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apocalypsosHeh. That makes forty. :)
Title: Come On Now, Bring It On
Author: Troll Princess
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3,215 words
Prompt: #22, Libido (for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
psych_30)
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Warnings: Incest, bad language, sexual situations
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, I just like playing with them.
Summary: Dean has a slight accident during a hunt.
*****
Come On Now, Bring It On
*****
"I can't fucking believe this, Dean."
The words hissed out past Sam's clenched teeth as he stalked toward the Impala, and Dean reluctantly followed behind as fast and as close as he dared. Sam had been going on about this stupid thing for the past ten minutes since that witch wiggled her fingers at Dean with a maniacal laugh and vanished in a puff of smoke like someone with a sick infatuation for bad B-movies.
The high flush in Sam's cheeks was really starting to worry Dean, and he couldn't say a damn thing about it because it turned out succubi couldn't talk. Or didn't talk, or ... hell, all that mattered was that every time he opened his mouth to speak, the words wouldn't come. Even if they did (which he doubted), Dean would have bet the Impala on them coming out sounding like the hottest fucking porn on the planet, which was definitely the last thing either one of them needed right now.
No, a succubus just smiled at you and you fucked them, for Christ's sake -- like any of them had been paying that much attention to any of the previous succubi they'd run into to notice, what with being so turned on they could barely stand upright afterwards. So the fact that Dean was trying to restrain himself to a bare minimum of movement and sound when it came to anything and everything he did was pretty understandable since Sam was the only one there.
"Only you, man, only you," Sam said as he tugged at the front door of the Impala.
Dean was sorely tempted to bring up that time Sam got turned into a fairy by that one sorcerer, but that never went over well, and besides, no voice.
The thing was that Dean could practically feel the muscles tensing under Sam's clothes, as if the fabric had gone invisible and instead he saw a lean hard body sculpted by years of training and begging for him to drag his hands over it. And yeah, he didn't want to think about it because Sam was his brother, for fuck's sake, but he couldn't not think about it because apparently the only things succubi thought about were nailing anything that stood still long enough, blowjobs, handjobs, and about twenty other sordid acts Dean didn't think he could pull off without a decade of gymnastics training.
Not that it stopped him from thinking about doing said morally questionable things to Sam.
Right there and then.
A lot.
And having Sam do those things back to him.
If Dean could have groaned, he would have.
"Get filled full of the powers of a succubus. Jesus. I bet you're just loving this, aren't you?"
Dean shrugged, then caught himself and frowned, then caught himself again and tried for a poker face. "Loving this" didn't come close to describing the rush of heated energy that coursed through his veins while he tried to be as immobile and unexpressive as possible. Right after the witch zapped him with the powers of that partner of hers when they'd destroyed the damn thing, his first response had been to open his mouth and try to cough, which had made Sam climb all over him like a goddamn monkey and try to jam his tongue down Dean's throat before what must have happened occurred to either one of them.
They couldn't scramble away from one another fast enough.
For the record, Dean hadn't much liked the predatory glaze that had gone over Sam's eyes as Dean had fumbled backwards through the grass away from him.
Okay, maybe he had liked it, but he wasn't even going to get into that.
Sam slid into the driver's seat because it was either that or let Dean drive, and if Dean so much as turned the key in the ignition, they were both pretty sure they were going to fuck each other in the back seat of the Impala and not think twice about it. Hell, it was probably the only time in Dean's life he'd ever get laid in his car and be too aroused to worry about messing up the upholstery, but ... well, it was Sam, damn it.
Reluctantly, Dean slipped into the backseat, moving as slowly as possible and sitting down with the least amount of noise or movement he could manage when he heard Sam say, "Where are the car keys?"
A decade or so of playing enough poker to perfect a completely expressionless mask was, Dean realized, one of the best things ever, especially when he realized that the car keys were in his pocket.
His pants pocket, mere centimeters away from his dick.
His dick, a body part which would be perfectly happy if Sam were to search for said keys himself to prevent Dean from moving and if Sam's fingers just happened to make a wrong turn at Albuquerque.
