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Entry tags:
New Fic: [ Girls Rock Your Boys ] - spn
Title: Girls Rock Your Boys
Pairing: Sam/Jess, implied Sam/Dean
Rating: NC17
Word Count: ~4100
Spoilers: None; this is pre-pilot
Warnings: pegging, implied incest
Disclaimer: I don't own them, and I'm not making any money off them. Sadly.
Notes: This is all![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
poisontaster's fault. Seriously, she started it. "I want to write some Sam/Jess pegging fic", she says. Then complained because it kept turning angsty. I laughed, and this is karma. Because oh, yes, angst-a-rama, along with the porn. Heh. Anyway, it's her fault, but I also have to give poisontaster ginormous hugs and thank-yous for whipping this sucker into shape. You kick ass as a beta, honey :) Enjoy the story, y'all. :)
Summary: Sometimes Sam just needs something more.
"Dude, you full on had a girl inside you for like, a week. That's pretty naughty."
--Dean Winchester, Born Under A Bad Sign
When Sam left for college he was hoping to find normal. Safe.
He didn't expect to find the sweetest, smartest, snarkiest girl he'd ever met, but that was Jess. She makes Sam feel like the luckiest guy in the world -- like the only guy in the world. She's gorgeous, with warm, full curves that fit perfectly against him, and her smile lights up any room she's in. She has a smart mouth on her, giving as good as she gets, but she's kind-hearted and willing to step in and help someone out if she thinks they need it. She's headstrong, and she grounds Sam in ways he can't explain but that he feels all the way through.
She's also a wild thing, willing to try pretty much anything at least once.
They sleep together the second time they go out. It's hot, sexy and fun, and Sam's pretty sure he's in love just that fast.
~~~~~
Jess wonders about Sam's past.
He seldom talks about his family, except when he's had a couple too many beers or done shots. Then he talks about Dean. Always Dean. Never his mom, beyond one mention that she was dead, and only rarely his dad.
Dean.
Jess loves her siblings; she's close to her whole family. But there's a current of…something…in Sam's voice when he mentions his brother.
It scares her, excites her, and that's usually when they fuck, hard and nasty, with that look, that electricity fueling it.
~~~~~
Sam often goes to class looking like he tangled with a wildcat. His buddies tease him about it, but he hears the envy in their voices and their words, and while he's too much of a gentleman to kiss and tell, he's not above occasionally feeling smug.
Sometimes the scratches Jess leaves on his back sting for the whole day after, especially if it's hot outside and he sweats. The bruises she sucks into his skin--throat, neck, sometimes his inner thighs--he likes to touch them; press hard against them until sweetsharp pain spikes through him.
He very deliberately doesn't think about other bruises he's had, and how he'd jerk off while pressing, touching, pushing into the tender, inflamed skin.
Very deliberately doesn't think about Dean, or the way he would touch Sam, fuck Sam, make him feel so dirtyhotwronggood.
~~~~~
The first time it happened without any planning, just them fooling around. Jess pressed a finger into Sam during a blowjob, barely penetrating because God, what if he was totally against something like that? But he wasn't against it; he moaned and opened his legs wider, and Jess flushed head-to-toe watching him cant his hips, pushing up toward her mouth, against her finger.
Two fingers made Sam cry out, voice rough and thick, and electricity danced through her. She wanted to see more, hear more; make him feel more.
"I have a dildo," she said, voice breathless against his ear.
Sam groaned and nodded, body clenching around her fingers. He growled her name when she pulled out; caught her hand before she moved away.
"Jess," he said again, leaning up toward her. The kiss was hot, hungry, and Jess felt it race through her; tiny ripples of fire sliding through her veins.
She fucked him with her dildo, free hand between her thighs so she could finger herself while she worked it in and out. Each sound Sam made slashed through her, hot and potent, until she didn't hear them as much as felt them, each one beating inside her in time with the throbbing in her cunt. She felt powerful, holding Sam -- holding them both, really -- balanced on the edge of orgasm while she drank in the sight of him straining up, into, each thrust. How he sounded, the desperation in his voice as he cried out; the way his muscles worked beneath his skin as he clutched at the sheets.
"C'mon, Sam," was all she got out before he grabbed his cock. He hissed something random that sounded like "Dee--" and arched. Jess felt him clamp down on the dildo, felt the spasms through it and into her as he came; she shuddered and rubbed her clit hard and fast, sensation exploding and splintering through her.
She bought the strap-on harness a few days after that. When she showed it to Sam that night her hands shook with nerves and excitement, half-afraid he'd laugh at her and half-afraid he wouldn't.
She shouldn't have worried. Sam's eyes went wide and dark; he stroked the leather reverently, then pushed her onto the bed. He licked her to orgasm first, tongue working her clit as she came over and over again, before he buckled her into the harness.
That time, when Sam came, straining and panting, she knew the sound she heard wasn't random or accidental--and it wasn't her name. But Sam cuddled her afterward; stroked her until she was boneless and sated then held her close, whispering soothing words against her skin, and those shards of envy and pain settled and faded.
