withimpunity (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
withimpunity) wrote2009-11-16 06:42 pm
withimpunity) wrote2009-11-16 06:42 pm
Entry tags:
fic: sam/dean
This World Is Half The Devil's and My Own
Sam/Dean (not stated, but its teencest)
Adult
1125 words
There's safety in the night, even when Dad's not home. It's like they've stepped into another world, an alternate dimension where its okay to do these things, where its okay to touch your brother the way other brother's don't, where its okay to know what his skin tastes like on your tongue.
He hears Sam's footsteps pad across the hardwood floor outside his door, listens to them squeak under Sam's weight. Dean rolls over, pretends to be asleep when he hears the door creak open, feels Sam's weight on the other side of the bed.
Sam doesn't say anything. He usually doesn't. Sam just pulls the covers back and slides in behind Dean, doesn't care that his breathing is calm and even, practically identical to deep, REM sleep. Dean wonders if Sam would even care if he was asleep, if he'd just do it anyway, peel Dean's boxers down and curl his hand around Dean's cock, grinding his own erection against the crease of his ass until they both came, leaving Dean there, sticky with the mess of both of them all over his skin like evidence.
He doesn't though, not this time. Just slides in behind Dean and drapes his arm over Dean's chest. His hands are cold and Dean can't help it, his body shivers when Sam's cold fingers brush across his nipple.
"Good, you're up." Sam smiles around the shell of his ear and presses his mouth to Dean's neck, hot and wet. Sam tugs his own shirt off and tosses it on the floor, tugging on Dean's arm to get him to lie on his back.
Dean sighs. "Sammy, we gotta talk about this."
"Funny, usually you ask me not to talk when we do this." He smirks and pulls his boxers down off his hips. Dean's mouth parts slightly as Sam's cock springs out of his shorts, already so hard, flushed a deep purplish-red, the head shiny slick with precome. He doesn't understand why Sam wants him so much, all the time.
"We're not doing this." Dean tries to regain control of the situation, of Sam. He swallows down a laugh at the thought; like he ever had control over Sammy.
"We're not?" Sammy asks him, all puppy-eyed, mouth turning down at the corners. But he's got his hand wrapped around his dick, stroking it casually, slowly.
"God would you - stop doing that, its fucking distracting, okay?"
Sam smirks and reaches for Deans shorts, hooking his thumbs under the elastic and tugging them down his thighs. "Stop being a jerk," Sam complains, not bothering to pull Dean's boxers all the way off his feet before climbing on top of him and straddling his thighs.
"You're not listening to me," Dean growls, grabbing Sam around the waist to keep him still, keep him from fucking moving. "Don't you even get how fucked up this is?"
Sam leans forward, curls his fingers around Dean's scarred shoulders and rocks against his cock, feeling it drag wetly along the cleft of his ass. "Don't you get how fucked up our whole life is?" He whispers, covering Dean's mouth with his, swallowing down his remaining, futile attempts at rejecting him, this.
"Stop acting like the rules apply to us, Dean. Because you know they don't."
Dean's eyelashes flutter against his cheek as Sam slides down onto him, his cock sinking slowly, too slowly into his baby brother's tight little ass. Dean bites his lip to hold back the groan that bubbles up.
"Stop pretending you don't love doing this." Sam leans down and pushes his tongue inside Dean's mouth, licking away the drops of blood Dean coaxed out of his lip with his teeth.
"You love me, Dean." Sam murmurs, sharp gasps escaping from his mouth as he fucks himself on Dean's cock, digging his fingers into Dean's ribs.
"Course I love you," Dean grunts out, gripping Sam's hips tight. "You're my brother for christ's sake."
Sam shakes his head, fringe of bangs from hair that's gone too long without a proper trim dancing in front his eyes. "More than that," he says quietly, reaching down to curl his fingers around his cock, smiling when Dean sucks his lip into his mouth and stares. "You know its more than that. You can feel it, can't you?"
"Sammy..."
"We're different," Sammy leans down and whispers next to his ear.
"No...no-"
"Yes. We...we have to be like this. Just like this, Dean."
