
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/426972.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester
  Character:
      Dean_Winchester, Sam_Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      Fake_Marriage, Sibling_Incest, Porn_With_Plot, Feminization, Endearments,
      Domestic!kink, Roleplay, Genderplay, Dirty_Talk, Barebacking, Rimming,
      Humor, Weechesters, Teenage_Winchesters
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-06-07 Words: 3820
****** Playing House ******
by queerly_it_is
Summary
     When John is away on hunts and it's just Sam and Dean, he finds it
     feels almost like a husband and wife. Sam knows its messed up to
     think like that but he can't help it. More so when Dean's willing to
     play along with it, calling Sam pet names and treating him as if he
     really was Dean's wife.
Notes
     Written for an anon prompt on kink_meme.
 It starts out innocently enough.
 Then again, most of the kinky, slightly-freaky stuff they end up doing
together does; now that Sam thinks about it.
 They’re in Ann Arbor, Michigan; staying in a tiny little family-run motel,
which is actually nicer than their usual fare, even if the walls are about as
thick as Bible paper. The thing Sam really likes about the place though, is
that it has a kitchenette that looks like you can actually cook in it, without
worrying about getting e-coli from the fixtures.
 The local high school is nothing special, but they’ve got them doing this
‘taste of home’ thing in home-ec that Sam’s found himself actually enjoying a
lot more than he would’ve thought. He doesn’t really wanna analyse the sharp
ache in his chest every time his teacher starts rambling about people’s family
recipes or their favourite home-cooked meals.
 He somehow doubts that family recipes involving holy water and Latin; or home-
cooked meals of canned beans and cereal straight from the box are what she had
in mind.
 The look on Dad’s face had been some awkward mixture of surprise, suspicion
and enjoyment when Sam’d insisted they skip the diner or the drive-thru because
he was gonna cook them a real meal. The suspicion issorta understandable; he
remembers Dean once causing a not-inconsiderable fire using nothing but a
toaster, that’d led to a hasty getaway from a very angry (and slightly singed)
building manager in Tulsa.
 But despite their lack of funds for any kind of gourmet - and no, he hadn’t
used that word in front of Dad, and definitelynot in front of Dean; he gets
called Samantha enough already - ingredients, he figures the beef almost-
casserole thing he’d come up with hadn’t been too bad. Judging from the way Dad
and Dean had bickered over the last serving, to the point where Sam could’ve
sworn Dean’s hand had twitched toward his ankle knife, he‘d say he had knack
for it.
 It’s more than a little girly, he knows, - Dean’d been sure to point that out
repeatedly, right up until Sam’d threatened to stop cooking for him - but
there’s something oddly satisfying and somehow peacefulabout just standing in
the little kitchenette, trying to come up with something half-decent that
doesn’t contain the words ‘chicken-fried’ or ‘double cheese’. He’s not wearing
an apron, no matter how many times Dean suggests it, and the flush of heat he
feels whenever Dean bandies the word ‘wife’ at him is just from the cooktop,
he’s sure.
 Dad’s been gone for two days now; said something vague about a poltergeist in
the next town, told Dean to “watch out for Sammy” like Sam wasn’t standing
right freaking there, and then he was gone. Dean had bluffed about his age to
get a job tending bar - sounfair, seeing as Sam can’t even bluff that he’s
seventeen without blushing or stuttering - probably flirting his way through
the entire town, and accepting who-knows how many free drinks before he comes
home late and shoves Sam into bed or against a wall or over the counter.
 Sam finds he doesn’t mind Dean pushing him around as much as he probably
should. He figures he’ll let Dean have his manhandling fix, before he turns the
tables when he’s finallythe taller one.
 Though the word ‘wife’ has started cropping up there, too.
 He hadn’t even noticed what Dean was doing at first; too distracted trying not
to snap at Dad, or climb all over Dean when they didn’t have the time or the
privacy to really enjoy it. Also, in his defence; Dean isn’t usually so covert
about anything even remotely connected to his dick, and he’s got enough on his
plate keeping things from Dad; his teachers, the few people at school that
don’tthink he’s some kinda psychotic drifter; without wondering if his brother
is plotting some kinda kinky behaviour modification therapy behind his back.
