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grianchlochTitle: Belonging
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing/character: Dean/Sam
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1308
Betas:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
cocoajava and seleneheart
Notes: PWP. Originally written for a prompt from Round Seven of the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
rounds_of_kink and posted in the Amnesty Round here. The prompter was my_sam_dean and the prompt was: Frantic sex: Our lifestyle is dangerous. We have to live for now.
Summary: After Sam does something reckless on a hunt, there's only one thing that can make everything okay again.
"What the hell were you thinking?" Dean yelled, his eyes full of rage. His palms connected with Sam's chest hard enough to surprise the younger hunter and Sam stumbled backwards.
"Fuck, Dean! You're pissed because I saved your life?" Sam steadied himself and glared at his brother.
"I'm pissed because you could have gotten yourself killed!" Dean crowded into Sam's space, jabbing his shoulder with his finger.
"So what? I was supposed to let you get stabbed in the gut?"
"You weren't supposed to throw yourself between me and a knife! I had it covered!"
"It's a scratch, it doesn't even need stitches." Sam growled, his jaw set.
They'd been fighting back to back. Dean hadn't seen his second attacker until it was almost too late. He'd been caught up with the first ugly fucker, but he was certain he would have been able to take care of it too if Sam hadn't decided he needed rescuing. The memory of Sam pushing him out of the way, and the cold glint of the knife as it was thrust it towards him played endlessly through Dean's mind. For one heart stopping moment, he'd thought that Sam had taken the full force of the blade. The shock had sent him spiraling into an adrenaline rush that ended with the slimy creatures - who's name Dean couldn't even pronounce - becoming no more than a sticky mess on the floor.
"I thought you'd been ... thought you were ..." Dean shouted, right in Sam's face, pausing for a heartbeat, unable to say the words "I thought you'd been killed, I thought you were gonna die," so instead he slammed Sam back against the wall, crushing his mouth against his brother's lips. He grabbed Sam by the shoulders and pinned him, kissing him roughly, forcing his tongue into his mouth. Sam groaned, so deep and rough that Dean felt it against his chest like a growl and Sam’s hands dug into his short hair as he kissed him back almost brutally, teeth clashing, lips bruising.
Dean’s shirt tore as they pulled each other's clothes off, hands frantically grasping at cloth, unlacing boots and fumbling with zippers, but he didn’t care. He needed to be skin to skin with Sam, needed as much contact as possible with his living, breathing body to help drive away the pain that had spiked through him in the instant he thought he'd lost him.
Sam was riding high on the adrenaline pumping through his veins, a legacy of the fight and of tasting that moment when his recklessness drove him to the brink of death. He knew Dean was right, but Sam would do it again in a heartbeat. Wanting to save Dean was instinctive, not something he could switch off if it meant putting himself in danger.
Sam pushed away from the wall, the scratch across his abdomen stinging, and pulled Dean with him. He threw himself down to the nearest bed, landing on his back and Dean was on him in a second, licking and nipping and kissing his way up over the broad expanse of Sam’s well muscled chest, drinking in every strong heartbeat, mouth latching onto the fluttering pulse point on Sam's throat. Sam moaned and writhed and ran his hands over Dean’s body, fingers scraping over old wounds and dancing over new bruises, making Dean hiss and buck. His hand slipped between them, curling around Dean's weeping cock and Dean gasped and pulled back. He looked down at Sam, his eyes almost black with so much more than lust and Sam shivered, needing, wanting everything his brother had to give.
“Fuck me?”
Dean growled and bit down hard on Sam’s throat making him cry out, mauling him as he forced Sam's legs apart with his knees. With a groan, Sam tilted his hips up, begging silently, clawing at Dean's back, pulling him closer.
There was no way Dean was about to go searching for lube, so he improvised. He pushed three fingers between Sam's kiss swollen lips and let him suckle on them, getting them good and wet, before he pulled them out and slipped his hand behind Sam's balls. He worked them into Sam none too gently, opening him and Sam gasped at the intrusion, relaxing as much as he could, needing Dean as much as Dean needed him. He pulled Dean down and kissed him, biting his bottom lip. Dean groaned and replaced his fingers with the head of his cock, smearing pre come over Sam’s hole. He pressed against it, feeling the muscle pulse around him as he sank into Sam's body until he was all the way in, balls deep in Sam. Sam was looking up at him with those dark eyes of his and Dean thought he might drown in them as he hooked Sam's long legs over his shoulders. Sam reached for him, long arm snaking round his neck, pulling him closer and trapping his cock between them.
