Fic: Caught In The Sun (Supernatural)
Apr. 8th, 2006 04:47 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
apocalypsosTitle: Caught In The Sun
Author: Troll Princess
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1266 words
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Prompt: #21, Rationalization (for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
psych_30)
Spoilers for: "Something Wicked"
Warnings: Incest, bad language
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, I just like playing with them.
Summary: It's not really what it is until Dean says it is.
*****
Caught In The Sun
*****
Dean rationalizes it like this:
It's not actually fucking his brother until he really is actually fucking his brother.
Works pretty well, for a while.
You know, considering.
*****
The first time definitely doesn't count, because it's all Sam fault anyway. Stupid kid, going out alone in the fucking dark when they know damn well there's something out there taking people. Dean can just picture him calling out "Hello?" and checking under cars like he hasn't been trained within an inch of his life. Sam was practically begging to be taken, and the only thing missing from that scenario is Sam on his knees asking for it.
Dean can't say that mental image doesn't end up in an entirely different place than it started out when it comes to him, but he can say that he never commits it in reality and that's why he's not fucking his brother.
Manhandling Sam into the nearest tree trunk while they're walking away from that house of horrors, his fingers trembling like this well of energy's burst and the only thing that'll tide it over is skimming his hands over Sam's arms, chest, hips ... yeah, that he does. Hands grasping at Sam's clothes like there's this muscle memory in Dean's mind that grabbing at someone else's clothes means they come off now, his gaze focused on Sam's lips like he's waiting for the kid to complain, like he's waiting for words to spill out rather than something else.
Hell, he doesn't even kiss the son of a bitch.
Deserves a goddamn medal for that, too.
*****
The second time ... yeah, maybe that counts, Dad barely a state behind them in the rear view going in the opposite direction and Dean's so fucking wired he pulls the Impala over to the side of the road and figures that if Sam's going to sit there and sulk in silence, he'd better get doing something with his mouth.
Because, yeah, that makes sense.
Sam tastes like the blood still staining his cheeks and the bitter tang of something that's probably anger, but he kisses Dean back. His tongue slides along Dean's and teases the inside of his mouth like Sam knows damn well what'll get a reaction, and the way Dean sees it, this is the best and closest thing to revenge they've got open to them.
Revenge against whom, he's not sure, but at this point, he'll take what he can get.
*****
The third time's got to count for something, at least, but Dean can't bring himself to do it with Sam laughing like that. Sam hasn't laughed like that in months, not since Jess, not since this whole crazy road trip started, and if it takes a little itching powder and some glue on a beer bottle to do it, Dean'll take it.
So maybe he's getting off a little at that broad, goofy grin on Sam's face, the way it makes his eyes light up like they're dancing. There's this weird silly haze between thought and execution, and Dean somehow gets him down on the motel room bed and yanks down Sam's zipper so hard he's amazed he doesn't break the fucking seams.
Hand around Sam's cock like it just magically appeared there, and that hazy light doesn't leave Sam's eyes as he says, "Bet you're missing that skin on your palm something fierce right now."
"Thought you said something about not touching that one with a ten-foot pole," Dean says, and cuts off the obvious joke that's sure to follow with a twist and jerk of his wrist that makes Sam's breath hitch out of his lungs like a colt being yanked from a barn with a lasso around his neck.
Maybe if I just call it a prank, this won't count, either, Dean thinks.
*****
The fourth time's pretty freaking difficult to rationalize as not actually fucking his brother, but then again, it isn't and you'd think that'd make all the difference. Fucking his brother means stripping Sam down to nothing and thrusting into him so hard and fast it's like Dean's trying to drive the common sense right out of him, like he's going to make Sam forget his own goddamn name with the pressure of his mouth and hands and cock in a dozen different places.
This isn't fucking his brother, not by a long shot, but it's Dean's lips wrapped around him and his hands pressing down on Sam's hips.
There's only one way he's been able to rationalize this one, but he's pretty sure there isn't a court in the world that'll hold up an excuse like checking for scuff marks from a shtriga attack on his brother's dick with his tongue.
Not that he still wouldn't try damn hard to sell it, but still.
*****
The fifth time was the two of them pushing and shoving towards the end of this argument about a demon in a church outside Chicago, the thing lying dead in the middle of the aisle and Sam being so fucking stupid. Oh, sure, just wander right up to the bastard with a crossbow and not actually do anything, just stand there taking up space and waiting to be attacked, and that "visions when I'm awake" thing is really starting to get on Dean's fucking nerves.
Is there a worse place on the planet they can start making out than the empty pew of a church in the middle of the night when there's a dead demon not ten feet away?
Hell, no.
What's that saying about two negatives not making a positive? Maybe somebody's just screwing up their math somewhere, because three negatives seem to Dean to be about as positive as can be.