They don't talk about it, but Jess learns to read the signs. It's not something Sam will ask for; from the way he acts, she knows he feels guilty for wanting it -- for wanting Dean -- never mind saying anything. She figured that much out pretty quickly. It took a little while longer for Jess to accept that while Sam is hers, there's at least one small part of him that isn't ever going to belong to her and once in a while, she has to share. She doesn't like it, exactly, but she likes the power she feels, giving Sam what he needs.
There's some guilt on her part, too, because seeing him on his knees, so eager for it -- and knowing he wants it and hurts for -- makes her feel alive in ways nothing else ever has. She loves the hot thrill that shivers through her; that burns in her belly, and lower, making her wet and swollen, her body hungry to take and have.
There's a pattern now. Rules, of a sort.
It starts with Sam kind of broody for a day or two. He'll take his phone out and stare at it, picking it up and dialing and then aborting the call and putting it down. Over and over. A beer or two, then he plays with the phone again. He'll talk about Dean -- some story about their childhood -- and there's so much he doesn't say that Jess practically sees the holes. She moves in then with shots -- sometimes whiskey, sometimes tequila -- and leans in to bite Sam's ear, smiling when he turns his head toward her and catches her mouth in a hot, hard kiss.
~~~~~
As much as Sam wants to indulge in this gift Jess gives him, he doesn't allow himself to very often. He can't. It's enough he gets it when he can't shove the need down any further, and threaded in through the guilt he feels at taking what's offered to him is how much he loves Jess for doing it, especially since she knows it's Dean he thinks about when they do this. But still he hides it, because Sam's afraid of pushing too hard; afraid of driving Jess away, when he loves and needs her as much as he needs the other.
Need, hunger, guilt; they're ravenous shadows deep inside him, clawing to get out, and Sam can't let them because they might consume him.
He loves Jess; loves her with all his heart, all his soul. Or all the parts of his heart and soul that are his to give away, anyway. The other parts have belonged to someone else for as long as Sam can remember breathing, and there's nothing to do about that, now.
Sam eats at Jess's mouth, biting and sucking desperately until she gentles the kiss, forcing him to slow down. She brushes her mouth along his, a ghost kiss that burns against swollen, tender lips. Under the slick of cherry lipgloss Sam tastes the chocolate ice cream she ate after dinner, and he licks around the inside of her mouth chasing the fading flavor.
"You taste good," he sighs, tugging her closer. "Like chocolate."
Jess laughs and tosses her hair back; straddles his lap in one smooth, fluid movement, not needing the hands Sam settles on her hips to steady her. "You taste like tequila."
He smoothes his hands up her sides; brushes his thumbs over her nipples. Jess wiggles down against his dick, hard and straining against his zipper, until Sam wants to rip his jeans open and bury himself inside her. "Mmm. C'mere."
She presses closer against him and it's so easy to lose himself in her warmth and scent; in the faint chocolate-cherry-tequila taste lingering in her mouth. The tequila's his, and he wonders if she tastes chocolate on his tongue. Sam nuzzles Jess's throat and behind her ear, heat pooling in his belly when she moans, low and throaty.
She's wearing loose shorts and a t-shirt tonight, and Sam waits until Jess kisses him again, mouth moving desperately against his, to slide his hand up her leg, fingers stroking over the satiny-soft skin of her inner thigh. She's not wearing panties; no lace or silk to tease her through or work under. His fingers sink into slick, slippery heat and Sam echoes Jess's groan at that first touch. Fire ripples through him when she starts to move, riding his fingers like she would ride his dick.
Sam jerks his hips upward, trying for some friction, hissing when Jess tightens and relaxes around him.
"So fucking wet," Sam mutters, angling so he can rub her clit. Her breathless whimpers curl into him and down his nerve endings; make his dick even harder. He shifts and presses a third finger into her cunt, swallowing her moans. "I wanna fuck you so bad," he says, licking the words into her skin.
"No," she moans, stripping off her t-shirt -- she's braless, and Sam's not surprised, not at all -- then settling her hands on his shoulders. Her breath is warm and moist against his ear when she whispers, "I'm gonna fuck you, Sam. Fuck you hard, make you come for me." Her fingers dig into him as she moves faster, riding three of his fingers. He's soaked clear to his wrist now, shaking as the hunger inside claws its way up and out of him.
"Yes," Sam growls, not sure if he's talking about Jess -- Dean -- fucking him, or the way she's tensing and shivering, so close to coming. Sam dips his head and mouths at the curve of a breast, then licks over the nipple, tongue tracing the tight point. He suckles, pulling with his lips, moving back and forth between breasts. Jess throws her head back and wails as she comes, pussy spasming around Sam's fingers.
She's salty-sweet on his tongue when he sucks his fingers clean and Sam wants more; wants to drown in her scent, her flavor, in the slick juices streaking the insides of her thighs and dampening his jeans. Jess licks her lips then grabs his head and pulls him in for a deep kiss, stroking her tongue around the inside of Sam's mouth, sharing in the taste of herself there.