And then they were fucking. There was nothing romantic about it, no finesse, no long, smooth strokes or slowly building crescendos. It was hard, raw, two well muscled bodies clashing together. The slap of skin against skin echoed round the room, drowned out by the grunts and gasps as they desperately tried to climb into each other’s sweat soaked skin. Sam’s fingers dug into Dean’s back leaving red trails where his short nails scraped the skin and Dean left teeth marks on every part of Sam’s skin he could reach.
Sam came first, eyes rolling back in his head, his neck arching, baring it to Dean’s mouth and swear to god he wouldn’t have cared if Dean had ripped out his throat there and then, he was so far gone. His balls were so tight they bordered on painful and the release that had him pumping scalding come between them was better than it had ever been. His ass clamped down on Dean’s cock pistoning in and out of his body, and Dean cried out as he came, throwing his head back as the force of it slammed into him.
"Sammy!"
Exhausted, sweaty, stuck together, they lay wrapped around each other until Dean's overwhelming need to care for Sam kicked in, and he checked on the knife wound. Turned out it was just a scratch, but Dean cleaned it and dressed it anyway as Sam watched him work.
He belonged to Dean, Sam knew that, and knowing it helped him feel safe. Yes, Dean had taken him, claimed him and it hadn't been the first time, not by a long shot, but it wasn't just the fucking that bound him to Dean, it was this, too. Small, gentle touches as he tended Sam's wounds, however superficial they were. Small touches that bound them together as much as the ones that left bruises did.
Dean finished and crawled back onto the bed, sliding up Sam's body to rest his head on his shoulder and Sam put his arms around his brother, holding him tight.
"I can't lose you, Sammy." Dean whispered. "Don't know what I'd do without you."
"I'm not going anywhere, Dean." Sam nuzzled his hair. "This is where I belong."
"Yeah, you do." Dean agreed and closed his eyes, no longer seeing the nightmare of almost losing Sam playing out.
Now he could sleep.
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Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing/character: Dean/Sam
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1308
Betas:
cocoajava and seleneheartNotes: PWP. Originally written for a prompt from Round Seven of the
rounds_of_kink and posted in the Amnesty Round here. The prompter was my_sam_dean and the prompt was: Frantic sex: Our lifestyle is dangerous. We have to live for now.Summary: After Sam does something reckless on a hunt, there's only one thing that can make everything okay again.
"What the hell were you thinking?" Dean yelled, his eyes full of rage. His palms connected with Sam's chest hard enough to surprise the younger hunter and Sam stumbled backwards.
"Fuck, Dean! You're pissed because I saved your life?" Sam steadied himself and glared at his brother.
"I'm pissed because you could have gotten yourself killed!" Dean crowded into Sam's space, jabbing his shoulder with his finger.
"So what? I was supposed to let you get stabbed in the gut?"
"You weren't supposed to throw yourself between me and a knife! I had it covered!"
"It's a scratch, it doesn't even need stitches." Sam growled, his jaw set.
They'd been fighting back to back. Dean hadn't seen his second attacker until it was almost too late. He'd been caught up with the first ugly fucker, but he was certain he would have been able to take care of it too if Sam hadn't decided he needed rescuing. The memory of Sam pushing him out of the way, and the cold glint of the knife as it was thrust it towards him played endlessly through Dean's mind. For one heart stopping moment, he'd thought that Sam had taken the full force of the blade. The shock had sent him spiraling into an adrenaline rush that ended with the slimy creatures - who's name Dean couldn't even pronounce - becoming no more than a sticky mess on the floor.
"I thought you'd been ... thought you were ..." Dean shouted, right in Sam's face, pausing for a heartbeat, unable to say the words "I thought you'd been killed, I thought you were gonna die," so instead he slammed Sam back against the wall, crushing his mouth against his brother's lips. He grabbed Sam by the shoulders and pinned him, kissing him roughly, forcing his tongue into his mouth. Sam groaned, so deep and rough that Dean felt it against his chest like a growl and Sam’s hands dug into his short hair as he kissed him back almost brutally, teeth clashing, lips bruising.