 The first time he had picked up on it, Sam was sure his brother was just
screwing with him. There’s enough precedent for thathe couldn’t list it all
even with a thousand years and an unlimited supply of paper. The way Dean had
come home smelling like cigarettes and booze and just kissed him; soft and
slow, then pulled back before Sam’s heart had restarted and whispered “hey
sweetheart”in his ear, before he’d vanished into the bathroom, all in space
less than half-a-minute, had Sam almostconvinced he’d imagined the whole thing.
 Then the next morning, Dean had passed him on the way out the door and kissed
him again, this time with a hand on the small of his back and another on the
side of his face, pressing them together at chests and lips; quick peck and
“see you tonight, hon’”and he was gone again.
 Sam’d stood in that spot for ten whole minutes trying to make his brain work
again.
 It’d crept into the sex not long after that - or maybe it had already and Sam
just hadn’t noticed - they’d somehow ended up on the floor, nearly in the
middle of the room, between the off-green couch and the table; and Dean had
spread himself out above Sam like a canopy of freckled skin, muscle and scar
tissue; and just rocked into him slow and gentle, sweet as sugar. Eyes locked
the whole time, soft nudges of their foreheads together, brush of noses. It was
the most careful Dean had been with him since that very first time; when it’d
all been so new and overwhelming.
 It wasn’t just fucking; wasn’t anything like how they usually are together,
personalities not exactly lending themselves toward what Sam can only call
romance or love-making. Sam also totally failed at repressing the pretty
explosive response he’d had to that thought.
 The one and only time he’d managed to get out a meagre “m’not a girl, Dean.”as
his brother pressed a line of soft kisses along his neck, the response had just
been “mygirl, my Sammy” all gentle, possessive words and heated breath,without
even a pause in what his mouth was doing.
 That’d pretty much shut him up for a while.
 It hasn’t been like that every time since; if it had Sam probably could’ve
gotten more accustomed to it, but Dean seems to wait until he knowsSam’s guard
is down a little, and then takes him apart with the slightest touch and
whispered words of wife, doll, prettythat Sam’d punch him for under other
circumstances, but seem to make him go off like a geyser, these days.
 It’s not even justthe sex, or the kissing; it’s random stuff Sam never expects
until it’s happening, and doesn’t register until it’s over; soft touches to his
waist as Dean passes by, kisses to the top of his head or even his cheek when
he sits down next to him on the lumpy couch, Dean helping him wash up; hips
swaying into Sam’s and reaching around him to grab plates and cutlery; sudden
scent of leather and aftershave and gun oil washing over him along with the
heat of Dean’s body. Even in bed - while Dad’s gone and they actually canshare
- Dean’s been more eager to squash together, size of tiny motel mattresses
aside; pressing up against Sam’s back; arm over his hip and dropping kisses to
the back of his neck. It’s a little embarrassing how easily Sam falls asleep
like that now.
 All in all, Sam is maybe getting a little deep into his whole ‘homemaker’
role-playing thing. And it’s totally Dean’s fault, enjoyment of cooking not
withstanding. Trust Dean to take the inch Sam’d given him and run a freaking
marathon with it.
 Dean isn’this husband, and Sam isn’t reallyDean’s wife. He’s just finding that
a little hard to remember sometimes, is all.
 He’s standing by the counter, chopping the meagre selection of vegetables he’d
managed to get with a too-small stack of bills and his best puppy-eyes aimed at
the cashier, which he’s now gonna hafta find some way of disguising if he wants
Dean to eat any of. He’s humming under his breath, and keeps rolling his eyes
at himself when he realises it’s Metallica or Led Zeppelin he’s humming -
swears it’s like learning while you sleep if you nod off in the car when Dean’s
driving - when the quiet snickof the door registers at the same time that a
line of heat presses up behind him; moulds itself to his body the way only his
brother can, every dip and line and curve matched perfectly; and he always
stupidly expects the click of a lock when they press together this seamlessly.
 “Hey, baby.” Said not with heat or intent, but in a casual ‘honey-I’m-home’
sorta way, which shouldn’thave a bigger impact coming from Dean but somehow
does. Maybe he’s just getting desensitised to the stream of complete filth Dean
typically spills during sex.
