![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
New Fic: [ Storms of the Present ] - Sam/Dean, Sam/OFC, NC-17
Title: Storms of the Present
Pairings: Sam/Dean, Sam/OFC, Sam/Dean/OFC
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers/Warnings: No specific spoilers, but this is vaguely Future!fic, and mind the pairings
Disclaimer: They're not mine, sadly. They'd probably have more fun if they were.
A/N: This is what happens when you have friends who act all innocent, but who are actually enablers of the worst sort. I totally blame![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
thenyxie, aynslee, leighm and cormallen for this. But on the other hand, it's good to know I can still write porn. I was kind of starting to wonder. Hope y'all enjoy the story :)
The low bar chatter ceases the minute the door swings shut, two shadows peeling apart from one large one.
Everybody knows who the Winchester brothers are; everybody knows their reputation is almost spot-on and deserved. They doomed the world, saved the world, doomed it again, and saved it again. They're respected, and not a little feared, and so just seeing them in your bar makes you go a little weak and breathless; makes you a little wet when the tall one -- Sam, you think -- flicks his gaze over you that lingers.
Their boots sound loud on the wooden floor, each step like quiet rumbles of thunder, and it isn't until they're leaning against the bar that conversations start up again, humming with a tension that wasn't there a minute ago.
The other one leans in to Sam. Whatever he says, too quietly for you to hear, makes Sam smile briefly, his eyes darkening as you watch him. Watch them.
"What can I get you," you ask finally, when it seems neither is going to speak until you do.
"Bottle of Jack to go, and we'd like you to join us," he says, leaning toward you. The words are soft and low, whispers of breath caressing your lips in ghost kisses.
You imagine what a real kiss from him will feel like, and don't even consider saying no.
They have a room, Sam tells you. Down the road, an old place that use to be for tourists and now sits abandoned. Fear creeps up your spine, tingles sharp and bright, mixing with the heat throbbing wetly between your legs. Dean -- because you were right, Sam is the tall one -- drives, and you watch him watch you, draped over Sam's lap, his fingers stroking over your legs, teasing the bare skin of your inner thighs.
"Not gonna hurt you," Dean says softly, his voice rough like he doesn't use it much. "If you don't want to do this, we'll take you back. We don't force anyone."
You've never backed down before; you're not going to start now. You shake your head mutely, and take a swallow from the bottle when Sam presses it to your lips.
The world might've been saved, redeemed, but it suffered too. This 'room' they have is in what's left of beautiful, sprawling old house, used for decades as a Bed and Breakfast. You follow them into the gloom, watching how they're always in each other's space, always touching somewhere. Never more than a hand-span apart.
There are other rumors that go along with the Winchesters' reputation; dark words whispered in shadowed corners.
Incest.
Sinners.
Monsters.
When Dean closes the door and locks it behind the three of you, and Sam shoves him back against it, taking his mouth in a gesture too rough and needy to be just a kiss, you know there's truth to the rumors.
A kiss is a meeting of mouths; of tongues stroking and touching and teasing. This...this thing you're watching, breath caught in your chest and heat blooming and curling through you, is so much more. Sam bites and nips at Dean's mouth, teeth catching and pulling on the full lower lip, tongue slicking along and over abused flesh. He curls one hand up around the nape of Dean's neck, thumb pressing into the soft skin just behind Dean's ear.
Sam's hand looks huge against Dean; your knees get a little weak thinking how it'll look against you.
You're not sure how long you stand there, watching them kiss, sex with their mouths and nothing else, but it's long enough for your face to burn hot and your cunt to throb and ache with need. You whimper when Sam turns away from Dean to tug you closer; he threads his fingers through your hair and tilts your head back, licking into your mouth, the taste of whiskey burning on his tongue.
"You liked watching us," Sam whispers into your mouth, and you shiver and nod. "Made you all wet, didn't it? You wet for me? For us?"
You make a tiny sound. It's supposed to be "yes", but it's weak and wavery, more a sigh than a word.