She sucks hard on his bottom lip and Sam groans when she pulls back just far enough to murmur, "Go get naked. Really want to fuck you, see you spread out for me, Sam."
~~~~~
Jess has never had penis envy. She loves being a girl. But she can't deny what she feels, the electrified feeling that comes when she straps her harness on, silicone tugging and pulling against her skin, the heat from the friction pooling low in her belly. Can't deny the sizzle she gets at the way Sam's eyes go dark and needy when he kneels in front of her, his hands on his thighs, but not touching himself.
Not touching yet, because this is hers to choreograph.
He's big when he's soft, and fully erect he's a little intimidating, but incredibly beautiful. Jess strokes her dick and gazes down at him, taking him in. He's flushed and so ready for her; his erection curves up and in toward his belly, framed by dark pubes. He's wet at the tip, liquid pearling up from the small slit in tiny, translucent drops that catch the random bit of light. Jess leans down and rubs her finger over the head, slicking the moisture up.
Sam's breath hitches when she smoothes her finger over his mouth; he licks his lips clean, and watching him Jess's mouth waters, thinking of the taste of him hot and bitter on her tongue.
She wets her lips -- always a little nervous, no matter how excited this makes her -- and steps closer. Sam smiles at her, his face open and vulnerable, hunger shining out of it. The heft and weight of the cock in her hand makes Jess's stomach tighten and goosebumps ripple over her skin.
"You want my dick, Sam?" It feels silly at first, saying the words. Always does, that first time. Then she slips easily into the moment, letting it sweep her away.
His eyes are all pupil now, black bleeding into hazel-brown, obliterating it. Sam swallows then nods. "Yeah, I--yeah."
"C'mon, baby. You want it? You gotta ask me for it." She strokes again, watches him watching her. And for just a minute, Jess wonders if she's let this get out of hand, let it go too far. Except for that look in Sam's eyes, the one that screams I need this, please give it to me.
~~~~~
Sam knows a little of what it costs Jess to give this to him. They don't talk about it; never have and never will. But Jess isn't stupid and it's no accident that this…thing…always happens when Sam allows himself to acknowledge that he misses Dean.
The guilt from that lies heavy and bitter within him for it, and Sam wishes he knew how to tell Jess just how much it means to him. How much he loves her. How he loves her so much it hurts sometimes; almost as bad as loving Dean.
He loves her all the more for the wicked glint he sees in her eyes now, while she stands there stroking the dildo like she really has a dick.
"I want it," he breathes…and then the words tumble out in a rush. "Want your cock, Jess, please, give it to me, fuck me, make me take it--"
"Shhh." She touches his forehead. "You can have it; you can always have it, Sam. But I want you to suck it first, baby. Wanna see your mouth stretched wide around it while you suck me."
Lust slams into him, curls hot and potent through his veins and Sam leans forward eagerly, mouth open, ready.
Jess nudges his cheek with the tip; drags it across his mouth. In his mind it melds with memories of Dean rubbing himself against Sam's mouth, dick hard and ready, leaking bittersalt drops that slicked across Sam's lips. He opens for Jess, feels the press of it -- of her -- against his tongue, pushing deep.
Just like that, Sam's back to that summer before he left for Stanford; Dean's body hot against his, both of them frantic, needing to spend as much time fucking, touching, tasting as they could before Sam left.
Sam gags when Jess pushes in a little too fast, a little too hard, and then he swallows her down, reaching to tug her closer. She resists, just a little, before moving forward; a subtle reminder that this isn't his his show. Her skin is soft and warm beneath his fingers; real and alive, not just a memory. He closes his eyes and wills Dean's ghost away, concentrating on the weight against his tongue, and the flex of Jess's muscles shifting beneath his fingers as she rolls her hips forward and back.
It's not a real dick, but stretching his mouth like this makes his belly clench and his own dick throb, arousal coursing hot and potent through him. When Sam breathes deeply, the pungent scent of sex wraps around him in a cocoon.
"You're so hot, Sam." Jess threads her fingers through his hair, tugging gently. "Take it all in, m'kay? I know you can. All the way in, get it wet and ready so I can fuck you."
He growls deep in his throat, and takes a breath, forcing himself to relax. Sam swallows around the dildo as Jess works it in and out, fucking his mouth like she was born to it. Sam wants to wrap his hands around his aching cock and just go to town, and Jess's breathless gasps as she fucks him ratchets the urge up another notch. But if he touches himself he'll come, and he wants to wait for that; wants to have Jess buried deep in his ass first.
She cries out when she comes again -- for a brief moment Sam's hella jealous of girls and their fucking multiple orgasms -- and shoves her dick down his throat. Sam can't breathe, can't swallow around it; it's just this huge thing pressing in and blocking his throat and hunger wells up inside him even as Sam jerks himself backward, grabbing for his balls, breath coming in harsh, heavy pants.
"Get up on the bed, hands and knees," Jess tells him, her voice rough and trembling. Sam nods, then grabs at her, pulling her down for a kiss. It's hungry, and feels desperate, and her mouth gives beneath his, letting him take what he needs.