Oh, this was just getting ridiculous.
Dean desperately tried to figure out how to mention this particular turn of events to Sam, hoping that Sam's next suggestion wasn't going to be, "Fine, then, I'll just hotwire the damn thing," but one cautiously quick look in the rearview told Dean that Sam knew exactly where those keys were, and Dean could swear he heard Sam growl before he got out the car, slammed the door shut, and declared, "I'll walk back to the motel."
Dean rubbed at the back of his neck with a frown. Oh, this fucking spell had better rub off, and fast.
*****
Two hours later, Dean came out of the shower sorely tempted to bang his head off the wall. He'd known that the shower plan had been a bad idea from the start even if fighting that witch and her little succubus sidekick had left both he and Sam in desperate need of showers. And Jesus, just thinking Sam's name made him so goddamn hard that he leaned against the bathroom wall to keep from falling to the tile, this sarcastic voice in his head taking note of his erection and thinking, Whatever you do, don't lie. Who knows how fucking big it'll get then?
The second he stripped off his clothes and turned on the shower, Dean sagged against the side of the shower stall, groaning as the water hit his oversensitized skin. He wouldn't have been surprised to see the water steam off of him in a heated fog.
Jerking off had practically become a necessity, unless he really wanted to go insane.
Practically, hell. All he could hear in his head was this litany of, fuckfuckfuckfuck, just like that, like a goddamn command repeated in his head. His erection wasn't going down anytime soon and even looking down at it was the wrong thing to do, because then he wanted someone to betheretouchitjerkhimoffsuckhimblind, no one else was around, and the next thing he knew, he couldn't stop himself. All Dean was doing was just encouraging every sexually obsessed thought in his head, and any other time he would probably think the candy-sweet hum heating his skin was the best sensation ever, dizzying and addictive and tingly, but every roll of his wrist was only making things worse.
His soapy fingers slid over his cock and every movement, every touch was fucking perfect just for existing in the first place.
Damn, how the hell did these bastards make it through the day? How do you shop for groceries when all you want to do is fuck everything that crosses your path?
He came three times before he was finally able to bring himself to pry his hand away from his still-hard cock. Not because of any exhaustion or anything -- apparently, succubi were like the Energizer Bunnies of fucking -- but because the sound of Sam showing up at the front door of the motel room hit Dean hard all the way in the bathroom.
Sound? Yeah, right. Dean could sense the big gangly geek, could feel his presence outside like a hot, hypnotic burst of flames at the edge of his mind.
It was all Dean could do to keep from going out into the bedroom, reaching outside, and hauling Sam into the bedroom before throwing him down on the bed and doing a half-dozen things to him Dean wasn't even sure were legal in this state. Not that legality had ever stopped him before.
If this was that witch's idea of revenge, Dean had to give her credit, because it certainly felt like fucking revenge.
Fucking revenge, he thought with this derisive laugh that rang through his head. Yeah, pun not intended.
When Dean opened the bathroom door, towel hanging low on his hips and let's not even talk about how much trouble that was begging for, Sam continued to pace outside the motel room door. It was pretty obvious he was trying to decide whether or not to tempt fate and come into the room to rip Dean a new one or just sleep out in the Impala and hope the damn spell wore off by the morning. Sleeping in the Impala was the smart move, Dean realized, the good idea Sam should resort to if --
Dean walked out into the bedroom distractedly, banged his knee against the nightstand hard and loud, and had to bite back a string of silent curses.
Outside, Sam stopped pacing.
Oh, shit, Dean thought as that long tall shadow froze, and he wondered if it would be really all that embarassing if he ducked into the bathroom, locked the door, and slept in the tub. Wouldn't be the first time, sure, but it would sure as hell be the first time doing it with a horny, uncontrollable Sam on the other side of the door.
Before Dean could make up his mind, Sam slipped into the room with his jaw clenched and knuckles raw like he had been punching brick walls on the way back to the motel room, slamming the door shut behind him. And maybe he had been punching walls, the way he was wound up, coiled from the inside as if he were ten seconds away from bursting like ripe fruit. Sam's gaze rested on the hand that held Dean's towel up, glaring at it like it was the cause of every single bit of agony he felt at this particular moment in time.
