
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/5501486.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester
  Character:
      Sam_Winchester, Dean_Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      Sibling_Incest, Hand_Jobs, Consensual_Underage_Sex, Frottage, Begging,
      Guilty_Pleasures, Pre-Series
  Series:
      Part 7 of Every_Broken_Thing
  Stats:
      Published: 2006-07-27 Words: 1476
****** In For a Penny ******
by poisontaster
Summary
     If Sam needs him, there's nothing Dean won't do.
Notes
     This is set only a few months after the flashback in Take it All
     Away, before they've got a routine down about this sort of thing.
     This places their ages at about twelve and sixteen for those playing
     at home.
     Many thanks to fashes, exsequar, shadow_walker3 and maygra for
     addressing my various and sundry issues. My love for you guys is like
     my love for fandom: infinite and without bounds.
See the end of the work for more notes
Dean's not a heavy sleeper. But living in close quarters with Dad and Sammy his
whole life means they don't trigger his alarm bells like other stuff would.
Otherwise, he'd never get any sleep, between Sam's nightmares and Dad's
insomnia. So when a body, warm and smelling like sleep and boy and Sammy,
settles against him, Dean sort of drifts up long enough to identify all that,
but then he sinks back down again.
At least until the rocking starts.
"Sammy?" He's tired. He's dog tired. Obviously, if he'd fallen asleep sitting
up like this. Dad was pushing his training real hard before leaving town and
Sam's been edgy and weird for days, hardly sleeping—which means Dean's hardly
sleeping either. "…t'fuck, man?"
"I can't, Dean." Sam's voice makes Dean open his eyes. It's desperate,
agitated. And he thinks maybe he knew all the time what was happening, because
he sure doesn't feel as surprised as he probably should to see Sam, pajama
pants shoved down around his thighs, fisting his cock fast, hard and frantic.
Even though they're alone in the apartment, Sam's whispering. "I can't sleep
and I keep trying and I can't."
"Can't what?" Dean's brain is as moving slow as he is. He gasps as Sam rocks
back hard, grinding against his half-interested cock—which quickly and
painfully makes theswitch to completely interested.
"Can't make it come," Sam whines at the same moment Dean puts it together and
says, "Oh."
"Sam—"
"Dean, please."
And this is Dean's fault. He knows this. The first time, helping Sammy, that
was…well, that was just fucked up. No question. But Sam needed it. And then
they'd moved on and put it behind them and Dean knew he shouldn't have let this
keep going. Shouldn't have let Sam crawl into his bed too many nights, shaking
and messed up from some other dream or nightmare. Shouldn't have let Sam curl
up next to him while Sam jerked off, making those soft needy moans that left
him hard and half-crazy, waiting for it to go away.
But it's Sam. And that makes certain things…inevitable.
"Shh," Dean says, automatically. It's a reflex to the tone, not the situation.
He wraps his fingers around Sam's wrist, stilling the frantic pump of Sam's
hand. "It's okay, Sam. Shhh."
"Dean—" Sam says again. His cock looks red and angry, thick and slick and even
with Dean's hand over his wrist holding him still, his hips still buck
softly—up into his fist, down against Dean's groin.
"Fuck," Dean mutters to himself. Sam makes a stifled, hurt sound in the back of
his throat. He slides his left arm around Sam's waist, making gentling circles
over Sam's belly. Sam's damp, gasping and panting like he's been running.
"Shh," he says again. "It's okay, Sam. I know what you need."
At the words, practically ritual now, Sam lets out a half-sob, his head falling
back on Dean's shoulder and grinding against his collarbone. At this angle,
Dean can see the tears that make rainbow glimmers on Sam's eyelashes. "Please,
Dean," he breathes. "I just want to come. I just wanna come, so I can sleep,
please…"
"Yeah," Dean says roughly, trying to ignore the enthusiastic seconding of his
dick. He widens the space between his legs, letting Sam fit more tightly
against him and his thumb strokes the jittering pulse in Sam's captive wrist.
"Okay. Okay. Just… Jesus, Sam; you're never going to come like that—you're
gripping it so hard I'm amazed it didn't just fucking twist off."
"Don't—" Sam shakes his head, rocking over Dean's shoulder bone. "Don't, Dean.
I've been… Dammit. It hurts. God, hurts so much and I think…I think if I could
just come…"
"Yeah," Dean says again. He slips his thumb over and between Sam's thumb and
his prick, forcing Sam's grip to relax, resettle. "Just…you gotta let it
happen, Sam. You can't just… It's your dick, man. You gotta show it some
respect. Here. Like this." He slides his hand down a little bit, so it's
clasped loosely over Sam's fingers. "There you go. Hard, but not too hard."
Sam moans, louder than Dean's ever heard him, as Dean sets the rhythm and
pressure. His ass grinds against Dean and Dean finds his hips moving to the
same rocking slide, his cock half-cradled in Sam's body. It's for Sam, he
thinks, narrowing his focus to Sam's big hand and the soft-hard line of red
cock slipping through their tangled fingers.He needs this. It's not about you,
Dean.
"Yeah?" Dean queries. Sam's head shifts and tickles against Dean's cheek; Sam's
eyes are closed, his mouth open. Some of the desperate, twisting tension is
fading out of Sam's limbs, replaced by the normal tension of getting your dick
stroked. And that's good. That's real good.
