsing up his half-hard cock. Sam made that soft, happy sound Dean loved so much. Dean slipped his hand further back, soaping up Sam’s rim, pressing into it gently. Sam winced.
“You sore, baby?” Dean murmured.
“Little bit.”
Dean’s mouth twitched. “Been fucking you too hard, sweetheart?”
Sam’s cock twitched. Dean smiled at the sight.
“No. But…”
Dean cupped his hand so the water ran between Sam’s legs, rinsing away the stinging soap. “But your ass needs a little break. Yeah?”
Sam frowned, not wanting to say yes.
“It’s ok, Sammy. Not gonna stop fucking you.” Dean’s grin was loving—and wolfish. “Never gonna stop fucking you, baby boy.”
Sam’s cock jumped again at just the sound of Dean’s voice, what he was saying, almost completely erect now. Dean soaped up Sam’s hands, then turned around, palms flat against the shower wall, and spread his legs. He glanced over his shoulder at Sam, his pink mouth parted, the tip of his tongue peeking out.
Sam blew out a breath, and brought his soap-slick hand to Dean’s ass, fingers slipping between his ass crack, cleaning him thoroughly, slipping the tip of his finger inside Dean.
Dean’s mouth twitched at the normal, slight sting of the soap just inside his entrance, but he kept his thighs spread wide open and let Sam clean him thoroughly. “Better rinse all that soap off, Sammy. You’re gonna have your tongue up there in five minutes.”
“Fuck.” Sam rested his forehead against Dean’s back, then sank to his knees and moved Dean into the full spray, holding his ass cheeks open, gently prying Dean’s hole open with his thumbs so the water rinsed away the bit of soap suds Sam had worked just past the outer rim.
“You like it when I tell you what to do.”
“Sometimes.”
Dean laughed. “I mean like this.” His voice was lower, softer.
“Yeah.” Sam stood and turned Dean to face him. “But when this whole 48 hours thing is over? I think I want to tell you what to do.”
Dean swallowed, noticing again how tall Sam had become. “Ok.” He stepped out of the shower. “But until then, your ass is mine.” He tossed Sam a clean tower. “Dry me off.”
Sam wiped the water from Dean’s upper half, then knelt on the bath mat, dripping wet, and dried Dean off completely. Dean’s cock bobbed, heavy and hard, in front of Sam’s face. Sam licked his lips.
“Not yet, baby boy. Dry yourself off.”
Sam stood and toweled off. “You like telling me what to do.”
Dean grinned, wet eyelashes framing his green eyes. “Sometimes.”
Sam met him with an equally broad smile, and dropped the wet towel on the floor. “Tell me what to do, Dean.”
Dean chewed his lower lip. “Go get the lube. Then meet me in the living room.”
Sam obeyed.
When he came into the living room, bottle of lube in his hand, he was greeted with the sight of Dean sprawled on the couch, one leg thrown over the arm, lazily running his fingers over his chest. The coffee table had been shoved to the side, leaving plenty of room for Sam in front of the couch. “On your knees.”
Sam sank down in front of Dean.
“Let’s find out how clean you got me.”
Sam pushed Dean’s other leg back, opening Dean to him, and placed a soft kiss at Dean’s entrance, exhaling warm breath over him. Then he extended his tongue and licked at him, gently, almost sweetly, trailing his fingertips over Dean’s thighs.
Dean sighed. “There you go, sweetheart.”
Sam softened under the praise, licked at Dean again, a soft moan on his lips, like Dean offering himself like that to Sam was something sacred, like tasting Dean like this was the most loving thing he could possibly do. Sam moaned again, looking up into Dean’s green eyes, lapping at Dean, praising him, worshipping him with his tongue and mouth.
Dean shivered. “God. Sam.” He breathed the words with equal reverence.
Sam knelt before his (brother lover soulmate) Dean and loved him, softened and curled his tongue to best give Dean pleasure, listened to Dean’s breathing and soft sounds to know what felt good and what felt really really good, entirely focused on Dean, only Dean, all other thoughts nothing to him, events of the past and fears of the future not even blips on the radar, just Dean.
Only Dean.
Sam knelt, worshipped, put his mouth on the most base part of Dean’s body and elevated it to the most pure. He moaned louder, prodding Dean to soften and open to him, trust him, let his clever tongue inside, let him show Dean how much he loved him, wanted him, needed him. How he would do anything for Dean, always. He showed Dean with the sounds he made, the helpless movements of his hips, his cock dripping pre-come onto the carpet, how good it felt to stroke Dean’s hole with his tongue and lips, to dip his tongue inside Dean and feel the impossibly soft pink skin that opened to him.
“Sam.” Dean’s cock pearled with pre-come, strong thighs spread wide for his brother, his everything, letting Sam in. Always, forever, letting Sam in.
Sam brought his fingers to Dean’s cock, took up the clear fluid on his fingertips and brought it to his lips. “Sweet,” he murmured.
Dean shivered, a wave of love and desire crashing over him that was almost too much to bear. “Sammy.”
“Could do this to you for hours, Dean.”
“Jesus, I…”
“Let me. Dean. Let me.” Sam knew that Dean was ready for more, but he wasn’t ready to stop. Blissed out from the sheer pleasure of what he was doing, he pleaded with Dean to let him stay.
And Dean always gave Sam whatever he wanted.
Dean ran his hand over his chest, moaning louder now. Sam pressed Dean’s thighs back, pulling his hips down right to the edge of the couch, and pressing his palms to Dean’s ass, he spread Dean open wide, lapping at him avidly, tongue broad and flat.