Sam laughs softly and bites at your mouth, at your throat. "Bet you taste good. Want my mouth on your pussy? I want that. Lick all over you, tongue deep inside your cunt until you're begging for my cock. I'm gonna make you come over and over while I eat you, and I wanna lick all that sweet juice up, swallow it down."
Dean makes a noise, a low whine that you echo, fingers shaking and clenched tight in the fabric of Sam's jacket. "Please," you manage to get out. "I want--"
"Undress," Sam says, running one finger down the slope of your breast. Through your shirt your nipple tightens, draws into a hard point. He pinches it, tugs gently, then harder, and God, you can't get your clothes off fast enough.
"Are you--and Dean--"
"Dean wants to watch this time." Sam shrugs his jacket off; behind him, Dean's doing the same thing, his eyes tracking every movement you make, burning hot and bright.
Exhibitionism isn't really your thing, but you want Dean's eyes on you while Sam's hands and mouth are. You want the heat of that stare balanced against the heat of Sam's body.
Your hands shake when you pull your t-shirt up over your head and it takes you two tries to get the zipper down on your shorts. A slow grin -- all sex -- spreads over Sam's face when you kick them off, standing there in sheer silk panties you've already drenched. You hook your fingers in the waist to draw them off, too, but Sam shakes his head.
"Not yet. Get on the bed."
Dean's already naked, settling into a chair he's pulled up to the foot of the bed. He's gorgeous, all long, clean lines, cock rising proudly from a thatch of dark hair. He strokes himself slowly while you get situated, then cants his head toward Sam to watch him finish stripping.
If Dean's gorgeous, Sam's magnificent. Miles of skin, soft over hard, tight muscle. Dean's clean lines; Sam looks chiseled, the lines cut and defined.
The time to look is over then, because Sam's climbing onto the bed, mattress dipping beneath his weight. He stops and kisses Dean once again, licking and sucking, and Dean--Dean's fingers are tight around his cock, tight in Sam's hair, holding him in close. When he lets go of Sam, there's something more than lust in his eyes, in his expression. Something bright and beautiful, even through the cocky grin he tosses your way.
Sam kisses you; you taste Dean on his tongue, now, and hope you can taste more of Dean, later.
He licks downward, sucking and biting at your throat until you feel it throb in time with the beat between your legs. Your breasts are cupped, nipples pulled and twisted until you're panting, arching upward into each touch.
"Such a little slut, aren't you?" Sam's voice is whiskey-dark, rough like raw silk. Each word is bitten into your skin and you mewl, aching for more. For him to touch you there, sink his fingers, his tongue, his cock into you. Part your lips and slide in. "So hot, too. Want it so bad. I can smell you, y'know. Smell so good, it's making my mouth water."
"Sam, please, I need your mouth--"
"Where, baby? Where do you want it?" He licks around your bellybutton, catches the ring there between his teeth to give it a gentle tug. "Tell me."
You look over at Dean, his attention completely on you, on Sam lying between your legs. "My c-cunt. Lick me, God, fuck me."
"Oh, yeah. That's right." He slides one finger down, pressing between your lips, pushing the soaked, flimsy material against you. It's nowhere near enough friction, nowhere near enough anything, and you rock your hips up, a sob caught in your throat. "Christ, she's wet, Dean. You see?"
Sam's hands are huge and hot on your thighs, pushing your legs apart, spreading you wide for Dean to look. He makes a low, pained noise and Sam raises the finger he'd been stroking you with up to Dean's mouth.
You think you come the first time right then, watching Dean suck your juices off Sam's finger. You know you feel wetter than you've ever felt before, and your panties aren't doing anything to keep the moisture in; your inner thighs are slick and slippery.
Sam draws the panties down and tosses them over his shoulder, moving in close between your legs. His breath is hot against sensitive, swollen tissues and each time he breathes out you quiver.
He rubs his face over your bare skin, stubble rough and scratchy on your thighs, then spreads you open and licks, the sound sloppy wet, running from your clit down to your asshole and back up again.
