mickeym | [ Gift From the God(desses) ] - Sam/Dean, NC17 (genderswap)

Title: Gift From the God(desses)
Pairing: Sam/girl!Dean
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~1370
Warnings: Genderswap, incest
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: They're not mine, and I'm not making any money from this (though I am having fun *g*).
Notes: I'm posting this as slash, even though Dean's a girl -- because Dean, at least, still thinks of himself as a guy.

A little while back,

valiant wrote this really freakin' hot genderswap thing, and I loved it a whole lot. It's girl!Dean, and he's crampy and miserable, and Sam just wants to make him feel better. I comment-porned in her entry, but I liked the idea, too--so I took the 300 or so words, and, um. Added another 1000? Heh. Also, kudos to

ellipsisblack. You totally know why :)

Hope y'all enjoy the story!

Another month, another round of the hormones from hell, and Dean no longer has anything but respect for women, who have to deal with this every.single.month. For years on end, even.

He doesn't even want to contemplate if this change is a permanent one, though all indications seem to be pointing in that direction. So far, the most Sam's research has turned up is that it's likely something to do with Apate, or Fraus, the Goddess of Deceit. A female Trickster, as it were. And considering their last run in with a trickster, Dean is less than enthused to hear this -- though on the positive side, he's not dead. Points for that.

The enthusiasm dwindles even further now that That Time Of The Month has rolled around again -- or is preparing to, in any case. Suddenly, he has an up-close and personal example of just how rotten it really is to be a woman, whether in the pre-stage, or the menstrual stage. They both suck.

This month, he's twitchy, and horny, and every time the wind blows his nipples bud up hard and tight, aching almost unbearably under his t-shirt. They're a little bigger than usual, too, swollen with the flood of hormones. Dean hates his 'new' body a lot, but for seven, eight days out of every month, he hates it that much more.

He cups one breast, curving his hand almost protectively around it, wincing as he drags his thumb gently across the nipple.

"Um. Dean." Sam's voice is hoarse, and Dean glances up from the book he'd been half-reading to find Sam staring at him over the top of his laptop, eyes huge and dark. It makes Dean's pulse go just a little faster, makes it throb between his legs.

"Yeah?"

Sam swallows, and Dean watches in fascination as his Adam's apple bobs. "You're, uh. I. Can I--?" He gestures toward Dean's chest.

"I--if you. Yeah." It's still new, this thing between them. New, strange, kind of scary. Really scary. Everything's changed, now, in ways that have nothing to do with Dean's physical body -- though once in a while he wonders if they would've gotten here, to this, if he hadn't been changed.

Wonders if they'll still have it, when -- if -- he changes back.

Sam kneels in front of Dean, pushing his t-shirt up slowly until Dean reaches down and pulls it up over his head. His nipples are drawn up tight, pale pink buds against his chest, and not for the first time Dean wonders if his tits will ever be any bigger, or if he'll be small like this forever.

The first touch of Sam's mouth against one nipple makes Dean shiver; when he closes his lips around it and suckles it *hurts*, pain splintering into pleasure, bright and hot. It hurts, but it's so good, too, and Dean whines low in his throat, hand coming up to cup the back of Sam's head, holding him close, closer, wanting more.

"Please," he breathes, and Sam moves his head, licks over the other nipple; quick, light licks like a cat. He rubs his thumb over the abandoned nipple, and Dean's breath catches as sensation cascades through him.

Sam suckles again, alternates lipping at the tender, hard point with suction that makes Dean's cunt throb and ache. The nipple he isn't suckling is rubbed, pinched, and oh, god, it's like an ache that grows, even as it's assuaged. Dean's shivering and shifting, and everything inside him is tight and hot, coiled and tense. Sam pulls hard on one nipple with his fingers, sucks harder on the other, and the tension breaks inside him with a rush of wet heat.