"Thank you," he whispers, the words sliding down into the kiss.
Jess fits herself up behind him once he's settled himself and presses a kiss to the small of his back before stroking her fingers down, sliding them into the crack between his cheeks. He shudders at the light touch and presses back toward her, whining low in his throat.
"Please," is all that comes out, and Jess laughs, low and soft. Sam hears a deeper voice echoing under it; feels strong fingers grab and pull, gripping him tightly. Sam moans again, heat coiling tighter in his belly with each touch.
Lube drizzles over his skin, slick and cool, and Sam grips the sheets in his fists when Jess presses the head of the dildo up against him. First push in breaches him, makes him suck in a breath and grunt as the burn spreads through him with the stretch. It's a hot, sweet pain and Jess doesn't ease him into it, just pushes in steadily while Sam clenches and relaxes and lets her in. When she's seated fully inside him Sam wriggles, rolls his hips just a little, looking to relieve the pressure. Small hands grip his hips, hold him steady for the first slow thrusts. With each one, heat slides down his spine, slow and thick and so good.
~~~~~
This is the only time Jess can admit yeah, maybe she has a little penis envy. Or--envy of someone else. Because this is the one time, the one place, when Sam isn't completely hers. When he's pushing back to meet her thrusts, his back arching and fingers curling into the sheets and his head's down as he pants out his pleasure.
Each noise out of him ripples through her, makes her want to hear more; makes her want them to be for her, even though she knows they're for him.
For Dean.
She takes Sam's hips in her hands, holds him tight, fingers digging into him. He won't bruise; it takes a lot to pull a bruise out of him, and she doesn't have the strength in her hands to do it. But oh, she wishes. And wonders if he ever left bruises on Sam. If Sam ever left bruises on him.
"Harder," Sam grits out, and Jess feels a spike of heat at the arousal in his voice.
"Such a slut," she hisses, reaching with one hand to grip his hair and tug. "Ask nicely, Sam."
"Please," he says, voice a low whine. "Jess, please--fuck me harder, need to feel--"
She does, and each thrust brings a grunt, low and rough. Sweat sheens Sam's back and Jess leans down to lick up his spine before thrusting again. She can feel orgasm rising in her again, the harness riding her clit just so, and she's so turned on and so sensitive from everything up until now that it's just this side of painful. Just. Hot and bright, slicing into her one millimeter at a time, with Sam's grunts pushing it a little faster.
He's close, rocking back into each thrust, breath rough and fast when he breathes. Jess leans forward and tugs hard on the handful of hair she's holding, pulls Sam's head back. She can hardly breathe for the emotion in her, hate and love and envy and lust and it's all swirled together, slicked over with the need to give Sam what he needs.
He groans when she tightens her grip on his hair, head straining back. Jess bites at his ear then whispers, "say it, Sam. Say his name."
"J-Jess, Jesus--"
"Say it, Sam. You know you need to. Let me hear you say it."
~~~~~
Sam spasms before the first word's out, his body shaking as orgasm roars up through him hot and bright, shrieking along his nerve endings.
"D-Dean, God, Jess, please--"
Each thrust into him sends pleasure screaming through him. Sam lifts one hand and strokes his dick roughly -- Dean, God -- spilling thick, wet heat over his fingers with each pulse. In his head, in the memories he's lost in, it's Dean fucking into him, shaking as he comes deep inside Sam.
Behind him Jess pants and groans through her own orgasm. Her thrusts stutter and then slow until she's sliding out of him, leaving Sam open and empty, aching for things he didn't think he would miss and doesn't want to. His scalp burns and his eyes sting, and Christ, it's been years now since he saw Dean, since they had what they had…can't he catch a break?
"Sam?" Jess's hand is gentle, smoothing down his back.
"Yeah." He sounds ragged, undone, which is pretty much how it is. Sam swallows and turns awkwardly toward Jess, curling into her. "I love you," he mutters, holding her against him. "So much."
"I love you too," she says softly, leaning in to the embrace. "And it's okay, Sam."
He doesn't say anything; he can't say anything. Part of the reason he can accept this is because they don't talk about it. Which is how it'll stay.
"Let's get this off you," he says instead of the other things he should or could. He reaches for the harness and unbuckles Jess quickly before tossing the whole thing over the side of the bed. They're both sticky, sweaty, and the whole room reeks of the thick scent of sex, but Sam needs to lie down and hold Jess close to him.
He very deliberately doesn't think about curling up against Dean after sex, and the way Dean would stroke his hair -- usually half-asleep and never copping to it later. He doesn't think about that last night before getting on the train, when it was just he and Dean, just the two of them, and they'd fucked -- Sam swallows down a sob, because they'd made love, dammit -- over and over, until the sun was coming up and he had to go.
Had a train to catch, away from one life and on to the next.
That life snuggles up against him, settling into the crook of his arm, and Sam turns his head to kiss her forehead. If Jess notices his eyes are wet, she doesn't say anything about it. Instead, she turns onto her side and curls in close, comforting and loving and everything Sam wants.
