Entry tags:
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Title: Oral Fixation
Author:![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
runedgirl
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Word Count: 1150
Summary: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
spn_masquerade for the prompt: Pretty much what it says on the tin. One really loves having his mouth on the other, any way he can get him, pretty much at all times.
A/N I’m still upset about not being able to dospnspringfling this year, but at least I managed one little prompt for this!
It’s constant, that’s what’s driving Dean mad. Back seat and it’s summer, scorching his ass and the backs of his thighs on the heated leather while Dad drives and drives, even the wind blasting through the open windows too hot to cool them. Nothing compared to the heat of Sammy’s mouth though, the wet slide of tongue against his fingers where Sam has his hand trapped flat on the seat. Sam’s supposed to be sleeping, yawned and stretched real convincingly before he lay down and shoved Dean over all the way, grumbling about how he needed room. Now Dean’s smashed against the door and his dick is smashed against his zipper and the tip of Sam’s talented tongue is curling around his pinky, lapping at the webbing between his fingers, reminding Dean of just what it could do flicking under the head of his dick, right there where Sam knows it drives him fucking insane.
He shifts on the seat, wants to groan and pull his hand away, but Sam has him tethered, heart and soul and slick fingers. Sucking now, drawing Dean’s thumb into that warm cavern, so much suction Dean’s terrified that Dad will hear the slurp if he moves, if he tries to draw it out. Sam’s not gentle; that’s not how Dean likes it. He sucks hard, scrapes his teeth on the underside the same way he’d treat Dean’s cock if that was shoved between those plush lips.
Dad turns into a gas station and Sam lets Dean’s thumb slip free. It’s wrinkled and pink, and the sudden coolness is shocking as Sammy’s spit evaporates in the desert heat. Dean swallows hard as Sam sits up slowly, stretching like a big cat who’s been luxuriating in the sun of an open window. He gives Dean a sweet smile and licks his lips as the Impala rolls to a stop.
Dean pumps gas while John buys supplies. He doesn’t dare go into the bathroom until Sam comes out, sauntering back to the car like he’s got a secret, and Dean feels like the world can see it; the one they share. He tries to pee quickly, willing his cock back down. He tries not to think about Sam’s mouth, or give in to putting his hand on himself to take the edge off. Sam won’t like that; he likes Dean on edge, half crazy with the constant teasing. Dean maybe likes it too, squirming under Sam’s hot eyes, under Sam’s hot mouth.
Dean rolls his sleeves up, rolls his pants up past his knees. He’d get naked if he dared, if he didn’t think Dad would question his hard-on for nobody else in the car but family. His clothes are sweated through, nasty, and he can smell himself, smell Sam. It does nothing to quell the urge low in his belly, making Dean want to shift his hips, get his dick up against something besides cotton and denim.
Sam lies back down with a sigh, sounding contented even in the oven of a car. The corner of Dad’s mouth quirks in the rearview and Dean wants to say no, you don’t get it. If you did, you wouldn’t smile.
On the seat, Sam’s already licking his lips, thinking of a new way to torment his brother. Dean shivers thinking about it, anticipation making him shaky, restless. Sam makes him wait, eyes closed but Dean’s never fooled. They know each other’s breathing, each other’s heartbeat. Sam is a predator, endless patience before he strikes. Knows just how long he can tease before making that bite that will take Dean down, over the edge, off the cliff, gone. Sam knows.
He’s almost forgotten, distracted by the seventies rock on the tape deck and the rhythm of the highway, when Sam finally makes his move. He ignores Dean’s fingers splayed expectantly on the leather and darts forward, nose bumping against Dean’s bare thigh just above the bend, just below the roll of his jeans. He nudges in and then his lips press chaste and soft to the back of Dean’s knee, and it’s all Dean can do not to gasp. It’s gentle, catches him off guard, so un-Sam-like and so much what Dean secretly wants. His heart stutters with his breath, and Sam echoes it, wet point of his tongue wiggling into the bend of Dean’s knee, slicking all that soft skin, hidden spot that no one ever touches, but Sam has touched all of Dean, everywhere he can, everywhere he shouldn’t.
Goosebumps prickle up and down Dean’s legs, the hairs on his calves bristling with it, as Sam licks higher, tongue snaking under the rolled up hem of Dean’s jeans to get at his thigh. He nearly moans then, it’s too much, too close to what he really wants. He can feel his nipples pebble, throb with the sudden burst of arousal Sam is sending through him. His dick tents his zipper, blurts out a bit of slick that’s gonna leave him sticky.
