
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/988417.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester
  Character:
      Dean_Winchester, Sam_Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      Wincest_-_Freeform, Weecest, Underage_Sex, Plot_What_Plot/Porn_Without
      Plot
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-10-02 Words: 1060
****** 2am ******
by NishkaGray
Summary
     The clock blinked 2:05 and he got up. Silently padded over the hotel
     room floor and into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. Sam
     slammed into him, pushing him against the door.
Notes
     This is a stand-alone work, inspired by a poem by wincesthaikus.
     Disclaimer: You may not copy, reproduce, distribute, publish,
     display, perform, modify, create derivative works, transmit, or in
     any way exploit any of my content, nor may you distribute any part of
     this content over any network, including a local area network, sell
     or offer it for sale, or use such content to construct any kind of
     database.
It’s 2 in the morning. A few minutes ago Sam’s lips were brushing his ear, his
hand grasping Dean’s tightly. Just for a few seconds, just long enough to wake
him up. He didn’t have to say anything. Dean knew what these 2am signals meant.
Sam was waiting for him.
Dad was asleep on the cot in the corner. He’d had quite a few drinks last
night. Sam always picked the nights when dad had been drinking. It was easier
that way; chances were, the small noises they made wouldn’t wake John up. But
they were still careful and Dean was still afraid.
He watched the clock flash to 2:01 then 2:02. He was wasting time. Every moment
he spent hesitating was a moment he could be with Sam. But he’d told himself
last time that he wouldn’t do this again. That he would put a stop to this
thing. Sam was fifteen. Fifteen. Still a kid. He couldn’t possibly know what he
wanted, no matter how much he insisted otherwise. It was wrong, this thing they
were doing. And if dad ever found out... John would kill him. He should just
lie here and pretend he’d fallen back asleep. Sam would wait a while and go
back to bed. It had happened once before; Dean had been fucking exhausted and
he’d felt so guilty afterwards. And all the next day Sam kept glancing at him
out of the corner of his eye, one moment looking like he wanted to ask what had
happened, the next looking like a kicked puppy. Dean didn’t want that. He
should get up and at least talk to him. Tell him this can’t keep happening.
The clock blinked 2:05 and he got up. Silently padded over the hotel room floor
and into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. Sam slammed into him,
pushing him against the door.
“Sam--“ he whispered and choked.
Jesus. He was naked. Dean’s hands brushed against the smooth stomach, the curve
of the hip bone. Heat struck the middle of his spine and unfurled outward,
squeezing his chest tightly. Sam. Naked. Dean dug his fingers into the silky
flesh of Sam’s waist to stop them from exploring.
It made no difference. They still shouldn’t do this. It didn’t matter that Dean
had dreamt about stripping him naked, about being able to touch every inch of
him. It didn’t matter that he was already so hard it hurt.
“Sam--“
Sam pressed against him, his skin searing Dean’s through a layer of clothes,
his cock pressing into Dean’s thigh. His mouth slid against Dean’s collar bone,
the tongue dipping in the curve, traveling up his neck.
“Dean,” he whispered, his breath bathing Dean’s ear, “touch me.”
His fingers were digging into Sam’s waist with so much force they would leave
bruises. Sam was sliding against him, his thigh rubbing against Dean’s cock,
his hands tugging on the elastic of Dean’s pants.
“Sam,” Dean snatched his hands, “wait.”
Before he could take a breath to say anything else, Sam’s tongue was in his
mouth, hot and wet. His brain short circuited. His hands released Sam’s on
their own and and latched on to his hips instead, pulling him close. Sam moaned
into his mouth, the sound of it pulsing through Dean, traveling all the way
down to his toes.
The battle was over. Dean had lost.
He spun Sam easily, pushing him up against the door, lifting him until Sam
could wrap both legs around his waist. He abandoned the hot little mouth so he
could sink his teeth into the smooth skin of his neck, so he could hear him
pant Dean’s name. There was already a damp spot on his shirt where Sam’s cock
was trapped between them and with each thrust Sam whimpered, his legs
tightening around Dean, his arms trembling against Dean’s neck. The door
creaked under the pressure. Sam was all knees and elbows but parts of him were
still so soft, so pliable, so fucking fragile. With shaky fingers, Dean found
his way in between his cheeks, only brushing against him and Sam moaned again,
the sound coming from somewhere deep inside his stomach, sounding unlike
anything Dean had heard before. It was so loud that Dean would have frozen in
spot if he had any reason left. Instead he pressed his lips against Sam’s
hoping that would keep him quiet and slowly started working two fingers inside
of him, never pausing in his thrusts. And God, he was so tight there, so hot,
clamping tightly around his fingers. Sam whimpered, his hips jerking against
Dean’s stomach. Dean’s cock was only inches away from Sam’s ass and he couldn’t
help but imagine stripping his pants down with one hand and pushing inside of
him, just fucking him right there against the bathroom door.
No. That was one line he wouldn’t cross.
“More,” Sam gasped against his mouth, “more.. harder...please..” the last word
trailing off into a whine.
He was pushing down on Dean’s fingers now, taking them in deeper, nails digging
into Dean’s back.
“Sammy,” Dean whispered desperately, wishing they had dared turn the light on,
wishing he could see his brother’s face flushed with pleasure, his leg muscles
straining around Dean, his cock pressed in between them. Wishing he could see
what his fingers looked like sliding in and out of the tight space, wishing he
could push his tongue in there instead, wondering if it would make Sam scream.
“Dean,” Sam whimpered, “fuck, I’m--“
But Dean already knew, had felt the telltale quivers in brother’s legs, in his
arms. He locked his mouth with Sam’s and inhaled his groan, felt him pulse
around his fingers, against his stomach, waves of wetness soaking his shirt in
seconds.
He held him long after that while Sam hid his face in Dean’s neck. If they had
been alone, he would have carried him back to bed and kissed every inch of him.
If they had been alone, he would have licked his way up Sam’s naked body just
to see if he could get him going again.
Instead, he silently helped him get dressed and they both crept back to their
beds. A few minutes later Sam was fast asleep, but Dean stayed awake long
after, wondering if he was going to hell.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!