“Yeah, Sammy. Lick my ass.”
Sam gave a half-strangled groan, back contorting, and licked at Dean feverishly, like Dean giving name to what he was doing made it twice as good.
And Dean noticed.
“You like it, don’t you, baby boy. Getting your tongue all up in me like that.”
Sam shivered.
“Say it.” Dean’s voice fell into that low, rough honeyed gravel he only sounded like when he was with his Sam.
“I love it.” Sam rested his cheek against the soft skin of Dean’s inner thigh.”
“Say it, Sam.”
“I love licking your ass,” Sam whispered.
“Good boy.”
Sam basked in the praise. “Love it when you let me put my tongue in your ass.”
“Go on, baby. Do it. Show me how much you love it.”
Sam practically whimpered, lapping at Dean again. Suddenly Dean was moving, guiding Sam to sit with his back against the couch, head tipped back, neck supported by the cushion. Dean moved over him, both feet on the couch, holding on to the back of the couch, and crouched over Sam, animalistic, almost feral in his intensity. He lowered himself to Sam’s mouth. “Come on, Sammy. Fucking eat my ass.”
Sam shivered at the sweet profanity flowing from Dean’s mouth, that dirty talk that got Sam more wound up than almost anything Dean could do. He opened his mouth and extended his tongue and did what Dean said.
Dean growled low in his throat, rubbing his ass against Sam’s mouth. “Yeah. So good, baby boy. So good at that. I should. I should make you do that for hours.”
Sam erupted in a full-body shiver, stabbing his tongue inside Dean.
“Get one of those special chairs. Like we saw.”
Sam knew immediately what Dean was referring to. The chair they saw in that porno, with the hole in the bottom, so the man sitting in it could rest comfortably while the man stretched out below had complete access to his ass. Sam moaned at the thought.
“Just kick back with a six-pack and some popcorn, pop in a movie, and make you eat my ass for the whole damn thing.”
Sam grabbed at Dean’s hips, gripping them hard. “Oh Jesus.”
“That’s what you want, Sammy?”
“Yeah. Yeah.” Sam was almost in tears.
“I fucking love you so much.”
“Will you… will you really…”
Dean reached down and gripped Sam’s hair. “Swear to god.”
“You promise.”
“Damn straight I promise.” Dean panted. “Now stick out your tongue.”
Sam complied.
“All the way. Far as you can.”
Sam stuck it out a little farther.
Dean held Sam’s head and sank down on Sam’s tongue, the tip penetrating him. “That’s right, sweetheart. Fuck me with your tongue.”
Sam make his tongue harder, stabbed it into Dean as far as he possibly could. Dean practically purred, the keen pleasure shivering through him at what Sam was doing as much as Sam’s complete surrender to him. “Gotta get me all ready. Gonna be your dick in there in a few minutes.”
Sam made a sound that was half-laugh, half-plea.
Dean held onto the back of the couch with one hand and stroked Sam’s hair with the other, grinding his hips, the first inch of Sam’s tongue inside his ass. “That’s right, baby boy. Gonna ride your cock.”
Sam groaned and tried valiantly to stick out his tongue even farther.
“Ride it nice and slow.” Dean slowed his movements to match his words. “Until you beg me to let you come.” He thrust forward and down, then up and back, a small movement, Sam shivering beneath him, then pulled off. “Lick.” Sam lapped at his ass again, broad flat strokes that made Dean groan. Finally, he shifted his position, brought his balls, heavy and full, to Sam’s mouth. “Lick.”
Sam gasped, aching with need, and licked and suckled at Dean’s balls.
“So good at that, Sammy. So fucking good.” Dean had to pull off, clutching the base of his cock, so as not to come too soon. Sam dropped his head to his chest, panting. Dean grinned, leaned down and seized Sam’s mouth in a kiss, licking at his lips, inside his mouth hungrily. Sam gripped Dean’s shoulders, his thighs spread wide, his untouched cock hard and desperate.
“You’re not gonna come too soon, right, baby boy?”
“No,” Sam gasped.
“Gonna stay nice and hard for me so I can ride that cock of yours as long as I want?”
“Yes. Yes.”
Dean walked to the little kitchen table, and came back dragging one of the chairs. “Sit down.”
Sam got to his feet and sat down on the chair. Dean tossed him the bottle of lube, then straddled Sam and sat on his lap. “Get me nice and wet,” he whispered, mouth warm against Sam’s neck.
“Fuck.” Sam’s hands shook as he coated them with lube, worked a finger inside Dean, withdrawing it and anointing it again until it was dripping, then slipping it inside him again.
“Now you,” Dean instructed. Sam coated his cock with lube. Dean shifted, positioning himself right over Sam. “Hold it.”
Sam wrapped his fingers around the base of his cock, holding it at the right angle.“Don’t you want—“
“Gonna open myself up on your cock.”
“Fuck.” Sam repeated. “Oh fuck.”
“That fucking beautiful cock of yours.” Dean sank down, muscles in his thighs standing out taut, taking just the tip of Sam’s cock inside him, so soft and open from Sam’s tongue.
Sam shuddered. Dean worked himself down, rising and falling, taking a little more each time, until the fat head of Sam’s cock breached the second ring. “Jesus fucking Christ, Sammy…”
“Easy, Dean.”
“You’re so.. fucking hell… Sam.” Dean bit his lip and deliberately sank down, taking Sam to the base in one long push.
“Oh god. Oh god. Dean, I—“
“Don’t come, baby. Shh. Don’t come.” Dean held still, stroking Sam’s hair, kissing his forehead, his lips. Sam panted and fought for control. “S my fault, Sammy.”