Your clit feels ten times its normal size, swollen and throbbing, and you're going to come again, you can feel it growing, building. Your skin is too tight, too hot, and there's no air in the room any more. You roll your head as Sam licks circles around it, tongue flicking out to rub and tease, and Dean's watching, spell-bound, eyes riveted on your cunt; on Sam's mouth eating you.
The groan forces its way up out of you when Sam suckles your clit, pushing two big fingers up inside you. You feel the waves of orgasm sweep over you, through you, burning hot, liquid fire in your veins. Your pussy contracts around Sam's fingers, over and over, and each spasm pushes a grunt out of you. Sam keeps you coming, tongue nudging your clit then licking down over your labia, lapping at the juices pouring out of you. You've lost track of how many times you've come when he backs away, moving over to kiss Dean, feeding him your taste.
A low moan from Dean makes your pussy clench again, achingly empty without Sam's fingers. Sam's jacking Dean, his dick slickshiny now, your juices spread over him as Sam touches Dean.
"I'm gonna fuck her," Sam says, talking to Dean but looking at you. "Her cunt's slick and wet, but I think I'll fuck her ass, stretch that other pretty hole out a little."
You shudder with pleasure and roll, wishing you could watch Dean's face while Sam fucks you. You close your eyes and listen to the quiet, steady sound of skin-on-skin as he resumes stroking himself.
The bed dips again, and Sam's pulling you up onto your knees, pressing kisses to the smooth skin of your ass. He flicks his tongue down between your cheeks, sliding quick and wet over your hole, pulling a gasp from you.
"Ever been fucked here?" He asks, stroking downward, fingers dipping into your pussy. You feel the moisture, like slippery silk, feel it ease the first penetration.
"Yeah," you breathe, chest tight with the effort. "I like it."
Sam laughs and smacks your ass with his free hand and you whine and push back toward him.
"Jesus," Dean snarls, low and breathless, and the sound of him stroking himself increases as Sam works a second, and then a third finger into you.
Your cunt aches to be filled, but you want this, too, groaning and shivering beneath Sam as he preps himself and enters you. It burns, God does it burn, and you're so full, but it feels so good, too. He bites at your neck, teeth scoring over your shoulder, the base of your neck, not hard enough to draw blood but enough to sting. The first couple thrusts are slow, but he speeds up quickly, groaning into your ear filthy things: how tight you are, how hot, the way your ass fucking clings to his dick.
"Touch yourself, now. Reach down, play with your clit. Wanna feel you come again while I'm fucking you." His voice is rough, shaky with movement and need.
Your fingers slip over your clit, sliding through the moisture. You spread that moisture around, rub circles around the base and stroke over the swollen bud while Sam pounds into you. Dean's breathing heavy, panting out his pleasure as the sounds of skin-slapping-skin increases, speeds up.
You come as Dean does, his come spattering on your leg, on your hip as you cry out and strain back against--something. Reaching for something, for more, pussy clenching, spasming, aching to be filled. Thick, hot fingers slide into you, bump against Sam's cock, only the thinnest of skin separating one from the other.
"Come again," Dean says hoarsely, pushing up, up, bumping against that spot you can't ever quite reach well enough.
It feels like your whole body goes supernova, then melts, and you strain hard, grasping at that feeling. You're sure you've just pissed yourself, from the flood of liquid, but then Sam grabs hard at your hips and stutters into you, holding himself inside. You feel his cock contracting, wish you could feel him coming inside you.
You're dimly aware of hot, bare skin curling up to either side of you after Sam pulls out. You're not sure of much else beyond that. The two of them, you, and some blankets. You throb from head to toe, achy and sore in the best way possible, and completely boneless, besides. Sam kisses you gently, almost chastely, and it's then that Dean kisses you, mouth tender and warm on yours.
"Sleep," one of them says, and you're already almost there.
