
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1003673.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Underage
  Category:
      F/M, M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester
  Character:
      Dean_Winchester, Sam_Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      Mentions_of_Het_Sex, Dirty_Talk, Rimming, Public_Sex, Masturbation
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-10-14 Words: 1897
****** The Waiting ******
by keep_waking_up
Summary
     Patience isn't a trait that runs in the Winchester family
Notes
     The Waiting by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers came on while I was
     writing this. It was so appropriate that I made it the fic title.
Patience wasn’t a trait that ran in the Winchester family.
When it came down to it, Sam wasn’t sure who was worse, him or his brother.
Dean was all about instant indulgences. Fast food, fast cars, and loose women
were the name of his game. Sam was much more goal oriented. When he wanted
something, he worked at it until he got it, whether it was an A in AP Calculus
or avoiding that drop kick Dean liked to use on him.
But neither of them were good at waiting.
It chafed at Sam in the worst way, knowing that he would have everything he’d
wanted for so long, but he had to wait. Things he’d loved while they were still
circling each other now drove him mad; watching Dean clean the Impala on Sunday
was a special kind of torture and Sam buried his head in his pillow so he
couldn’t hear his brother jerking off in the shower. It almost made Sam wish
that their weird flirtation had lasted a bit longer, so at least he was still
chasing, instead of sitting on his ass and waiting.
Still, he couldn’t object. He and Dean had agreed, even if it hadn’t been out
loud. They’d only kissed for a few blissful seconds before they’d both pulled
apart, as in sync as ever. Neither of them had said anything, but the next day,
Dean bought a calendar and circled Sam’s sixteenth birthday in red pen. Sam had
looked up from his cereal and nodded, and that had been that.
He knew why Dean wanted to wait. In these sorts of things, Dean was fairly
predictable. He was worried about taking advantage of Sam, worried about
corrupting him, worried, worried, worried. For someone who was so carefree
about other things, Dean was always awfully worried about Sam.
Sam had his own reasons. And, okay, maybe he was a little worried too.
In diners and dive bars across the nation, Sam waited and watched. He watched
as perky blonde waitresses and sultry brunette bartenders turned their eyes on
his brother. He watched Dean flirt with cheerleaders and cougars, witnesses and
widows. He kept quiet when the girls leaned in a little too close and when
Dean’s eyes dipped down to ample cleavage or mile-long legs. He watched and he
waited and he worried.
But every night without fail, Dean came home clean of the scent of alcohol and
pussy. Every night, he jerked off in the shower, moans echoing through the thin
walls. And every night, he laid down in the bed opposite Sam and went to sleep.
Okay, that wasn’t quite true. Some nights something different happened.
Some nights, when Dad was gone and the air was crackling with a bit more
tension than usual, Dean would come out of the shower in just his old, worn
sweats and slip into Sam’s bed. He’d turn off the lights and slide closer so
that his chest was pressed against Sam’s back, and he’d whisper in his ear. For
once, he didn’t talk about hunting, or dad, or his car. (Although the Impala
was involved sometimes, in ways that made Sam blush the next time he slid into
the passenger’s seat).
No, on those nights, Dean found ways to make the waiting a little more
bearable.
Sam’s heart was already beating a little bit faster by the time the light by
their bedside table clicked off and Dean slid in behind him. They were in a
run-down condo this time, owned by a red-haired woman who smoked too much and
offered Dean a cigarette whenever she saw him, ignoring Sam the whole time.
Sometimes Dean came back to the condo smelling of smoke, and Sam knew he’d
chatted her up a bit to try and get the rent lower. Sam couldn’t help getting
pissed every time. After the first few times, Dean had gotten into the habit of
showering right after talking to her. He’d come out smelling fresh and ruffle
Sam’s hair, and act like he hadn’t done anything out of the ordinary.
He hadn’t talked to her today, though, Sam thought as Dean pressed up behind
him. No, Dean had spent the day with Sam. It was a rare day; they hadn’t spent
the time training or researching or anything like that. Instead, Dean had made
pancakes in the morning. They’d gone to see a horror movie at the local theater
and sat in the back row eating popcorn soggy with artificial butter. Then
they’d gone out to dinner at the local grill that both of them loved. Sam’s
cheeks warmed as he realized that it was all a bit like a date.
And now they were in bed together. Sam really wished he could put out.
Dean’s breath was warm against his ear, and that was all it took for Sam to be
half-hard. He was fifteen and horny, and his body knew what this meant. Dean
all hot against his back meant that the next minutes would be sweaty, dirty. At
the end, Sam would end up dirtying up his sheets.
His right hand was already at the waistband of his pants before Dean started
talking. He spoke like they were in the middle of a conversation that he’d only
just picked back up. “I never told you about Lydia Curtis, did I?” He didn’t
wait for any sign of response from Sam before carrying on. “I was a little bit
older than you when I went out with her. I took her out to the movies too. We
sat in the back row. It was practically empty.” There was another pause and
Dean’s lips brushed against Sam’s ear. “So, I got down on my knees, pulled her
underwear down, and ate her out. Right there.”
