
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/60794.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Sam_Winchester/Original_Male_Character, Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      Sexual_Fantasy, Voyeurism, Sexual_Experimentation, Begging, Blow_Job,
      Unresolved_Sexual_Tension, Fingerfucking, Anal_Play, Pre-Canon, High
      School, dirtybadwrong
  Stats:
      Published: 2010-02-08 Words: 1123
****** Through the Open Door ******
by azephirin
Summary
     Through the open door.
Notes
     As_requested by
     [[info]]
ninhursag.
Sam's precalc book has been kicked to the floor, with pencils strewn in
disarray around it. The bed is small for one person, especially after Sam's
recent growth spurt, and nearly impossible for two; they're making it work,
though, pressed together, David on top of Sam and their jeans undone. Sam
slides his hands underneath David's T-shirt, touching bare skin and outlining
the lean muscle. They're both lanky, built like runners and teenaged boys, but
you can make anything fit together if you want to enough, and Sam does. Oh, Sam
does.
David raises his arms and Sam strips the shirt off him; then they sit up for a
moment so that David can do the same to him. When they fall back together,
their hips meet urgently, rubbing and arching, both of them hard. Sam gets a
hand between them and reaches inside David's boxers. David groans when Sam
starts to stroke him slow and tight the way David likes, as David's precome
slicks Sam's palm and David's skin.
"Take these off," Sam mutters, pushing at what's left of David's clothing, and
David does, almost frantically, then sits on his knees to pull Sam's jeans and
briefs off, too. Sam's as hard as he is, and he sees the greed in David's eyes
as David leans down to lick at the head of Sam's cock.
"Don't stop," Sam moans when David looks up at him.
"Not a very nice way to ask." David smirks. They've only done this a few times
now, over the past couple of weeks, but David seems to like it when Sam asks,
even begs for what he wants David to do to him.
"Fuck, David, please. Suck me."
Someone without Sam's upbringing would not hear the front door close right at
that moment.
Someone without Sam's upbringing would jump to his feet and close and lock the
bedroom door.
Sam spreads his legs a little wider, inviting David, and David lowers his head
to take Sam in his mouth. Sam moans again, head tossing on the pillow,
thrusting up into the hot, wet perfection of David's lips and tongue—and David
pins his hips, holding Sam firmly against the mattress as he works Sam's cock.
Sam whimpers and tangles his fingers in David's hair, breathing out a helpless
"Please."
The footsteps on the stairs are light, careful. Sam takes a hand from David's
hair to play with his nipple, twist it between his fingertips, and the not-
quite-pain is a perfect counterpoint to the exquisite pleasure engulfing his
cock. David caresses Sam's balls, and Sam can feel the touch moving farther
back. Sam fumbles on the bedside table and manages to find the bottle of lotion
that he and Dean keep there by unspoken agreement. David pumps some into his
hand, and Sam pulls a pillow under his hips.
They only got to fingering last time, when Sam was on his knees giving David
head in the living room, and he let one hand wander to play with David's
asshole, rubbing it with the same rhythm his mouth was using on David's cock.
David had come almost immediately, shuddering and crying out, and then
confessed to Sam, when he could speak again, that that was what he liked to do
to himself. He'd done it to Sam, to demonstrate, and Sam had gone off like a
rocket, thrusting up into David's mouth and fucking himself down onto his
fingers.
David is hesitant, but Sam's not as tight as he might be, having jerked off
this way several times over the past three days. One day he'd like to know what
it feels like to be fucked, to have a cock in him and not just fingers, to feel
someone—someone in particular—come inside him.
David starts with one finger, moving it slowly in and out, back and forth.
"More," Sam tells him. He can use three of his own, wants to work up to four.
Sam looks over towards the doorway. It's winter, nearly dark out, and the hall
light's not on, but he can see the glint of Dean's eyes through the partly open
door. Sam licks his lips and says, "Please," as breathy and desperate as he can
make it. Dean's hand comes up, tightens around the doorframe.
David sinks another finger into him.
Sam's cry is high and sharp, and he throws his head back, neck arching. But he
makes himself open his eyes again, looking across the room at Dean, who's
standing with such rigid stillness that it's almost as if he's forcing himself
not to come into the room. "Harder," Sam gasps, and David does, and one of
Dean's hands goes to the front of his jeans, cupping himself through the
fabric. Sam wants him to undo the fly, take out his cock and let Sam watch him
touch himself, but Dean doesn't—it's more like he's trying to press himself
down, keep himself under control.
Dean's eyes are wide and hungry, almost angry, and that's when David pushes a
third finger inside Sam. Sam's looking Dean in the eyes, gripping David's hair,
rocking back and forth on his fingers, fucking his mouth, wishing David's mouth
was Dean's, wishing David's fingers were Dean's cock, thinking about how his
brother would spread Sam's legs and pin Sam's hands and do it gently but
inexorably, so that Sam couldn't get away, so that he wouldn't want to. He
would let Dean inside, and he'd come on Dean's cock, shaking and whimpering as
Dean kissed him, and then he'd feel Dean come, slick and hot and intimate.
They've shared so many rooms that he already knows what Dean sounds like—has
jerked off listening to the almost-silent slide of Dean's hand on his own cock,
to the catch of his breath and his bitten-off noises—but Sam wants to know what
Dean looks like, wants to see his brother's face soften and contort in
pleasure.
Sam can't keep his eyes open when orgasm hits, when he comes into the soft heat
of David's mouth. He moans, and his lips want to form a name, but Sam manages
to choke back everything after the first letter. He's caught up in it, body
shuddering until it pulses through him and he collapses, sprawling immobile for
a few moments afterwards, panting, almost incoherent.
When he opens his eyes again, Dean's gone.
Sam pulls David up and kisses him, licking his taste from David's tongue. He's
afraid David might have come too, but he's still hard when Sam reaches down and
strokes his cock; he gasps when Sam plays his fingers over the head.
Sam kisses David's eyebrow, sucks on his earlobe, and whispers, "Have you ever
fucked anybody?"
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!