~fin~
Pairings: Sam/Dean, Sam/OFC, Sam/Dean/OFC
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers/Warnings: No specific spoilers, but this is vaguely Future!fic, and mind the pairings
Disclaimer: They're not mine, sadly. They'd probably have more fun if they were.
A/N: This is what happens when you have friends who act all innocent, but who are actually enablers of the worst sort. I totally blame
thenyxie, aynslee, leighm and cormallen for this. But on the other hand, it's good to know I can still write porn. I was kind of starting to wonder. Hope y'all enjoy the story :) The low bar chatter ceases the minute the door swings shut, two shadows peeling apart from one large one.
Everybody knows who the Winchester brothers are; everybody knows their reputation is almost spot-on and deserved. They doomed the world, saved the world, doomed it again, and saved it again. They're respected, and not a little feared, and so just seeing them in your bar makes you go a little weak and breathless; makes you a little wet when the tall one -- Sam, you think -- flicks his gaze over you that lingers.
Their boots sound loud on the wooden floor, each step like quiet rumbles of thunder, and it isn't until they're leaning against the bar that conversations start up again, humming with a tension that wasn't there a minute ago.
The other one leans in to Sam. Whatever he says, too quietly for you to hear, makes Sam smile briefly, his eyes darkening as you watch him. Watch them.
"What can I get you," you ask finally, when it seems neither is going to speak until you do.
"Bottle of Jack to go, and we'd like you to join us," he says, leaning toward you. The words are soft and low, whispers of breath caressing your lips in ghost kisses.
You imagine what a real kiss from him will feel like, and don't even consider saying no.
They have a room, Sam tells you. Down the road, an old place that use to be for tourists and now sits abandoned. Fear creeps up your spine, tingles sharp and bright, mixing with the heat throbbing wetly between your legs. Dean -- because you were right, Sam is the tall one -- drives, and you watch him watch you, draped over Sam's lap, his fingers stroking over your legs, teasing the bare skin of your inner thighs.
"Not gonna hurt you," Dean says softly, his voice rough like he doesn't use it much. "If you don't want to do this, we'll take you back. We don't force anyone."
You've never backed down before; you're not going to start now. You shake your head mutely, and take a swallow from the bottle when Sam presses it to your lips.
The world might've been saved, redeemed, but it suffered too. This 'room' they have is in what's left of beautiful, sprawling old house, used for decades as a Bed and Breakfast. You follow them into the gloom, watching how they're always in each other's space, always touching somewhere. Never more than a hand-span apart.
There are other rumors that go along with the Winchesters' reputation; dark words whispered in shadowed corners.
Incest.
Sinners.
Monsters.
When Dean closes the door and locks it behind the three of you, and Sam shoves him back against it, taking his mouth in a gesture too rough and needy to be just a kiss, you know there's truth to the rumors.
A kiss is a meeting of mouths; of tongues stroking and touching and teasing. This...this thing you're watching, breath caught in your chest and heat blooming and curling through you, is so much more. Sam bites and nips at Dean's mouth, teeth catching and pulling on the full lower lip, tongue slicking along and over abused flesh. He curls one hand up around the nape of Dean's neck, thumb pressing into the soft skin just behind Dean's ear.
Sam's hand looks huge against Dean; your knees get a little weak thinking how it'll look against you.
You're not sure how long you stand there, watching them kiss, sex with their mouths and nothing else, but it's long enough for your face to burn hot and your cunt to throb and ache with need. You whimper when Sam turns away from Dean to tug you closer; he threads his fingers through your hair and tilts your head back, licking into your mouth, the taste of whiskey burning on his tongue.
"You liked watching us," Sam whispers into your mouth, and you shiver and nod. "Made you all wet, didn't it? You wet for me? For us?"
You make a tiny sound. It's supposed to be "yes", but it's weak and wavery, more a sigh than a word.
Sam laughs softly and bites at your mouth, at your throat. "Bet you taste good. Want my mouth on your pussy? I want that. Lick all over you, tongue deep inside your cunt until you're begging for my cock. I'm gonna make you come over and over while I eat you, and I wanna lick all that sweet juice up, swallow it down."