You know, if by "agony," you mean being harder than Sam had ever been in his life, and Dean didn't need Sam to speak or read his mind to know that went for the both of them.
It was a thought that wasn't nearly as disconcerting as it should be.
Dean didn't even want to think about how he could almost scent the arousal coming from Sam, how he could almost taste how out of it Sam was just from being in the same fucking room with him, how --
"Can't you turn it off?" Sam says, and the words growl past his lips almost frantically.
Dean wanted to shake his head no but that definitely would have been a bad move, because now that Sam was speaking, he couldn't stop staring at Sam's lips. The kid might be a great big geek, but he had seen Sam kissing girls and he was damn good at it like some sort of fucking savant. Hell, it was one thing to see Sam kissing a girl, lips parted and tongue sliding out to taste slow and steady and heated, and another thing entirely to picture him doing that to Dean.
He wondered why Sam wouldn't leave, why he was even stupid enough to come back at all, and maybe Sam had suddenly developed telepathy or something because his breath shuddered past his lips as he said, "I can't leave, damn it. I was going to go to the motel on the other side of town and see if the spell wore off by morning, but I couldn't -- you must have --"
Sam's hands pressed flat against the door, those big freaking paws of his, and Dean could swear Sam's fingernails dug into the paint as if he were holding on for dear life.
"Look, there's got to be something we can do, right? Because if this is one of those curses where ..." Sam's voice trailed off like he didn't want to say it out loud, like saying it was just going to make it happen, but Dean knew exactly what he was getting at.
One of those curses where they just had to commit to what the damn thing wanted them to do and it would all be over.
Well, of course the damn thing wants us to fuck, Dean thought, and something about the look on his face when he thought that must have been the thing that made Sam crack.
It was like Sam disappeared from one side and reappeared on the other, one hand ripping away the towel and the other latching onto Dean's shoulder like Dean was actually thinking of going somewhere instead of letting Sam fuck him six ways to Sunday. Sam's mouth was ... Jesus fuck, Dean was right, the kid could kiss like he was trying for a good seat in Hell just with this, licking at Dean's mouth and turning him on so damn much that Dean's brain fogged up past the point of realizing there was probably nothing that wouldn't turn him on at this point.
Soaking in lust didn't even begin to describe it, because it was like they were both drowning in it and instead of holding their breath they were taking in great greedy gulps of the stuff.
One of Sam's hands trailed down Dean's chest and the next thing Dean knew, Sam's long fingers wrapped around his cock.
If anything could be considered a goddamn wake-up call, that was it.
Dean stumbled backwards first, because this was his brother, damn it, and this was just wrong no matter how right it felt. That dark, wild haze in Sam's brown eyes wasn't going away anytime soon, and if Dean's guess was right, it would only getting worse. Sam's breathing came out ragged and his skin flushed like they'd been making out for longer than they had, chest heaving and hands shaking at his sides.
Sam narrowed his eyes when Dean backed away from him and retaliated by pulling off his shirt and jacket in one swift move.
Dean's breath caught in his throat. Oh, fuck.
It wasn't like he didn't know Sam was ripped -- hell, it wasn't something he could miss, you know? -- but there's a vast difference between noticing that your brother's been carrying on his workouts and another to want to trace over every line of muscle on his chest with your tongue. Dean's mind swam in this thick fog, sweet and explosive like inhaling a cloud of pure adrenaline, and he was still trying to convince himself this was a bad fucking idea even as he stepped forward and savored the rasp of his tongue over Sam's collarbone.
"Jesus," Sam hissed, falling forward a few steps in just the right way to back Dean between his body and the wall. There was a hand pressed against the wall next to Dean's head and another skimming down his ribs, but it didn't matter to Dean. All Dean could focus on was the strong lingering taste of Sam's skin, the mingled scents of sweat and sandalwood coming off him in waves and the begging noises Sam made as Dean cupped his little brother's cock through the front of his jeans.