"Why?" Dean asks, watching Sam's hand slide rapidly up and down his beautiful cock, watching the sweat glisten on Sammy's forehead, all filled up with Dean's cock inside of him, stretching him so wide and open. It gives Dean a feeling he can't describe, a warm flutter somewhere behind his ribs, knowing Sam trusts him enough to let him do this. He knows Dean will never hurt him. Its not something he thinks. Its not an opinion. Its a fucking fact.
"Destiny," Sam says and the light bulbs in the hotel sign burst when they come, together. Sam's back snapping taut as he spills all over his fingers, making a mess all over Dean's chest as Dean shouts hoarsely and comes inside of his brother. Sam whimpers each time Dean's cock pulses inside of him, then leans forward and kisses Dean sloppily, sucking Dean's cold tongue into his mouth, sucking on his bottom lip, kissing him until Dean can't breath anymore and pushes him off.
"Destiny," Dean finally says, laying on his back with Sam's head in the crook of his arm. "You know that's a bunch of bullshit."
"Yeah," Sam sighs sleepily, curling up against Dean's side. "It got you to shut up though, didn't it?"
Sam can feel Dean's body vibrate as he chuckles. "Manipulative little bitch."
"Prudish jerk." Sam grins, nuzzling Dean's collarbone. Then, after a beat, "I do feel it, though. You know? We're different. I can just...feel it."
Dean closes his eyes. He can feel Sam's eyelashes dancing lightly against his collarbone. He turns his head to look out the window at the bleak darkness where the hotel "vacancies" sign was lit up not more than ten minutes before. "Yeah," Dean murmurs, turning his head, pressing his lips to Sam's forehead. A memory flashes in the back of his mind. "Say goodnight to Sammy, Dean." Dean presses his lips to the baby's forehead. He smells like mommy, like family, like home. There's a whooshing inside of him so hard it almost knocks him down. Mommy asks him if he's okay and Dean says yes, he's just sleepy. That night he sneaks out of bed with his blankie and pillow and lays on the floor in the nursery. He doesn't sleep. He has to protect Sammy.
"I feel it too."
Sam/Dean (not stated, but its teencest)
Adult
1125 words
There's safety in the night, even when Dad's not home. It's like they've stepped into another world, an alternate dimension where its okay to do these things, where its okay to touch your brother the way other brother's don't, where its okay to know what his skin tastes like on your tongue.
He hears Sam's footsteps pad across the hardwood floor outside his door, listens to them squeak under Sam's weight. Dean rolls over, pretends to be asleep when he hears the door creak open, feels Sam's weight on the other side of the bed.
Sam doesn't say anything. He usually doesn't. Sam just pulls the covers back and slides in behind Dean, doesn't care that his breathing is calm and even, practically identical to deep, REM sleep. Dean wonders if Sam would even care if he was asleep, if he'd just do it anyway, peel Dean's boxers down and curl his hand around Dean's cock, grinding his own erection against the crease of his ass until they both came, leaving Dean there, sticky with the mess of both of them all over his skin like evidence.
He doesn't though, not this time. Just slides in behind Dean and drapes his arm over Dean's chest. His hands are cold and Dean can't help it, his body shivers when Sam's cold fingers brush across his nipple.
"Good, you're up." Sam smiles around the shell of his ear and presses his mouth to Dean's neck, hot and wet. Sam tugs his own shirt off and tosses it on the floor, tugging on Dean's arm to get him to lie on his back.
Dean sighs. "Sammy, we gotta talk about this."
"Funny, usually you ask me not to talk when we do this." He smirks and pulls his boxers down off his hips. Dean's mouth parts slightly as Sam's cock springs out of his shorts, already so hard, flushed a deep purplish-red, the head shiny slick with precome. He doesn't understand why Sam wants him so much, all the time.
"We're not doing this." Dean tries to regain control of the situation, of Sam. He swallows down a laugh at the thought; like he ever had control over Sammy.