He closes his eyes and hopes he doesn't dream about fire tonight.
~fin~
Pairing: Sam/Jess, implied Sam/Dean
Rating: NC17
Word Count: ~4100
Spoilers: None; this is pre-pilot
Warnings: pegging, implied incest
Disclaimer: I don't own them, and I'm not making any money off them. Sadly.
Notes: This is all
poisontaster's fault. Seriously, she started it. "I want to write some Sam/Jess pegging fic", she says. Then complained because it kept turning angsty. I laughed, and this is karma. Because oh, yes, angst-a-rama, along with the porn. Heh. Anyway, it's her fault, but I also have to give poisontaster ginormous hugs and thank-yous for whipping this sucker into shape. You kick ass as a beta, honey :) Enjoy the story, y'all. :)Summary: Sometimes Sam just needs something more.
--Dean Winchester, Born Under A Bad Sign
When Sam left for college he was hoping to find normal. Safe.
He didn't expect to find the sweetest, smartest, snarkiest girl he'd ever met, but that was Jess. She makes Sam feel like the luckiest guy in the world -- like the only guy in the world. She's gorgeous, with warm, full curves that fit perfectly against him, and her smile lights up any room she's in. She has a smart mouth on her, giving as good as she gets, but she's kind-hearted and willing to step in and help someone out if she thinks they need it. She's headstrong, and she grounds Sam in ways he can't explain but that he feels all the way through.
She's also a wild thing, willing to try pretty much anything at least once.
They sleep together the second time they go out. It's hot, sexy and fun, and Sam's pretty sure he's in love just that fast.
Jess wonders about Sam's past.
He seldom talks about his family, except when he's had a couple too many beers or done shots. Then he talks about Dean. Always Dean. Never his mom, beyond one mention that she was dead, and only rarely his dad.
Dean.
Jess loves her siblings; she's close to her whole family. But there's a current of…something…in Sam's voice when he mentions his brother.
It scares her, excites her, and that's usually when they fuck, hard and nasty, with that look, that electricity fueling it.
Sam often goes to class looking like he tangled with a wildcat. His buddies tease him about it, but he hears the envy in their voices and their words, and while he's too much of a gentleman to kiss and tell, he's not above occasionally feeling smug.
Sometimes the scratches Jess leaves on his back sting for the whole day after, especially if it's hot outside and he sweats. The bruises she sucks into his skin--throat, neck, sometimes his inner thighs--he likes to touch them; press hard against them until sweetsharp pain spikes through him.
He very deliberately doesn't think about other bruises he's had, and how he'd jerk off while pressing, touching, pushing into the tender, inflamed skin.
Very deliberately doesn't think about Dean, or the way he would touch Sam, fuck Sam, make him feel so dirtyhotwronggood.
The first time it happened without any planning, just them fooling around. Jess pressed a finger into Sam during a blowjob, barely penetrating because God, what if he was totally against something like that? But he wasn't against it; he moaned and opened his legs wider, and Jess flushed head-to-toe watching him cant his hips, pushing up toward her mouth, against her finger.
Two fingers made Sam cry out, voice rough and thick, and electricity danced through her. She wanted to see more, hear more; make him feel more.
"I have a dildo," she said, voice breathless against his ear.
Sam groaned and nodded, body clenching around her fingers. He growled her name when she pulled out; caught her hand before she moved away.
"Jess," he said again, leaning up toward her. The kiss was hot, hungry, and Jess felt it race through her; tiny ripples of fire sliding through her veins.
She fucked him with her dildo, free hand between her thighs so she could finger herself while she worked it in and out. Each sound Sam made slashed through her, hot and potent, until she didn't hear them as much as felt them, each one beating inside her in time with the throbbing in her cunt. She felt powerful, holding Sam -- holding them both, really -- balanced on the edge of orgasm while she drank in the sight of him straining up, into, each thrust. How he sounded, the desperation in his voice as he cried out; the way his muscles worked beneath his skin as he clutched at the sheets.
"C'mon, Sam," was all she got out before he grabbed his cock. He hissed something random that sounded like "Dee--" and arched. Jess felt him clamp down on the dildo, felt the spasms through it and into her as he came; she shuddered and rubbed her clit hard and fast, sensation exploding and splintering through her.
She bought the strap-on harness a few days after that. When she showed it to Sam that night her hands shook with nerves and excitement, half-afraid he'd laugh at her and half-afraid he wouldn't.
She shouldn't have worried. Sam's eyes went wide and dark; he stroked the leather reverently, then pushed her onto the bed. He licked her to orgasm first, tongue working her clit as she came over and over again, before he buckled her into the harness.
That time, when Sam came, straining and panting, she knew the sound she heard wasn't random or accidental--and it wasn't her name. But Sam cuddled her afterward; stroked her until she was boneless and sated then held her close, whispering soothing words against her skin, and those shards of envy and pain settled and faded.