Dean undid Sam's jeans and pushed them and his boxers down, down, down, until Sam had to back away from the hot sucking kisses Dean was trailing across his chest to kick them aside.
"You think this'll fix you?" Sam said as if Dean could actually answer, and with their track record it probably would. That was the way these spells worked, after all.
But Dean didn't think Sam gave any more of a damn than he did at that particular moment in time.
He was also talking too much, Dean thought, so he waited so that Sam's erection rested in the palm of his hand, wrapped his fingers around the damn thing, and gave Sam just enough time to wallow in anticipation before moving his hand in a slow, confident slide.
Sam made this choked sound, and you'd think Sam's lungs were in his dick or something, the hoarse rasps that come out and ghost warm breaths over Dean's skin as he jerked off his brother. Dean felt like he was wringing the air from Sam's chest one flick of his wrist at a time, drawing it out on a string of words so dirty Dean would chuckle in amusement that Sam even knew those words if he could.
Sam begged Dean to keep going, keep doing what you're doing, don't stop, wait, wait, no, no, want to come in you, damn it, and that was all the incentive Dean needed, pulling away and getting a sick sort of amusement out of the pained whimper that Sam made, like he hadn't even known what he'd said. And Dean didn't know exactly how far the whole succubus thing went in him, but he could have sworn that he was feeding off Sam's reaction, getting higher and higher with every soft, teasing kiss Sam drew him into.
Sam led Dean towards the nearest bed, or maybe it was the other way around, as if either one of them could tell anymore. Dean sure as hell couldn't tell what was going on, everything about this driving him out of his mind, Sam's hands on his thighs and mouth engulfing his cock and fingers easing him open until that hum on Dean's skin became a roar in his ears.
When Sam finally thrust into him, Dean gripped onto Sam's shoulders so tightly the bruises wouldn't go away for two weeks.
*****
Two hours later, neither one of them could move, too broken, too sore. Sam rose up on one elbow and stared down at Dean, trailing his fingertips over Dean's chest. "Are you sure it didn't work that time?"
Dean shook his head and pulled Sam down for another kiss, because if anything would keep Dean from talking and ruining all his fun, that would do it.
Title: Come On Now, Bring It On
Author: Troll Princess
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3,215 words
Prompt: #22, Libido (for
psych_30)Pairing: Sam/Dean
Warnings: Incest, bad language, sexual situations
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, I just like playing with them.
Summary: Dean has a slight accident during a hunt.
Come On Now, Bring It On
*****
"I can't fucking believe this, Dean."
The words hissed out past Sam's clenched teeth as he stalked toward the Impala, and Dean reluctantly followed behind as fast and as close as he dared. Sam had been going on about this stupid thing for the past ten minutes since that witch wiggled her fingers at Dean with a maniacal laugh and vanished in a puff of smoke like someone with a sick infatuation for bad B-movies.
The high flush in Sam's cheeks was really starting to worry Dean, and he couldn't say a damn thing about it because it turned out succubi couldn't talk. Or didn't talk, or ... hell, all that mattered was that every time he opened his mouth to speak, the words wouldn't come. Even if they did (which he doubted), Dean would have bet the Impala on them coming out sounding like the hottest fucking porn on the planet, which was definitely the last thing either one of them needed right now.
No, a succubus just smiled at you and you fucked them, for Christ's sake -- like any of them had been paying that much attention to any of the previous succubi they'd run into to notice, what with being so turned on they could barely stand upright afterwards. So the fact that Dean was trying to restrain himself to a bare minimum of movement and sound when it came to anything and everything he did was pretty understandable since Sam was the only one there.
"Only you, man, only you," Sam said as he tugged at the front door of the Impala.
Dean was sorely tempted to bring up that time Sam got turned into a fairy by that one sorcerer, but that never went over well, and besides, no voice.