"We're not?" Sammy asks him, all puppy-eyed, mouth turning down at the corners. But he's got his hand wrapped around his dick, stroking it casually, slowly.
"God would you - stop doing that, its fucking distracting, okay?"
Sam smirks and reaches for Deans shorts, hooking his thumbs under the elastic and tugging them down his thighs. "Stop being a jerk," Sam complains, not bothering to pull Dean's boxers all the way off his feet before climbing on top of him and straddling his thighs.
"You're not listening to me," Dean growls, grabbing Sam around the waist to keep him still, keep him from fucking moving. "Don't you even get how fucked up this is?"
Sam leans forward, curls his fingers around Dean's scarred shoulders and rocks against his cock, feeling it drag wetly along the cleft of his ass. "Don't you get how fucked up our whole life is?" He whispers, covering Dean's mouth with his, swallowing down his remaining, futile attempts at rejecting him, this.
"Stop acting like the rules apply to us, Dean. Because you know they don't."
Dean's eyelashes flutter against his cheek as Sam slides down onto him, his cock sinking slowly, too slowly into his baby brother's tight little ass. Dean bites his lip to hold back the groan that bubbles up.
"Stop pretending you don't love doing this." Sam leans down and pushes his tongue inside Dean's mouth, licking away the drops of blood Dean coaxed out of his lip with his teeth.
"You love me, Dean." Sam murmurs, sharp gasps escaping from his mouth as he fucks himself on Dean's cock, digging his fingers into Dean's ribs.
"Course I love you," Dean grunts out, gripping Sam's hips tight. "You're my brother for christ's sake."
Sam shakes his head, fringe of bangs from hair that's gone too long without a proper trim dancing in front his eyes. "More than that," he says quietly, reaching down to curl his fingers around his cock, smiling when Dean sucks his lip into his mouth and stares. "You know its more than that. You can feel it, can't you?"
"Sammy..."
"We're different," Sammy leans down and whispers next to his ear.
"No...no-"
"Yes. We...we have to be like this. Just like this, Dean."
"Why?" Dean asks, watching Sam's hand slide rapidly up and down his beautiful cock, watching the sweat glisten on Sammy's forehead, all filled up with Dean's cock inside of him, stretching him so wide and open. It gives Dean a feeling he can't describe, a warm flutter somewhere behind his ribs, knowing Sam trusts him enough to let him do this. He knows Dean will never hurt him. Its not something he thinks. Its not an opinion. Its a fucking fact.
"Destiny," Sam says and the light bulbs in the hotel sign burst when they come, together. Sam's back snapping taut as he spills all over his fingers, making a mess all over Dean's chest as Dean shouts hoarsely and comes inside of his brother. Sam whimpers each time Dean's cock pulses inside of him, then leans forward and kisses Dean sloppily, sucking Dean's cold tongue into his mouth, sucking on his bottom lip, kissing him until Dean can't breath anymore and pushes him off.
"Destiny," Dean finally says, laying on his back with Sam's head in the crook of his arm. "You know that's a bunch of bullshit."
"Yeah," Sam sighs sleepily, curling up against Dean's side. "It got you to shut up though, didn't it?"
Sam can feel Dean's body vibrate as he chuckles. "Manipulative little bitch."
"Prudish jerk." Sam grins, nuzzling Dean's collarbone. Then, after a beat, "I do feel it, though. You know? We're different. I can just...feel it."
Dean closes his eyes. He can feel Sam's eyelashes dancing lightly against his collarbone. He turns his head to look out the window at the bleak darkness where the hotel "vacancies" sign was lit up not more than ten minutes before. "Yeah," Dean murmurs, turning his head, pressing his lips to Sam's forehead. A memory flashes in the back of his mind. "Say goodnight to Sammy, Dean." Dean presses his lips to the baby's forehead. He smells like mommy, like family, like home. There's a whooshing inside of him so hard it almost knocks him down. Mommy asks him if he's okay and Dean says yes, he's just sleepy. That night he sneaks out of bed with his blankie and pillow and lays on the floor in the nursery. He doesn't sleep. He has to protect Sammy.
"I feel it too."
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