 Or maybe his weird housewife-kink is a little stronger than he’d thought.
 Yeah, totally Dean’s fault.
 “What’s for dinner?” Arms coming around Sam’s middle, hands meeting and
clasping above his belt, slow, gentle rock from side-to-side and shitthat
really shouldn’t be so incredibly distracting.
 “Nothing, if you keep pestering the cook.” Just gets him a chuckle breathed
into the hollow behind his ear as Dean nuzzles into his neck. Sam didn’t
realise that Dean even knew what nuzzling was; typically no middle-ground
between sucking kisses and biting bruises whenever they start anything.
 Seriously, this soft-and-gentle thing should not hit him like this.
 “N’aww poor darlin’. Wouldn’t wanna divert you from the housework, huh?” Too-
casual words accompanied by a subtle churn of hips against Sam’s ass.
 “Not if you want something other than stale chips for dinner, no.” Words a
little too breathless, but still in the right order and complete with
punctuation, far as Sam can tell. Another soft laugh, more rumbling in pitch
this time, as well as a much less subtle grind against him.
 “You know how gorgeous you look like this? My perfect little wife.” Shiver at
that wordagain, as Dean’s hands separate and move to his hips, pulling him back
into him. Sam’s eyes fall shut totally against his will, blood rushing
noticeably southwards, twitch of his cock filling in his jeans.
 It started out innocent, it really did.
 It isn’t anymore, though.
 “D-Dean. I’m. I’m trying t-” Crack in his voice that he’s just gonna blame on
puberty.
 “Shh, s’okay sweetheart, just wanna take care’a you.” Said harmlessly enough,
but with another push against Sam that lets him feel just how muchDean wants to
take of him.
 He’s going for real words; with letters and even spaces in-between, but all
that comes out is a cracked and embarrassingly high whimper as he gets dragged
back into Dean’s body again; jut of his brother‘s more-than-half-hard dick
slotting between his cheeks where his jeans are old and thin - used to be
Dean‘s actually, which shouldn‘t make that hotter. Add it to the list. - His
head falls back like his neck is made of rubber, lands on Dean’s shoulder where
his brother is still those couple inches taller than him.
 “That’s it baby boy, so good for me. My sexy little wife.” Last word
emphasised with a gravely drop in his voice, punctuated with another dirty
grind of hips.
 There’s that whimper again.
 “C’mere angel.” Soft-warm and coaxing and sofucking disarming that Sam’s legs
follow the order without any input from his brain. He manages not to stumble as
Dean leads him by the hips to the flat, beat-up wooden table that’s just large
enough for the three of them to sit down at.
 He somehow doubts its sitting Dean has in mind, right now.
 Dean runs his hands all the way from Sam’s waist to the sides of his face,
nails catch-dragging along his neck and making him moan. He cups Sam’s cheeks
like he’s holding him up with just that touch - pretty freaking true at the
moment - and kisses him so soft and deep and hot that Sam’s knees go like
cooked pasta, Dean stepping in and bolstering him up when they wobble
dangerously.
 He literally cannot feel anything that isn’t the parts of him pressed to Dean,
he can’t think, can’t get any air. Whole world contained in the press of lips,
slide of tongues, the deep-rough noises Dean is making into his mouth that feel
as though they vibrate down his throat and all the way to his toes.
 Dean breaks the kiss, pulls back only the tiny amount needed to run his mouth
along Sam’s jaw, gentle nips and licks and scrapes with his teeth.
 “Wanna be in you, baby. See you so pretty, and open, and mine. My Sammy.
Mywife.” Growl creeping into the words as he drops his hands to Sam’s shoulders
and pulls him into another kiss, this one wetter and filthier and no less
intense.
 Words. Sam used to have those, once. Honest.
 Dean turns him gently around, and Sam presses his palms flat to the table
that’s now in front of him, pathetically grateful for something holding him up.
Soon as he’s settled into place, he feels Dean press up behind him again, hands
going to his belt buckle from behind, hips still shudder-skipping over his ass.
 “So pretty, baby. Gonna feel you, see my gorgeous wife all stuffed full.”