The thing was that Dean could practically feel the muscles tensing under Sam's clothes, as if the fabric had gone invisible and instead he saw a lean hard body sculpted by years of training and begging for him to drag his hands over it. And yeah, he didn't want to think about it because Sam was his brother, for fuck's sake, but he couldn't not think about it because apparently the only things succubi thought about were nailing anything that stood still long enough, blowjobs, handjobs, and about twenty other sordid acts Dean didn't think he could pull off without a decade of gymnastics training.
Not that it stopped him from thinking about doing said morally questionable things to Sam.
Right there and then.
A lot.
And having Sam do those things back to him.
If Dean could have groaned, he would have.
"Get filled full of the powers of a succubus. Jesus. I bet you're just loving this, aren't you?"
Dean shrugged, then caught himself and frowned, then caught himself again and tried for a poker face. "Loving this" didn't come close to describing the rush of heated energy that coursed through his veins while he tried to be as immobile and unexpressive as possible. Right after the witch zapped him with the powers of that partner of hers when they'd destroyed the damn thing, his first response had been to open his mouth and try to cough, which had made Sam climb all over him like a goddamn monkey and try to jam his tongue down Dean's throat before what must have happened occurred to either one of them.
They couldn't scramble away from one another fast enough.
For the record, Dean hadn't much liked the predatory glaze that had gone over Sam's eyes as Dean had fumbled backwards through the grass away from him.
Okay, maybe he had liked it, but he wasn't even going to get into that.
Sam slid into the driver's seat because it was either that or let Dean drive, and if Dean so much as turned the key in the ignition, they were both pretty sure they were going to fuck each other in the back seat of the Impala and not think twice about it. Hell, it was probably the only time in Dean's life he'd ever get laid in his car and be too aroused to worry about messing up the upholstery, but ... well, it was Sam, damn it.
Reluctantly, Dean slipped into the backseat, moving as slowly as possible and sitting down with the least amount of noise or movement he could manage when he heard Sam say, "Where are the car keys?"
A decade or so of playing enough poker to perfect a completely expressionless mask was, Dean realized, one of the best things ever, especially when he realized that the car keys were in his pocket.
His pants pocket, mere centimeters away from his dick.
His dick, a body part which would be perfectly happy if Sam were to search for said keys himself to prevent Dean from moving and if Sam's fingers just happened to make a wrong turn at Albuquerque.
Oh, this was just getting ridiculous.
Dean desperately tried to figure out how to mention this particular turn of events to Sam, hoping that Sam's next suggestion wasn't going to be, "Fine, then, I'll just hotwire the damn thing," but one cautiously quick look in the rearview told Dean that Sam knew exactly where those keys were, and Dean could swear he heard Sam growl before he got out the car, slammed the door shut, and declared, "I'll walk back to the motel."
Dean rubbed at the back of his neck with a frown. Oh, this fucking spell had better rub off, and fast.
Two hours later, Dean came out of the shower sorely tempted to bang his head off the wall. He'd known that the shower plan had been a bad idea from the start even if fighting that witch and her little succubus sidekick had left both he and Sam in desperate need of showers. And Jesus, just thinking Sam's name made him so goddamn hard that he leaned against the bathroom wall to keep from falling to the tile, this sarcastic voice in his head taking note of his erection and thinking, Whatever you do, don't lie. Who knows how fucking big it'll get then?
The second he stripped off his clothes and turned on the shower, Dean sagged against the side of the shower stall, groaning as the water hit his oversensitized skin. He wouldn't have been surprised to see the water steam off of him in a heated fog.
Jerking off had practically become a necessity, unless he really wanted to go insane.
Practically, hell. All he could hear in his head was this litany of, fuckfuckfuckfuck, just like that, like a goddamn command repeated in his head. His erection wasn't going down anytime soon and even looking down at it was the wrong thing to do, because then he wanted someone to betheretouchitjerkhimoffsuckhimblind, no one else was around, and the next thing he knew, he couldn't stop himself. All Dean was doing was just encouraging every sexually obsessed thought in his head, and any other time he would probably think the candy-sweet hum heating his skin was the best sensation ever, dizzying and addictive and tingly, but every roll of his wrist was only making things worse.
His soapy fingers slid over his cock and every movement, every touch was fucking perfect just for existing in the first place.
