ficlet: Above & Below
rating: NC-17
pairing: Sam/Dean
warnings: graphic m/m sex
summary: effects of a demon unhinge some barriers.
a/n: PWP, shameless lust demon cliche - sorry, I've never done it, couldn't help myself. This is how I relax from plotty big bang.

It’s some strange hybrid of succubus and incubus that they’re not entirely sure how to deal with, but they do what they usually do and it seems to work. But . . .

Sex with Dean has always been a little desperate and a little withheld – only natural considering what they’re risking by screwing each other. Only natural considering how much Dean confuses him, scares him, how much he means and all the places he fills in Sam’s life.

Demon musk seems to rip away the barriers that they’ve both have held onto so carefully.

“Well, fuck,” Sam says hoarsely when Dean finally pulls off his mouth.

Dean's mouth is open, wet and panting, eyes fever bright and half-lidded.

“Shut up,” Dean whispers and slides his hands down to cup Sam’s ass, pulling their hips snug together and grinding into him.

Sam makes an embarrassing noise, chokes it off before it can become a whimper, and fists his hands into the front of Dean’s shirt. “Think this is permanent?”  

“I said shut up.”

Dean's knee presses into his crotch and just like that, Sam bucks up and comes, silent and sudden, pinned between his brother and the wall.  

“Gonna fuck into you,” Dean murmurs, mouthing wetly at the skin just under Sam’s ear, and he feels his balls tighten immediately, cock still throbbing in his jeans from his orgasm.

Too soon, god, too soon, he thinks hazily but Dean’s pushing his hand into the back of his jeans, fingers dipping down and digging into the dark, heated crease of his ass.

“Fuck you so deep. So hard,” Dean pants against his skin, pressing his own erection against Sam’s hip.

Yes. Okay, nownownow, room. Now.

Sam pushes Dean away, forceful enough to make him stumble back, tripping over his feet. 
 

They barely make it inside before Dean’s locking the door – so at least he remembers that, Sam thinks – before he’s being pushed towards the cheap motel table.

“On the desk. Bend over,” Dean growls at him, and Sam turns to see him stepping out of the circle of denim of cotton pooling around his feet, and Sam reaches for his own crotch to get his jeans off.

One of them has enough sense to use lube, thank god, but Sam can’t remember who exactly.

Hard and deep is exactly how Dean does it, one hand pressed to Sam’s shoulder and holding him down, the other reaching between his legs to pull on Sam’s dick. Sam's arms are stretched out above his head, fingers curling over the edge of the table and he's gripping so hard that his bones ache.

Again, second time in as many minutes - come splashing into his brother’s palm, mouth open and pressed to the varnished wood, grunting with each thrust of Dean's hips.

When Dean comes inside him, his fingers dig into Sam’s shoulder so hard that it makes him wince and he knows there’ll be a bruise there later. Knows it, and can’t seem to care.

“Bed,” he rasps, pushing at Dean behind him and leaning up. “On your back.”

It’s all a haze from there, really.

Spreading Dean legs wide, the taste of his brother’s come rolling in Sam’s mouth, the crinkling velvet skin just behind Dean’s balls.

Dean’s thumbs digging into him, hooking him wide and open, tongue slippery and wet. The rasp of his brother’s pubic hair scratching against tender skin, flesh swollen and too sensitive.

The muscle ache, his skin itchy with dried sweat and sticky with come, they're all things that Sam can easily resent the demon for. 

Dean letting it all just show, face open and raw with things Sam’s never been allowed to see, never thought he’d get to see - that’s something Sam’s going to hang on to.

He wonders vaguely – fingers pushing into Dean’s wetwarmsilk mouth, Dean’s lips swollen and bruised and suckling– wonders how long before the musk wears off.

He really doesn’t mind, Sam thinks, as he lays puppy-sharp bites along Dean's stubbled jaw and trails spit slicked fingers down the flat of his belly.

He doesn’t mind how long it lasts, just . . .

“Like this, okay?” he whispers, easing his fingers into the pulsing grip between Dean’s legs, his soul feeding off the sounds Dean’s trying not to make. “From now on, we get to have it like this.”

It’s day outside, there aren’t any shadows to hide in. The tail-end effect of a demon has opened the blinds on each other, and Sam fucks his brother in sunlight, free and unhindered. 


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