Sam looked up at Dean in surprise.
“Should have been doing it like this more.” Dean stroked Sam’s shoulders. “I was selfish.”
Sam trembled, right on the verge of coming still, trying so hard not to.
Dean kept talking, not moving at all, stretched wide open on Sam’s cock. “Just…it feels so good to be inside you, Sam. I love it. So much.”
Sam bit his lip, concentrating on his breathing, trembling hands pressed against Dean’s back.
“But this… Jesus, Sam.” Sweat sheened Dean’s chest. “You. Inside me.”
Sam looked up again, eyes hopeful.
“Fucking amazing.”
“Yeah?”
Dean nodded, bent down and kissed Sam soft and sweet.
“We could…” Sam swallowed. “Do it like this more?”
Dean wrapped his arms around Sam, kissed his neck, moved ever so slightly. “You feel so good, Sam. So fucking good, I can’t even…” Dean ground his hips in a circle.
Sam gave a strangled cry. “Not gonna last. I’m sorry…”
“It’s ok.” Dean kissed Sam’s forehead. “Just let me—Jesus, you feel good. Just let me, ok? You come when you want.”
“I’ll try not to,” Sam gasped.
Dean pressed his mouth to Sam’s, urging Sam to give him his tongue, and took it into his mouth as he rose on Sam’s cock and sank down slowly, drinking down Sam’s cry of pleasure. Sam’s skin was slick with sweat, hands gripping Dean’s shoulders where he wasn’t bruised or cut, his face contorted with pleasure.
Dean rose and fell again on Sam’s cock. “Feels so good.” Sam shuddered, but somehow maintained control. Dean fucked himself slowly, whispering words of pleasure and praise into Sam’s ear. Sam made a constant stream of moans, low aching sounds of pleasure so keen Dean didn’t know how Sam was holding off the orgasm that was surely seconds away.
But Sam didn’t come.
Dean rode Sam’s cock, slow and sweet, licking the sweat from Sam’s neck, whispering sweet filthy talk in his ear: “…feel so good inside me, so fucking big, how’d you get so fucking big, filling me up so good, fuck, why weren’t we doing this more, Sammy, Sam, Sam, you’re inside me, oh god…”
Sam whimpered.
“You can come, sweetheart, it’s ok, you can finish me off with your hand, fuck, with your mouth, it’s ok…”
“You said,” Sam choked out. “Stay hard for you. So you can ride me as long as you want.”
Dean’s jaw fell open, astonished at the grit he heard in Sam’s voice, the sheer determination. “I didn’t think you’d—“
Sam’s eyes flashed open, bright with determination. “Come on, Dean. Ride my cock. As long as you want. I won’t come until you come.” He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then another, turning inward, tapping into something from deep inside him. He opened his eyes again, sunflower gold and green, pupils blown wide. “I won’t come until you come.” His voice was calm, assured.
Dean locked his fingers together behind Sam’s neck, and began to ride Sam’s cock again, faster this time, little grunts punched out of him, his cock bobbing between their bellies. Sam’s eyes were bright, watching Dean’s face, seeing the pleasure spilling over it. Dean slowed again, grinding on Sam in little circles, rubbing his hands over his chest, wanton, wild.
“So beautiful…” Sam whispered, not even aware he was speaking out loud.
Dean kept up his slow grind for several minutes before he picked up the pace again, harder and faster, impaling himself on Sam’s cock, hair damp from perspiration sticking to his neck and forehead, grunting louder. Sam gleamed with sweat, jaw muscles working, tendons in his neck standing out strong. Dean fucked himself on Sam’s cock hard and fast, like it was an athletic event. Sam’s hands gripped the firm muscles of his ass, nearly incoherent with the pleasure of it, but not coming. Dean slowed again. Sam groaned, pressing his forehead to Dean’s.
“Come on, Sam. Say it. I want you to say it.”
Sam shot Dean a knowing look. “You need me to say it.”
Dean blew out a breath. “Yeah. I need it.”
Sam’s mouth curled into a smile. “Dean…please.”
Dean devoured Sam’s mouth, biting gently at his lips, sucking on his tongue, and rode Sam’s cock hard, slamming himself down. He reached his still-slick hand between them and wrapped his fingers around his cock. Sam gave a cry, knowing his own release was finally at hand. “Fuck. Sammy, Sammy, Jesus, Sam…” Dean worked his cock, a surprisingly gentle movement for how hard he was driving himself down on Sam. “Ah… come for me, Sammy, come inside me…” The first droplets of Dean’s ejaculate hit Sam on the jaw, and Sam was seizing, shaking, hips stuttering, gripping Dean’s thighs hard, crying out again and again, cries rising in pitch until he threw his head back, unable to make any sound at all, his orgasm sucking his ability to make a sound, to even breathe. His eyes rolled back in his head, eyelashes fluttering furiously.
Dean stroked his cock, shaking just as hard, language stripped from him, only able to make low guttural grunts as he came, wet and messy, came more than he’d come in weeks, all over his fist, his belly and chest, all over Sam, twitching beneath him.
“Jesus, Sam…” Dean breathed.
Sam still twitched, eyelashes fluttering.
“Sam?” Dean pulled off him. Sam’s eyes were still rolled back in his head. Dean dropped to his knees at Sam’s side. “Sam!”
Sam slipped from this world to somewhere else, propelled by the power he’d tapped into when he turned inward to find what he needed to stave off his orgasm. Flashed elsewhere. Flashed to
John Winchester, slumped over the steering wheel in the driveway of a yellow house with a huge lawn. His head rested on his crossed wrists, tears running down his forearms inside his jacket. He held a photo between his right thumb and forefinger. Three figures sprawled on a rag rug. Two young boys on their father’s chest, looking up at him and laughing as he looked down, such love and pride and delight on his face.
