mickeym | Where It All Begins, 1/1, NC-17, Sam/Dean

Title: Where It All Begins
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Words: ~950
Warnings/Spoilers: Pre-series, underage. (Sam is 16)
Disclaimer: Not mine. They'd have more fun if they were.
A/N: I couldn't sleep (damn all those naps this weekend), so I porned. This is for

leighm, who signed off YM with "write me porn". And, well, I owed her some for her birthday anyway. Leigh, I hope this fits the bill :)

He remembers it like this: late night, long job, adrenaline rush that won't end. Two hotel rooms, because Dad and Sam can't be in the same room any more without risking coming to blows, so it's him and Sam razzing each other, pushing and pushing because that adrenaline just isn't going away.

Twenty years old, blood pumping hot through his veins and it's gotta be worse for Sammy. Dean remembers sixteen; remembers throwing wood whenever the wind brushed over him, never mind girls in short skirts and guys in tight t-shirts and jeans. Never mind a gawky younger brother who leeched onto him, all arms and legs—and did the kid have only four, or the fourteen it sometimes seemed like?

He's restless in his skin, everything tight and hot, dick already full and rising between his legs. Dean rubs over his belly, edges his fingers down beneath his navel to ruffle the fine hairs there. The shiver that chases over him is welcome; brings his nipples to aching hardness, two points on his chest to match the one further down.

"Turn the lights off, dude," Dean calls as Sam comes out of the bathroom.

No false modesty there; he's naked, not even a towel, and Dean bites his tongue because he wants to lick those drops of water off Sam's shoulders.

They don't talk about it. There's no discussion, no 'this is wrong we shouldn't do this' – they're not doing anything, not really. Surely other brothers do this, have done this, want to do this?

Glimmers of light – a nightlight in the bathroom, streetlights outside, moving light from cars on the street – slide around the room, slip over Sam as he gets into his bed.

"Did you start without me?" Sam sounds amused, and it still catches Dean by surprise how much deeper Sam's voice is now.

"Not really." Dean kicks the sheet off and turns on his side, facing Sam. Watches Sam do the same, facing him. Separated by the two feet in between the hotel beds. "You ready?"

"Mmm." And he is; he was ready when he walked out of the bathroom. Dean would have to be blind to have missed it – and sure, okay, he's a little bitter maybe that his little brother is probably going to end up bigger than him in all ways.

Sam's dick is a thing of beauty, and Dean watches in the dim light as Sam strokes it to full hardness, mirroring Sam's strokes on his own dick. Slow and easy, to start, fingertips skimming over warm, silky skin, so hard and hot beneath. Dean traces his thumb down over the big vein on the underside, eyes falling halfway shut as pleasure washes through him. Down, down, fingers edging into crisp, rough curls, circling the base before gliding back up.

Sam doesn't follow the exact same strokes; he pauses lower down, cups and tugs on his balls. Dean wonders what it would be like, holding them in his hand. Stroking Sam with one hand, teasing and playing with his balls with the other.

Sam's breathing is speeding up, and Dean's already gasping, and it's a symphony of sounds: breath and skin-on-skin, the friction eased by spit and pre-come. Dean watches, listens, feels Sam's tongue on his palm; thinks about licking Sam's, coating it slick and warm before wrapping it around his dick. Or Sam's dick. Stroking the two together.

"Dean—" Sam groans the word, long and low, and Dean's hips jerk forward on their own, his dick throbbing and pulsing in time with his heartbeat.

"Close?" Dean works himself faster; rubs his thumb over the head of his dick, grunting when he catches the tiny slit there with the edge of his fingernail. Thinks about the time he fingered himself, fingernail catching on the rim of his asshole. Pain and pleasure, twining together until he couldn't separate them.

"Gah, yeah. Oh—" Sam draws one leg up and Dean strains his eyes in the dimness, trying to see beyond Sam's balls. Trying to see the shadows, and imagine the heat there. What it would feel like. What it would taste like. "God."

"C'mon, Sammy. Wanna see you." Each word hurts, forced up and out, because he's so close. So fucking close, and all Dean wants is Sam's hand on his dick, Sam's mouth on his, swallowing his name off Dean's lips. "Wanna see you come, gonna get it all over your belly—get all dirty after you just showered."

Sam growls and arches, thrusts into his hand over and over. Dean watches, has to see the thick ropes of spunk shooting over Sam's fingers, his stomach. Imagines the clench of Sam's ass as he works his cock, as he comes over and over. Imagines Sam pumping into him, filling him with slick, thick heat.

He's just closed his eyes, his brother's fucked-out, totally sated face swimming in front of them, hand working himself fast and furious, when wet warmth closes over the head of his dick. Dean stutters out a shocked sound and surges forward toward it, orgasm roaring hot and electric through him, sizzling his every nerve ending.

When Dean opens his eyes again, Sam's kneeling on the floor beside his bed, lips gleaming wet in the shifting light, chin and cheek streaked with Dean's come.

Sam tastes bitter and sweet when Dean kisses him, licking his own taste out of Sam's mouth, letting himself drown in the warmth there.

It started with an adrenaline rush, but it ends with sleepy kisses traded back and forth, while lights from outside paint moving pictures on the walls around them.

~fin~