Title: Break Me Open
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: knife!play
Spoilers: I'll say 2x11, but not really; inspired by the idea of something.
A/N: small PWP for wandereringray; she asked me for knife!porn, hope this satisfies, darling! :D

 

It’s a little scary, when Sam gets this way lately, and Dean must be making that clear, because Sam pauses, stills his hand and looks up at him, up the length of his body.

‘You okay?’ Sam asks, running the cold-sharp tip along the vein in Dean’s thigh, scoring just hard enough to leave a swollen line that rises first white, then turns deep pink. No blood.

Fuck you, is what Dean wants to say. Not a girl, Sam.

But Sam’s eyes gleam in the darkness, the gleam mirrored in that of the knife-metal held in his brother’s hand, and Dean’s sees the flat of his own chest rising and falling so obviously, he can’t even lie to himself.

‘Fine,’ he croaks out, hissing and trying not to twist away when the silver flashes and he feels a prick of sharpness in the crease of his hip.

‘Mmm,’ Sam hums, crawling along Dean’s leg, up to the shallow scrape. He presses the blade harder into the groove of muscle above Dean’s thigh, eyeing his work with slow intent, and bites his lip. Dean watches him chew on the curve of flesh, watches as Sam lets it slip out from between his teeth, swollen red and full, and looks up to catch Dean watching him.

A slow smile slides across that mouth, innocence and wickedness and Dean shivers at his brother’s low drawl, ‘Can I taste you, Dean?’

Sam sits back on his haunches, cleft of his ass spread by Dean’s knee, cock and balls lying heavy on Dean’s thigh, and it’s all Dean can do to not jerk his hands away from the headboard and pull Sam down onto him.

Instead, he tightens his grip until his knuckles ache, grits his jaw and tries to steady his voice as he asks, ‘How, exactly?’

And there’s that smile again, that one that makes Dean’s dick ache and throb where it lies heavy on his stomach, the one that makes him ache in a darker way.

Sam moves his hand and before he knows it, Dean’s cock is being lifted away from his belly, pulled away by the flat of the knife, and he stops breathing, afraid to move, afraid to twitch.

‘Afraid of me?’ Sam whispers, and Dean’s eyes snap back to Sam’s face. It’s hard, in the dark room, to read his brother properly, but it’s Sam for fucks sake. Dean would be able to read his emo-angst if he were blind.

‘Never you, kid,’ He murmurs, looking Sam in the eye, forcing his arms to relax above his head and easing his muscles to sink deeper into the bed. He pushes his leg to the side, the one Sam’s not straddling, in clear and obvious invitation.  

Sam licks his lips, a nervous gesture not meant to arouse, but Dean’s cock swells full at the sight and he murmurs his need with nothing more than a soft Sammy.

It’s enough, and his brother lets out a shuddering breath, the temporary release of some kind of toxin and this time when he smiles, it’s the one Dean’s grown up seeing on Sam’s face.

The knife stays pressed to the inside of Dean’s thigh, but minutes later - when Dean comes, moaning and gripping the headboard until it creaks, his cock down Sam’s throat, his brother’s fingers pushing into his ass – later, the knife is all but forgotten and falls away to the floor. And there was never any blood spilt.