They don't talk about it, but Jess learns to read the signs. It's not something Sam will ask for; from the way he acts, she knows he feels guilty for wanting it -- for wanting Dean -- never mind saying anything. She figured that much out pretty quickly. It took a little while longer for Jess to accept that while Sam is hers, there's at least one small part of him that isn't ever going to belong to her and once in a while, she has to share. She doesn't like it, exactly, but she likes the power she feels, giving Sam what he needs.
There's some guilt on her part, too, because seeing him on his knees, so eager for it -- and knowing he wants it and hurts for -- makes her feel alive in ways nothing else ever has. She loves the hot thrill that shivers through her; that burns in her belly, and lower, making her wet and swollen, her body hungry to take and have.
There's a pattern now. Rules, of a sort.
It starts with Sam kind of broody for a day or two. He'll take his phone out and stare at it, picking it up and dialing and then aborting the call and putting it down. Over and over. A beer or two, then he plays with the phone again. He'll talk about Dean -- some story about their childhood -- and there's so much he doesn't say that Jess practically sees the holes. She moves in then with shots -- sometimes whiskey, sometimes tequila -- and leans in to bite Sam's ear, smiling when he turns his head toward her and catches her mouth in a hot, hard kiss.
As much as Sam wants to indulge in this gift Jess gives him, he doesn't allow himself to very often. He can't. It's enough he gets it when he can't shove the need down any further, and threaded in through the guilt he feels at taking what's offered to him is how much he loves Jess for doing it, especially since she knows it's Dean he thinks about when they do this. But still he hides it, because Sam's afraid of pushing too hard; afraid of driving Jess away, when he loves and needs her as much as he needs the other.
Need, hunger, guilt; they're ravenous shadows deep inside him, clawing to get out, and Sam can't let them because they might consume him.
He loves Jess; loves her with all his heart, all his soul. Or all the parts of his heart and soul that are his to give away, anyway. The other parts have belonged to someone else for as long as Sam can remember breathing, and there's nothing to do about that, now.
Sam eats at Jess's mouth, biting and sucking desperately until she gentles the kiss, forcing him to slow down. She brushes her mouth along his, a ghost kiss that burns against swollen, tender lips. Under the slick of cherry lipgloss Sam tastes the chocolate ice cream she ate after dinner, and he licks around the inside of her mouth chasing the fading flavor.
"You taste good," he sighs, tugging her closer. "Like chocolate."
Jess laughs and tosses her hair back; straddles his lap in one smooth, fluid movement, not needing the hands Sam settles on her hips to steady her. "You taste like tequila."
He smoothes his hands up her sides; brushes his thumbs over her nipples. Jess wiggles down against his dick, hard and straining against his zipper, until Sam wants to rip his jeans open and bury himself inside her. "Mmm. C'mere."
She presses closer against him and it's so easy to lose himself in her warmth and scent; in the faint chocolate-cherry-tequila taste lingering in her mouth. The tequila's his, and he wonders if she tastes chocolate on his tongue. Sam nuzzles Jess's throat and behind her ear, heat pooling in his belly when she moans, low and throaty.
She's wearing loose shorts and a t-shirt tonight, and Sam waits until Jess kisses him again, mouth moving desperately against his, to slide his hand up her leg, fingers stroking over the satiny-soft skin of her inner thigh. She's not wearing panties; no lace or silk to tease her through or work under. His fingers sink into slick, slippery heat and Sam echoes Jess's groan at that first touch. Fire ripples through him when she starts to move, riding his fingers like she would ride his dick.
Sam jerks his hips upward, trying for some friction, hissing when Jess tightens and relaxes around him.
"So fucking wet," Sam mutters, angling so he can rub her clit. Her breathless whimpers curl into him and down his nerve endings; make his dick even harder. He shifts and presses a third finger into her cunt, swallowing her moans. "I wanna fuck you so bad," he says, licking the words into her skin.
"No," she moans, stripping off her t-shirt -- she's braless, and Sam's not surprised, not at all -- then settling her hands on his shoulders. Her breath is warm and moist against his ear when she whispers, "I'm gonna fuck you, Sam. Fuck you hard, make you come for me." Her fingers dig into him as she moves faster, riding three of his fingers. He's soaked clear to his wrist now, shaking as the hunger inside claws its way up and out of him.
"Yes," Sam growls, not sure if he's talking about Jess -- Dean -- fucking him, or the way she's tensing and shivering, so close to coming. Sam dips his head and mouths at the curve of a breast, then licks over the nipple, tongue tracing the tight point. He suckles, pulling with his lips, moving back and forth between breasts. Jess throws her head back and wails as she comes, pussy spasming around Sam's fingers.
She's salty-sweet on his tongue when he sucks his fingers clean and Sam wants more; wants to drown in her scent, her flavor, in the slick juices streaking the insides of her thighs and dampening his jeans. Jess licks her lips then grabs his head and pulls him in for a deep kiss, stroking her tongue around the inside of Sam's mouth, sharing in the taste of herself there.
