General warnings--all of these fics are:
In addition, Don't Step on the Grass, Alone in the Dark and Take You Down and Make You Mine all contain underage (Sam is 16-17)
AND *blushes* I added in two of mine. The last two that are under cuts. Alone in the Dark was one of the first things I ever wrote so...just consider yourself warned lol
Keep Our Minds on the Sum of Each Other
While His Hands are Busy
Deeper Than Blood
No actual sex in this one but the soundtrack would work oh so very well with it anyway....
You're Possessing Me
Everything I want is nothing but you
Don't Step on the Grass, Sam
Title: Take you down and make you mine
Warnings: First time preseries Wincest (Sam is around 16), spanking, fingering
Summary: Dean decides to teach Sam a lesson. Turns out he's the one with something to learn.
A/N: I originally wrote this for a blindfold prompt that has since disappeared (I guess it was deleted?). Oh well.
Dean has officially HAD ENOUGH of Sam's bullshit. He's done nothing but complain since their dad left--ironic, given that he did nothing but complain when their dad was here, too. Not for the first time, Dean curses the bruised ribs and dislocated shoulder he's still recovering from after the last hunt.
This time, it's homework. Again. As in Sam would rather learn about differential equations or some other weird shit than practice the new takedown their dad wanted them to learn by the time he got back, despite the fact that it's Dean's ass on the line just as much as Sam's if Sam doesn't have it down by then.
"Could you quit being a petty little brat long enough to at least attempt this move?" Dean's trying to keep his voice level and maybe avoid another yelling match; the manager had already warned them once and Dean didn't have enough cash left for them to move elsewhere. He watched Sam's jaw clench and unclench spasmodically and knew that was a vain hope.
And then Sam surprised him. "Fine," he said tersely, shoving back from the table. "One round, I take you down. Then you leave me alone."
Dean felt a nasty grin creeping over his face. "Oh yeah, Sammy. That's so not going to happen." He shoved their duffles and shoes under the bed, clearing a little space to move.
Sam just shrugged and launched himself at Dean. No finesse, not even an attempt to use the takedown they were supposed to be practicing--just trying to nail Dean's ribs and use the pain against him. Dean snapped.
"That's it. You want to be a little bitch? Then I'll treat you like one." In one quick move Dean took Sam down, pinning his arms and dropping them both onto the bed. He remembers his dad doing this to him once--he's never forgotten the utter humiliation of it, and now he's going to share with Sam.
Dean yanks Sam's sweats down, exposing smooth bare skin. "Going commando, eh Sammy?" Dean smirks nastily. "Not your best move today, kiddo." Sam's struggling wildly now, trying to get away, yelling inarticulately as he squirms on Dean's lap, but Dean's got a good hold on him.
"What the fuck, Dean?" he finally manages to get out, and oh Dean wishes he could see the look on his little brother's face right about...now.
The sound Dean's hand makes when it connects with Sam's ass is startlingly loud, and Sam goes completely still in shock. Dean does it again, spreading his fingers wide as he smacks Sam's other cheek, and a shiver runs through Sam.
“I think ten should do it,” Dean says, and brings his hand down again. Red handprints are blooming on Sam's skin, and Dean feels a little thrill of...something when Sam whimpers and shifts in his lap. Dean settles his hand over one cheek and can't help but notice that his hand covers it almost completely.
“Count them off, Sam,” Dean says, voice rough, and Sam protests wordlessly, squirming on Dean's lap again as Dean brings his hand down, and that's when Dean feels it.
“Jesus Christ, Sam,” Dean whispers. Warmth settles low in his belly, a low tingle of arousal that shocks him, dirtybadwrong thrill of getting off on his little brother getting off on him feeding back on itself and turning him on even more.
“Dean...p-please, I need...” Sam's squirming, fuck—humping Dean's leg now, and Dean realizes his hand isn't just resting on Sam's ass, he's kneading the firm, hot muscle under his fingers. He lifts his hand slowly and smacks Sam lightly, just enough to sting on his already oversensitized skin. Sam moans and pants, rubbing Dean's leg harder and Dean's cock swells so fast he feels almost lightheaded.
“Fuck, Sam.” Dean can't believe he's doing this, can't believe Sam's letting him, hell that Sam apparently wants him to. He rubs Sam's reddened skin again, letting his fingers slip between Sam's cheeks and rub over his hole, and Sam goes crazy.
“Oh God Dean do it, please, want you to, please,” Sam babbles. He's writhing on Dean's lap, pushing back against Dean's fingers as he begs. Every move is pushing against Dean's hard-on, but it's not as good as the sounds Sam is making, every whimper, every gasp, every moan going straight to his cock til he's starting to think he could maybe come just from this.
Dean drags his finger away from Sam's hole reluctantly. Sam gives a little sob and strains his neck to look up at him, eyes pleading. “Dean....”
“Shh,” Dean says soothingly. “I got you.” He runs his fingers through Sam's hair, feeling half drunk on pleasure and shock, then lifts his other hand to his mouth. He doesn't look away from Sam's face as he slowly sucks in a finger, getting it good and wet—he knows a little about this. Sam's mouth falls slack and his lashes flutter, so long and girly and Dean can see how blown his pupils are, thin ring of green barely edging the black.