"Yeah," Sam agrees and then whines again, back arching. "Yeah, Dean, please…"
"Shh… I told you I'd take care of you, Sammy." He presses Sam's fingers in,
against the underside of the head, where he's noticed Sam seems to like it
best. Another groaning, tearing moan and shuddering wiggle that sends all the
blood rushing from Dean's brain elsewhere. Sam wriggles, snugging tighter
against Dean again.
"Talk to me," Sam whispers. "I just…if you talk then I… I don't think so much
and then…fuck, Dean…it's good. Please. So good."
Dean's too far gone himself to worry about calling Sam on language. "Okay.
Yeah. Look, you gotta learn what you like, Sam and…and don't rush it. Don't
force it. Your body wants to come. You just have to let it…"
Sam's biting his lip, thrusting harder; that's Dean's cue to speed up…and
that's when he realizes that at some point, Sam's hand has slipped out from
under his to fist in the blanket and the only thing between him and Sam's dick
is… Well, there's nothing between him and Sam's dick. Those are his fingers
clasped around his baby brother's… Jesus. It feels…it feels completely
different from his own and exactly the same and Dean's so freaked out by it, he
fumbles the stroke.
"No," Sam whimpers. "No, please, Dean. I just…you can do it. Can you…? Please.
I'm almost there, if you would just… I want. I need, Dean. Need it." Sam's
voice breaks and trembles; his head pushes back against Dean's shoulder until
it hurts.
Dean sighs and shifts, bringing his own aching cock closer to the sweet little
curve where Sam's spine dips and swells out into his ass. Sam inhales sharply
then pushes back again, riding against Dean. God. Sam's not the only one who's
close. Dean closes his eyes, doesn't think about that as he resumes the soft-
wet-hot-slick glide of his fingers over Sam's shaft.
"Yes," Sam breathes. "God, Dean. Yes. Please. Tell me… Keep…"
"I know," Dean answers. "I know, Sam. It's okay. C'mon, baby. Just…just let it
go. Let it all go. I'm right here. I got you, S…"
Sam arches up, harder than the other time, more violent, spurting in hot bursts
as the orgasm takes him. He's bucking and thrusting through it, graceless and
wild and something about it, something about Sammy unleashed and uncontrolled
flat does it for Dean and he pulls Sam tighter against him as he pumps and
grinds to his own climax. Sam's calling Dean's name like it's the only word he
can remember how to say and Dean buries his face in the uncut mess of Sam's
hair, biting down on his own cry.
It's a slow, hurtful come down to awareness. Sam is slack against him, still
twitching against him and making soft noises in the back of his throat but more
than halfway to sleep. Dean breathes and tries to shift; Sam makes a wounded
noise of protest and tucks tighter against him, fingers clutching loosely. Dean
rolls his eyes. "Unfuckingbelievable," he mutters under his breath. Sam turns
his face up, into the curve of Dean's neck, nuzzling lightly. A soft snore is
Sam's only response.
Dean sighs and settles back against the headboard again. He's got come all in
his shorts, which—ew—and Sam's is all over his fingers and palm. He thinks
about wiping it on the sheet, but they don't really have the money to do
laundry before Dad gets back and he'd rather not have to hand wash them along
with everything else. Dean looks at his hand a minute. Finally, he shrugs and
licks it clean. It's not awful.
"Dean," Sam whispers and settles deeper against him.
"Yeah, kid," Dean murmurs, pushing Sam's hair off his forehead. Kid's already
sweating like a stove. He lets his head loll back. It's going to be a long rest
of the night. "It's cool. I got you."
Sam snores again, louder this time.
End Notes
     Is it sad and pathetic that I have authorial rambling after a PWP?
     More importantly, do I care? This story was sort of on my radar for a
     little while, because I was thinking about this 'verse and
     contemplating how exactly Dean and Sam made the transition from Sam
     masturbating with Dean to being jerked off by Dean (these little
     details fascinate me *hangs head*). So mona1347 and I talked about it
     and she had this basic scenario already in mind and we sort of tossed
     it back and forth and I asked her if she was wedded to the idea of
     writing it and she said, "*handwave* Go forth and fic. You'll
     probably get there before me, anyway." *facepalm* She knows me so
     well.
     But it's kind of a big deal, you know? This is part of what sets
     their whole routine with each other and they still are a) so STUPIDLY
     young at this point and b) so very much in love with each other,
     especially in Sam's case. There are certain touchstones that they
     come back to in Every Broken Thing/Heart 'verse: Sam's sensitivity to
     touch, Dean licking it away, "I know what you need.", Dean talking
     Sam through it, etc. All of it solidifies as a kind of ritual to
     them, something they DO and do together…but they didn't go into it
     with the intention of creating a ritual for themselves and that means
     it had to develop sort of organically. So then I want to know, well,
     how did they DO that? And then I write porn. Ahem.
     What I really like about this fic is that, although it's from Dean's
     POV and centers largely around Dean's concern to help Sam, I see this
     as Sam really manipulating Dean (as he's wont to do) in the only way
     he can, being too young and inexperienced to know how else to get
     what he needs/wants from Dean. In my mind, Sam's been edging towards
     this for a while. And Dean is almost entirely unaware of it. And this
     pleases me. Because Sammy SO pwns Dean and vice versa.
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