“Dad?” A young boy walked out of the house into the driveway. “What are you doing?”
He had his father’s eyes.
John Winchester roused himself and quickly hid the photo inside a folded map, tucking it away in the glove box. He wiped his face quickly, got out of the car and ruffled the boy’s hair. “Hey, kiddo.”
Sam’s head snapped back, body jerking hard, recoiling with such force that he fell over in his chair.
“The hell?” Dean’s face was pale. He knelt at Sam’s side, checking his head for injury.“You ok?”
Despite the pain lancing through his head (his heart) Sam reached out to Dean. “I’m ok.” He took Dean’s hand, pressed it flat to his chest and held it there with both hands, drawing reassurance and calm from Dean’s touch.
“Sam? Scaring me here a little.”
“Dad.” Sam rolled off the chair onto the carpet, still holding Dean’s hand steady against his chest.”I saw Dad. With…” He swallowed hard. Hey, kiddo. “With him.”
Dean’s face darkened. “Don’t you think about him. Sam. Don’t you do it.”
“I didn’t think about him, Dean. I saw him.”
Dean sighed. “Vision?”
Sam nodded yes.
Dean’s face contorted with anger. “No. No.” He got up on one knee, picked Sam up like he weighed nothing, and carried him to the couch. “He can’t hurt you, Sam. He can’t hurt us.” He set Sam down, sat next to him and pulled him into Dean’s arms.
“But it does hurt.” Sam fought hard not to cry. “Dean, why—“
“Shh. It’s ok. You got me.” Dean stroked Sam’s hair. “You got me.”
Sam snuggled harder as Dean pulled the throw up around them so that Sam didn’t get cold. “Pretend it was only ever you and me. And Bobby.” Dean held Sam so gently, stroked his hair. “Bobby made us turkey every year at Thanksgiving and Christmas. Came to our Little League games. Watched every one of your plays. Even went to that dorky science fair. Remember?”
Sam breathed in and out, letting Dean’s words spin a benevolent fiction, each work driving the vision he’d just had a little further away.
Dean continued. “Bobby always gave you mostly books for your birthday. And he made you carrot cake. All lopsided.”
“And you got chocolate cake. And he gave you sports stuff. But always a book too. Because he knew how smart you were.”
Now Dean had to fight hard not to cry. “Yeah.” He choked out. “Yeah, he sure did.”
“And he tucked us into bed and read us a story.”
“And told us he loved us.” Dean added.
“And that we were good boys.”
Dean sucked in a breath that sounded suspiciously like a sob, his arms tightening around Sam.”Yeah. He said we were good boys.”
Sam sniffled.
“Cry if you want to, Sam. It’s ok. It’s always ok. To do that with me.”
Sam’s chest heaved with a huge breath. “He misses us.” He fought for composure. “He was crying.”
Dean’s jaw muscles tightened. He said nothing for a long time. “Well,” he finally said, “he should.”
Sam was quiet for a long moment. “Hey Dean?”
“Yeah, Sammy?”
“I know you said 48 hours. But…” Sam sniffled again. “I want Bobby and Reggie. Can we?”
“You bet.” Dean held Sam close.”Just…stay like this? For a little while longer?”
“Yeah.”
Sam held onto Dean and Dean held onto Sam like they were each other’s life rafts in rough waters.
“Just you,” Sam whispered. “I just need you.”
Dean kissed the top of Sam’s forehead. “You’ll always have me.”
Author:
justinedelargeFandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: R
Word Count: 4067
Summary: The 48 hours of Sam naked at Dean’s mercy continues. As Dean promised, this time, he bottoms. Sam has a vision.
Warning: Wincest
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.
Note: Unrevised/edited because I did not want to make you wait one more day. I hope so very much it’s somewhat worth the wait. New chapters will come regularly now. We’re very near the end.
Master post of all chapters here
Dean awoke, tangled in the blankets, disoriented. “What time is it?”
Sam rubbed his eyes with his fists and glanced at the nightstand. “Noon.”
Dean eyed Sam with a wicked grin. “24 hours down. 24 to go.”
Sam, already instinctively reaching for his sweatpants, pulled back, a faint flush of color suffusing his cheeks. Dean snatched the blankets off and propped himself up on his elbow, staring at Sam unabashedly. “Naked. All day. All night.”
Sam’s blush deepened. “Dean.”
Dean pursed his lips. “So cute. Everything we’ve done, you’re still shy.” He trailed his finger down Sam’s chest.
Sam batted his hand away softly. “Am not.”
Dean patted Sam’s face. “You’re blushing.”
“I can’t help it. It’s physiological.”
“I know something else that’s physiological.” Dean grinned.
“Dude. I gotta pee.”
Dean fell back into bed. “Fine.”
“And shower.”
“Sure.”
Dean let Sam use the bathroom, knowing how he liked to urinate in privacy, and then staggered into the bathroom. “Mind if I just…”
Sam shrugged, turning on the shower to let the water get warm.
“You wanna hold it for me?”
Sam snorted. “Maybe I should. Make sure you don’t piss on the seat.”
“Dude.” Dean frowned. “I never.”
Sam rolled his eyes. But he came to Dean and stood behind him, holding his soft penis in his wet hands, leaning down to rest his chin on Dean’s shoulder.
Dean tipped his head back, closing his eyes, and let loose.
“See? You hold it steady.”