Damn, how the hell did these bastards make it through the day? How do you shop for groceries when all you want to do is fuck everything that crosses your path?
He came three times before he was finally able to bring himself to pry his hand away from his still-hard cock. Not because of any exhaustion or anything -- apparently, succubi were like the Energizer Bunnies of fucking -- but because the sound of Sam showing up at the front door of the motel room hit Dean hard all the way in the bathroom.
Sound? Yeah, right. Dean could sense the big gangly geek, could feel his presence outside like a hot, hypnotic burst of flames at the edge of his mind.
It was all Dean could do to keep from going out into the bedroom, reaching outside, and hauling Sam into the bedroom before throwing him down on the bed and doing a half-dozen things to him Dean wasn't even sure were legal in this state. Not that legality had ever stopped him before.
If this was that witch's idea of revenge, Dean had to give her credit, because it certainly felt like fucking revenge.
Fucking revenge, he thought with this derisive laugh that rang through his head. Yeah, pun not intended.
When Dean opened the bathroom door, towel hanging low on his hips and let's not even talk about how much trouble that was begging for, Sam continued to pace outside the motel room door. It was pretty obvious he was trying to decide whether or not to tempt fate and come into the room to rip Dean a new one or just sleep out in the Impala and hope the damn spell wore off by the morning. Sleeping in the Impala was the smart move, Dean realized, the good idea Sam should resort to if --
Dean walked out into the bedroom distractedly, banged his knee against the nightstand hard and loud, and had to bite back a string of silent curses.
Outside, Sam stopped pacing.
Oh, shit, Dean thought as that long tall shadow froze, and he wondered if it would be really all that embarassing if he ducked into the bathroom, locked the door, and slept in the tub. Wouldn't be the first time, sure, but it would sure as hell be the first time doing it with a horny, uncontrollable Sam on the other side of the door.
Before Dean could make up his mind, Sam slipped into the room with his jaw clenched and knuckles raw like he had been punching brick walls on the way back to the motel room, slamming the door shut behind him. And maybe he had been punching walls, the way he was wound up, coiled from the inside as if he were ten seconds away from bursting like ripe fruit. Sam's gaze rested on the hand that held Dean's towel up, glaring at it like it was the cause of every single bit of agony he felt at this particular moment in time.
You know, if by "agony," you mean being harder than Sam had ever been in his life, and Dean didn't need Sam to speak or read his mind to know that went for the both of them.
It was a thought that wasn't nearly as disconcerting as it should be.
Dean didn't even want to think about how he could almost scent the arousal coming from Sam, how he could almost taste how out of it Sam was just from being in the same fucking room with him, how --
"Can't you turn it off?" Sam says, and the words growl past his lips almost frantically.
Dean wanted to shake his head no but that definitely would have been a bad move, because now that Sam was speaking, he couldn't stop staring at Sam's lips. The kid might be a great big geek, but he had seen Sam kissing girls and he was damn good at it like some sort of fucking savant. Hell, it was one thing to see Sam kissing a girl, lips parted and tongue sliding out to taste slow and steady and heated, and another thing entirely to picture him doing that to Dean.
He wondered why Sam wouldn't leave, why he was even stupid enough to come back at all, and maybe Sam had suddenly developed telepathy or something because his breath shuddered past his lips as he said, "I can't leave, damn it. I was going to go to the motel on the other side of town and see if the spell wore off by morning, but I couldn't -- you must have --"
Sam's hands pressed flat against the door, those big freaking paws of his, and Dean could swear Sam's fingernails dug into the paint as if he were holding on for dear life.
"Look, there's got to be something we can do, right? Because if this is one of those curses where ..." Sam's voice trailed off like he didn't want to say it out loud, like saying it was just going to make it happen, but Dean knew exactly what he was getting at.
One of those curses where they just had to commit to what the damn thing wanted them to do and it would all be over.
Well, of course the damn thing wants us to fuck, Dean thought, and something about the look on his face when he thought that must have been the thing that made Sam crack.
