mickeym | Brand Spanking New, 1/1, NC-17, Sam/Dean

Title: Brand Spanking New
Authors:

mickeym
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~2,500
Spoilers: None, this is pre-series
Warnings: Underage (Sam is under 16)
Disclaimer: Not ours. We're just playing with them.
Summary: It starts out as just goofing around, and things escalate. Quickly.
A/N:

lazy_daze and I started out emailing porny bits to each other the other day, and it escalated. *g* This is unapologetically indulgent weecest, but we had an awesome time writing it and hope y'all will enjoy it :) (Oh, and

lazy_daze blames ME for the title, but beggars can't be choosers and she wasn't being very helpful :P)

It starts out as just goofing around. Wrestling, tickling, teasing. Dean lands a smack on Sam's ass, skin warming beneath his palm through the thin boxers he's wearing.

Dean doesn't miss the shiver that goes through Sam, nor the way he just freezes in place, barely breathing.

"Sammy?"

"Do--do it again." Sam's voice is hoarse, crackling with--something. Dean rubs the spot he smacked, then does it again, bringing his hand down with a loud crack. Sam shudders and wriggles, but Dean can't tell if he's trying to get away or get closer.

Dean's flushing hot over his face and neck, hardly understands why. Sam kind of wriggles on his lap, and Dean's breath comes short.

"Sammy, I don't--"

Sam makes this kind of growling sound and fits himself so he's spread right out over Dean's lap, and his face is by Dean's thigh and he turns his head and bites, sharp little teeth in the meat of Dean's thigh.

Dean hisses in a breath, surprised.

"Do it again," insists Sam, and wriggles again, warm and moving right over Dean's dick.

Dean gets abruptly pissed, at Sam all moving and right there and teasing him and confusing him and making him feel all weird, and fucking biting him. He grabs a hand in the worn waistband of Sam's boxers, tugs them right off and holds Sam in place with a hand pressed in the small of his back. Sam stills, breathes noisily. His ass is round and pale, and Dean doesn't hesitate another second before cracking his other hand down over it. He gets a look for a split second at the darker-tan of his large hand spread over the paler curve of Sammy's ass, before he's distracted by Sam jerking on his lap, pained noise tearing from his throat, but Sam doesn't flinch away.

He frowns, because he hates that sound, of Sam in pain, but he'd caused it and Sam had asked him to and he's still confused and a bit angry, so he smacks him again, and he can feel the heat now pouring off Sam's reddening ass. Sam just presses his forehead into Dean's leg and makes breathy noises, moves his hips around restlessly and insistently.

He lands a couple more good smacks to Sammy's not-so-pale-now ass, and pauses. Sam's breathing is fast, rough, hitches like he's crying.

"Sammy," Dean starts, angry and confused and Christ, horny, his body hot and flushed like Sam's ass. "I--you can't--don't--"

Sam jerks against him, and holy shit, that's his brother's dick poking into his thigh, and Dean cups the swell of one asscheek and rubs, fingers and palm smoothing over the reddened flesh.

"Dean, god," Sam stutters the words and shifts, breathing hitching again when Dean's fingers slide against the crack between cheeks.

"Dean, I--ah," and Sam cuts off into silence as Dean wriggles a finger deep between his ass cheeks, feels the impossible blazing heat of Sam's asshole as he presses against it.

"Fuck," he mutters, then abruptly pulls his hand away, feeling shaky and too-hot and awful, and smacks it all out onto Sam's ass again, loud crack-crack-crack and Sam sobs, but he's moving his hips so his dick is rubbing against Dean's thigh, and he's not moving away.

Dean lands a hard smack and then keeps his hand there, squeezing and rubbing at the reddened skin, staring at the starburst lines of his finger marks spreading out from the red swollen glow of Sam's ass. Sam's breath is hitching with noise on each draw in and out, but Dean can hear Sam sigh "ah, ah, y-yeah, Dean, ah, y--yeah," and god, his brother wants this, and it makes Dean crazy.

He tightens his hand on Sam's ass and uses his other to curve around Sam's skinny shoulder, and pulls Sam further up his lap, against him, until he can tilt his hips and push the swell of his own trapped cock into the softness of Sam's belly resting over it. "More?" he asks, breathless. "More?"

"Ye-ah. P-please, Dean, I n-need, need--" The words are stuttered and rough, Sam sobbing in between, but he doesn't stop moving, and Dean thinks he's going to die in a minute, his pulse is pounding so hard, so fast, just feeling Sammy moving against him.

He smacks Sam again, then smooths his palm -- stinging and hot -- over Sam's ass, feeling the heat rising from it. His skin feels all kinds too tight, too hot, and all Dean wants to do is spread Sam's heat over and around him. Drown in it. Rock up against it and feel it all around him.