“I hold it fucking steady.” Dean grumbled. “And I shake it off.”
“Hah!”
Dean opened his eyes. “What?”
Sam reached over and pulled a single square of paper off the roll, then rolled it between the fingers of his left hand and dabbed carefully at Dean’s slit. He didn’t say a word. Just dropped the tissue into the bowl, waggled Dean’s perfectly dry penis a few times to make his point, and kissed Dean on the side of the neck.
Dean flushed the toilet, noticing how the seat was perfectly dry. “Huh.” He thought for a few moments, and then nodded. “Alright.”
“Now get your ass in the shower.”
“I get all tingly when you take control like that.”
Sam smacked Dean’s bare ass. “Shower. In.”
They soaped each other up slowly, simply taking pleasure in feeling each other’s bodies, the firm lines of muscle and soft skin. Sam was exquisitely careful of Dean’s cuts and bruises. They slowly washed each other’s hair, fingernails scratching the scalp lightly, rinsing each other clean. Dean lathered up his hands and brought them between Sam’s legs, sudsing up his half-hard cock. Sam made that soft, happy sound Dean loved so much. Dean slipped his hand further back, soaping up Sam’s rim, pressing into it gently. Sam winced.
“You sore, baby?” Dean murmured.
“Little bit.”
Dean’s mouth twitched. “Been fucking you too hard, sweetheart?”
Sam’s cock twitched. Dean smiled at the sight.
“No. But…”
Dean cupped his hand so the water ran between Sam’s legs, rinsing away the stinging soap. “But your ass needs a little break. Yeah?”
Sam frowned, not wanting to say yes.
“It’s ok, Sammy. Not gonna stop fucking you.” Dean’s grin was loving—and wolfish. “Never gonna stop fucking you, baby boy.”
Sam’s cock jumped again at just the sound of Dean’s voice, what he was saying, almost completely erect now. Dean soaped up Sam’s hands, then turned around, palms flat against the shower wall, and spread his legs. He glanced over his shoulder at Sam, his pink mouth parted, the tip of his tongue peeking out.
Sam blew out a breath, and brought his soap-slick hand to Dean’s ass, fingers slipping between his ass crack, cleaning him thoroughly, slipping the tip of his finger inside Dean.
Dean’s mouth twitched at the normal, slight sting of the soap just inside his entrance, but he kept his thighs spread wide open and let Sam clean him thoroughly. “Better rinse all that soap off, Sammy. You’re gonna have your tongue up there in five minutes.”
“Fuck.” Sam rested his forehead against Dean’s back, then sank to his knees and moved Dean into the full spray, holding his ass cheeks open, gently prying Dean’s hole open with his thumbs so the water rinsed away the bit of soap suds Sam had worked just past the outer rim.
“You like it when I tell you what to do.”
“Sometimes.”
Dean laughed. “I mean like this.” His voice was lower, softer.
“Yeah.” Sam stood and turned Dean to face him. “But when this whole 48 hours thing is over? I think I want to tell you what to do.”
Dean swallowed, noticing again how tall Sam had become. “Ok.” He stepped out of the shower. “But until then, your ass is mine.” He tossed Sam a clean tower. “Dry me off.”
Sam wiped the water from Dean’s upper half, then knelt on the bath mat, dripping wet, and dried Dean off completely. Dean’s cock bobbed, heavy and hard, in front of Sam’s face. Sam licked his lips.
“Not yet, baby boy. Dry yourself off.”
Sam stood and toweled off. “You like telling me what to do.”
Dean grinned, wet eyelashes framing his green eyes. “Sometimes.”
Sam met him with an equally broad smile, and dropped the wet towel on the floor. “Tell me what to do, Dean.”
Dean chewed his lower lip. “Go get the lube. Then meet me in the living room.”
Sam obeyed.
When he came into the living room, bottle of lube in his hand, he was greeted with the sight of Dean sprawled on the couch, one leg thrown over the arm, lazily running his fingers over his chest. The coffee table had been shoved to the side, leaving plenty of room for Sam in front of the couch. “On your knees.”
Sam sank down in front of Dean.
“Let’s find out how clean you got me.”
Sam pushed Dean’s other leg back, opening Dean to him, and placed a soft kiss at Dean’s entrance, exhaling warm breath over him. Then he extended his tongue and licked at him, gently, almost sweetly, trailing his fingertips over Dean’s thighs.
Dean sighed. “There you go, sweetheart.”
Sam softened under the praise, licked at Dean again, a soft moan on his lips, like Dean offering himself like that to Sam was something sacred, like tasting Dean like this was the most loving thing he could possibly do. Sam moaned again, looking up into Dean’s green eyes, lapping at Dean, praising him, worshipping him with his tongue and mouth.
Dean shivered. “God. Sam.” He breathed the words with equal reverence.
Sam knelt before his (brother lover soulmate) Dean and loved him, softened and curled his tongue to best give Dean pleasure, listened to Dean’s breathing and soft sounds to know what felt good and what felt really really good, entirely focused on Dean, only Dean, all other thoughts nothing to him, events of the past and fears of the future not even blips on the radar, just Dean.
Only Dean.
Sam knelt, worshipped, put his mouth on the most base part of Dean’s body and elevated it to the most pure. He moaned louder, prodding Dean to soften and open to him, trust him, let his clever tongue inside, let him show Dean how much he loved him, wanted him, needed him. How he would do anything for Dean, always. He showed Dean with the sounds he made, the helpless movements of his hips, his cock dripping pre-come onto the carpet, how good it felt to stroke Dean’s hole with his tongue and lips, to dip his tongue inside Dean and feel the impossibly soft pink skin that opened to him.