It was like Sam disappeared from one side and reappeared on the other, one hand ripping away the towel and the other latching onto Dean's shoulder like Dean was actually thinking of going somewhere instead of letting Sam fuck him six ways to Sunday. Sam's mouth was ... Jesus fuck, Dean was right, the kid could kiss like he was trying for a good seat in Hell just with this, licking at Dean's mouth and turning him on so damn much that Dean's brain fogged up past the point of realizing there was probably nothing that wouldn't turn him on at this point.
Soaking in lust didn't even begin to describe it, because it was like they were both drowning in it and instead of holding their breath they were taking in great greedy gulps of the stuff.
One of Sam's hands trailed down Dean's chest and the next thing Dean knew, Sam's long fingers wrapped around his cock.
If anything could be considered a goddamn wake-up call, that was it.
Dean stumbled backwards first, because this was his brother, damn it, and this was just wrong no matter how right it felt. That dark, wild haze in Sam's brown eyes wasn't going away anytime soon, and if Dean's guess was right, it would only getting worse. Sam's breathing came out ragged and his skin flushed like they'd been making out for longer than they had, chest heaving and hands shaking at his sides.
Sam narrowed his eyes when Dean backed away from him and retaliated by pulling off his shirt and jacket in one swift move.
Dean's breath caught in his throat. Oh, fuck.
It wasn't like he didn't know Sam was ripped -- hell, it wasn't something he could miss, you know? -- but there's a vast difference between noticing that your brother's been carrying on his workouts and another to want to trace over every line of muscle on his chest with your tongue. Dean's mind swam in this thick fog, sweet and explosive like inhaling a cloud of pure adrenaline, and he was still trying to convince himself this was a bad fucking idea even as he stepped forward and savored the rasp of his tongue over Sam's collarbone.
"Jesus," Sam hissed, falling forward a few steps in just the right way to back Dean between his body and the wall. There was a hand pressed against the wall next to Dean's head and another skimming down his ribs, but it didn't matter to Dean. All Dean could focus on was the strong lingering taste of Sam's skin, the mingled scents of sweat and sandalwood coming off him in waves and the begging noises Sam made as Dean cupped his little brother's cock through the front of his jeans.
Dean undid Sam's jeans and pushed them and his boxers down, down, down, until Sam had to back away from the hot sucking kisses Dean was trailing across his chest to kick them aside.
"You think this'll fix you?" Sam said as if Dean could actually answer, and with their track record it probably would. That was the way these spells worked, after all.
But Dean didn't think Sam gave any more of a damn than he did at that particular moment in time.
He was also talking too much, Dean thought, so he waited so that Sam's erection rested in the palm of his hand, wrapped his fingers around the damn thing, and gave Sam just enough time to wallow in anticipation before moving his hand in a slow, confident slide.
Sam made this choked sound, and you'd think Sam's lungs were in his dick or something, the hoarse rasps that come out and ghost warm breaths over Dean's skin as he jerked off his brother. Dean felt like he was wringing the air from Sam's chest one flick of his wrist at a time, drawing it out on a string of words so dirty Dean would chuckle in amusement that Sam even knew those words if he could.
Sam begged Dean to keep going, keep doing what you're doing, don't stop, wait, wait, no, no, want to come in you, damn it, and that was all the incentive Dean needed, pulling away and getting a sick sort of amusement out of the pained whimper that Sam made, like he hadn't even known what he'd said. And Dean didn't know exactly how far the whole succubus thing went in him, but he could have sworn that he was feeding off Sam's reaction, getting higher and higher with every soft, teasing kiss Sam drew him into.
Sam led Dean towards the nearest bed, or maybe it was the other way around, as if either one of them could tell anymore. Dean sure as hell couldn't tell what was going on, everything about this driving him out of his mind, Sam's hands on his thighs and mouth engulfing his cock and fingers easing him open until that hum on Dean's skin became a roar in his ears.
When Sam finally thrust into him, Dean gripped onto Sam's shoulders so tightly the bruises wouldn't go away for two weeks.
Two hours later, neither one of them could move, too broken, too sore. Sam rose up on one elbow and stared down at Dean, trailing his fingertips over Dean's chest. "Are you sure it didn't work that time?"