Sam sucked in a loud breath in the silence after Dean’s words. His hand
clenched convulsively around his dick. He was all the way hard now. Only a few
more words from Dean and he’d be leaking precome for sure. Clenching his eyes
shut, he let Dean’s words paint a picture in his mind.
Dean didn’t disappoint. “It was hardly my first time going down on a girl. But
there was something about doing it there, knowing anyone could come in. There
were kids up in the front row, and if she’d been too loud… She held her hand
over her mouth, but she kept making all these little noises. I swear, I blew my
load just listening to her and licking at her clit.”
Sam could see it: Dean, still young and a bit naive, head under the girl’s
skirt and plump lips pressed up against the girl’s pussy, those long lashes
brushing against his cheeks because his eyes were closed from pleasure. Licking
his own lips, Sam started up a slow, teasing rhythm. If Dean was starting with
an intro, tonight would be a long night.
Dean’s hands sat on his hips, carefully innocent. “I hadn’t thought about it in
years… And then we were sitting in the back row of the theater today. You were
wearing those ridiculously tight jeans and one of my t-shirts. I looked over
and all I could think about was peeling those jeans down and rimming you ‘til
you cried.”
His hips jerked forward, startled by the sudden burst of arousal. Sam shook his
head a little bit, hand speeding up unconsciously. Dean had never—Dean’d never
even talked about anything other than jerking him off or blowing him. There’d
been a couple of mentions of fucking, but those had been so quick, easily
glossed over. Now…
Dean didn’t give him time to recover. His voice was husky and earnest, coming
ever faster in Sam’s ear. “You’ve got a perfect little ass, Sam, all pale and
perky and mine. I bet your hole’ll be just as pretty. It’ll be so pink and
tight, but it’ll open right up under my tongue. Just give you a couple of
kisses, and you’ll loosen right up, won’t you? And you might argue a bit at
first, might be afraid to let me do that to you where anyone could see you.
You’ll blush and stammer, but you’ll let me, because you want me that much,
right?”
Nodding frantically against the pillow, Sam ground back against Dean. He moaned
angrily as Dean carefully pulled their lower bodies apart, chuckling a little.
“No, not yet, Sammy. You just jerk off and listen to me.”
Sam subsided, panting a little, only to hiss when Dean murmured, “Good boy.”
There was still laughter in Dean’s voice when he started talking again. “Always
so feisty. Always pushing and pulling and fighting… but if I got you under my
tongue, you’d calm right down. I’d hold you still and just go to down, eat you
right up. I can’t wait to know how you taste down there, Sam. I bet I could
spend hours just going at you… but you wouldn’t let me, would you? You’d be
squirming and moaning and crying out for me, even if we were in public. You
wouldn’t want to wait, no, you’d want me to get you off right then and there.”
A dry kiss landed against Sam’s neck. “But I’d know better. I know you get off
better with a build, know you like to wait until you’re desperate for it. I’d
give you that. You’d trust me to do that, right Sam?”
“Yeah,” Sam whispered, and he was surprised by how deep his own voice had
become. It hadn’t been long, but he was too overwhelmed, too close. He tried to
buck, but Dean’s grip held him still. “I would, Dean, I swear. I would, I do—”
“Shhh,” Dean warned him teasingly. “Wouldn’t want anyone to hear. Don’t want
anyone to come in and see you like this, getting off because your older brother
is talking about eating you out like a girl.”
Sam gave up on jerking off being enough. He flopped down on his stomach and
began rutting against the mattress and his hand, hair in his eyes and breath
coming fast. Dean’s hand stayed on his lower back, urging him on. “By the time
I let you come, you’d be so needy and desperate. You’d have your ass in the air
like a whore, pushing back on my face like you couldn’t get enough.” Sam
whimpered at the image and Dean’s hand dug into his back a little. “You like
that idea, Sam? Wanna ride my tongue? Or maybe you wanna sit on my face? Sit on
my face and fuck yourself on my tongue?”
With a loud cry, Sam came.
Like a puppet with his strings cut, Sam sagged against the mattress, breathing
open-mouthed into the sheets. His eyes slid shut as Dean stroked his back a few
times, before rolling off the bed. He didn’t bother watching as Dean shuffled
around. He moved when Dean told him too, climbing into the clean bed at Dean’s
urging.
A couple of minutes later, Dean had changed the sheets and was lying in the bed
that had been Sam’s. Sam blinked over at him, his shape dim in the dark, before
falling asleep.
The next morning, he crossed another day off the calendar and smiled.
Two weeks left.
He was definitely getting Dean to take him to the movies to celebrate.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!