Dean makes a noise, a low whine that you echo, fingers shaking and clenched tight in the fabric of Sam's jacket. "Please," you manage to get out. "I want--"
"Undress," Sam says, running one finger down the slope of your breast. Through your shirt your nipple tightens, draws into a hard point. He pinches it, tugs gently, then harder, and God, you can't get your clothes off fast enough.
"Are you--and Dean--"
"Dean wants to watch this time." Sam shrugs his jacket off; behind him, Dean's doing the same thing, his eyes tracking every movement you make, burning hot and bright.
Exhibitionism isn't really your thing, but you want Dean's eyes on you while Sam's hands and mouth are. You want the heat of that stare balanced against the heat of Sam's body.
Your hands shake when you pull your t-shirt up over your head and it takes you two tries to get the zipper down on your shorts. A slow grin -- all sex -- spreads over Sam's face when you kick them off, standing there in sheer silk panties you've already drenched. You hook your fingers in the waist to draw them off, too, but Sam shakes his head.
"Not yet. Get on the bed."
Dean's already naked, settling into a chair he's pulled up to the foot of the bed. He's gorgeous, all long, clean lines, cock rising proudly from a thatch of dark hair. He strokes himself slowly while you get situated, then cants his head toward Sam to watch him finish stripping.
If Dean's gorgeous, Sam's magnificent. Miles of skin, soft over hard, tight muscle. Dean's clean lines; Sam looks chiseled, the lines cut and defined.
The time to look is over then, because Sam's climbing onto the bed, mattress dipping beneath his weight. He stops and kisses Dean once again, licking and sucking, and Dean--Dean's fingers are tight around his cock, tight in Sam's hair, holding him in close. When he lets go of Sam, there's something more than lust in his eyes, in his expression. Something bright and beautiful, even through the cocky grin he tosses your way.
Sam kisses you; you taste Dean on his tongue, now, and hope you can taste more of Dean, later.
He licks downward, sucking and biting at your throat until you feel it throb in time with the beat between your legs. Your breasts are cupped, nipples pulled and twisted until you're panting, arching upward into each touch.
"Such a little slut, aren't you?" Sam's voice is whiskey-dark, rough like raw silk. Each word is bitten into your skin and you mewl, aching for more. For him to touch you there, sink his fingers, his tongue, his cock into you. Part your lips and slide in. "So hot, too. Want it so bad. I can smell you, y'know. Smell so good, it's making my mouth water."
"Sam, please, I need your mouth--"
"Where, baby? Where do you want it?" He licks around your bellybutton, catches the ring there between his teeth to give it a gentle tug. "Tell me."
You look over at Dean, his attention completely on you, on Sam lying between your legs. "My c-cunt. Lick me, God, fuck me."
"Oh, yeah. That's right." He slides one finger down, pressing between your lips, pushing the soaked, flimsy material against you. It's nowhere near enough friction, nowhere near enough anything, and you rock your hips up, a sob caught in your throat. "Christ, she's wet, Dean. You see?"
Sam's hands are huge and hot on your thighs, pushing your legs apart, spreading you wide for Dean to look. He makes a low, pained noise and Sam raises the finger he'd been stroking you with up to Dean's mouth.
You think you come the first time right then, watching Dean suck your juices off Sam's finger. You know you feel wetter than you've ever felt before, and your panties aren't doing anything to keep the moisture in; your inner thighs are slick and slippery.
Sam draws the panties down and tosses them over his shoulder, moving in close between your legs. His breath is hot against sensitive, swollen tissues and each time he breathes out you quiver.
He rubs his face over your bare skin, stubble rough and scratchy on your thighs, then spreads you open and licks, the sound sloppy wet, running from your clit down to your asshole and back up again.
