A Hard Fall, Supernatural, Wincest
Oct. 25th, 2006 01:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
phantismaFandom: Supernatural
Title: A Hard Fall
Characters/Pairing: Dean/Sam, mention of Dean/OMC
Rating: NC-17, with a side of blasphemy
Word Count: 2336
Summary: Okay...so Dean de-virginized an Angel in One Way to Fall, and was punished with wings. Sammy found out in Keep Falling...now, a week has passed and Dean has found that a part of the punishment is a weakness for the sin which caused the Angel's fall...well, weakness might be too mild a word...compulsion might be closer to the truth...
Warnings and A/N: A plot bunny bit me on my way to breakfast the other.. This is the result of that bite. The bunny whispered in my ear the words Angel!porn, Drunk!Dean, Wing!kink...and...well....
Oh...and check This out.![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
poutpout made a manip of Dean with big, beautiful black wings!
The rain is warm and comforting. Dean stands outside the tiny cabin where he and Sam had come to hide and wait. His arms hang loosely at his side, his bare torso open to the caress of the water. Out here he can let them, wings, fucking wings, out, stretch, expand, but only at night when no one would see.
He lets them go, ruffling the dark feathers as the rain slicks over them. His shoulders itch, the muscles twitching for something he doesn’t know how to give them. It has been a week. A week since he’d stumbled drunk and horny out of a bar and let himself be seduced by a pretty face. A week since a quick fuck had turned into wings, fucking wings.
Sam is in the cabin watching. Sam is always watching these days. He doesn’t sleep. He barely eats. He watches. He touches. He begs. It would make Dean smile if it weren’t so seriously fucked up.
Dean’s bare feet grip the grass beneath them, as if he needs to hold on to something to keep from flying away. The Impala points down the road, impatient, ready to be moving again. He’s tired, and while he’s starting to get used to them, he wants his life back. He wants to be able to be in the same room as his brother without it dissolving into scorching sex, or begging for sex, or conversations about sex.
All the research indicates that it is just a matter of waiting, that nothing can be done. The side affects of the phenomenon included the ability to sense sin, which isn’t as amusing as it might sound, the whole tasting like sweets thing that was driving Sam crazy and because the sin that took Michael’s wings had been sex, they had come with a sex drive that simply didn’t stop, and seemed to affect anyone he was with. They’d nearly fucked each other raw in the first 24 hours.
He feels a hand on his back, in the space between the wings, cool skin against wet. Dean’s eyes close. The touch shoots straight through him and Dean is suddenly hard. Not that that takes much these days. He isn’t really sure who the damn wings affect more, him or Sam.
Sam groans behind him and Dean turns his head. “Sam.” It’s just his name, but it lays out there, heavy with expectation. The hand is replaced by Sam’s lips, by his face nestled into the valley between Dean’s wings and he groans against Dean’s wet skin. Deans jeans are slung low on his hips, the damp weight of them dragging against his groin.
Sam’s arms circle Dean’s waist, his lips dragging over the skin all around the place where those decidedly torturous wings rose out of his flesh. They don’t hurt…exactly…Sam’s nails drag over Dean’s stomach and Dean hisses.
“Dean.” Sam whispers it, his lips near Dean’s ear, then sliding down to close over his shoulder. “Dean.” It has become Sam’s litany these last few days. Dean and please and fuck me…and Dean can’t refuse the prayer like way he says it…can never refuse.
He folds the wings so he can bring his brother around in front of him, hold his face in his hands and capture that praying mouth with his own. He walks them toward the car, his mouth on Sam’s, his tongue painting Sam’s lips and tongue and teeth.
“Sam.” His name is less supplication and more demand, Dean’s hands pulling at Sam’s jeans, the wet denim fighting back as Sam tries to help and Dean slaps his hands away. “Fuck.” Because he’s nearly coming in his jeans at the very idea, and Sam’s eyes are glowing with lust. The wings ruffle and extend, even as Dean finally gets Sam’s jeans open and his cock falls into Dean’s hands, already hard, and Sam mewls when he touches him.
“Dean…please Dean.” Sam’s voice is barely audible over the sound of the rain, but it burns Dean’s skin, burns through the last conscious thought and Dean’s kiss is urgent, teeth and tongue and lips, pressing against Sam until Sam’s body was against the car.