“Sam.” Dean’s cock pearled with pre-come, strong thighs spread wide for his brother, his everything, letting Sam in. Always, forever, letting Sam in.
Sam brought his fingers to Dean’s cock, took up the clear fluid on his fingertips and brought it to his lips. “Sweet,” he murmured.
Dean shivered, a wave of love and desire crashing over him that was almost too much to bear. “Sammy.”
“Could do this to you for hours, Dean.”
“Jesus, I…”
“Let me. Dean. Let me.” Sam knew that Dean was ready for more, but he wasn’t ready to stop. Blissed out from the sheer pleasure of what he was doing, he pleaded with Dean to let him stay.
And Dean always gave Sam whatever he wanted.
Dean ran his hand over his chest, moaning louder now. Sam pressed Dean’s thighs back, pulling his hips down right to the edge of the couch, and pressing his palms to Dean’s ass, he spread Dean open wide, lapping at him avidly, tongue broad and flat.
“Yeah, Sammy. Lick my ass.”
Sam gave a half-strangled groan, back contorting, and licked at Dean feverishly, like Dean giving name to what he was doing made it twice as good.
And Dean noticed.
“You like it, don’t you, baby boy. Getting your tongue all up in me like that.”
Sam shivered.
“Say it.” Dean’s voice fell into that low, rough honeyed gravel he only sounded like when he was with his Sam.
“I love it.” Sam rested his cheek against the soft skin of Dean’s inner thigh.”
“Say it, Sam.”
“I love licking your ass,” Sam whispered.
“Good boy.”
Sam basked in the praise. “Love it when you let me put my tongue in your ass.”
“Go on, baby. Do it. Show me how much you love it.”
Sam practically whimpered, lapping at Dean again. Suddenly Dean was moving, guiding Sam to sit with his back against the couch, head tipped back, neck supported by the cushion. Dean moved over him, both feet on the couch, holding on to the back of the couch, and crouched over Sam, animalistic, almost feral in his intensity. He lowered himself to Sam’s mouth. “Come on, Sammy. Fucking eat my ass.”
Sam shivered at the sweet profanity flowing from Dean’s mouth, that dirty talk that got Sam more wound up than almost anything Dean could do. He opened his mouth and extended his tongue and did what Dean said.
Dean growled low in his throat, rubbing his ass against Sam’s mouth. “Yeah. So good, baby boy. So good at that. I should. I should make you do that for hours.”
Sam erupted in a full-body shiver, stabbing his tongue inside Dean.
“Get one of those special chairs. Like we saw.”
Sam knew immediately what Dean was referring to. The chair they saw in that porno, with the hole in the bottom, so the man sitting in it could rest comfortably while the man stretched out below had complete access to his ass. Sam moaned at the thought.
“Just kick back with a six-pack and some popcorn, pop in a movie, and make you eat my ass for the whole damn thing.”
Sam grabbed at Dean’s hips, gripping them hard. “Oh Jesus.”
“That’s what you want, Sammy?”
“Yeah. Yeah.” Sam was almost in tears.
“I fucking love you so much.”
“Will you… will you really…”
Dean reached down and gripped Sam’s hair. “Swear to god.”
“You promise.”
“Damn straight I promise.” Dean panted. “Now stick out your tongue.”
Sam complied.
“All the way. Far as you can.”
Sam stuck it out a little farther.
Dean held Sam’s head and sank down on Sam’s tongue, the tip penetrating him. “That’s right, sweetheart. Fuck me with your tongue.”
Sam make his tongue harder, stabbed it into Dean as far as he possibly could. Dean practically purred, the keen pleasure shivering through him at what Sam was doing as much as Sam’s complete surrender to him. “Gotta get me all ready. Gonna be your dick in there in a few minutes.”
Sam made a sound that was half-laugh, half-plea.
Dean held onto the back of the couch with one hand and stroked Sam’s hair with the other, grinding his hips, the first inch of Sam’s tongue inside his ass. “That’s right, baby boy. Gonna ride your cock.”
Sam groaned and tried valiantly to stick out his tongue even farther.
“Ride it nice and slow.” Dean slowed his movements to match his words. “Until you beg me to let you come.” He thrust forward and down, then up and back, a small movement, Sam shivering beneath him, then pulled off. “Lick.” Sam lapped at his ass again, broad flat strokes that made Dean groan. Finally, he shifted his position, brought his balls, heavy and full, to Sam’s mouth. “Lick.”
Sam gasped, aching with need, and licked and suckled at Dean’s balls.
“So good at that, Sammy. So fucking good.” Dean had to pull off, clutching the base of his cock, so as not to come too soon. Sam dropped his head to his chest, panting. Dean grinned, leaned down and seized Sam’s mouth in a kiss, licking at his lips, inside his mouth hungrily. Sam gripped Dean’s shoulders, his thighs spread wide, his untouched cock hard and desperate.
“You’re not gonna come too soon, right, baby boy?”
“No,” Sam gasped.
“Gonna stay nice and hard for me so I can ride that cock of yours as long as I want?”
“Yes. Yes.”
Dean walked to the little kitchen table, and came back dragging one of the chairs. “Sit down.”
Sam got to his feet and sat down on the chair. Dean tossed him the bottle of lube, then straddled Sam and sat on his lap. “Get me nice and wet,” he whispered, mouth warm against Sam’s neck.
“Fuck.” Sam’s hands shook as he coated them with lube, worked a finger inside Dean, withdrawing it and anointing it again until it was dripping, then slipping it inside him again.