Dean’s shirt tore as they pulled each other's clothes off, hands frantically grasping at cloth, unlacing boots and fumbling with zippers, but he didn’t care. He needed to be skin to skin with Sam, needed as much contact as possible with his living, breathing body to help drive away the pain that had spiked through him in the instant he thought he'd lost him.
Sam was riding high on the adrenaline pumping through his veins, a legacy of the fight and of tasting that moment when his recklessness drove him to the brink of death. He knew Dean was right, but Sam would do it again in a heartbeat. Wanting to save Dean was instinctive, not something he could switch off if it meant putting himself in danger.
Sam pushed away from the wall, the scratch across his abdomen stinging, and pulled Dean with him. He threw himself down to the nearest bed, landing on his back and Dean was on him in a second, licking and nipping and kissing his way up over the broad expanse of Sam’s well muscled chest, drinking in every strong heartbeat, mouth latching onto the fluttering pulse point on Sam's throat. Sam moaned and writhed and ran his hands over Dean’s body, fingers scraping over old wounds and dancing over new bruises, making Dean hiss and buck. His hand slipped between them, curling around Dean's weeping cock and Dean gasped and pulled back. He looked down at Sam, his eyes almost black with so much more than lust and Sam shivered, needing, wanting everything his brother had to give.
“Fuck me?”
Dean growled and bit down hard on Sam’s throat making him cry out, mauling him as he forced Sam's legs apart with his knees. With a groan, Sam tilted his hips up, begging silently, clawing at Dean's back, pulling him closer.
There was no way Dean was about to go searching for lube, so he improvised. He pushed three fingers between Sam's kiss swollen lips and let him suckle on them, getting them good and wet, before he pulled them out and slipped his hand behind Sam's balls. He worked them into Sam none too gently, opening him and Sam gasped at the intrusion, relaxing as much as he could, needing Dean as much as Dean needed him. He pulled Dean down and kissed him, biting his bottom lip. Dean groaned and replaced his fingers with the head of his cock, smearing pre come over Sam’s hole. He pressed against it, feeling the muscle pulse around him as he sank into Sam's body until he was all the way in, balls deep in Sam. Sam was looking up at him with those dark eyes of his and Dean thought he might drown in them as he hooked Sam's long legs over his shoulders. Sam reached for him, long arm snaking round his neck, pulling him closer and trapping his cock between them.
And then they were fucking. There was nothing romantic about it, no finesse, no long, smooth strokes or slowly building crescendos. It was hard, raw, two well muscled bodies clashing together. The slap of skin against skin echoed round the room, drowned out by the grunts and gasps as they desperately tried to climb into each other’s sweat soaked skin. Sam’s fingers dug into Dean’s back leaving red trails where his short nails scraped the skin and Dean left teeth marks on every part of Sam’s skin he could reach.
Sam came first, eyes rolling back in his head, his neck arching, baring it to Dean’s mouth and swear to god he wouldn’t have cared if Dean had ripped out his throat there and then, he was so far gone. His balls were so tight they bordered on painful and the release that had him pumping scalding come between them was better than it had ever been. His ass clamped down on Dean’s cock pistoning in and out of his body, and Dean cried out as he came, throwing his head back as the force of it slammed into him.
"Sammy!"
Exhausted, sweaty, stuck together, they lay wrapped around each other until Dean's overwhelming need to care for Sam kicked in, and he checked on the knife wound. Turned out it was just a scratch, but Dean cleaned it and dressed it anyway as Sam watched him work.
He belonged to Dean, Sam knew that, and knowing it helped him feel safe. Yes, Dean had taken him, claimed him and it hadn't been the first time, not by a long shot, but it wasn't just the fucking that bound him to Dean, it was this, too. Small, gentle touches as he tended Sam's wounds, however superficial they were. Small touches that bound them together as much as the ones that left bruises did.
Dean finished and crawled back onto the bed, sliding up Sam's body to rest his head on his shoulder and Sam put his arms around his brother, holding him tight.
"I can't lose you, Sammy." Dean whispered. "Don't know what I'd do without you."
"I'm not going anywhere, Dean." Sam nuzzled his hair. "This is where I belong."
"Yeah, you do." Dean agreed and closed his eyes, no longer seeing the nightmare of almost losing Sam playing out.
Now he could sleep.
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