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Title: Four Times Sam Had Sex to Save Dean (and One Time Dean Saved Him)
Author: Jinni ([email protected])
Rated: NC17
Disclaimer: All things SPN belong to Eric Kripke, et al.
Warnings: Wincest
Pairing: Sam/Dean, Sam/OFC
Summary: It seems like they’re always getting into one scrape or another, only figures that sometimes sex is the only way out.
Wordcount: 200, 100, 300, 200, and 500 words respectively.
one
It’s his fault that the succubus got close enough to Dean to put the whammy on him. Glazed eyes, lips parted just enough that Sam can see pale pink tongue, a huff of breath, and Dean is fucking gone. All blood south of the border, one way trip.
Sam offs the bitch with a silver shot to the heart, decapitates her just to be sure, and drags Dean back to the motel room.
Dean is whimpering by the time they get back to the room and, well, the choice is Sam’s to make. He can either watch Dean suffer – and possibly go batshit crazy from need - or he can try to find a hooker willing to screw his brother senseless.
Or he can just do it himself.
Sam sighs and drops his hands to his belt buckle, already toeing off his shoes. Dean’s watching him with eyes that glitter with so much lust that they might as well be sparklers on the Fourth of July, and it takes all of two seconds for Dean to get with the game and fucking leap at Sam.
He’s going to hell for this, but it’s almost worth it.
Dean’s a damn good fuck.
two
The next time it happens is one-hundred and ten twenty percent Dean’s fault, Sam assures himself as he scrunches his eyes shut, grits his teeth, and tries to fake enough enthusiasm to get the both of them out of the crapfest they’re in.
There’s a part of him that thinks that he should be thanking God that the coven of witches that Dean pissed off aren’t bloodthirsty. But this is the fourth thirty-something, cape-wearing, crystal-touting, mojo-wielder he’s screwed in the last two hours, and Sam’s getting a little tired. Definitely disgusted.
Dean is so going to owe him for this.
three
Okay, so the fact that Dean pretty much bats for whatever team that means a good fuck on any given night isn’t normally a problem. Oh, Sam is jealous as fuck, because outside of that one random time, after the succubus, he’s never been able to entice his brother to play for the family team again.
But tonight, with an incubus working its mojo on girls and sweet little twinks all over town, Sam should have known better than to have let Dean go out on his own. Just for a drink. Might shoot some pool, Dean had said. And fuck if Sam shouldn’t have stopped him right then and there somehow…some way.
He realizes his mistake and barely makes it to the bar in time. Dean’s already outside with the incubus – and, yeah, the sex-demon is hot as fuck – back to the wall, pants undone. Dean’s so turned on that he’s gagging for it, breaths coming in sharp hitches and whines, caught up in the spell of the incubus. Fucking sex-demon-vampire-things, Sam thinks as he nails the bastard with two shots. One to the head, then another to the chest when it is lying on the ground.
Just to be safe, of course.
Dean reaches for him, tugging him close, bodies pressed together. Toe to toe, groin to groin. Mouths coming together in a kiss so hard it makes Sam’s jaw ache. Tongues fuck in and out of wet, slick mouths, as Dean’s hand fumbles at his pants, tugging them open. He can feel the needitpleasefuck in the trembling of Dean’s body.
Sam gives it to him. Hard and fast against the alley wall, then again after he drags him back to the motel room.
In the morning, they’re back to normal.
Sam’s sort of getting tired of that.
four
If Dean seems a little eager the next time some badass fucks him over with a curse, making him horny as all fuck and doomed to go out of his mind if he doesn’t screw like a rabbit for the next twenty-four hours, Sam doesn’t think anything of it.
It’s just the curse, he tells himself when he moans as Dean slides into him, fisting his own cock with short, sharp strokes.
Fucking curse, he swears half-heartedly, as his brother backs him up against the shower wall, dropping to his knees to suck Sam off with the kind of skill that backs up every boast and claim that Dean’s ever made. Fingers grasp and grab in too-short hair. His hips jerk, cock slip-sliding past perfect, fuckable lips. When he looks down, Dean is jacking off hard and fast, and Sam can feel the gasps of pleasure as his dick bumps the back of Dean’s throat.
…guh…curse…yeah…fuck, Sam thinks as they approach the end of the twenty-four hours when his body is sore and depleted, worn down and raw. Whimpers have turned to hoarse cries, and Sam collapses as Dean cums one last time with a scream that’s barely a whisper.
five
Too close. Too fucking close, Sam thinks as he sinks onto the bed. The shower is running, Dean cleaning off the gore from the hunt. Unthinking, running on pure instinct, Sam tugs off his ruined shirt, drops it to the ugly carpet. His tennis shoes need a run through a washer, but they’re otherwise fine. Really, he can’t care about that.
He came this close to losing Dean, and the numb terrorshocksadnessrelief is uncoiling in his stomach, making his eyes prick with tears.
This. Close.
And it’s too much, just like it sometimes is, but somehow, with everything they’ve left unsaid between them, this time it’s even worse.
Sam doesn’t realize he’s shaking until Dean is sitting on the bed next to him, arm slinging heavily around his shoulders. Through tear-drop flecked eyelashes, he looks at Dean, and not even the sight of his towel-slung waist is enough to bring Sam out of his worry-cum-despair.
He’s just…so tired. Right now, tonight, it’s too much to even think about doing again, much less for the rest of his life.
“Hey,” Dean murmurs. “It’s okay.”
He wants to protest that Dean almost wasn’t okay, but his brother’s lips are there, stopping the words, before he can say a thing. It’s everything that Sam has wanted and needed for months. Ever since that first time, when he was just trying to save Dean from madness, from the succubus’ curse.
Before he knows it he’s on his back, pants off, writhing under the assault of Dean’s mouth and hands. He’s moaning and crying out, heedless of the teasing he might get later from his older brother. Giving everything he has to the moment, to Dean.
Sweat-damp skin on skin. The room smells like sex when Dean finally slides inside of him, and Sam muffles his sob of finallythankyou into the pillow in front of him, ass in the air, Dean’s hands on his hips.
They come within seconds of each other, Dean’s grunt of pleasure touching Sam inside just as Dean’s cock hits his prostate one… last… time. Come splashes over his hand, onto the bed. He’s gasping, a low whine in his throat that sounds like Dean’s name.
For a minute they’re still, unmoving. Gathering themselves together, knowing that this changes everything. There was no curse. No threat. No reason to do this. When Dean moves, Sam feels the loss. He hears the slap of the condom hitting the waste bin, then Dean is back, tugging him down onto the bed, arms around him, mouth to his ear.
“I’ve got you, Sammy. I’m not going anywhere,” Dean murmurs, husky and soft.
It’s a promise as much as Dean can make one, and the weight that was on Sam’s chest lifts. It’s enough for right now, just to be held, to feel safe… to feel like Dean will always be there.
That’s what Dean gave to him. So much more than just a fuck.
They save each other. That’s just the way it is.
END