
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1450051.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester
  Character:
      Sam_Winchester, Dean_Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      First_Time, Frottage, Spanking
  Stats:
      Published: 2009-02-04 Words: 2527
****** Brand Spanking New ******
by lazy_daze, mickeym
Summary
     It starts out as just goofing around, and things escalate. Quickly.
Notes
     lazy_daze and I started out emailing porny bits to each other the
     other day, and it escalated. *g* This is unapologetically indulgent
     weecest, but we had an awesome time writing it and hope y'all will
     enjoy it :) (Oh, and lazy_daze blames ME for the title, but beggars
     can't be choosers and she wasn't being very helpful :P)
It starts out as just goofing around. Wrestling, tickling, teasing. Dean lands
a smack on Sam's ass, skin warming beneath his palm through the thin boxers
he's wearing.
Dean doesn't miss the shiver that goes through Sam, nor the way he just freezes
in place, barely breathing.
"Sammy?"
"Do--do it again." Sam's voice is hoarse, crackling with--something. Dean rubs
the spot he smacked, then does it again, bringing his hand down with a loud
crack. Sam shudders and wriggles, but Dean can't tell if he's trying to get
away or get closer.
Dean's flushing hot over his face and neck, hardly understands why. Sam kind of
wriggles on his lap, and Dean's breath comes short.
"Sammy, I don't--"
Sam makes this kind of growling sound and fits himself so he's spread right out
over Dean's lap, and his face is by Dean's thigh and he turns his head and
bites, sharp little teeth in the meat of Dean's thigh.
Dean hisses in a breath, surprised.
"Do it again," insists Sam, and wriggles again, warm and moving right over
Dean's dick.
Dean gets abruptly pissed, at Sam all moving and right there and teasing him
and confusing him and making him feel all weird, and fucking biting him. He
grabs a hand in the worn waistband of Sam's boxers, tugs them right off and
holds Sam in place with a hand pressed in the small of his back. Sam stills,
breathes noisily. His ass is round and pale, and Dean doesn't hesitate another
second before cracking his other hand down over it. He gets a look for a split
second at the darker-tan of his large hand spread over the paler curve of
Sammy's ass, before he's distracted by Sam jerking on his lap, pained noise
tearing from his throat, but Sam doesn't flinch away.
He frowns, because he hates that sound, of Sam in pain, but he'd caused it and
Sam had asked him to and he's still confused and a bit angry, so he smacks him
again, and he can feel the heat now pouring off Sam's reddening ass. Sam just
presses his forehead into Dean's leg and makes breathy noises, moves his hips
around restlessly and insistently.
He lands a couple more good smacks to Sammy's not-so-pale-now ass, and pauses.
Sam's breathing is fast, rough, hitches like he's crying.
"Sammy," Dean starts, angry and confused and Christ, horny, his body hot and
flushed like Sam's ass. "I--you can't--don't--"
Sam jerks against him, and holy shit, that's his brother's dick poking into his
thigh, and Dean cups the swell of one asscheek and rubs, fingers and palm
smoothing over the reddened flesh.
"Dean, god," Sam stutters the words and shifts, breathing hitching again when
Dean's fingers slide against the crack between cheeks. "Dean, I--ah," and Sam
cuts off into silence as Dean wriggles a finger deep between his ass cheeks,
feels the impossible blazing heat of Sam's asshole as he presses against it.
"Fuck," he mutters, then abruptly pulls his hand away, feeling shaky and too-
hot and awful, and smacks it all out onto Sam's ass again, loud crack-crack-
crack and Sam sobs, but he's moving his hips so his dick is rubbing against
Dean's thigh, and he's not moving away.
Dean lands a hard smack and then keeps his hand there, squeezing and rubbing at
the reddened skin, staring at the starburst lines of his finger marks spreading
out from the red swollen glow of Sam's ass. Sam's breath is hitching with noise
on each draw in and out, but Dean can hear Sam sigh "ah, ah, y-yeah, Dean, ah,
y--yeah," and god, his brother wants this, and it makes Dean crazy.
He tightens his hand on Sam's ass and uses his other to curve around Sam's
skinny shoulder, and pulls Sam further up his lap, against him, until he can
tilt his hips and push the swell of his own trapped cock into the softness of
Sam's belly resting over it. "More?" he asks, breathless. "More?"
"Ye-ah. P-please, Dean, I n-need, need--" The words are stuttered and rough,
Sam sobbing in between, but he doesn't stop moving, and Dean thinks he's going
to die in a minute, his pulse is pounding so hard, so fast, just feeling Sammy
moving against him.
He smacks Sam again, then smooths his palm -- stinging and hot -- over Sam's
ass, feeling the heat rising from it. His skin feels all kinds too tight, too
hot, and all Dean wants to do is spread Sam's heat over and around him. Drown
in it. Rock up against it and feel it all around him.
