fifty frenchmen can't be wrong (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
some_stars) wrote2006-10-30 11:44 pm
some_stars) wrote2006-10-30 11:44 pm
Entry tags:
FIC: That sometime did me seek
...HI, I HAVE A STORY. omg. I believe it was last freaking yuletide that I last did this, I am slightly nervous. Also I am posting in an LJ entry instead of on my site for the first time and it feels *extremely weird.*
TITLE: That sometime did me seek
RATING: adult
PAIRING: Sam/Dean
SPOILERS: ahahahahhahaaaa uh, no.
NOTES: So, this is 100% PWP, established relationship with absolutely no justification. I promise to write something with artistic value and emotional development next time. For now, there is pr0n. Betaed speedily and with great skill by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
brown_betty and chopchica; any remaining areas of suck are where I disregarded them. The title is from this poem and is *entirely* too literary for pointless smut, but I couldn't resist. Feedback positive and negative=welcome and delicious!
***
At first he’d thought Sam was just being a fucking cocktease. It was ridiculous, but how else could he explain why his brother was acting like a high school girl, all come-ons and then squirming away, shifting and frowning, signals more mixed than a broken traffic light? It wasn't like they’d stopped fucking, but now half the time it seemed like Sam was fucking *with* him, giving him some sort of test over and over until he got the right answer. It was driving Dean fucking crazy, and it was definitely getting worse.
They'd be fooling around in the morning, just sleepy and kissing, and Dean not even bothering to open his eyes yet, and Sam's hand would stroke over his back slow and purposeful before sliding down to his hip. Dean would start to roll up into it, then Sam would shift and roll away and start to get up. It’d left Dean so confused the first time it happened he thought maybe he'd fallen back to sleep, until Sam came back with coffee and took his pillow away and started talking about the suspicious bitemarks they'd found on all the bodies. And then he’d had the nerve to get all pissy, like a cat rubbed backwards, when Dean was a little prickly all morning, like he didn't know exactly why. The next few times were probably Dean's fault for falling for it again, but Christ, he wasn't up to dealing with weird twisty Sam bullshit when he wasn't even all the way awake.
And okay, apparently he wasn't up to it when he was awake either, which was fucking embarrassing but not exactly a surprise. It wasn’t like there'd ever be any way for him to say no when Sam finished rubbing the twist out of his left shoulder and moved straight to licking Dean's neck, one long wet stripe like a fucking porn star. Any way for him to do any-damn-*thing* but jerk in surprise and groan, "Ah, yeah--"
"Mmhmm," Sam said, mouth pressed behind his ear, and then he stood up and walked away, left Dean sputtering and confused, and - dammit - still shivering at Sam's spit drying cool on his skin.
Sam went into the bathroom and shut the door and ignored Dean yelling after him, "Jesus, what the fuck, you want a fucking promise ring or something?" And a minute later, "You know it doesn't count if you do it in the ass, right?" because it worked that one time in high school, although Jerri Lynn had actually wanted to fuck, just been a little reluctant to break the freshness seal with a boy who was leaving town the next day. Then the shower started and by the time Sam came back out Dean had gotten distracted trying to remember why the descriptions of the hauntings all sounded so familiar. It was something about the way the victims described the voices: raspy and sexless, something he'd heard before. He barely noticed the heavy glances Sam kept throwing him all evening, like he was waiting for something.
The voices turned out to be from a protective animal spirit that had gotten twisted up somehow and turned on its summoner, and yeah, the weird wizard guy up near Portland had had one of those, Dean remembered now. That one had dissolved when its owner died, but apparently once they'd gone rogue they were a complete bitch to get rid of. The only way to get at it was to wait for it to take a physical form, which it didn't want to do--pretty understandably--until it was certain it wasn't in danger anymore. This time, they ended up with Dean having to shoot a really nice--well, it *had* been really nice--German shepherd and nearly losing two of his fingers on the way. Dean liked his fingers, and he liked not shooting dogs, and basically the whole day was just deeply shitty.