His cock is slick with the rain, and Dean’s mouth closed over it eagerly, licking at the water, at the pre-come that oozed. Sam’s body arches off the Impala, his hands reaching for Dean’s head, then letting go, and reaching again. Dean lifts the wings, not so much sheltering them from the rain as stretching them out where Sam could see them. Sam surged upward, his cock thrusting deep into the hot cavern of Dean’s mouth. “Dean…please Dean…fuck…Dean…want you…fuck…”
Sam’s head tosses against the hood of the Impala, his hair sticking to his face. “Sam…god Sam…” Dean pulls his lips free, away from the beauty of his brother’s cock hard and weeping for him. “Turn over…god Sam, just turn over…I need to…”
Somehow his words connect and Sam does turn, pushing his wet jeans down over the curve of his ass, pressing himself against the Impala, his head turned so that he can see Dean freeing his cock from the denim that had restrained it, approaching Sam with lust in his eyes, and in every tense line of his body.
Dean is too hard and too far gone with desire to be careful, to go slow. They’ve done this enough in the last few days that Sam is open for him, and he still hisses as Dean sinks into him, though whether that is from pleasure or pain, Dean isn’t sure. At this point the two are nearly the same anyway, for both of them. “Dean…god…fuck…Dean.” From prayer to damnation on that boy’s lips and Dean’s shaking with need, desire as he pushes into him.
Sam arches up into him as lightening splits the sky, painting the Impala’s windshield with a portrait of Dean over Sam, wings spread to the sky. Dean’s breath stutters along with his rhythm because he can suddenly see what Sam sees when he looks at him, and its all he can take, pulling Sam down onto him with a force that will leave bruises, more bruises, and he’s coming, whispering obscene words in Sam’s ear, words that bring Sam right to the brink of coming himself.
“Look at us.” Dean says, pulling Sam up to him, off the car and circling those long, black wings around them both. The end feathers caress Sam’s dick and he yells out, his body thrusting forward and back, and his come spilling out of him onto the ground.
“Fuck, Dean.” Sam mutters, holding his brother’s arms around him. “Just…Fuck. Give me…a minute…need a minute.”
Dean pulls him closer, his dick still inside him, semi-hard and over sensitive and he just knows that it wouldn’t take much to bring it back to life. Sam groans, his fingers stroking over feathers and bone, up over the top ridge of his wings, where they’re the most tender. “Sam…god, stop.”
Sam freezes for a moment, his ass clenching around Dean. “Does it hurt?”
Dean presses his head to Sam’s back. “No…not…like that…too much.”
He can almost feel Sam’s smirk as his fingers go back to caressing them. “Sam…Sammy…” It’s Dean’s turn to beg, his eyes rolling shut as Sam’s nimble fingers pet, fucking pet, him and damn but Dean’s getting hard again. At this rate his dick just might fall off before the damn wings do…”Sam…stop…please…”
But Sam’s fingers don’t stop moving…don’t stop playing over the strange muscles, over the soft, and dripping wings…and fuck, Dean can’t stop the way his hands are squeezing on Sam’s hips, the way his body wants to thrust into him more…His whole body tightens as the rain falls harder and lightening throws shadows, obscene and beautiful, against the cabin, and car and the canopy of trees.
Sam is grunting as Dean’s body presses him forward again, against the cold metal of the bar, and he holds on to the wings, too tight…too much…Dean’s lost conscious thought, lost in wild rutting with no rhythm, no finesse…His entire body burns hot enough the rain should sizzle as it washes down his back.
Sam’s voice reaches him, a stream of Dean and fuck and god yes and Dean knows he’s leaving bruises on his skin, hips and shoulders and anywhere else he can reach.
The lightening strikes closer, thunder booming, shaking the car under them, and Dean wonders for a moment if they haven’t finally crossed some line, lost their souls in this frenzied lust and the lightening had come to end it. Sam yanked on his wings, drawing a scream out of Dean’s throat. His hand came away filled with feathers and Dean pulled the wings away. “Fuck that hurt.”
He pressed into his brother harder, and Sam arched into him until another strike hit nearby and a tree groaned. The thunder rumbled, knocking them off balance, pulling them apart. Before Dean fully recovered, Sam was grabbing him, pushing him to his knees in the mud, surging forward to bury his cock in Dean’s ass. Frantic, Sam’s hands petted down Dean’s back, over the just of wings, over feathers. Dean arched up and Sam grabbed both wings, pulling them back toward him until Dean hissed. “So fucking hot.” Sam says.
“Fuck!” is the only response Dean has. He’s panting, lost, his hand yanking now on his cold, but still hard cock and he wants to come. Wants desperately to come. “Sam.”
Dean’s head is hanging almost to the ground but he feels the lightening as it strikes another tree not far from where they are fucking on the ground like animals. It sends a shock through him, shivers that make Sam moan and double his pace. His pull on the wings is incredible and Dean screams as uses them to fuck him deeper.