Dean wants to wind his hands in Sam’s hair, push him off, pull him up and in, get his mouth and his tongue and his fucking lips on Dean’s cock until he comes all over them.
It’s a dangerous thought. Dean’s dick jerks so hard that for a second he thinks he’s done just that, flushes red at the thought of trying to explain that to Dad.
Sam senses it too, chuckles a little, too softly to leave the backseat, and pulls his head away. Dean lets out a shaky breath as Sam finds his hand again, nips at the tip of his finger as he lets Dean come down a little. Sam will draw it out, tease until Dean’s dizzy and stupid, until all he can see when he closes his eyes is Sam’s red mouth, the source of so much pain and pleasure. He’ll smile over the diner table at Dean, lick the ice cream off his upside down spoon and off his glistening lips. He’ll slurp his milkshake and keep the straw in his mouth too long and later when the Impala has roared off down the road to the nearest bar he’ll straddle Dean’s legs where he’s sitting on the side of the bed, strung out and helpless and begging already. He’ll bend down and fasten his teeth to Dean’s throat and say ‘come,’ and fuck if Dean won’t do it.
Author:
runedgirlRating: NC17
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Word Count: 1150
Summary: Written for
spn_masquerade for the prompt: Pretty much what it says on the tin. One really loves having his mouth on the other, any way he can get him, pretty much at all times.A/N I’m still upset about not being able to do
spnspringfling this year, but at least I managed one little prompt for this!It’s constant, that’s what’s driving Dean mad. Back seat and it’s summer, scorching his ass and the backs of his thighs on the heated leather while Dad drives and drives, even the wind blasting through the open windows too hot to cool them. Nothing compared to the heat of Sammy’s mouth though, the wet slide of tongue against his fingers where Sam has his hand trapped flat on the seat. Sam’s supposed to be sleeping, yawned and stretched real convincingly before he lay down and shoved Dean over all the way, grumbling about how he needed room. Now Dean’s smashed against the door and his dick is smashed against his zipper and the tip of Sam’s talented tongue is curling around his pinky, lapping at the webbing between his fingers, reminding Dean of just what it could do flicking under the head of his dick, right there where Sam knows it drives him fucking insane.
He shifts on the seat, wants to groan and pull his hand away, but Sam has him tethered, heart and soul and slick fingers. Sucking now, drawing Dean’s thumb into that warm cavern, so much suction Dean’s terrified that Dad will hear the slurp if he moves, if he tries to draw it out. Sam’s not gentle; that’s not how Dean likes it. He sucks hard, scrapes his teeth on the underside the same way he’d treat Dean’s cock if that was shoved between those plush lips.
Dad turns into a gas station and Sam lets Dean’s thumb slip free. It’s wrinkled and pink, and the sudden coolness is shocking as Sammy’s spit evaporates in the desert heat. Dean swallows hard as Sam sits up slowly, stretching like a big cat who’s been luxuriating in the sun of an open window. He gives Dean a sweet smile and licks his lips as the Impala rolls to a stop.
Dean pumps gas while John buys supplies. He doesn’t dare go into the bathroom until Sam comes out, sauntering back to the car like he’s got a secret, and Dean feels like the world can see it; the one they share. He tries to pee quickly, willing his cock back down. He tries not to think about Sam’s mouth, or give in to putting his hand on himself to take the edge off. Sam won’t like that; he likes Dean on edge, half crazy with the constant teasing. Dean maybe likes it too, squirming under Sam’s hot eyes, under Sam’s hot mouth.
Dean rolls his sleeves up, rolls his pants up past his knees. He’d get naked if he dared, if he didn’t think Dad would question his hard-on for nobody else in the car but family. His clothes are sweated through, nasty, and he can smell himself, smell Sam. It does nothing to quell the urge low in his belly, making Dean want to shift his hips, get his dick up against something besides cotton and denim.
Sam lies back down with a sigh, sounding contented even in the oven of a car. The corner of Dad’s mouth quirks in the rearview and Dean wants to say no, you don’t get it. If you did, you wouldn’t smile.
On the seat, Sam’s already licking his lips, thinking of a new way to torment his brother. Dean shivers thinking about it, anticipation making him shaky, restless. Sam makes him wait, eyes closed but Dean’s never fooled. They know each other’s breathing, each other’s heartbeat. Sam is a predator, endless patience before he strikes. Knows just how long he can tease before making that bite that will take Dean down, over the edge, off the cliff, gone. Sam knows.