So when Sam finished cleaning him up and stitching him shut, and leaned over to kiss him, Dean let him for a couple seconds and then pushed him off and said, "You're not gonna be a little bitch about this again, are you? Because I just had to kill Lassie and I *will* kick your ass."
"Lassie's a border collie," Sam said. Dean jabbed him under the ribs and glared. "*Ow,* what the fuck, no, I'm not--shut up," Sam said, and kissed him again. Jerked him off slow and dirty and sweet, licking Dean's groans out of his mouth while he worked him to the edge over and over again, until Dean bit Sam's lip, hard, and said,
"Jesus *Christ* if you stop one more time I will fucking *shoot you.*"
"Yeah, okay," Sam said, sounding dazed and loose like he was the one with a hand wrapped around his dick, "yeah, come on, let me see it--" He moved faster, harder, with the twisting he knew Dean liked, staring down at him with huge eyes while Dean came in his hand for what felt like a year.
And then everything was fine for maybe a week, long enough anyway for Dean to forget about Sam's vestal virgin act, until he woke up one morning from a dream about trying to swim through a pool of grape jelly, to find Sam sucking on his fingers, hard little pulses rocketing straight to his dick, which was already plenty awake. Sam just *staring* at him, his eyes all half-closed and sexy, god. He stroked Sam's cheek with his other hand, feeling the hollow. "Fuck, Sam..."
Sam's eyes closed all the way and he slid his mouth down a little further on Dean's fingers and it was crazy, crazy but Dean felt like he could just do this, just his goddamn fingers. He was barely awake yet, listening to his own panting and the slick wet sounds from Sam's mouth. It was almost exactly enough, even though he could feel himself getting harder already, needing more.
Which was when Sam pulled off, laid back, and gave Dean a weird little smile before rolling back over. It should have been a completely ridiculous out-of-nowhere thing to do, if his brother wasn't such a twisted little *freak*--somehow the fact that Dean wasn't even surprised was the thing that finally made the weeks of unexplained sexual frustration just *snap.* He had Sam flipped and pinned before he even thought about it.
"Fucking *fuck,* you goddamn confused little *bitch,* what the hell is your problem?"
Sam blinked, totally still beneath him. "What?"
"Don't you even pretend you don't know what you're doing," he growled, kneeing Sam's thighs open--and that got him moving all right, arms jerking against Dean's hands, which shouldn't have felt so fucking good but-- "Oh no, you've been *asking* for this."
He dug in tighter, had to be hurting him. He shoved his mouth against Sam's, ground his hips down hard when Sam bit, and--Jesus. Sam was hard as hell, and he shuddered all over when Dean rocked against him again, his mouth falling open. "What, you like this?" And Sam biting his lip and glaring at him was *totally* an answer, yeah.
"Christ, you coulda just *asked,*" he said, and couldn't help a grin. Fucked-up kinked-out sulky little bitch, all his, just like this--hot and squirming under him, fighting again. Not as hard as he could, obviously, but enough that Dean couldn't get a hand free from holding him down, so he just started working his hips again, jerking down hard and steady. Only two pairs of shorts between them, and he could feel Sam's dick hot and hard against his own.
God, Sam was just *losing* it, too, red spreading down his neck and chest, shivering, jerking his hips up even as he kept twisting his arms, and when Dean tightened his grip, Sam made a choked-off little whine that just stabbed him right in the gut, exploding up his spine. "Jesus," Dean muttered, sounding dazed and stupid to his own ears, but whatever, just-- "*Sam.*" He had to compromise the pin a little to lean in and kiss him, but he couldn't not. Biting and hard and Sam fucking moaning into his mouth, opening up for him. When he pulled back, panting, Sam just kept licking at the corner of his mouth, needy little sounds vibrating through Dean's skin.
"All these fucking weeks," Dean said, "god, were you just waiting? Winding me up--"
"Didn't think, fuck--" Sam slid one leg up, pulling Dean in even tighter. "Didn't think it'd take you so long," and how could he look so smug and so hot at once was a total fucking mystery. Dean bit his throat hard, felt Sam's noise vibrate between his teeth.
