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phantismaFandom: Supernatural
Title: Dinner By Candlelight
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1041
Summary: For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
jake_harold...Yesterday I requested prompts. jake_harold asked for a little Wincest loving. Sammy's roughly sixteen in this piece, though it isn't totally obvious. Not exactly what you asked for, but I hope it will suffice.
Sam’s cautious as he opens the door. Something isn’t right. He slides his backpack to the floor and eases the door shut. His father’s gone for a few nights with Bobby, but Dean should be there…usually on the couch, stuffing his face with M&Ms and watching wrestling so loud the neighbors can hear it.
But, it’s quiet and there aren’t any lights on. There’s an odd flickering in the kitchen as Sam rounds the corner out of the hallway. Candles he realizes, stopping cold in the doorway. Dean’s at the stove, his jeans slung low on his hips…his feet and torso bare.
He turns slowly, an eyebrow raised. “You’re early Sammy.”
Sam realizes he’s still on high alert and forces himself to relax. Truth is, he’d skipped out on a class to get home. It had been a long time since their father had left them alone…and Sam was horny and Dean had promised him that the next time their father left they’d do more than just mess around.
This isn’t what he was expecting though. “What’s going on, Dean?” Sam asked, his voice breathy and telegraphing the desire lacing it’s way through his body.
Dean smiles. “I’m making you dinner.”
“Little early for dinner.” Sam’s eyes steal to the clock. It’s a little after three in the afternoon.
“Maybe. Wanted to surprise you.”
Something still isn’t right. Sam licks over his lips as Dean turns back to the stove. “Got a few minutes. Why don’t you go change. I left you something on your bed.”
Sam isn’t quite sure what to think, but he backs out of the kitchen and heads down the hall to his room. He stares at the bed for a minute, at the oddness of the gesture. He’d complained about the state of his clothes a few weeks before, and how he didn’t own anything that resembled what the other kids in school were wearing.
The jeans were black and actually looked like they might fit him. The shirt was new, tags and everything. It had been so long since he’d had something new that he didn’t steal. He stripped out of the worn out stuff he’d gone to school in and dressed, leaving the shirt unbuttoned and his feet bare before padding back out to the kitchen.
He is about to say something, but the sight stops him. The table is set intimately, and in the candlelight even the beat up old plates look like something nice. There is salad, actual honest salad. And what looks like soup, and rolls. Dean smirksat him. “You look a little lost, little brother.”
“Who are you and what have you done with my brother?”
“Funny. Sit. Eat.” Dean kicks the chair out from the table.
Sam sits, eyeing his brother suspiciously. “What is all this?” Sam asks as Dean hands him the salad dressing.
“I told you, I wanted to surprise you.”
Sam squints in the candle light at his brother, trying to decide if he is possessed or had maybe hit his head. “No…seriously.” Sam tastes the soup. It’s tomato and it tastes fresh. “Did you make this?”
Dean’s smirk grows and he nods. “Yep.”
“Like, make this—as in from like…tomatoes?”
“What are you, a valley girl?” Dean asks. “Yes, I made it. From tomatoes. Not that hard.”
The stove buzzes for attention and Dean gets up, grabbing pot holders. “Better clear your plate of all that rabbit food Sammy, it’s time for the main course.”
“Chicken Parmesan? Dude, seriously. What’s going on?” Sam stares as Dean serves him. “Are you going to tell me that you cooked this too?” Sam gets up and reaches for the trash can, looking for take out containers.
“Sit down smart ass. I made it myself.”
“You don’t know how to cook Dean.”
Dean shrugs, and he may be blushing, but it’s hard to tell in the candle light. “So maybe I learned.”
Sam catches him around the hips. “You do this for me?”
Dean really is blushing, Sam can feel the heat of it coming off his skin as he leans in to steal a kiss. “You always bitch about not eating real food.”
Sam backs them up until Dean’s back is against the fridge, presses their bodies together so that Dean can feel the way Sam’s cock has hardened. His kiss is hot and hard, teeth and tongue and hands holding Dean’s head so that he can take advantage of the inch or two he’s gotten on him over the summer.
“Got a hard on over dinner, Sammy?” Dean asked, his eyes trailing Sam’s movements as Sam’s lips burn over his jaw.
Sam’s hand has Dean’s zipper undone and he’s got it inside, cupped around the heat of Dean’s cock. “Hard for you Dean.” Sam growls and Dean shoves at him, pushes them away from the fridge.
“Gotta eat your dinner Sammy.” Dean tries to get some space between them, but Sam pulls him back.
“Wanna eat you.” Sam says, his mouth sliding up Dean’s neck.
“Me first.” Dean responds, pushing Sam back until he’s leaning on the counter, his legs askew, his hands catching himself to keep from falling into the sink. Dean’s hands have his zipper open and his cock out before he can respond, and when his mouth closes around him, Sam groans.
“Dean…” Sam’s eyes squeeze shut and he can’t seem to breathe right as Dean’s head moves rapidly up and down, Sam’s cock held tight in his lips. He can’t help the way his hips buck up and into Dean’s mouth, can’t help the whimpering moan that escapes him, or the way his one hand cups the back of Dean’s head.
It isn’t long and Sam’s ready to blow, and Dean just rides him into the counter as he comes, Dean’s mouth milking it out of him until Sam sags a little. When Dean stands up, he’s grinning and spitting into the sink before guiding Sam back to the table. “What about you?” Sam asks as Dean puts his napkin in his lap.
His grin is devilish. “Eat your dinner Sammy…eat it all up and when you’re done, I’m going to bend you over this table and fuck you so you’ll never forget.”
