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Entry tags:
Taste and Touch, 1/1, NC-17, Sam/Dean
Title: Taste and Touch
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Words: ~450
Warnings/Spoilers: pre-series, underage (Sam is 16)
Disclaimer: Not mine. This makes me sad.
A/N: Written as email porn for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
leighm, because it's fun to get her wound up :) Her response was a really bad word, and a "post this! Now!" And so I'm following orders here. Hope you enjoy! (Also, have not forgotten about birthday ficlets nor the fact that I owe 1093481094 people responses on comments. I swear I'm working on it! :))
At sixteen, Sam's gorgeous. Dean can't keep his eyes off his brother, no matter how hard he tries. He remembers the night a couple years ago -- and a couple since then, though none recently, thank god -- when he watched Sam jerk off, his low grunts and moans as he came hot enough to send Dean over the edge with just a couple strokes on his dick.
And now it's like a fucking re-run, except Dean's not sure Sam's actually awake this time. He's moaning in his sleep, twisting and wriggling, and Dean watches with guilt and arousal as Sam rubs himself to full hardness through his shorts. Huge, now; bigger than Dean, possibly. Tip of his dick sticking up above the waistband, slick tracks on Sam's belly. Sam moans in his sleep again, a breathless, hoarse noise that almost sounds like Dean's name.
Dean rolls onto his side and strokes himself through his shorts, then decides fuck that, and shoves his hand down inside. Skin-to-skin is always better, and he hisses his pleasure through his teeth, eyes never straying from his brother's body.
Sam must feel the same way about skin on skin, because his wriggling and shifting works his shorts down, and holy fuck, he's thick and long and Dean strokes himself and imagines the weight and heft of Sam's dick in his hand; imagines the heat of it against his tongue and down his throat. He licks his palm and goes back to stroking, slide-glide of hand on dick, imagining going down on Sam. He'll taste sweet, and salty, not bitter. The dark curls around his dick will beckon Dean to bury his nose there, breathing in the heady scent of musk and sex, sweat and Sam. He wants to breathe it in, fill his lungs with it. Lick at Sam's balls, maybe take one or both into his mouth and suck. Tongue the rough line between them and listen to Sam keen his name.
Sam shifts like he senses Dean's thoughts, drawing one leg up and spreading his thighs. Dark shadows draw Dean, pull him away from his bed and over to Sam's; have him ducking his head and lapping at the slick pearling up from the small slit. Sam whimpers and reaches down, fingers scrabbling at Dean's hair. Dean swallows him down, tastes the saltsweet heat as Sam arches and thrusts, coming with that first touch of Dean's mouth around him.
Dean follows a moment later, panting through the heat of his orgasm. He's still slumped on the side of Sam's bed trying to regulate his breathing, when Sam's voice slips over him, soft and low, thick with sleep and sex.
"Did I taste good?"
~fin~
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Words: ~450
Warnings/Spoilers: pre-series, underage (Sam is 16)
Disclaimer: Not mine. This makes me sad.
A/N: Written as email porn for
leighm, because it's fun to get her wound up :) Her response was a really bad word, and a "post this! Now!" And so I'm following orders here. Hope you enjoy! (Also, have not forgotten about birthday ficlets nor the fact that I owe 1093481094 people responses on comments. I swear I'm working on it! :))At sixteen, Sam's gorgeous. Dean can't keep his eyes off his brother, no matter how hard he tries. He remembers the night a couple years ago -- and a couple since then, though none recently, thank god -- when he watched Sam jerk off, his low grunts and moans as he came hot enough to send Dean over the edge with just a couple strokes on his dick.
And now it's like a fucking re-run, except Dean's not sure Sam's actually awake this time. He's moaning in his sleep, twisting and wriggling, and Dean watches with guilt and arousal as Sam rubs himself to full hardness through his shorts. Huge, now; bigger than Dean, possibly. Tip of his dick sticking up above the waistband, slick tracks on Sam's belly. Sam moans in his sleep again, a breathless, hoarse noise that almost sounds like Dean's name.
Dean rolls onto his side and strokes himself through his shorts, then decides fuck that, and shoves his hand down inside. Skin-to-skin is always better, and he hisses his pleasure through his teeth, eyes never straying from his brother's body.
Sam must feel the same way about skin on skin, because his wriggling and shifting works his shorts down, and holy fuck, he's thick and long and Dean strokes himself and imagines the weight and heft of Sam's dick in his hand; imagines the heat of it against his tongue and down his throat. He licks his palm and goes back to stroking, slide-glide of hand on dick, imagining going down on Sam. He'll taste sweet, and salty, not bitter. The dark curls around his dick will beckon Dean to bury his nose there, breathing in the heady scent of musk and sex, sweat and Sam. He wants to breathe it in, fill his lungs with it. Lick at Sam's balls, maybe take one or both into his mouth and suck. Tongue the rough line between them and listen to Sam keen his name.
Sam shifts like he senses Dean's thoughts, drawing one leg up and spreading his thighs. Dark shadows draw Dean, pull him away from his bed and over to Sam's; have him ducking his head and lapping at the slick pearling up from the small slit. Sam whimpers and reaches down, fingers scrabbling at Dean's hair. Dean swallows him down, tastes the saltsweet heat as Sam arches and thrusts, coming with that first touch of Dean's mouth around him.
Dean follows a moment later, panting through the heat of his orgasm. He's still slumped on the side of Sam's bed trying to regulate his breathing, when Sam's voice slips over him, soft and low, thick with sleep and sex.
"Did I taste good?"
~fin~
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