She sucks hard on his bottom lip and Sam groans when she pulls back just far enough to murmur, "Go get naked. Really want to fuck you, see you spread out for me, Sam."
Jess has never had penis envy. She loves being a girl. But she can't deny what she feels, the electrified feeling that comes when she straps her harness on, silicone tugging and pulling against her skin, the heat from the friction pooling low in her belly. Can't deny the sizzle she gets at the way Sam's eyes go dark and needy when he kneels in front of her, his hands on his thighs, but not touching himself.
Not touching yet, because this is hers to choreograph.
He's big when he's soft, and fully erect he's a little intimidating, but incredibly beautiful. Jess strokes her dick and gazes down at him, taking him in. He's flushed and so ready for her; his erection curves up and in toward his belly, framed by dark pubes. He's wet at the tip, liquid pearling up from the small slit in tiny, translucent drops that catch the random bit of light. Jess leans down and rubs her finger over the head, slicking the moisture up.
Sam's breath hitches when she smoothes her finger over his mouth; he licks his lips clean, and watching him Jess's mouth waters, thinking of the taste of him hot and bitter on her tongue.
She wets her lips -- always a little nervous, no matter how excited this makes her -- and steps closer. Sam smiles at her, his face open and vulnerable, hunger shining out of it. The heft and weight of the cock in her hand makes Jess's stomach tighten and goosebumps ripple over her skin.
"You want my dick, Sam?" It feels silly at first, saying the words. Always does, that first time. Then she slips easily into the moment, letting it sweep her away.
His eyes are all pupil now, black bleeding into hazel-brown, obliterating it. Sam swallows then nods. "Yeah, I--yeah."
"C'mon, baby. You want it? You gotta ask me for it." She strokes again, watches him watching her. And for just a minute, Jess wonders if she's let this get out of hand, let it go too far. Except for that look in Sam's eyes, the one that screams I need this, please give it to me.
Sam knows a little of what it costs Jess to give this to him. They don't talk about it; never have and never will. But Jess isn't stupid and it's no accident that this…thing…always happens when Sam allows himself to acknowledge that he misses Dean.
The guilt from that lies heavy and bitter within him for it, and Sam wishes he knew how to tell Jess just how much it means to him. How much he loves her. How he loves her so much it hurts sometimes; almost as bad as loving Dean.
He loves her all the more for the wicked glint he sees in her eyes now, while she stands there stroking the dildo like she really has a dick.
"I want it," he breathes…and then the words tumble out in a rush. "Want your cock, Jess, please, give it to me, fuck me, make me take it--"
"Shhh." She touches his forehead. "You can have it; you can always have it, Sam. But I want you to suck it first, baby. Wanna see your mouth stretched wide around it while you suck me."
Lust slams into him, curls hot and potent through his veins and Sam leans forward eagerly, mouth open, ready.
Jess nudges his cheek with the tip; drags it across his mouth. In his mind it melds with memories of Dean rubbing himself against Sam's mouth, dick hard and ready, leaking bittersalt drops that slicked across Sam's lips. He opens for Jess, feels the press of it -- of her -- against his tongue, pushing deep.
Just like that, Sam's back to that summer before he left for Stanford; Dean's body hot against his, both of them frantic, needing to spend as much time fucking, touching, tasting as they could before Sam left.
Sam gags when Jess pushes in a little too fast, a little too hard, and then he swallows her down, reaching to tug her closer. She resists, just a little, before moving forward; a subtle reminder that this isn't his his show. Her skin is soft and warm beneath his fingers; real and alive, not just a memory. He closes his eyes and wills Dean's ghost away, concentrating on the weight against his tongue, and the flex of Jess's muscles shifting beneath his fingers as she rolls her hips forward and back.
It's not a real dick, but stretching his mouth like this makes his belly clench and his own dick throb, arousal coursing hot and potent through him. When Sam breathes deeply, the pungent scent of sex wraps around him in a cocoon.
"You're so hot, Sam." Jess threads her fingers through his hair, tugging gently. "Take it all in, m'kay? I know you can. All the way in, get it wet and ready so I can fuck you."
He growls deep in his throat, and takes a breath, forcing himself to relax. Sam swallows around the dildo as Jess works it in and out, fucking his mouth like she was born to it. Sam wants to wrap his hands around his aching cock and just go to town, and Jess's breathless gasps as she fucks him ratchets the urge up another notch. But if he touches himself he'll come, and he wants to wait for that; wants to have Jess buried deep in his ass first.
She cries out when she comes again -- for a brief moment Sam's hella jealous of girls and their fucking multiple orgasms -- and shoves her dick down his throat. Sam can't breathe, can't swallow around it; it's just this huge thing pressing in and blocking his throat and hunger wells up inside him even as Sam jerks himself backward, grabbing for his balls, breath coming in harsh, heavy pants.
"Get up on the bed, hands and knees," Jess tells him, her voice rough and trembling. Sam nods, then grabs at her, pulling her down for a kiss. It's hungry, and feels desperate, and her mouth gives beneath his, letting him take what he needs.
"Thank you," he whispers, the words sliding down into the kiss.