He’s almost forgotten, distracted by the seventies rock on the tape deck and the rhythm of the highway, when Sam finally makes his move. He ignores Dean’s fingers splayed expectantly on the leather and darts forward, nose bumping against Dean’s bare thigh just above the bend, just below the roll of his jeans. He nudges in and then his lips press chaste and soft to the back of Dean’s knee, and it’s all Dean can do not to gasp. It’s gentle, catches him off guard, so un-Sam-like and so much what Dean secretly wants. His heart stutters with his breath, and Sam echoes it, wet point of his tongue wiggling into the bend of Dean’s knee, slicking all that soft skin, hidden spot that no one ever touches, but Sam has touched all of Dean, everywhere he can, everywhere he shouldn’t.
Goosebumps prickle up and down Dean’s legs, the hairs on his calves bristling with it, as Sam licks higher, tongue snaking under the rolled up hem of Dean’s jeans to get at his thigh. He nearly moans then, it’s too much, too close to what he really wants. He can feel his nipples pebble, throb with the sudden burst of arousal Sam is sending through him. His dick tents his zipper, blurts out a bit of slick that’s gonna leave him sticky.
Dean wants to wind his hands in Sam’s hair, push him off, pull him up and in, get his mouth and his tongue and his fucking lips on Dean’s cock until he comes all over them.
It’s a dangerous thought. Dean’s dick jerks so hard that for a second he thinks he’s done just that, flushes red at the thought of trying to explain that to Dad.
Sam senses it too, chuckles a little, too softly to leave the backseat, and pulls his head away. Dean lets out a shaky breath as Sam finds his hand again, nips at the tip of his finger as he lets Dean come down a little. Sam will draw it out, tease until Dean’s dizzy and stupid, until all he can see when he closes his eyes is Sam’s red mouth, the source of so much pain and pleasure. He’ll smile over the diner table at Dean, lick the ice cream off his upside down spoon and off his glistening lips. He’ll slurp his milkshake and keep the straw in his mouth too long and later when the Impala has roared off down the road to the nearest bar he’ll straddle Dean’s legs where he’s sitting on the side of the bed, strung out and helpless and begging already. He’ll bend down and fasten his teeth to Dean’s throat and say ‘come,’ and fuck if Dean won’t do it.
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wsedfrtghjg
Finger sucking! But also - the sweet, desert ride in the heat, laid back, and WANTING between Dean and Sam.... please more more yeah
I love those sensual touches, Dean almost coming from Sam's tongue on his legs - yess! And the best part is how much they both seem to enjoy and want it, content happy Winchesters wanting each other YES !1
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Gorgeous, BB, just dkfaeiofjdlkf! ♥
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<3
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This: It’s gentle, catches him off guard, so un-Sam-like and so much what Dean secretly wants. Just a tiny heartbreak in this, and a counterpoint to the heat and frustration.
Poor (lucky) Dean. ;)
Love.
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It’s gentle, catches him off guard, so un-Sam-like and so much what Dean secretly wants. His heart stutters with his breath, and Sam echoes it, wet point of his tongue wiggling into the bend of Dean’s knee, slicking all that soft skin, hidden spot that no one ever touches, but Sam has touched all of Dean, everywhere he can, everywhere he shouldn’t.
It made my eyes water, that idea that what Dean really craves is something quiet and gentle and out of what he defines as ordinary. Holy fuck, you got me good with that one. Thank you so so much. ♥
(edited because of course i screw up not only the spelling but also the html. xoxoxo while i'm here, i might as well say SO EXCITED TO SEE YOU SOON!)
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Omg, with the finger sucking on the sly, and the teasing, *teasing* with John in the front seat, Sam in control and not innocent at *all* which makes Dean feel kind of innocent to me, and like he's caught up in Sam's web. By the time this story was over, I was feeling a little frazzled myself.... :D
*admires you*
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Thank you so much for this wonderful piece of writing!
Edition 3,474
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But my favorite bit has to be:
The corner of Dad’s mouth quirks in the rearview and Dean wants to say no, you don’t get it. If you did, you wouldn’t smile.
because when I hear Dean think it in my head, there's such a wealth of conflicting inflections there, from smug to maybe something almost grim.
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