*****
The sixth time, Dean is drunk and Sam is really drunk.
Well, shit, drunk sex never counts.
Especially if you wake up in this numb haze with this hand that's not yours straying low on your belly. That's got to be on the list of exceptions somewhere.
*****
Okay, so maybe this really is fucking his brother, because Sam's tongue keeps flickering along his collarbone as his hand slide down Dean's back, leaving a trail of heat on Dean's flesh, and Sam's saying something that sounds suspiciously like, "You just going to sit there all day or are you actually going to do something?" And then he's moving, can't make himself not move, and Sam's making this noise from the back of his throat that practically licks along Dean's nerves like it's teasing them senseless.
All right, so maybe he is fucking his brother.
Then again, he's got a trunk full of guns and a long list of people saved that says maybe he's earned the right, as long as Sam's willing.
Then Sam's hand slips down between them to drive Dean insane with deft, quick strokes and fuck, obviously it's never been a question of "willing", but "when."
Author: Troll Princess
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1266 words
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Prompt: #21, Rationalization (for
psych_30)Spoilers for: "Something Wicked"
Warnings: Incest, bad language
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, I just like playing with them.
Summary: It's not really what it is until Dean says it is.
Caught In The Sun
*****
Dean rationalizes it like this:
It's not actually fucking his brother until he really is actually fucking his brother.
Works pretty well, for a while.
You know, considering.
The first time definitely doesn't count, because it's all Sam fault anyway. Stupid kid, going out alone in the fucking dark when they know damn well there's something out there taking people. Dean can just picture him calling out "Hello?" and checking under cars like he hasn't been trained within an inch of his life. Sam was practically begging to be taken, and the only thing missing from that scenario is Sam on his knees asking for it.
Dean can't say that mental image doesn't end up in an entirely different place than it started out when it comes to him, but he can say that he never commits it in reality and that's why he's not fucking his brother.
Manhandling Sam into the nearest tree trunk while they're walking away from that house of horrors, his fingers trembling like this well of energy's burst and the only thing that'll tide it over is skimming his hands over Sam's arms, chest, hips ... yeah, that he does. Hands grasping at Sam's clothes like there's this muscle memory in Dean's mind that grabbing at someone else's clothes means they come off now, his gaze focused on Sam's lips like he's waiting for the kid to complain, like he's waiting for words to spill out rather than something else.
Hell, he doesn't even kiss the son of a bitch.
Deserves a goddamn medal for that, too.
The second time ... yeah, maybe that counts, Dad barely a state behind them in the rear view going in the opposite direction and Dean's so fucking wired he pulls the Impala over to the side of the road and figures that if Sam's going to sit there and sulk in silence, he'd better get doing something with his mouth.
Because, yeah, that makes sense.
Sam tastes like the blood still staining his cheeks and the bitter tang of something that's probably anger, but he kisses Dean back. His tongue slides along Dean's and teases the inside of his mouth like Sam knows damn well what'll get a reaction, and the way Dean sees it, this is the best and closest thing to revenge they've got open to them.
Revenge against whom, he's not sure, but at this point, he'll take what he can get.
The third time's got to count for something, at least, but Dean can't bring himself to do it with Sam laughing like that. Sam hasn't laughed like that in months, not since Jess, not since this whole crazy road trip started, and if it takes a little itching powder and some glue on a beer bottle to do it, Dean'll take it.
So maybe he's getting off a little at that broad, goofy grin on Sam's face, the way it makes his eyes light up like they're dancing. There's this weird silly haze between thought and execution, and Dean somehow gets him down on the motel room bed and yanks down Sam's zipper so hard he's amazed he doesn't break the fucking seams.
Hand around Sam's cock like it just magically appeared there, and that hazy light doesn't leave Sam's eyes as he says, "Bet you're missing that skin on your palm something fierce right now."
"Thought you said something about not touching that one with a ten-foot pole," Dean says, and cuts off the obvious joke that's sure to follow with a twist and jerk of his wrist that makes Sam's breath hitch out of his lungs like a colt being yanked from a barn with a lasso around his neck.
Maybe if I just call it a prank, this won't count, either, Dean thinks.
The fourth time's pretty freaking difficult to rationalize as not actually fucking his brother, but then again, it isn't and you'd think that'd make all the difference. Fucking his brother means stripping Sam down to nothing and thrusting into him so hard and fast it's like Dean's trying to drive the common sense right out of him, like he's going to make Sam forget his own goddamn name with the pressure of his mouth and hands and cock in a dozen different places.
This isn't fucking his brother, not by a long shot, but it's Dean's lips wrapped around him and his hands pressing down on Sam's hips.