"Dean, I want--need--"

"What, Sammy? What d'you need? Tell me, c'mon."

Dean doesn't know whether to hope Sam will actually tell him, or if he'll decide enough's enough and get the fuck up off Dean. He rubs and kneads the hot cheeks, fingers trailing down into Sam's crack again, brushing restlessly. They both jerk when he presses down against Sam's hole, Sam gasping and grinding down against Dean's leg, body flexing and shifting as Sam pants. Dean groans when he feels the burst of heat spreading outward; realizes he just made his baby brother come.

"Aw, Christ, Sammy," he moans, tilts his head back and pushes up with his hips, feels Sam curve tighter around him, skinny arms and legs awkward and weak as he tries to fit himself around Dean's middle.

He tips his head back down to see Sammy watching him, eyes so bright and cheeks hectic red, mouth open and slack, and then Sam starts rocking on his lap again.

"God," Dean bites out, then he moves -- stands up, grabs at Sammy to pull off his t-shirt then moves him around and picks him up 'til he can chuck him back onto the bed. Sam doesn't say anything except a breathy "Yeah," as he bounces on landing on the bed.

Sammy's limbs are stretching out as he slams into puberty, hands and feet too big for his body, and it won't be long before no-one will be able to get away with calling him midget.

And Dean forgets all about Sammy's hands and feet and height as he lets his eyes snap to between Sammy's skinny thighs, where his cock lies against his belly, smaller than Dean's by a way but curving up hard again, gleaming with come, same come that's a damp sticky patch on Dean's leg, darkening his jeans.

He can't look away, brain refusing to fucking understand what he's doing here, but Sam interrupts him with an impatient "Dean, c'mon, please--" and he looks back up at Sam's face.

"Yeah," he breathes, "yeah, 'kay, Sammy." He crawls up onto the bed and loves, for now, how he can fit himself over Sammy, so much bigger, cover him all over. He snugs his knees either side of Sam's hips and Sam's hands move awkwardly, unsure, drift over Dean's belt buckle.

Sammy bites his lip and looks up at him as his hand lands on Dean's belt, fingers tucked just under. "You gonna? If I've taken my clothes off, you gotta."

"Anything you want, yeah," Dean shivers as Sam's fingers work over his buckle, over his fly. Beneath the denim he's hard, God, beyond hard. His dick throbs every time his heart beats, and the tentative, uncertain touches are just making it worse.

Dean pulls his shirt up over his head while Sam works his pants open. He hesitates then, hand hovering over the bulge pressing out against Dean's underwear, and it's all Dean can do not to growl in frustration because Jesus God, he's going to die of blue balls in a minute.

"It's--you're a lot. A lot bigger," Sam mutters, his breath warm and moist through the thin cotton of Dean's briefs. He wraps his hand slowly, carefully, around Dean's cock, the only barrier between them that single layer of fabric.

"You'll get bigger," Dean says hoarsely, hips twitching forward toward Sam. "God, Sam, touch me, touch it, wanna feel--" He breaks off when Sam dips down into the opening of his underwear, fingers teasing over Dean's length. "Fuck," explodes out of him at that gentle touch, and Dean can't help it, he rocks forward, hips wanting, needing to move.

"I don't--I don't," gasps Sam, fingers so unsure on Dean's dick, careful wrapping around, pulls so gently 'til his dick's out of the slit.

"Shh, s'okay, just -- yeah, touch it, like it's yours, mm--"

Sam's staring rapt at where Dean's dick juts out; shifts up onto one elbow to get a better view and a flash of discomfort slides over his face.

Dean remembers with a shock that makes his cock pulse in Sam's hand, and Sam's mouth falls open; Dean remembers Sam's spanked-red ass, and he needs to see it.

"Sammy," he says, "turn over, yeah? Wanna see--" and he's shifting, gets his hands on Sam's hips to turn him so Sam's belly down on the bed, face to the side and peeking back at Dean. Sam makes a muffled little noise and wriggles his hips against the bed.

Dean sits back over Sam, straddles his legs and curls himself down 'til his face is close to the still-red skin of Sam's ass. "Oh," he breathes over it, and Sam twitches under him, sucks in a little breath.

Dean rubs his nose over the hot skin, blood pounding in his ears, and Sam shifts again, humping against the bed.

Dean opens his mouth, touches his tongue then his teeth to the soft hot curve, then sits up fast, rocks back to kick off his boxers fully then sits back over Sam, Sam's sweet little ass between his thighs; Dean tilts forward so his wet cock sits in that groove of Sam's cheeks, balls pressed up snug. He rubs his fingers on Sam's ass, spreads the dribble of precome that had slid from his cock in a gleaming film over Sam's skin; stares at the red shine then leans all the way forward, cock desperate for more, friction, pressure, touch.