Your clit feels ten times its normal size, swollen and throbbing, and you're going to come again, you can feel it growing, building. Your skin is too tight, too hot, and there's no air in the room any more. You roll your head as Sam licks circles around it, tongue flicking out to rub and tease, and Dean's watching, spell-bound, eyes riveted on your cunt; on Sam's mouth eating you.
The groan forces its way up out of you when Sam suckles your clit, pushing two big fingers up inside you. You feel the waves of orgasm sweep over you, through you, burning hot, liquid fire in your veins. Your pussy contracts around Sam's fingers, over and over, and each spasm pushes a grunt out of you. Sam keeps you coming, tongue nudging your clit then licking down over your labia, lapping at the juices pouring out of you. You've lost track of how many times you've come when he backs away, moving over to kiss Dean, feeding him your taste.
A low moan from Dean makes your pussy clench again, achingly empty without Sam's fingers. Sam's jacking Dean, his dick slickshiny now, your juices spread over him as Sam touches Dean.
"I'm gonna fuck her," Sam says, talking to Dean but looking at you. "Her cunt's slick and wet, but I think I'll fuck her ass, stretch that other pretty hole out a little."
You shudder with pleasure and roll, wishing you could watch Dean's face while Sam fucks you. You close your eyes and listen to the quiet, steady sound of skin-on-skin as he resumes stroking himself.
The bed dips again, and Sam's pulling you up onto your knees, pressing kisses to the smooth skin of your ass. He flicks his tongue down between your cheeks, sliding quick and wet over your hole, pulling a gasp from you.
"Ever been fucked here?" He asks, stroking downward, fingers dipping into your pussy. You feel the moisture, like slippery silk, feel it ease the first penetration.
"Yeah," you breathe, chest tight with the effort. "I like it."
Sam laughs and smacks your ass with his free hand and you whine and push back toward him.
"Jesus," Dean snarls, low and breathless, and the sound of him stroking himself increases as Sam works a second, and then a third finger into you.
Your cunt aches to be filled, but you want this, too, groaning and shivering beneath Sam as he preps himself and enters you. It burns, God does it burn, and you're so full, but it feels so good, too. He bites at your neck, teeth scoring over your shoulder, the base of your neck, not hard enough to draw blood but enough to sting. The first couple thrusts are slow, but he speeds up quickly, groaning into your ear filthy things: how tight you are, how hot, the way your ass fucking clings to his dick.
"Touch yourself, now. Reach down, play with your clit. Wanna feel you come again while I'm fucking you." His voice is rough, shaky with movement and need.
Your fingers slip over your clit, sliding through the moisture. You spread that moisture around, rub circles around the base and stroke over the swollen bud while Sam pounds into you. Dean's breathing heavy, panting out his pleasure as the sounds of skin-slapping-skin increases, speeds up.
You come as Dean does, his come spattering on your leg, on your hip as you cry out and strain back against--something. Reaching for something, for more, pussy clenching, spasming, aching to be filled. Thick, hot fingers slide into you, bump against Sam's cock, only the thinnest of skin separating one from the other.
"Come again," Dean says hoarsely, pushing up, up, bumping against that spot you can't ever quite reach well enough.
It feels like your whole body goes supernova, then melts, and you strain hard, grasping at that feeling. You're sure you've just pissed yourself, from the flood of liquid, but then Sam grabs hard at your hips and stutters into you, holding himself inside. You feel his cock contracting, wish you could feel him coming inside you.
You're dimly aware of hot, bare skin curling up to either side of you after Sam pulls out. You're not sure of much else beyond that. The two of them, you, and some blankets. You throb from head to toe, achy and sore in the best way possible, and completely boneless, besides. Sam kisses you gently, almost chastely, and it's then that Dean kisses you, mouth tender and warm on yours.
"Sleep," one of them says, and you're already almost there.
~fin~
no subject
Jesus fuck this was hot and gorgeous and amazing. I love the POV and the intimacy between Sam and Dean and omg, just. Everything.
You should so post this to
no subject
Thank you :) I did post it to
no subject