"Dean, I want--need--"
"What, Sammy? What d'you need? Tell me, c'mon."
Dean doesn't know whether to hope Sam will actually tell him, or if he'll
decide enough's enough and get the fuck up off Dean. He rubs and kneads the hot
cheeks, fingers trailing down into Sam's crack again, brushing restlessly. They
both jerk when he presses down against Sam's hole, Sam gasping and grinding
down against Dean's leg, body flexing and shifting as Sam pants. Dean groans
when he feels the burst of heat spreading outward; realizes he just made his
baby brother come.
"Aw, Christ, Sammy," he moans, tilts his head back and pushes up with his hips,
feels Sam curve tighter around him, skinny arms and legs awkward and weak as he
tries to fit himself around Dean's middle.
He tips his head back down to see Sammy watching him, eyes so bright and cheeks
hectic red, mouth open and slack, and then Sam starts rocking on his lap again.
"God," Dean bites out, then he moves -- stands up, grabs at Sammy to pull off
his t-shirt then moves him around and picks him up 'til he can chuck him back
onto the bed. Sam doesn't say anything except a breathy "Yeah," as he bounces
on landing on the bed.
Sammy's limbs are stretching out as he slams into puberty, hands and feet too
big for his body, and it won't be long before no-one will be able to get away
with calling him midget.
And Dean forgets all about Sammy's hands and feet and height as he lets his
eyes snap to between Sammy's skinny thighs, where his cock lies against his
belly, smaller than Dean's by a way but curving up hard again, gleaming with
come, same come that's a damp sticky patch on Dean's leg, darkening his jeans.
He can't look away, brain refusing to fucking understand what he's doing here,
but Sam interrupts him with an impatient "Dean, c'mon, please--" and he looks
back up at Sam's face.
"Yeah," he breathes, "yeah, 'kay, Sammy." He crawls up onto the bed and loves,
for now, how he can fit himself over Sammy, so much bigger, cover him all over.
He snugs his knees either side of Sam's hips and Sam's hands move awkwardly,
unsure, drift over Dean's belt buckle.
Sammy bites his lip and looks up at him as his hand lands on Dean's belt,
fingers tucked just under. "You gonna? If I've taken my clothes off, you
gotta."
"Anything you want, yeah," Dean shivers as Sam's fingers work over his buckle,
over his fly. Beneath the denim he's hard, God, beyond hard. His dick throbs
every time his heart beats, and the tentative, uncertain touches are just
making it worse.
Dean pulls his shirt up over his head while Sam works his pants open. He
hesitates then, hand hovering over the bulge pressing out against Dean's
underwear, and it's all Dean can do not to growl in frustration because Jesus
God, he's going to die of blue balls in a minute.
"It's--you're a lot. A lot bigger," Sam mutters, his breath warm and moist
through the thin cotton of Dean's briefs. He wraps his hand slowly, carefully,
around Dean's cock, the only barrier between them that single layer of fabric.
"You'll get bigger," Dean says hoarsely, hips twitching forward toward Sam.
"God, Sam, touch me, touch it, wanna feel--" He breaks off when Sam dips down
into the opening of his underwear, fingers teasing over Dean's length. "Fuck,"
explodes out of him at that gentle touch, and Dean can't help it, he rocks
forward, hips wanting, needing to move.
"I don't--I don't," gasps Sam, fingers so unsure on Dean's dick, careful
wrapping around, pulls so gently 'til his dick's out of the slit.
"Shh, s'okay, just -- yeah, touch it, like it's yours, mm--"
Sam's staring rapt at where Dean's dick juts out; shifts up onto one elbow to
get a better view and a flash of discomfort slides over his face.
Dean remembers with a shock that makes his cock pulse in Sam's hand, and Sam's
mouth falls open; Dean remembers Sam's spanked-red ass, and he needs to see it.
"Sammy," he says, "turn over, yeah? Wanna see--" and he's shifting, gets his
hands on Sam's hips to turn him so Sam's belly down on the bed, face to the
side and peeking back at Dean. Sam makes a muffled little noise and wriggles
his hips against the bed.
Dean sits back over Sam, straddles his legs and curls himself down 'til his
face is close to the still-red skin of Sam's ass. "Oh," he breathes over it,
and Sam twitches under him, sucks in a little breath.
Dean rubs his nose over the hot skin, blood pounding in his ears, and Sam
shifts again, humping against the bed.
Dean opens his mouth, touches his tongue then his teeth to the soft hot curve,
then sits up fast, rocks back to kick off his boxers fully then sits back over
Sam, Sam's sweet little ass between his thighs; Dean tilts forward so his wet
cock sits in that groove of Sam's cheeks, balls pressed up snug. He rubs his
fingers on Sam's ass, spreads the dribble of precome that had slid from his
cock in a gleaming film over Sam's skin; stares at the red shine then leans all
the way forward, cock desperate for more, friction, pressure, touch.