Jess fits herself up behind him once he's settled himself and presses a kiss to the small of his back before stroking her fingers down, sliding them into the crack between his cheeks. He shudders at the light touch and presses back toward her, whining low in his throat.
"Please," is all that comes out, and Jess laughs, low and soft. Sam hears a deeper voice echoing under it; feels strong fingers grab and pull, gripping him tightly. Sam moans again, heat coiling tighter in his belly with each touch.
Lube drizzles over his skin, slick and cool, and Sam grips the sheets in his fists when Jess presses the head of the dildo up against him. First push in breaches him, makes him suck in a breath and grunt as the burn spreads through him with the stretch. It's a hot, sweet pain and Jess doesn't ease him into it, just pushes in steadily while Sam clenches and relaxes and lets her in. When she's seated fully inside him Sam wriggles, rolls his hips just a little, looking to relieve the pressure. Small hands grip his hips, hold him steady for the first slow thrusts. With each one, heat slides down his spine, slow and thick and so good.
This is the only time Jess can admit yeah, maybe she has a little penis envy. Or--envy of someone else. Because this is the one time, the one place, when Sam isn't completely hers. When he's pushing back to meet her thrusts, his back arching and fingers curling into the sheets and his head's down as he pants out his pleasure.
Each noise out of him ripples through her, makes her want to hear more; makes her want them to be for her, even though she knows they're for him.
For Dean.
She takes Sam's hips in her hands, holds him tight, fingers digging into him. He won't bruise; it takes a lot to pull a bruise out of him, and she doesn't have the strength in her hands to do it. But oh, she wishes. And wonders if he ever left bruises on Sam. If Sam ever left bruises on him.
"Harder," Sam grits out, and Jess feels a spike of heat at the arousal in his voice.
"Such a slut," she hisses, reaching with one hand to grip his hair and tug. "Ask nicely, Sam."
"Please," he says, voice a low whine. "Jess, please--fuck me harder, need to feel--"
She does, and each thrust brings a grunt, low and rough. Sweat sheens Sam's back and Jess leans down to lick up his spine before thrusting again. She can feel orgasm rising in her again, the harness riding her clit just so, and she's so turned on and so sensitive from everything up until now that it's just this side of painful. Just. Hot and bright, slicing into her one millimeter at a time, with Sam's grunts pushing it a little faster.
He's close, rocking back into each thrust, breath rough and fast when he breathes. Jess leans forward and tugs hard on the handful of hair she's holding, pulls Sam's head back. She can hardly breathe for the emotion in her, hate and love and envy and lust and it's all swirled together, slicked over with the need to give Sam what he needs.
He groans when she tightens her grip on his hair, head straining back. Jess bites at his ear then whispers, "say it, Sam. Say his name."
"J-Jess, Jesus--"
"Say it, Sam. You know you need to. Let me hear you say it."
Sam spasms before the first word's out, his body shaking as orgasm roars up through him hot and bright, shrieking along his nerve endings.
"D-Dean, God, Jess, please--"
Each thrust into him sends pleasure screaming through him. Sam lifts one hand and strokes his dick roughly -- Dean, God -- spilling thick, wet heat over his fingers with each pulse. In his head, in the memories he's lost in, it's Dean fucking into him, shaking as he comes deep inside Sam.
Behind him Jess pants and groans through her own orgasm. Her thrusts stutter and then slow until she's sliding out of him, leaving Sam open and empty, aching for things he didn't think he would miss and doesn't want to. His scalp burns and his eyes sting, and Christ, it's been years now since he saw Dean, since they had what they had…can't he catch a break?
"Sam?" Jess's hand is gentle, smoothing down his back.
"Yeah." He sounds ragged, undone, which is pretty much how it is. Sam swallows and turns awkwardly toward Jess, curling into her. "I love you," he mutters, holding her against him. "So much."
"I love you too," she says softly, leaning in to the embrace. "And it's okay, Sam."
He doesn't say anything; he can't say anything. Part of the reason he can accept this is because they don't talk about it. Which is how it'll stay.
"Let's get this off you," he says instead of the other things he should or could. He reaches for the harness and unbuckles Jess quickly before tossing the whole thing over the side of the bed. They're both sticky, sweaty, and the whole room reeks of the thick scent of sex, but Sam needs to lie down and hold Jess close to him.
He very deliberately doesn't think about curling up against Dean after sex, and the way Dean would stroke his hair -- usually half-asleep and never copping to it later. He doesn't think about that last night before getting on the train, when it was just he and Dean, just the two of them, and they'd fucked -- Sam swallows down a sob, because they'd made love, dammit -- over and over, until the sun was coming up and he had to go.
Had a train to catch, away from one life and on to the next.
That life snuggles up against him, settling into the crook of his arm, and Sam turns his head to kiss her forehead. If Jess notices his eyes are wet, she doesn't say anything about it. Instead, she turns onto her side and curls in close, comforting and loving and everything Sam wants.
He closes his eyes and hopes he doesn't dream about fire tonight.
~fin~
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