Title: Dinner By Candlelight
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1041
Summary: For
jake_harold...Yesterday I requested prompts. jake_harold asked for a little Wincest loving. Sammy's roughly sixteen in this piece, though it isn't totally obvious. Not exactly what you asked for, but I hope it will suffice.Sam’s cautious as he opens the door. Something isn’t right. He slides his backpack to the floor and eases the door shut. His father’s gone for a few nights with Bobby, but Dean should be there…usually on the couch, stuffing his face with M&Ms and watching wrestling so loud the neighbors can hear it.
But, it’s quiet and there aren’t any lights on. There’s an odd flickering in the kitchen as Sam rounds the corner out of the hallway. Candles he realizes, stopping cold in the doorway. Dean’s at the stove, his jeans slung low on his hips…his feet and torso bare.
He turns slowly, an eyebrow raised. “You’re early Sammy.”
Sam realizes he’s still on high alert and forces himself to relax. Truth is, he’d skipped out on a class to get home. It had been a long time since their father had left them alone…and Sam was horny and Dean had promised him that the next time their father left they’d do more than just mess around.
This isn’t what he was expecting though. “What’s going on, Dean?” Sam asked, his voice breathy and telegraphing the desire lacing it’s way through his body.
Dean smiles. “I’m making you dinner.”
“Little early for dinner.” Sam’s eyes steal to the clock. It’s a little after three in the afternoon.
“Maybe. Wanted to surprise you.”
Something still isn’t right. Sam licks over his lips as Dean turns back to the stove. “Got a few minutes. Why don’t you go change. I left you something on your bed.”
Sam isn’t quite sure what to think, but he backs out of the kitchen and heads down the hall to his room. He stares at the bed for a minute, at the oddness of the gesture. He’d complained about the state of his clothes a few weeks before, and how he didn’t own anything that resembled what the other kids in school were wearing.
The jeans were black and actually looked like they might fit him. The shirt was new, tags and everything. It had been so long since he’d had something new that he didn’t steal. He stripped out of the worn out stuff he’d gone to school in and dressed, leaving the shirt unbuttoned and his feet bare before padding back out to the kitchen.
He is about to say something, but the sight stops him. The table is set intimately, and in the candlelight even the beat up old plates look like something nice. There is salad, actual honest salad. And what looks like soup, and rolls. Dean smirksat him. “You look a little lost, little brother.”
“Who are you and what have you done with my brother?”
“Funny. Sit. Eat.” Dean kicks the chair out from the table.
Sam sits, eyeing his brother suspiciously. “What is all this?” Sam asks as Dean hands him the salad dressing.
“I told you, I wanted to surprise you.”
Sam squints in the candle light at his brother, trying to decide if he is possessed or had maybe hit his head. “No…seriously.” Sam tastes the soup. It’s tomato and it tastes fresh. “Did you make this?”
Dean’s smirk grows and he nods. “Yep.”
“Like, make this—as in from like…tomatoes?”
“What are you, a valley girl?” Dean asks. “Yes, I made it. From tomatoes. Not that hard.”
The stove buzzes for attention and Dean gets up, grabbing pot holders. “Better clear your plate of all that rabbit food Sammy, it’s time for the main course.”
“Chicken Parmesan? Dude, seriously. What’s going on?” Sam stares as Dean serves him. “Are you going to tell me that you cooked this too?” Sam gets up and reaches for the trash can, looking for take out containers.
“Sit down smart ass. I made it myself.”
“You don’t know how to cook Dean.”
Dean shrugs, and he may be blushing, but it’s hard to tell in the candle light. “So maybe I learned.”
Sam catches him around the hips. “You do this for me?”
Dean really is blushing, Sam can feel the heat of it coming off his skin as he leans in to steal a kiss. “You always bitch about not eating real food.”
Sam backs them up until Dean’s back is against the fridge, presses their bodies together so that Dean can feel the way Sam’s cock has hardened. His kiss is hot and hard, teeth and tongue and hands holding Dean’s head so that he can take advantage of the inch or two he’s gotten on him over the summer.
“Got a hard on over dinner, Sammy?” Dean asked, his eyes trailing Sam’s movements as Sam’s lips burn over his jaw.
Sam’s hand has Dean’s zipper undone and he’s got it inside, cupped around the heat of Dean’s cock. “Hard for you Dean.” Sam growls and Dean shoves at him, pushes them away from the fridge.
“Gotta eat your dinner Sammy.” Dean tries to get some space between them, but Sam pulls him back.
“Wanna eat you.” Sam says, his mouth sliding up Dean’s neck.
“Me first.” Dean responds, pushing Sam back until he’s leaning on the counter, his legs askew, his hands catching himself to keep from falling into the sink. Dean’s hands have his zipper open and his cock out before he can respond, and when his mouth closes around him, Sam groans.
“Dean…” Sam’s eyes squeeze shut and he can’t seem to breathe right as Dean’s head moves rapidly up and down, Sam’s cock held tight in his lips. He can’t help the way his hips buck up and into Dean’s mouth, can’t help the whimpering moan that escapes him, or the way his one hand cups the back of Dean’s head.
It isn’t long and Sam’s ready to blow, and Dean just rides him into the counter as he comes, Dean’s mouth milking it out of him until Sam sags a little. When Dean stands up, he’s grinning and spitting into the sink before guiding Sam back to the table. “What about you?” Sam asks as Dean puts his napkin in his lap.
His grin is devilish. “Eat your dinner Sammy…eat it all up and when you’re done, I’m going to bend you over this table and fuck you so you’ll never forget.”