Words muttered into the nape of his neck, feel of his hair ruffling with Dean’s
breath as the clinkof his belt opening narrows his focus down to his now
painfully-hard dick. His jeans and underwear get yanked down past his knees in
one smooth movement; cock springing up hard and slapping against his shirt-
covered belly. Then he feels the rapidly-fading trail of warm breath as Dean
follows them down the line of his back, ‘till he’s kneeling behind Sam on the
carpet; strong, callused hands gripping and spreading him wide.
 “Wanna eat you out, sugar. Feel that little pussy open up for me.” Said almost
too deep and low for Sam to hear, hot breath making him shiver where he’s being
exposed to the air, and then the impossibly hot, wet feeling of Dean’s tongue
pressing right against him theremakes him twitch like he’s been electrocuted.
 “F-Fuck Dean.” Not much in the way of speech, but it’s better than the
desperate, hungry noises Dean is making against his skin right now. Low groan
sent right into his body as Dean licks him open, tongue like wet lava sweeping
around the rim of him, curling up inside, and fuckDean is way too good at this.
 There’s a little cold patch below his navel where his dick keeps twitching and
leaking precome onto his shirt, and it’s an odd contrast to the heat spreading
from Dean’s mouth through the rest of his body. Dean pulls back a little,
tongue running around the edge of his hole, feeling of warm-wet running down
his cleft to his balls.
 “So fuckin’ wetbaby. All slick and shiny like a girl.” Harshly groaned words
accompanied by the squeeze-release of Dean’s big hands spreading his ass. The
sound Sam lets out at that doesn’t even sound human, much less like his actual
voice; all crackly and splintered. Dean flows up like water onto his feet,
presses against him - no jeans, no underwear, and Sam hadn’t even noticed him
stripping down - all hot, smooth skin, hard muscle and stiff dick, where Sam is
still knees and elbows and too-big feet.
 “Not even gonna stretch you darlin’, just get you wet and slippery enough I
can slide right in.” He’s drawing out the ‘s’ noises on purpose, Sam thinks;
breath pouring into his ear and making whatever muscles weren’talready
trembling go twitchy beneath his skin.
 Dean’s hands press down on his on the tabletop; palms big and warm right over
Sam’s. His fingers are a little shorter, but thicker and more capable-looking;
all scars and rough knuckles; fighter’s hands. His brother’s fingers slot
between his and Sam is a little mesmerised by the way his hands just fitto
Dean’s, missing piece he hadn’t noticed ‘till right then.
 Then he feels the fat, rounded head of his brother’s dick pressing at him,
separating him, and all thoughts of hands and everything else go flying out the
window.
 Dean’s low grunt almostcovers his shuddery moan as he gets slowly filled up,
cock sliding in past muscle and through lube and spit; body relentlessly fucked
open as Dean shallowly thrusts and grinds into him.
 “Always so fuckin’ tightSammy. Tighter than a girl. Best fucking thing everall
wrapped around my dick.” All said as he’s pushing in, slight burn where they
haven’t done this in a few days, hands’ gripping Sam’s tight on the table. He’s
totally boxed in; pinned by his brother’s hands and body and cock, and he
fucking loves this.
 He can feelhimself opening for it as Dean pushes in; hips finallyflush to
Sam’s ass after what feels like days. He pushes back into it when the burn
subsides, lets Dean know he’s ready, feels the coarse noise Dean releases into
the curve of his neck when Sam squeezes around him the way he knows his brother
likes.
 “So good, baby boy. Way you take it.” Shallow little thrust that pushes the
air out of Sam’s lungs in a shredded gasp.
 He leans over a little more, but with Dean’s hands planted firmly on his, and
the edge of the table only a few inches from some pretty sensitive areas, they
just end up pitched forward slightly, still mostly vertical as Dean fits
himself to Sam’s back and grinds them together.
 Dean can’t thrust into him very hard like this, but he doesn’t really need to;
the way his dick is rubbing over that awesome little spot inside Sam with every
shift of his hips, combined with the feel of his body pressed all along him,
and the breathy way he’s talking into Sam’s ear making his toes curl inside
holey socks - also Dean’s - he’s pretty sure he’s gonna blow embarrassingly
soon anyway.
