вторник, 9 октября 2007 г.

lunabee34: SPN fic: Do it Like This; Sam/Dean

Title: Do it Like This
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: Adult
Word count: 1,066 This is one thousand words of pure, unadulterated PWP for because she sent me that picture of Chad Michael Murray. You know the one. The one where he's got that necklace in his mouth and it's so obscenely hot that the edges of the screen go all melty. Yeah. Thanks, sweetie. They’ve never fucked like this before. It’s usually Dean on his knees sucking Sam off quick and dirty or Sam’s hand on Dean’s dick jerking rough and fast and a little too dry. They don’t kiss and they don’t take off all their clothes when they mess around and they don’t sleep in the same bed and they certainly don’t go anywhere near each other’s asses. Those are the rules and Dean’s happy with the rules. He’s fucking ecstatic with the rules, which means, of course, that he should’ve known Sam’s just itching to screw up their little arrangement. Sam unzips Dean’s jeans and pushes them down his hips. He mouths wetly at Dean’s cock through his boxers, licking at the shaft through the slit in the fabric. Sam eases Dean out and sucks him slowly, gently swirling his tongue around the head on each upstroke. Dean’s skin prickles. The back of his neck is hot and uncomfortable and he doesn’t know what the hell Sam thinks he’s doing. When Sam pulls off with an obscenely wet noise and starts licking at Dean’s balls, rolling them around in his mouth even, Dean ignores how good it feels and smacks his brother hard on the shoulder. “Quit fucking around and suck my dick already, Sam.” Sam smiles up at him, his lips all shiny with spit and slightly swollen, and something in Dean’s belly goes sweetly liquid. “I am sucking your dick,” he says in the voice he’d use to talk to a very dumb four year old. “No, you’re not. You’re, you’re . . . I don’t know what you’re doing, but if you were blowing me right we’d be done here already.” Sam rocks back on his heels and looks Dean square in the eyes, something else Dean’s positive is against the rules. “Dean,” he says kindly, “shut up now.” And then he goes right back to what he was doing before, lapping at Dean’s balls and his cock, perverse little strokes of his tongue that make Dean crazy, make him rock his hips into Sam’s mouth involuntarily. Dean hears himself breathing, low and ragged and working on needy, and he figures this is going somewhere he doesn’t want to go. Some place they’ll both be sorry for later. Sam pushes him down on the bed, yanking Dean’s jeans off completely as he falls, and the second Dean’s back hits the sheets he’s rolling on his side and away. Sam catches him and pins him to the bed with those long-ass arms, with all the extra height and weight he has on Dean. “Sammy, get the hell off me! What the fuck is wrong with you?” Dean struggles, his wrists turning in Sam’s grip, his thigh grinding against Sam’s hard on. “We don’t do it like this.” Sam leans down over him, his eyes gone dark and wild, and whispers into Dean’s mouth, “Maybe I want to do it like this.” Then Sam kisses him softly, licking Dean’s bottom lip and over his teeth and into all the places Dean is afraid to let him go. “Maybe I don’t want to suck you off as fast as I can so you can pretend it’s not me on my knees for you.” Sam kisses harder, his tongue stroking Dean’s with the same rhythm as his dick rubbing against Dean’s leg. “Maybe I’m tired of you hiding from me.” “Sam,” Dean says and he barely recognizes his own voice. “I don’t know how . . .” His voice cracks and Dean tucks his face into Sam’s shoulder. Maybe Sam knows he’s broken Dean with that kiss because he stops holding Dean down and just holds him. “Shhhh,” Sam says. “I got you. I got you.” After a while of just breathing together, Sam unbuttons Dean’s shirt, slowly and with trembling fingers. Dean doesn’t stop him. When Dean is finally naked, exposed and vulnerable and fighting the urge to cross his arms over his chest, Sam undresses himself. He kisses Dean so unbearably sweetly, with such tenderness, that Dean is wrecked, shattered. Dean makes a strangled sound somewhere in the back of his throat and then he kisses Sam back, running his hands all over his brother’s body in a way he never let himself admit he wanted. Sam bites at Dean’s neck, sinks sharp teeth into his collarbone and works his mouth down Dean’s chest. Sam’s tongue on Dean’s nipples feels good, good enough that Dean’s cock starts sliding wetly against Sam’s belly, good enough that Dean is sorry he denied them this for so long. “I want to fuck you,” Sam says and Dean freezes, his heart jackrabbiting, his body tensed and afraid. If they do this, there’s no way to take it back, no way to pretend anymore. Maybe that’s Sam’s point. “Yeah. Okay. Okay,” Dean says. Sam slicks him up, an endless press of wet fingers, a continuous slide that has Dean grunting and pushing back onto Sam’s hand, that leaves him shaking and open and falling apart. Sam urges him over onto his hands and his knees and then Sam is inside him. Dean feels tightly strung, as if the slightest movement will snap his spine, as if the least bit more pleasure will tear him in two. Then Sam takes a shuddering breath and drives into him, over and over again, and Dean doesn’t break. Not in the way he thought he would. Everything irises down to the sweat damp thrust of Sam’s cock, his fingers clamped on Dean’s hips, his mouth sucking up marks on Dean’s shoulder blades. Dean comes without Sam ever touching his cock, his ass squeezing Sam almost viciously when he does, and Sam comes too. Sam says things when he comes, sweet filth and desperation, things he would never say except with all their defenses stripped bare. Sam pulls out and Dean aches with his absence. Before Dean can roll away, Sam eases him onto his side and holds him, his heart beating wildly against Dean’s back. “Stay,” he says, and this is the most dangerous moment of all, the moment when they promise to acknowledge what they’ve done in the light of day. Sam clutches him almost painfully and Dean knows then he’s not the only one who’s been afraid. “Not going anywhere, Sammy,” Dean says. Sam mashes his face into Dean’s shoulder and they sleep.

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