"I guess next time I'll just skip straight to holding you down and making you take it anyway, huh?" he growled, grinding down hard enough to hurt a little, but it didn't matter *at all*, because Sam was shivering and groaning and coming, hot damp bursts between them, soaking through the fabric.
Somehow Dean managed to hold himself back, because after all the shit Sam had put him through for this, he was goddamn well going to *last.* He turned Sam over while he was still coming down, loose and easy under Dean's hands, and yanked his shorts down, got tangled around his knees.
"Come on, help me out here," Dean said, and Sam lifted up agreeably, let Dean get him naked and spread open and gorgeous. Half-up on his knees and he was starting to tense up again, trembling a little when Dean stroked up his back, then trembling a *lot* when Dean pushed down on his neck, said "You still want it hard, Sammy? Tell me, c'mon--"
Sam's voice was muffled against the mattress. "*Yes,* fuck--"
"Hands behind your back," Dean said. "Keep them there." And shit, Sam just *did* it, fists clenched together against the small of his back. Like there wasn't anything he wouldn't do, if Dean told him to, and god, if he kept thinking about *that* he'd come right now.
He leaned over Sam to rummage through the bag on the floor, found one of the little motel mini-bottles of lotion and was intensely grateful for Sam's girly obsession with keeping his hands nice, as he slicked himself up. "Going to fuck you so hard," he said, circling Sam's entrance first with slick fingers and then the head of his dick, pushing just enough to make Sam whimper and work his hips back. "Going to give you what you want..."
He could see Sam's fists tightening, nails digging in, and then Sam moaned all low and broken-sounding, "Please, please, fuck me god please now--" and Dean's hips drove forward without even thinking, until they were flush against Sam's ass and he was in so deep and sudden his eyes practically crossed. Sam went stiff as he slid in--Jesus, so tight--and fucking yowled, like an animal, wounded and frantic and fucking *hot.*
He grabbed Sam's hips and pulled him back, working himself in that last little inch and holding on while Sam whined and growled, "fuck, *fuck* oh *god*, I can't, *Dean*--" An endless stream of whimpering and pleading and god, Dean wanted to keep him like this all the time. He pulled out and slammed in again while Sam mewled, arms flexing helplessly as his back arched, again, again.
"Fucking--mine, make you--ah--" Bent over, moaning as his strokes went short and sharp, the orgasm shaking out of him. Sam's double fists were sweaty and knuckled against his stomach. For a minute he couldn't do anything but slump there and breathe against them, feeling the dull nudges of pain that would turn into a bruise later.
He sat back finally, watched Sam twitch as Dean slid out of him. He put his hand between Sam’s legs and yeah, Sam was hard again, mewling and bucking into Dean's hand, whining when Dean took it away. "Shit, Sammy," Dean muttered, stroking up and down one trembling thigh, just--looking at him. They'd done this a hundred times, yeah, but not like this--Sam out of his head with need and shaking like he'd fall apart if Dean didn't touch him. It made Dean feel crazy, hot and loose inside.
"You could've just *asked,* you know," Dean said again, and pushed two fingers back inside him. "Did you think I wouldn't? I will, anything you want, I'll do it hard for you," fucking him where he was come-slick and opened and raw, and Sam was just moaning constantly now, one long low sound. "I'll do it, make it hurt, just *ask* me, Sam, anything--" He got his hand around Sam's dick again and didn't let go this time, holding on while Sam jerked and fucked his hips forward and came in Dean's fist.
"Jesus," Dean said when Sam's breathing started to even out, "you're so fucked in the head."
"Well, I didn't think you'd be such a damn pussy about it," Sam said. He let his knees slide out from under him and thumped flat on the mattress. "Seriously, I can't believe you let me get away with that for six whole weeks. Thought you'd get a clue after like two days, tops."
"When did you turn into such a twisted little bitch?" Dean wiped his hand down Sam's back. Let him try and miss the wet spot now.
"Same time you turned into a *girl,* I guess," Sam said, but he was rolling over and smiling, big and bright as the sky. He hooked a leg behind Dean and tugged him down into what could only be called a cuddle.