“Now you,” Dean instructed. Sam coated his cock with lube. Dean shifted, positioning himself right over Sam. “Hold it.”
Sam wrapped his fingers around the base of his cock, holding it at the right angle.“Don’t you want—“
“Gonna open myself up on your cock.”
“Fuck.” Sam repeated. “Oh fuck.”
“That fucking beautiful cock of yours.” Dean sank down, muscles in his thighs standing out taut, taking just the tip of Sam’s cock inside him, so soft and open from Sam’s tongue.
Sam shuddered. Dean worked himself down, rising and falling, taking a little more each time, until the fat head of Sam’s cock breached the second ring. “Jesus fucking Christ, Sammy…”
“Easy, Dean.”
“You’re so.. fucking hell… Sam.” Dean bit his lip and deliberately sank down, taking Sam to the base in one long push.
“Oh god. Oh god. Dean, I—“
“Don’t come, baby. Shh. Don’t come.” Dean held still, stroking Sam’s hair, kissing his forehead, his lips. Sam panted and fought for control. “S my fault, Sammy.”
Sam looked up at Dean in surprise.
“Should have been doing it like this more.” Dean stroked Sam’s shoulders. “I was selfish.”
Sam trembled, right on the verge of coming still, trying so hard not to.
Dean kept talking, not moving at all, stretched wide open on Sam’s cock. “Just…it feels so good to be inside you, Sam. I love it. So much.”
Sam bit his lip, concentrating on his breathing, trembling hands pressed against Dean’s back.
“But this… Jesus, Sam.” Sweat sheened Dean’s chest. “You. Inside me.”
Sam looked up again, eyes hopeful.
“Fucking amazing.”
“Yeah?”
Dean nodded, bent down and kissed Sam soft and sweet.
“We could…” Sam swallowed. “Do it like this more?”
Dean wrapped his arms around Sam, kissed his neck, moved ever so slightly. “You feel so good, Sam. So fucking good, I can’t even…” Dean ground his hips in a circle.
Sam gave a strangled cry. “Not gonna last. I’m sorry…”
“It’s ok.” Dean kissed Sam’s forehead. “Just let me—Jesus, you feel good. Just let me, ok? You come when you want.”
“I’ll try not to,” Sam gasped.
Dean pressed his mouth to Sam’s, urging Sam to give him his tongue, and took it into his mouth as he rose on Sam’s cock and sank down slowly, drinking down Sam’s cry of pleasure. Sam’s skin was slick with sweat, hands gripping Dean’s shoulders where he wasn’t bruised or cut, his face contorted with pleasure.
Dean rose and fell again on Sam’s cock. “Feels so good.” Sam shuddered, but somehow maintained control. Dean fucked himself slowly, whispering words of pleasure and praise into Sam’s ear. Sam made a constant stream of moans, low aching sounds of pleasure so keen Dean didn’t know how Sam was holding off the orgasm that was surely seconds away.
But Sam didn’t come.
Dean rode Sam’s cock, slow and sweet, licking the sweat from Sam’s neck, whispering sweet filthy talk in his ear: “…feel so good inside me, so fucking big, how’d you get so fucking big, filling me up so good, fuck, why weren’t we doing this more, Sammy, Sam, Sam, you’re inside me, oh god…”
Sam whimpered.
“You can come, sweetheart, it’s ok, you can finish me off with your hand, fuck, with your mouth, it’s ok…”
“You said,” Sam choked out. “Stay hard for you. So you can ride me as long as you want.”
Dean’s jaw fell open, astonished at the grit he heard in Sam’s voice, the sheer determination. “I didn’t think you’d—“
Sam’s eyes flashed open, bright with determination. “Come on, Dean. Ride my cock. As long as you want. I won’t come until you come.” He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then another, turning inward, tapping into something from deep inside him. He opened his eyes again, sunflower gold and green, pupils blown wide. “I won’t come until you come.” His voice was calm, assured.
Dean locked his fingers together behind Sam’s neck, and began to ride Sam’s cock again, faster this time, little grunts punched out of him, his cock bobbing between their bellies. Sam’s eyes were bright, watching Dean’s face, seeing the pleasure spilling over it. Dean slowed again, grinding on Sam in little circles, rubbing his hands over his chest, wanton, wild.
“So beautiful…” Sam whispered, not even aware he was speaking out loud.
Dean kept up his slow grind for several minutes before he picked up the pace again, harder and faster, impaling himself on Sam’s cock, hair damp from perspiration sticking to his neck and forehead, grunting louder. Sam gleamed with sweat, jaw muscles working, tendons in his neck standing out strong. Dean fucked himself on Sam’s cock hard and fast, like it was an athletic event. Sam’s hands gripped the firm muscles of his ass, nearly incoherent with the pleasure of it, but not coming. Dean slowed again. Sam groaned, pressing his forehead to Dean’s.
“Come on, Sam. Say it. I want you to say it.”
Sam shot Dean a knowing look. “You need me to say it.”
Dean blew out a breath. “Yeah. I need it.”
Sam’s mouth curled into a smile. “Dean…please.”
Dean devoured Sam’s mouth, biting gently at his lips, sucking on his tongue, and rode Sam’s cock hard, slamming himself down. He reached his still-slick hand between them and wrapped his fingers around his cock. Sam gave a cry, knowing his own release was finally at hand. “Fuck. Sammy, Sammy, Jesus, Sam…” Dean worked his cock, a surprisingly gentle movement for how hard he was driving himself down on Sam. “Ah… come for me, Sammy, come inside me…” The first droplets of Dean’s ejaculate hit Sam on the jaw, and Sam was seizing, shaking, hips stuttering, gripping Dean’s thighs hard, crying out again and again, cries rising in pitch until he threw his head back, unable to make any sound at all, his orgasm sucking his ability to make a sound, to even breathe. His eyes rolled back in his head, eyelashes fluttering furiously.