He cries out as he comes, hips working forward against nothing until Sam works one hand down into Dean's panties. He strokes Dean's clit, swollen and throbbing, pulling another orgasm out of Dean, and then another, until the world is just a blur of colors moving in time to the pleasant throb in his nipples and his pussy.

Dean slumps back on the bed, sweaty and sated, body humming sweetly. He's aware of Sam, still on his knees in front of him, head turned as he nuzzles at Dean's inner thigh.

"You're--that's--" Dean swallows a moan when Sam brushes a kiss over soaked panties, his breath too hot against sensitized flesh. "Sam, please--" He brushes his fingers through Sam's hair, pushing it back from his forehead. "Don't."

Sam looks up at him, peering out from under the fringe of bangs. "Don't?"

Dean's throat tightens up, closes over the things he should say, and instead says, "Don't t-tease."

A gentle smile flashes across Sam's face, gone in an instant. "Wasn't planning on it," he says quietly, ducking in toward Dean. "Wouldn't do that," he murmurs, the words hot against already heated skin.

Dean shivers when Sam hooks his fingers under the elastic of his panties, drawing them downward. There's a moment when he tries to bring his knees together, embarrassment flooding up through him, hot and potent and so uncomfortable. "Sam, I--"

"Dean. Shh." The last word is breathed out at the same time Sam gently pushes Dean's legs apart and leans in. He laps gently, tongue sliding over swollen, slick flesh. Dean groans and arches up toward Sam's mouth, desperate for more and faster and there, Sammy, God.

He's keening quietly when the first orgasm blindsides him, body shaking apart beneath Sam's mouth. They keep coming, wave after wave of pleasure so hot and pure it's blinding, and Dean can't catch his breath; can't do anything but let it flow over him and through him as Sam's mouth and tongue -- Christ, his tongue -- push him toward it, until he's completely limp on the bed, thighs open lewdly, though Dean really doesn't care any more.

Sam bites Dean's thigh, sucks hard at the bite, and Dean rouses enough to groan, to pull roughly at Sam.

"Come--up here, Sam, please--"

There's a muffled sound, and Sam's up against Dean, mouth hot and slick against Dean's. The kiss is wet, dirty; Dean can taste himself, thick on Sam's tongue, sharp and tangy, and it's arousing in a way he'd never imagined before. He reaches for Sam, takes his erection in hand to stroke. Sam wraps his hand over Dean's and they stroke together, fast, rough, until Sam arches against Dean and comes, spilling thick, wet heat between them and over their fingers.

Sam gasps when Dean languidly brings their hands up to his mouth to lick them clean. He likes the taste, a little bitter and salty, along with something indefinable, but also Sam.

They maneuver up on the bed -- Dean thinks Sam does all the work, because he doesn't remember doing anything, other than hanging on to Sam's hand with a sort of desperate need coursing through him that would embarrass the hell out of him, if he wasn't feeling completely blissed out -- and settle against the pillows, and Sam moves so that he's spooning Dean.

"How're the cramps?"

Dean smiles and turns his head enough to brush a kiss across Sam's mouth. "I have cramps?"

Sam laughs softly and the sound slides down through Dean, warm and comforting, and god, he's caught in this living chick-flick moment and never wants it to end. God, the humiliation.

Except.

Except he doesn't really feel humiliated. Mostly…mostly he feels…content.

"Dean?" Sam gathers him closer, body curling around Dean's.

"Yeah?"

There's a pause, and a feather-light kiss against the side of Dean's neck, then Sam says very softly. "You should sleep."

That's not what Sam was going to say; Dean's as sure of it as he is of his birthday. But he feels good, so relaxed and mellow, he's not going to push. Whatever Sam wants to say he'll say when he's ready--never in Dean's experience has Sam held back if he really had something to say. Dean sighs and nods, eyes already mostly closed.

"Yeah." He hesitates, then links his fingers with Sam's. "Stay--?"

He can't tell for sure, mostly asleep already, but Dean thinks Sam kisses him again before whispering, "Try and keep me away."

~fin~