Dean pulls his finger out and Sam's breath catches. He shifts on Dean's lap, spreading his legs wide, pushing his ass up and Jesus Christ. How is this so hot? Dean strokes over Sam's hole, pushing just a little on the center, just the barest tip of his finger inside Sam's body oh fuck, and Sam tenses just a little.
“Gotta relax, Sammy,” Dean coaxes. “Gonna feel good, I promise, just relax...” He strokes Sam's hair again and feels the tension run out of his brother with a shudder.
“Good boy,” Dean breathes, and it should feel corny and lame but Sam shudders again and moans, hips rocking up and back and Dean's finger just slides in to the first knuckle.
“Oh Jesus, Dean,” Sam gasps and Dean's cock twitches hard as Dean bites back a groan. It's so hot inside Sam, so tight and smooth. He pushes in the rest of the way, watching Sam's face as he pants yeah God yeah and then Dean's all the way in, finger buried in Sam's ass and suddenly all Dean can think about is how good that hot clench would feel around his dick.
“That good, Sammy?” Dean asks. He works his finger slowly in and out, drag and squeeze of Sam's muscles so good and Sam nods, mouth twisting in shock as Dean hits the sweet spot inside him.
“Oh God, do that again,” Sam gasps, pushing his hips back against Dean's hand. “Give me more, please, I want you to--” and Dean's brain short circuits a bit. He pushes another finger in and Sam takes it greedily, gets one foot on the floor so he can rock back and forth, neck straining as he fucks himself on Dean's fingers and Dean can't hold back any longer. He fumbles open his jeans and pulls himself out, so hard and hot in the cool air. Sam's eyes go wide as Dean strokes himself and he convulses suddenly, head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut, muscles clenching almost painfully around Dean's fingers. Searing liquid splatters all over Dean, all over Sam and Dean loses it, orgasm rushing through him and Jesus fuck nothing has ever felt this good in his life.
Dean comes down slow. Sam is a warm, solid weight on his lap—sitting on his lap, arms around Dean's neck, eyes huge and a little scared. Dean's got his hands on Sam's hips and this is a little weird but Dean can't quite find it in himself to care. The fear in Sam's eyes twists his heart and he does the only thing he can think of to make it go away.
Sam's lips are warm and soft, the way Dean's never imagined they would be. Sam opens up to him with a sigh, pushing in even closer, hands stroking the back of Dean's neck and holding him close until they're both breathless.
“How long?” Dean asks when he can speak again. It's important to him, suddenly, that this not be a spur of the moment thing, that Sam has thought this through and really wants it. Sam ducks his head against Dean's neck, cheek hot against the sensitive skin.
“About a year,” he says, words muffled so that Dean has to strain to hear. “Been thinking about this, about you, for so long, Dean.” He lifts his head to look at Dean, biting his lip. “Have you?”
“No,” Dean answers honestly. Sam's face falls, and Dean can't help but kiss him again. “But I won't be thinking about much else from now on.”
Title: Alone in the dark, all I want is you
Warnings: Explicit underage wincest, language, PWP
Summary: Sam wants Dean and doesn't know what to do about it. John leaves them alone as a test and Sam figures it out.
It was another test.
His dad shook him awake forcefully, dragged him half dressed and still half asleep down the hallway to the tiny room that held the ancient washer and dryer left by the previous tenants. There was barely enough room left for the two straightback chairs sitting side by side in the middle of the room. One was occuppied by his brother, already struggling against his bonds and cursing under his breath. John ignored him, concentrating instead on tying Sam to the other chair, hands firmly knotted behind him and to one side, feet tied to the rungs so they didn't even touch the floor.
When John finished with Sam, he stood and walked to the door. "Breakfast is at 6 am," he said gruffly. "Don't be late." The door closed behind him and they both heard the lock click, right before the lights went out.
They sat in silence for a few moments then Dean sighed. "Goddammit, I hate summer," he growled. "He never pulls this shit when you're in school." Sam laughed a little uneasily. He could feel Dean next to him in the darkness, the heat from his body and the occasional brush of his skin as he shifted focusing all of Sam's senses on his brother.
Lately it seemed that Sam was always focused on Dean. He couldn't stop thinking about the way Dean's muscles moved under his skin, the way his eyes lit up when he smiled, what it might feel like to really touch him. Not just a hand up when they were sparring or a slap on the back when Sam made a tough shot. He wanted to push Dean up against the wall and explore every inch of his brother's skin with his hands and his mouth, run his hands through Dean's hair and kiss him senseless. It was completely fucked up, but he couldn't seem to help it. And now that summer was here and they were together pretty much every minute of every day....well, his brother wasn't stupid. He was bound to notice something was up, and Sam was half terrified, half exhilarated at the thought of sooner rather than later.
It didn't help Sam's nerves that every once in a while he thought he caught a glimpse of something in Dean's face, a...longing, maybe, like he felt it too. But Sam couldn't be sure, and how exactly do you test out a theory like that?