 “Love you like this, my pretty, pretty wife. Love you so much.” The noise Sam
makes at that, kittenish and broken, makes Dean press forward harder, cock
sliding over his sweet spot, hot-hard feeling of his brother inside him,
pressing kisses behind his ear.
 “Wanna keep you like this, Sammy; so sweet and fucked open. All mine.” Rhythm
picking up, hips sliding further back before pushing forward again; perfection
in the drag of flesh inside him, slight burn and intense stretch of it. Dean’s
hands spasmodically gripping at Sam’s fingers with every push.
 “Dean. God, please.” He reallywants to get a hand on his dick, he’s so
freaking hardand leaking precome everywhere, but Dean’s hands are keeping his
held flat to the table. Heat spiralling up his spine and back down again;
pressure building behind his balls that he can’t relieve. Fuck, he needs to
come.
 “Nuh uh, sweetheart. Gonna make you come on just my cock. Fuck you ‘till you
spill all over the table.” Shithe probably will as well, the way Dean’s working
him over; hot lurch in his gut with every pet name rumbled into the shell of
his ear. Dean’s pulling his hips back far as he can now, fucking into Sam
harder, faster, shoving them both forward with the impact. Filthy-wet sounds of
slapping flesh loud in the quiet room, grunts of warm air in his ear between
dirty words, and Christhe‘s gonna lose it.
 “So close, aren’t you baby?” Press of hips and smirk in his voice, tongue
dipping into Sam’s ear a little. “Lemme feel it, baby, c’mon. Way you squeeze
around me when you come.” Every push of his brother’s dick aimed justright.
 Then he notices the way the fingers of Dean’s left hand are stroking over his;
strong, calloused digits caressing his ring finger near the base, like he’s.
Fuck,like he’s twirling a wedding ring.
 That thought hits him like a Mack truck to the chest; air shoving out of him,
stomach muscles fluttering, clench of his insides around Dean’s cock as he
comes; white streaks shooting up the table, onto his shirt, running down his
dick to his balls and the taught skin behind as he twitches and jerks without a
hand on him. Sparks behind his eyelids as he fights to get air into his lungs,
inescapable sensation of touchless orgasm burning through him, pinned and
unable to do anything but just feelit.
 He feels Dean harden and swell impossibly further inside him, before he gets a
long, low note in his ear and the warm-wet feeling of his brother’s come
spilling into him.
 “Fuck, there ya go honey, cream you up so good.” One last hard grind of Dean’s
pelvis against his ass, jizz pushing out around the cock in him, running down
the back of his thighs and making him shiver.
 Dean plants wet kisses down his neck, to the collar of the shirt he hadn’t
bothered to take off him, mouth hot and soft as it moves back up to his jaw.
“So perfect. My gorgeous boy.” Feeling of a hickey being sucked into the hollow
behind his ear.
 He’s not sure how long they just stand there, both panting and damp with
sweat, until Dean slips out of him with a soft noise of discomfort and loss
from both of them. He doesn’t move away though; bodies pressed together,
fingers still playing with Sam’s.
 “Gonna get you a ring Sammy; make sure people can see you belong t’me. Mine.”
Nip of teeth to the tendons in his neck making him jerk a little, spent cock
giving a pathetic jump against his thigh.
 “Toppy bastard.” No ire in the words at all as they come out breathless and
shuddering with the hitching of his chest. Another shiver runs through him with
the dirty-low laugh Dean looses against his skin.
 “Only with you, dear.” Back to jokey-casual even though they’re both mostly
naked and messy with sweat and come. Dean’s hands pull his off the table, and
he nearly stumbles over with how boneless he feels, ‘till Dean tips him back
into his chest, wraps both their arms around his middle. He lets his head fall
onto Dean’s shoulder again, strong scent and cocoon of warmth from his
brother’s sex-flushed skin all around him. Okay, so maybe he shouldn’t be in
such a hurry to outgrow this.
 He could stay like this forever, feels like. Heart slowing; breath deep and
even now, feel of Dean’s chest rising and falling in time with his, but he
needs to move, clean himself andthe table up.
 He’s still got a dinner to fix, after all.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!