"Yeah," Dean snorted, "I'm the girl in this scenario. Right," and shifted around to get comfortable.
-end-
TITLE: That sometime did me seek
RATING: adult
PAIRING: Sam/Dean
SPOILERS: ahahahahhahaaaa uh, no.
NOTES: So, this is 100% PWP, established relationship with absolutely no justification. I promise to write something with artistic value and emotional development next time. For now, there is pr0n. Betaed speedily and with great skill by
brown_betty and chopchica; any remaining areas of suck are where I disregarded them. The title is from this poem and is *entirely* too literary for pointless smut, but I couldn't resist. Feedback positive and negative=welcome and delicious!***
At first he’d thought Sam was just being a fucking cocktease. It was ridiculous, but how else could he explain why his brother was acting like a high school girl, all come-ons and then squirming away, shifting and frowning, signals more mixed than a broken traffic light? It wasn't like they’d stopped fucking, but now half the time it seemed like Sam was fucking *with* him, giving him some sort of test over and over until he got the right answer. It was driving Dean fucking crazy, and it was definitely getting worse.
They'd be fooling around in the morning, just sleepy and kissing, and Dean not even bothering to open his eyes yet, and Sam's hand would stroke over his back slow and purposeful before sliding down to his hip. Dean would start to roll up into it, then Sam would shift and roll away and start to get up. It’d left Dean so confused the first time it happened he thought maybe he'd fallen back to sleep, until Sam came back with coffee and took his pillow away and started talking about the suspicious bitemarks they'd found on all the bodies. And then he’d had the nerve to get all pissy, like a cat rubbed backwards, when Dean was a little prickly all morning, like he didn't know exactly why. The next few times were probably Dean's fault for falling for it again, but Christ, he wasn't up to dealing with weird twisty Sam bullshit when he wasn't even all the way awake.
And okay, apparently he wasn't up to it when he was awake either, which was fucking embarrassing but not exactly a surprise. It wasn’t like there'd ever be any way for him to say no when Sam finished rubbing the twist out of his left shoulder and moved straight to licking Dean's neck, one long wet stripe like a fucking porn star. Any way for him to do any-damn-*thing* but jerk in surprise and groan, "Ah, yeah--"
"Mmhmm," Sam said, mouth pressed behind his ear, and then he stood up and walked away, left Dean sputtering and confused, and - dammit - still shivering at Sam's spit drying cool on his skin.
Sam went into the bathroom and shut the door and ignored Dean yelling after him, "Jesus, what the fuck, you want a fucking promise ring or something?" And a minute later, "You know it doesn't count if you do it in the ass, right?" because it worked that one time in high school, although Jerri Lynn had actually wanted to fuck, just been a little reluctant to break the freshness seal with a boy who was leaving town the next day. Then the shower started and by the time Sam came back out Dean had gotten distracted trying to remember why the descriptions of the hauntings all sounded so familiar. It was something about the way the victims described the voices: raspy and sexless, something he'd heard before. He barely noticed the heavy glances Sam kept throwing him all evening, like he was waiting for something.
The voices turned out to be from a protective animal spirit that had gotten twisted up somehow and turned on its summoner, and yeah, the weird wizard guy up near Portland had had one of those, Dean remembered now. That one had dissolved when its owner died, but apparently once they'd gone rogue they were a complete bitch to get rid of. The only way to get at it was to wait for it to take a physical form, which it didn't want to do--pretty understandably--until it was certain it wasn't in danger anymore. This time, they ended up with Dean having to shoot a really nice--well, it *had* been really nice--German shepherd and nearly losing two of his fingers on the way. Dean liked his fingers, and he liked not shooting dogs, and basically the whole day was just deeply shitty.
So when Sam finished cleaning him up and stitching him shut, and leaned over to kiss him, Dean let him for a couple seconds and then pushed him off and said, "You're not gonna be a little bitch about this again, are you? Because I just had to kill Lassie and I *will* kick your ass."