He presses his mouth open to the back of Sam's vulnerable neck, feels the soft downy hairs there against his lips, and groans. "You okay, Sammy?"

"Yeah," breathes Sam, arches his back so his little ass rises up into Dean's dick and Dean grunts. "Yeah, press -- press down, I need--"

Dean relaxes his body, rests his whole weight down into Sam, his cock trapped snug, slipping down into the crease, and Sam's own hips pressed firm into the bed, still humping in little rocks.

Dean's pretty sure he's dreaming, has to be dreaming, because nothing's ever felt so fucking good, ever. The heat of Sam's body, the heat of his ass, pressed against Dean. The closest he's come to anything like this before was Sharon Tucker, two towns and two schools back. She let him fuck her tits, and it'd been soft and warm and she'd smelled awesome. But this--God. Nothing compares. Dean nuzzles Sam's neck, the curve of his jaw, shivering when Sam whimpers and humps up faster against him.

"My--I can't--Dean, it's--"

"What, baby? What's wrong?" Dean whispers the words, licks the shell of Sam's ear. "Tell me, tell me what you need, Sammy."

"Feels--can I--I need to move. Please?" Sam's wriggling beneath him again, grunting, and Dean shifts, up on his knees. He nearly strokes out when Sam clambors up onto his knees, weight resting forward on his elbows, and pushes back against Dean's dick.

Dean's breath catches in his chest, and he wraps his arms under and around Sam and pulls, follows their momentum until he's sitting back on his haunches and Sammy's sitting on his lap, sitting on his cock.

"Sammy, Sammy, Sammy," he chants, "aw, fuck," as his hips pump up in helpless movements, into the soft squirming heat above him. He wraps one arm more firmly around Sam's hips, feeling his sharp hipbones dig into his forearm, and pulls him in even tighter, Sam's firm ass cheeks spread around the thick of Dean's cock. He wraps his other hand around Sam's dick, hard red head gleaming and peeking up over his fist, and Sammy moans, writhes, drives Dean fucking crazy.

"Gonna come again?" he asks Sam, and Sam tips his head back, rolls it restlessly on Dean's shoulder.

"Dean, Dean," he whines, and Dean bounces him on his lap, pushes up in little thrusts with his thighs to match his pumps over Sam's cock. Every time Sam's small weight flumps back down, ass now slippery with Dean's precome, it's fucking heaven against Dean's swollen, nearly-there dick; each time Sam lands back down on him it sends delicious pressure right down into his almost painfully full balls, so fucking ready.

Sam clutches sudden at Dean's arms, fingers digging in, and Dean can feel his thin cock jerk hard in his grip before Sam comes again, weak spurt so hot on Dean's fingers, and Sam shudders and wails on top of him.

That's all Dean can handle. He's been right on the edge for what feels like forever, and between the sounds Sammy's making, and the wet heat of his orgasm all over Dean's fingers, and his ass rubbing and clenching and pressing, Jesus, Dean's kind of surprised it's taken this long to blow his load. He holds on tight to Sam, bucking and pressing upward, tip of his cock catching and dragging against the rim of Sam's hole. Sam groans long and low and jerks again, one last spurt of heat sliding wetly over Dean's fingers.

They slump back on the bed, Dean's hands star-fished over Sam's thin chest, holding him close. Beneath his palm Sam's heart is rabbiting fast and hard, and it's so fucked up, this is so fucked up. So very, very, incredibly--

Sam brings one of Dean's hands up to his mouth and licks at it, at the jizz drying tacky against his skin, tongue running slick and smooth over Dean's fingers and palm until Dean's pretty sure his brain has completely melted.

He closes his eyes, opens them to see Sam twisted back to look at him, still carefully licking at Dean's hand. Dean can't help but smile at Sam, move them till they're lying comfortably, Sam pillowed over Dean. "Taste good, Sammy?" he asks, and grins at the face Sam makes.

"Not really," says Sam. "Weird."

Dean huffs out a little laugh. "Yeah." He blinks at Sam, at the fading flush on his cheeks, "Feel good, though, baby?" Sam -- Sam came, twice, started this, even, but Dean still can't help but worry, somehow.

But Sam smiles, looks sleepy, settles against Dean. "Mmm. Yeah. Felt really good." His small fingers draw idle patterns on Dean's chest. "Can we -- can we do it again?"

Dean raises an eyebrow, feeling warm and loose with relief. Knows they really shouldn't; also knows they're gonna. "Now?" he teases. "You look like you're gonna fall asleep any second."

"Mmm, yeah, I mean later," says Sam, eyes sliding shut.

"Yeah," says Dean, settles his hand in Sam's hair. "Yeah, whenever you want."

~fin~