"Hey, Sammy, you just gonna sit there all night waiting for me to rescue you?" Dean's voice was right in his ear and Sam realized with a start that he was leaning into his brother's warmth. " 'Cause I may just leave your ass tied to that chair and eat your breakfast myself." Sam could hear the grin in Dean's voice, but it was the warm breath stirring the soft hair on his neck that made his face flush and his cock twitch.
Sam pulled as far away from Dean as he could, glad his brother couldn't see him blushing. "Yeah, well, don't get your hopes up," he said, and thank God his voice was steady. He concentrated on the ropes binding his hands and smiled to himself. He'd been practicing since the last time their dad did this to them, and he'd learned a painful little trick--if he tried, Sam could dislocate his thumb and get just enough slack to get a hand free.
He took a deep breath, cursing softly at the sharp pain in his left hand. He knew if he tried it too often his dad would figure it out, but no way was he going to let Dean win. He strained against the rope, breathing evenly against the pain, and in a few moments he was free. It took a little longer to get his feet loose, but he'd practiced in the dark more than once and soon he was stretching his legs out, wincing at the pins and needles.
"Dude, what the hell?" Dean said when he felt Sam move. "How'd you get free so quick?"
"Guess you better practice your knotwork a little more," Sam said smugly. It wasn't often he got the better of Dean, and he felt entitled to a little gloating. "Need a hand with that?"
His brother didn't answer, and Sam could feel him fuming. "Just get my feet," Dean said at last. "I've almost got my hands free."
"Yeah, okay," Sam said, kneeling in front of his brother. He tried to force his mind to the business at hand, but his brother's nearness was overwhelming. He took a deep breath, trying to regain control, and the heady musky scent of Dean surrounded him, causing his cock to harden even more. He thought about what he could do, here, in this position, about how easy it would be to just lean forward and take Dean into his mouth, lick and suck and taste him as his brother writhed helplessly above him. He shuddered, a faint moan escaping him as he pressed a hand to his aching cock.
"Sammy? Are you okay?" Dean's voice was concerned, but Sam could hear something else as well, a low rasp that he recognized from years of listening to Dean jerk off in the bathroom or the bed next to his. The sound made Sam feel reckless, almost giddy with the thought that Dean was turned on by this, by Sam, kneeling between his legs in the darkness. Tentatively, Sam rubbed his cheek against his brother's thigh, and Dean's sharp inhale was all the encouragement he needed to press his mouth against the soft skin and stroke his hand slowly up to the edge of Dean's boxers.
"God, Sammy, what are you doing?" Dean groaned, and Sam felt Dean's hips jerk under his hands, just a little. He leaned in closer, moving by touch until he found Dean's cock, mouthing it gently through the soft worn material of Dean's boxers.
"Oh, fuck, " Dean whispered faintly. "Sam...." Dean was trembling now, hips thrusting in little tiny jerks that Sam knew he was trying to control. But he wasn't saying no, wasn't shouting or pulling away.
"Let me, Dean," he murmured, lips and tongue brushing his brother's swollen flesh. "Wanted to for so long, just let me, please...." Sam knew he was babbling but he couldn't stop, not now. He licked up Dean's cock, following it to where the head was trapped just under the waistband, and sucked, tasting the precome already wetting the thin material.
Dean let out a strangled moan and Sam sucked harder, rubbing his tongue where he thought the slit would be. He could hear Dean gasping in the darkness above him, tiny whimpering sounds and almost words and Sam could feel Dean's muscles straining. Then Dean's hands were on his arms, pulling him up and close.
"Sam," Dean gasped, "Sam Sam Sam..." Dean pulled Sam into his lap, lips coming together unerringly even in the dark, and Sam felt a fleeting stab of jealousy that Dean had done this before, but it was washed away in the feel of his brother's mouth on his at last. He kissed Dean eagerly, moaning into his mouth as Dean's hands found his hips and pulled him in tight, sweet friction that had Sam arching and grinding against his brother, balls already tightening. He pressed his face into Dean's neck. "Dean, I'm gonna--"
"Yeah, Sammy, come on, do it, I got you," Dean breathed. His wrapped his arms tight around Sam, lips and teeth desperate on Sam's neck and shoulders and that was it. Sam's entire body spasmed against Dean's, gasping sobs torn from his throat has the pleasure burst through him. He felt more than heard Dean say his name, biting down hard on Sam's shoulder as he came, and the rush of pain and pleasure made Sam writhe and shudder before collapsing against his brother.
They sat quietly for a moment, Dean's hands stroking gently over Sam's hair and back as their breathing calmed and the silence stretched out between them until Sam started to get uneasy. Finally he spoke.
"Yeah, Sammy?" Dean's voice was lazy and slow, satisfied.
"Um...What....I mean, should we...what do we do now?" Sam's voice trailed off uncertainly. He'd never thought this far and now....Sam pressed his forehead against Dean's neck, hoping his brother couldn't feel the blood rushing to his face.
"Well...." Sam felt Dean shift, and a tiny light suddenly glowed as Dean checked his watch. He pressed his lips to Sam's ear, voice a bare whisper. "If we hurry, we have just enough time to get upstairs and do this again."