Dean shook his head and pulled Sam down for another kiss, because if anything would keep Dean from talking and ruining all his fun, that would do it.
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Date: 2006-04-21 08:43 pm (UTC)Dean was sorely tempted to bring up that time Sam got turned into a fairy by that one sorcerer, but that never went over well, and besides, no voice.
Dean didn't think he could pull off without a decade of gymnastics training. Hee, he could give it a good go...
. All Dean was doing was just encouraging every sexually obsessed thought in his head, and any other time he would probably think the candy-sweet hum heating his skin was the best sensation ever, dizzying and addictive and tingly, but every roll of his wrist was only making things worse.
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Date: 2006-04-22 01:45 am (UTC)I wanna see the fic were Sam got turned into a fairy. ;-)
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Date: 2006-04-21 08:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-21 09:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-21 09:04 pm (UTC)Dean shook his head and pulled Sam down for another kiss, because if anything would keep Dean from talking and ruining all his fun, that would do it.
*cackles* Loved that ending!
Ooo I completely lost it over your "Dear Dean" icon. That is just hysterical.
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Date: 2006-04-21 09:13 pm (UTC)You're the queen of hotness!
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Date: 2006-04-21 09:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-21 09:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-21 09:37 pm (UTC)That was... yeah, sticking with wow.
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Date: 2006-04-21 09:41 pm (UTC)*smooches*
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Date: 2006-04-21 10:08 pm (UTC)so uh. you should totally write MORE of it. yes. more. nngh.
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Date: 2006-04-21 10:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-22 12:33 am (UTC)Hot damn, woman!
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Date: 2006-04-22 12:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-22 02:58 am (UTC)Loved the ending.
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Date: 2006-04-22 03:02 am (UTC)Small tense change typo: ...until Sam has to back away from the hot sucking kisses... Should be had, no?
Which is not to say that I didn't find this hot. Cause I'm over here trying to cool down my panties drawer. ^_^
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Date: 2006-04-22 06:37 am (UTC)omg omg omg
you are damn good
Dean is sneaky *loves*
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Date: 2006-04-22 07:34 am (UTC)And Jesus, just thinking Sam's name made him so goddamn hard that he leaned against the bathroom wall to keep from falling to the tile, this sarcastic voice in his head taking note of his erection and thinking, Whatever you do, don't lie. Who knows how fucking big it'll get then?
For the WIN.
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Date: 2006-04-22 09:11 am (UTC)Damn, that was good! Fantastic premise. There should definitely be more fics out there with one or both of the brothers being doused with Succubi hormones and having to resort to each other for sex. Thanks so much for this lovely bit of wincest. xx
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Date: 2006-04-22 01:44 pm (UTC)Jesus fuck, that was hot but ahahaha, the ending. *smirks*
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Date: 2006-04-22 03:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-22 03:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-22 04:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-22 06:46 pm (UTC)I'm broken.
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Date: 2006-04-22 09:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-23 12:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-13 07:31 pm (UTC)OMG this was the best 'sex pollen' fic ever! GUH. So incredibly hot--I love predatory Sam so much :D
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Date: 2007-07-16 01:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-19 04:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-01-25 06:19 am (UTC)LOL at the ending, brilliant. Go Dean!
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Date: 2008-03-24 08:57 pm (UTC)Off to read more now I've discovered your delicious fic.
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Date: 2008-05-05 05:31 am (UTC)I found this recc'd thru
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Date: 2008-08-12 04:06 pm (UTC)I mean... just... guh.
Very nice. Very nice indeed. I especially loved the glimpses Sam trying to control himself, as seen through through Dean's eyes. And making Dean unable to talk? Completely brilliant move. Thank you for writing this.
*Smirks*
Date: 2009-04-09 09:42 pm (UTC)Dean shook his head and pulled Sam down for another kiss, because if anything would keep Dean from talking and ruining all his fun, that would do it...."
Dean, Dean. What a devious and clever little minx! *Grins* Loved this!<3