"Lassie's a border collie," Sam said. Dean jabbed him under the ribs and glared. "*Ow,* what the fuck, no, I'm not--shut up," Sam said, and kissed him again. Jerked him off slow and dirty and sweet, licking Dean's groans out of his mouth while he worked him to the edge over and over again, until Dean bit Sam's lip, hard, and said,
"Jesus *Christ* if you stop one more time I will fucking *shoot you.*"
"Yeah, okay," Sam said, sounding dazed and loose like he was the one with a hand wrapped around his dick, "yeah, come on, let me see it--" He moved faster, harder, with the twisting he knew Dean liked, staring down at him with huge eyes while Dean came in his hand for what felt like a year.
And then everything was fine for maybe a week, long enough anyway for Dean to forget about Sam's vestal virgin act, until he woke up one morning from a dream about trying to swim through a pool of grape jelly, to find Sam sucking on his fingers, hard little pulses rocketing straight to his dick, which was already plenty awake. Sam just *staring* at him, his eyes all half-closed and sexy, god. He stroked Sam's cheek with his other hand, feeling the hollow. "Fuck, Sam..."
Sam's eyes closed all the way and he slid his mouth down a little further on Dean's fingers and it was crazy, crazy but Dean felt like he could just do this, just his goddamn fingers. He was barely awake yet, listening to his own panting and the slick wet sounds from Sam's mouth. It was almost exactly enough, even though he could feel himself getting harder already, needing more.
Which was when Sam pulled off, laid back, and gave Dean a weird little smile before rolling back over. It should have been a completely ridiculous out-of-nowhere thing to do, if his brother wasn't such a twisted little *freak*--somehow the fact that Dean wasn't even surprised was the thing that finally made the weeks of unexplained sexual frustration just *snap.* He had Sam flipped and pinned before he even thought about it.
"Fucking *fuck,* you goddamn confused little *bitch,* what the hell is your problem?"
Sam blinked, totally still beneath him. "What?"
"Don't you even pretend you don't know what you're doing," he growled, kneeing Sam's thighs open--and that got him moving all right, arms jerking against Dean's hands, which shouldn't have felt so fucking good but-- "Oh no, you've been *asking* for this."
He dug in tighter, had to be hurting him. He shoved his mouth against Sam's, ground his hips down hard when Sam bit, and--Jesus. Sam was hard as hell, and he shuddered all over when Dean rocked against him again, his mouth falling open. "What, you like this?" And Sam biting his lip and glaring at him was *totally* an answer, yeah.
"Christ, you coulda just *asked,*" he said, and couldn't help a grin. Fucked-up kinked-out sulky little bitch, all his, just like this--hot and squirming under him, fighting again. Not as hard as he could, obviously, but enough that Dean couldn't get a hand free from holding him down, so he just started working his hips again, jerking down hard and steady. Only two pairs of shorts between them, and he could feel Sam's dick hot and hard against his own.
God, Sam was just *losing* it, too, red spreading down his neck and chest, shivering, jerking his hips up even as he kept twisting his arms, and when Dean tightened his grip, Sam made a choked-off little whine that just stabbed him right in the gut, exploding up his spine. "Jesus," Dean muttered, sounding dazed and stupid to his own ears, but whatever, just-- "*Sam.*" He had to compromise the pin a little to lean in and kiss him, but he couldn't not. Biting and hard and Sam fucking moaning into his mouth, opening up for him. When he pulled back, panting, Sam just kept licking at the corner of his mouth, needy little sounds vibrating through Dean's skin.
"All these fucking weeks," Dean said, "god, were you just waiting? Winding me up--"
"Didn't think, fuck--" Sam slid one leg up, pulling Dean in even tighter. "Didn't think it'd take you so long," and how could he look so smug and so hot at once was a total fucking mystery. Dean bit his throat hard, felt Sam's noise vibrate between his teeth.
"I guess next time I'll just skip straight to holding you down and making you take it anyway, huh?" he growled, grinding down hard enough to hurt a little, but it didn't matter *at all*, because Sam was shivering and groaning and coming, hot damp bursts between them, soaking through the fabric.