He presses his mouth open to the back of Sam's vulnerable neck, feels the soft
downy hairs there against his lips, and groans. "You okay, Sammy?"
"Yeah," breathes Sam, arches his back so his little ass rises up into Dean's
dick and Dean grunts. "Yeah, press -- press down, I need--"
Dean relaxes his body, rests his whole weight down into Sam, his cock trapped
snug, slipping down into the crease, and Sam's own hips pressed firm into the
bed, still humping in little rocks.
Dean's pretty sure he's dreaming, has to be dreaming, because nothing's ever
felt so fucking good, ever. The heat of Sam's body, the heat of his ass,
pressed against Dean. The closest he's come to anything like this before was
Sharon Tucker, two towns and two schools back. She let him fuck her tits, and
it'd been soft and warm and she'd smelled awesome. But this--God. Nothing
compares. Dean nuzzles Sam's neck, the curve of his jaw, shivering when Sam
whimpers and humps up faster against him.
"My--I can't--Dean, it's--"
"What, baby? What's wrong?" Dean whispers the words, licks the shell of Sam's
ear. "Tell me, tell me what you need, Sammy."
"Feels--can I--I need to move. Please?" Sam's wriggling beneath him again,
grunting, and Dean shifts, up on his knees. He nearly strokes out when Sam
clambors up onto his knees, weight resting forward on his elbows, and pushes
back against Dean's dick.
Dean's breath catches in his chest, and he wraps his arms under and around Sam
and pulls, follows their momentum until he's sitting back on his haunches and
Sammy's sitting on his lap, sitting on his cock.
"Sammy, Sammy, Sammy," he chants, "aw, fuck," as his hips pump up in helpless
movements, into the soft squirming heat above him. He wraps one arm more firmly
around Sam's hips, feeling his sharp hipbones dig into his forearm, and pulls
him in even tighter, Sam's firm ass cheeks spread around the thick of Dean's
cock. He wraps his other hand around Sam's dick, hard red head gleaming and
peeking up over his fist, and Sammy moans, writhes, drives Dean fucking crazy.
"Gonna come again?" he asks Sam, and Sam tips his head back, rolls it
restlessly on Dean's shoulder.
"Dean, Dean," he whines, and Dean bounces him on his lap, pushes up in little
thrusts with his thighs to match his pumps over Sam's cock. Every time Sam's
small weight flumps back down, ass now slippery with Dean's precome, it's
fucking heaven against Dean's swollen, nearly-there dick; each time Sam lands
back down on him it sends delicious pressure right down into his almost
painfully full balls, so fucking ready.
Sam clutches sudden at Dean's arms, fingers digging in, and Dean can feel his
thin cock jerk hard in his grip before Sam comes again, weak spurt so hot on
Dean's fingers, and Sam shudders and wails on top of him.
That's all Dean can handle. He's been right on the edge for what feels like
forever, and between the sounds Sammy's making, and the wet heat of his orgasm
all over Dean's fingers, and his ass rubbing and clenching and pressing, Jesus,
Dean's kind of surprised it's taken this long to blow his load. He holds on
tight to Sam, bucking and pressing upward, tip of his cock catching and
dragging against the rim of Sam's hole. Sam groans long and low and jerks
again, one last spurt of heat sliding wetly over Dean's fingers.
They slump back on the bed, Dean's hands star-fished over Sam's thin chest,
holding him close. Beneath his palm Sam's heart is rabbiting fast and hard, and
it's so fucked up, this is so fucked up. So very, very, incredibly--
Sam brings one of Dean's hands up to his mouth and licks at it, at the jizz
drying tacky against his skin, tongue running slick and smooth over Dean's
fingers and palm until Dean's pretty sure his brain has completely melted.
He closes his eyes, opens them to see Sam twisted back to look at him, still
carefully licking at Dean's hand. Dean can't help but smile at Sam, move them
till they're lying comfortably, Sam pillowed over Dean. "Taste good, Sammy?" he
asks, and grins at the face Sam makes.
"Not really," says Sam. "Weird."
Dean huffs out a little laugh. "Yeah." He blinks at Sam, at the fading flush on
his cheeks, "Feel good, though, baby?" Sam -- Sam came, twice, started this,
even, but Dean still can't help but worry, somehow.
But Sam smiles, looks sleepy, settles against Dean. "Mmm. Yeah. Felt really
good." His small fingers draw idle patterns on Dean's chest. "Can we -- can we
do it again?"
Dean raises an eyebrow, feeling warm and loose with relief. Knows they really
shouldn't; also knows they're gonna. "Now?" he teases. "You look like you're
gonna fall asleep any second."
"Mmm, yeah, I mean later," says Sam, eyes sliding shut.
"Yeah," says Dean, settles his hand in Sam's hair. "Yeah, whenever you want."
~fin~
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!