Dean stroked his cock, shaking just as hard, language stripped from him, only able to make low guttural grunts as he came, wet and messy, came more than he’d come in weeks, all over his fist, his belly and chest, all over Sam, twitching beneath him.
“Jesus, Sam…” Dean breathed.
Sam still twitched, eyelashes fluttering.
“Sam?” Dean pulled off him. Sam’s eyes were still rolled back in his head. Dean dropped to his knees at Sam’s side. “Sam!”
Sam slipped from this world to somewhere else, propelled by the power he’d tapped into when he turned inward to find what he needed to stave off his orgasm. Flashed elsewhere. Flashed to
John Winchester, slumped over the steering wheel in the driveway of a yellow house with a huge lawn. His head rested on his crossed wrists, tears running down his forearms inside his jacket. He held a photo between his right thumb and forefinger. Three figures sprawled on a rag rug. Two young boys on their father’s chest, looking up at him and laughing as he looked down, such love and pride and delight on his face.
“Dad?” A young boy walked out of the house into the driveway. “What are you doing?”
He had his father’s eyes.
John Winchester roused himself and quickly hid the photo inside a folded map, tucking it away in the glove box. He wiped his face quickly, got out of the car and ruffled the boy’s hair. “Hey, kiddo.”
Sam’s head snapped back, body jerking hard, recoiling with such force that he fell over in his chair.
“The hell?” Dean’s face was pale. He knelt at Sam’s side, checking his head for injury.“You ok?”
Despite the pain lancing through his head (his heart) Sam reached out to Dean. “I’m ok.” He took Dean’s hand, pressed it flat to his chest and held it there with both hands, drawing reassurance and calm from Dean’s touch.
“Sam? Scaring me here a little.”
“Dad.” Sam rolled off the chair onto the carpet, still holding Dean’s hand steady against his chest.”I saw Dad. With…” He swallowed hard. Hey, kiddo. “With him.”
Dean’s face darkened. “Don’t you think about him. Sam. Don’t you do it.”
“I didn’t think about him, Dean. I saw him.”
Dean sighed. “Vision?”
Sam nodded yes.
Dean’s face contorted with anger. “No. No.” He got up on one knee, picked Sam up like he weighed nothing, and carried him to the couch. “He can’t hurt you, Sam. He can’t hurt us.” He set Sam down, sat next to him and pulled him into Dean’s arms.
“But it does hurt.” Sam fought hard not to cry. “Dean, why—“
“Shh. It’s ok. You got me.” Dean stroked Sam’s hair. “You got me.”
Sam snuggled harder as Dean pulled the throw up around them so that Sam didn’t get cold. “Pretend it was only ever you and me. And Bobby.” Dean held Sam so gently, stroked his hair. “Bobby made us turkey every year at Thanksgiving and Christmas. Came to our Little League games. Watched every one of your plays. Even went to that dorky science fair. Remember?”
Sam breathed in and out, letting Dean’s words spin a benevolent fiction, each work driving the vision he’d just had a little further away.
Dean continued. “Bobby always gave you mostly books for your birthday. And he made you carrot cake. All lopsided.”
“And you got chocolate cake. And he gave you sports stuff. But always a book too. Because he knew how smart you were.”
Now Dean had to fight hard not to cry. “Yeah.” He choked out. “Yeah, he sure did.”
“And he tucked us into bed and read us a story.”
“And told us he loved us.” Dean added.
“And that we were good boys.”
Dean sucked in a breath that sounded suspiciously like a sob, his arms tightening around Sam.”Yeah. He said we were good boys.”
Sam sniffled.
“Cry if you want to, Sam. It’s ok. It’s always ok. To do that with me.”
Sam’s chest heaved with a huge breath. “He misses us.” He fought for composure. “He was crying.”
Dean’s jaw muscles tightened. He said nothing for a long time. “Well,” he finally said, “he should.”
Sam was quiet for a long moment. “Hey Dean?”
“Yeah, Sammy?”
“I know you said 48 hours. But…” Sam sniffled again. “I want Bobby and Reggie. Can we?”
“You bet.” Dean held Sam close.”Just…stay like this? For a little while longer?”
“Yeah.”
Sam held onto Dean and Dean held onto Sam like they were each other’s life rafts in rough waters.
“Just you,” Sam whispered. “I just need you.”
Dean kissed the top of Sam’s forehead. “You’ll always have me.”
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Date: 2014-04-09 12:22 pm (UTC)Lovely as always, hon. I sorta love this 'verse a lot. These Boys, who've been through so much but love each other like craziness. In the hunter fort. It's awesome.
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Date: 2014-04-10 07:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-04-10 08:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-04-10 10:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-04-10 11:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-04-11 10:27 pm (UTC)I just love the way they love each other, the intensity, the intimacy, the devotion, the tenderness, and just...everything. But you know that already. :)
I'm completely addicted to your writing and this was such a great treat, it made my day. Hell, it probably made my week, come to think of it. :) This was amazing as always! ♥
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Date: 2014-04-11 10:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-04-11 10:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-04-13 02:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-04-15 02:07 am (UTC)This chapter was absolutely worth the wait, brought back all the hot and sweet and those perfectly written little details between these boys. It just about killed me how hard Sam worked to make sure he didn't come before Dean.
Great job, Love, you absolutely have not lost your touch <3