Somehow Dean managed to hold himself back, because after all the shit Sam had put him through for this, he was goddamn well going to *last.* He turned Sam over while he was still coming down, loose and easy under Dean's hands, and yanked his shorts down, got tangled around his knees.
"Come on, help me out here," Dean said, and Sam lifted up agreeably, let Dean get him naked and spread open and gorgeous. Half-up on his knees and he was starting to tense up again, trembling a little when Dean stroked up his back, then trembling a *lot* when Dean pushed down on his neck, said "You still want it hard, Sammy? Tell me, c'mon--"
Sam's voice was muffled against the mattress. "*Yes,* fuck--"
"Hands behind your back," Dean said. "Keep them there." And shit, Sam just *did* it, fists clenched together against the small of his back. Like there wasn't anything he wouldn't do, if Dean told him to, and god, if he kept thinking about *that* he'd come right now.
He leaned over Sam to rummage through the bag on the floor, found one of the little motel mini-bottles of lotion and was intensely grateful for Sam's girly obsession with keeping his hands nice, as he slicked himself up. "Going to fuck you so hard," he said, circling Sam's entrance first with slick fingers and then the head of his dick, pushing just enough to make Sam whimper and work his hips back. "Going to give you what you want..."
He could see Sam's fists tightening, nails digging in, and then Sam moaned all low and broken-sounding, "Please, please, fuck me god please now--" and Dean's hips drove forward without even thinking, until they were flush against Sam's ass and he was in so deep and sudden his eyes practically crossed. Sam went stiff as he slid in--Jesus, so tight--and fucking yowled, like an animal, wounded and frantic and fucking *hot.*
He grabbed Sam's hips and pulled him back, working himself in that last little inch and holding on while Sam whined and growled, "fuck, *fuck* oh *god*, I can't, *Dean*--" An endless stream of whimpering and pleading and god, Dean wanted to keep him like this all the time. He pulled out and slammed in again while Sam mewled, arms flexing helplessly as his back arched, again, again.
"Fucking--mine, make you--ah--" Bent over, moaning as his strokes went short and sharp, the orgasm shaking out of him. Sam's double fists were sweaty and knuckled against his stomach. For a minute he couldn't do anything but slump there and breathe against them, feeling the dull nudges of pain that would turn into a bruise later.
He sat back finally, watched Sam twitch as Dean slid out of him. He put his hand between Sam’s legs and yeah, Sam was hard again, mewling and bucking into Dean's hand, whining when Dean took it away. "Shit, Sammy," Dean muttered, stroking up and down one trembling thigh, just--looking at him. They'd done this a hundred times, yeah, but not like this--Sam out of his head with need and shaking like he'd fall apart if Dean didn't touch him. It made Dean feel crazy, hot and loose inside.
"You could've just *asked,* you know," Dean said again, and pushed two fingers back inside him. "Did you think I wouldn't? I will, anything you want, I'll do it hard for you," fucking him where he was come-slick and opened and raw, and Sam was just moaning constantly now, one long low sound. "I'll do it, make it hurt, just *ask* me, Sam, anything--" He got his hand around Sam's dick again and didn't let go this time, holding on while Sam jerked and fucked his hips forward and came in Dean's fist.
"Jesus," Dean said when Sam's breathing started to even out, "you're so fucked in the head."
"Well, I didn't think you'd be such a damn pussy about it," Sam said. He let his knees slide out from under him and thumped flat on the mattress. "Seriously, I can't believe you let me get away with that for six whole weeks. Thought you'd get a clue after like two days, tops."
"When did you turn into such a twisted little bitch?" Dean wiped his hand down Sam's back. Let him try and miss the wet spot now.
"Same time you turned into a *girl,* I guess," Sam said, but he was rolling over and smiling, big and bright as the sky. He hooked a leg behind Dean and tugged him down into what could only be called a cuddle.
"Yeah," Dean snorted, "I'm the girl in this scenario. Right," and shifted around to get comfortable.
-end-