There's only one way he's been able to rationalize this one, but he's pretty sure there isn't a court in the world that'll hold up an excuse like checking for scuff marks from a shtriga attack on his brother's dick with his tongue.
Not that he still wouldn't try damn hard to sell it, but still.
The fifth time was the two of them pushing and shoving towards the end of this argument about a demon in a church outside Chicago, the thing lying dead in the middle of the aisle and Sam being so fucking stupid. Oh, sure, just wander right up to the bastard with a crossbow and not actually do anything, just stand there taking up space and waiting to be attacked, and that "visions when I'm awake" thing is really starting to get on Dean's fucking nerves.
Is there a worse place on the planet they can start making out than the empty pew of a church in the middle of the night when there's a dead demon not ten feet away?
Hell, no.
What's that saying about two negatives not making a positive? Maybe somebody's just screwing up their math somewhere, because three negatives seem to Dean to be about as positive as can be.
The sixth time, Dean is drunk and Sam is really drunk.
Well, shit, drunk sex never counts.
Especially if you wake up in this numb haze with this hand that's not yours straying low on your belly. That's got to be on the list of exceptions somewhere.
Okay, so maybe this really is fucking his brother, because Sam's tongue keeps flickering along his collarbone as his hand slide down Dean's back, leaving a trail of heat on Dean's flesh, and Sam's saying something that sounds suspiciously like, "You just going to sit there all day or are you actually going to do something?" And then he's moving, can't make himself not move, and Sam's making this noise from the back of his throat that practically licks along Dean's nerves like it's teasing them senseless.
All right, so maybe he is fucking his brother.
Then again, he's got a trunk full of guns and a long list of people saved that says maybe he's earned the right, as long as Sam's willing.
Then Sam's hand slips down between them to drive Dean insane with deft, quick strokes and fuck, obviously it's never been a question of "willing", but "when."
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-04-08 08:58 pm (UTC)Dean would so try to explain it away. And fail miserably. And GUH, this was hot *fans self* You, my dear, win at life.
no subject
Date: 2006-04-08 10:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-12 08:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-12 10:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-17 01:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-08 09:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-08 09:07 pm (UTC)*wheeeeeeze* The whole story is sheer brilliance, but that's the line that killed me dead :D
no subject
Date: 2006-04-08 09:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-08 09:26 pm (UTC)Yeah. Right there.
no subject
Date: 2006-04-08 09:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-08 09:49 pm (UTC)Oh, love Dean's reasoning and rationalising, just love it. And that above? So, so him.
Thank you :D
no subject
Date: 2006-04-08 09:49 pm (UTC)Yeah, just like that.
no subject
Date: 2006-04-08 10:01 pm (UTC)This was awesome, totally captured the boys and Dean's internal monologue. :) *runstoreread*
no subject
Date: 2006-04-08 10:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-08 10:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-08 10:24 pm (UTC)Especially if you wake up in this numb haze with this hand that's not yours straying low on your belly.
Guh. I loved this. The whole thing is just a great push/pull of denial & desire.
(And thanks so much for the rec!)
no subject
Date: 2006-04-08 10:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-09 12:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-09 12:38 am (UTC)Well, shit, drunk sex never counts.
no subject
Date: 2006-04-09 01:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-09 01:14 am (UTC)Just the way he justifies it even as he gives in to it:
Then again, he's got a trunk full of guns and a long list of people saved that says maybe he's earned the right, as long as Sam's willing.
Awesome. Loved it. :)
no subject
Date: 2006-04-09 01:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-09 01:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-09 08:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-09 03:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-09 08:17 pm (UTC)I think you broke me.
no subject
Date: 2006-04-09 10:10 pm (UTC)Sam's saying something that sounds suspiciously like, "You just going to sit there all day or are you actually going to do something?"
Hee! As usual, dear, this is just so perfectly them. especially sex in the church w/ the demon corpse. You win teh internets.
no subject
Date: 2006-04-09 11:06 pm (UTC)As ever, dear, you bring the hot in spades. backhoes. 18-wheelers. freight trains.
s'a fucking lot of hot, is what I mean.
no subject
Date: 2006-04-10 04:46 pm (UTC)Oh, yes, Dean rationalizes very prettily.
I enjoyed this muchly and can't wait for the next one!
no subject
Date: 2006-04-11 07:02 am (UTC)thanks~~ :)
no subject
Date: 2006-04-12 08:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-30 10:34 am (UTC)"Dean says, and cuts off the obvious joke that's sure to follow with a twist and jerk of his wrist that makes Sam's breath hitch out of his lungs like a colt being yanked from a barn with a lasso around his neck."
Thank you for this.
love Lea
no subject
Date: 2009-11-13 05:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-05 06:39 am (UTC)