He knows they need to get out of this storm before the lightening finds them, but he can’t stop this…”Sam….god, Sam…”
Suddenly Sam releases him and leans over him, his lips near Dean’s ears. “If we ever get free of this Dean, no one else ever gets to use you again. No one but me Dean.” Sam’s teeth nip at his ear, at his neck. “From now on, you fucking belong to me.” Sam bit down then, and the combination has Dean coming, his cock untouched and spewing into the mud. Dean can feel blood oozing from the wound as Sam lets go to focus on the two strokes it takes to fill Dean with his come.
As he pulls out, Dean falls forward, all strength gone, his body limp in the mud. The rain seems to shift, soften. “Dean?” Sam’s voice has lost some of its edge. Dean tries to fold the wings back so he can get up without tearing them, but they aren’t responding.
“Sam?”
“Just hold still. I think…” Sam’s hand touches him, on his shoulder, near the right wing. “I think…you’re…molting.”
Sam touches the wing and Dean seizes up. He comes away with a handful of feathers. “This is it.” Dean says through clenched teeth “Don’t touch…fuck that hurts.”
He had thought the pain of getting the wings would kill him, but this was something else entirely. Dean falls forward again as he sheds feathers and skin, blood…all of it washing away from his skin in the rain. It seems to go on forever, and when it’s finally over Dean isn’t sure he can even move.
“Dean?”
“Yeah?” Dean manages to roll over onto his back, something he hasn’t been able to do since this started, and looks up at Sam.
Sam’s pants are back up around his waist, his cock tucked in, his hands on his hips. “I mean it. No more fucking strangers.”
Dean nods wearily. “Yes, sir.” He makes a half hearted attempt at a salute, but gives up before his hand gets above his shoulder.
“You okay?”
Deans eyes close. “I’m good.”
“We should get you inside, clean up.”
“I don’t know if I can even move, Sammy.”
“Suit yourself. You should at least get your pants pulled up. I’m going to shower.”
Dean listens as he walks away, sure he’ll come back when Dean isn’t right behind him. The door to the cabin opened, closed. Dean opened one eye. “Sam?”
No answer. Dean groans and looks up at the sky. The clouds are parting, a few stars peeking through. “No more strangers.” Dean says to the sky. “And no wings. No horns, no weird piercings or tattoos. None of that. My word to God.”
Thunder rumbles and Dean jumps. “Okay. Lesson learned.” He climbs to his feet and moves toward the house, holding his pants up with one hand. His balance is off without the extra weight and he stumbles more than once before he finds his way into the bathroom where Sam is filling the room with steam.
Dean shivers, and slips into the small shower space behind his brother. The hot water feels good, washing the mud from his skin as Sam turns to face him. “I don’t think I’ll be able to get it up for a week.” Dean whispers, resting his head on Sam’s shoulder.
Sam’s hand closes over Dean’s chin and tilts his face up to meet Sam’s eyes. Dean isn’t sure what that look is, but it makes him shiver again. “One month, Dean. One whole month. No fucking, no masterbating. Nothing.”
Dean tries grinning, but the look on Sam’s face is serious. Deadly serious. “You need to learn how to control yourself. Or you are going to be the death of me.”
“Sam…I—“
Sam shakes his head. “Mine Dean.” He kisses him, deep, hot, his lips soft. “From here on out, you don’t get to touch it unless I tell you to…and neither does anyone else.”
Sam’s hand closes over his limp cock and squeezes, then with the tiniest kiss, Sam leave the shower, leaves Dean standing there, considering his words…and damn, but Dean’s hard all over again…
Title: A Hard Fall
Characters/Pairing: Dean/Sam, mention of Dean/OMC
Rating: NC-17, with a side of blasphemy
Word Count: 2336
Summary: Okay...so Dean de-virginized an Angel in One Way to Fall, and was punished with wings. Sammy found out in Keep Falling...now, a week has passed and Dean has found that a part of the punishment is a weakness for the sin which caused the Angel's fall...well, weakness might be too mild a word...compulsion might be closer to the truth...
Warnings and A/N: A plot bunny bit me on my way to breakfast the other.. This is the result of that bite. The bunny whispered in my ear the words Angel!porn, Drunk!Dean, Wing!kink...and...well....
Oh...and check This out.
poutpout made a manip of Dean with big, beautiful black wings!The rain is warm and comforting. Dean stands outside the tiny cabin where he and Sam had come to hide and wait. His arms hang loosely at his side, his bare torso open to the caress of the water. Out here he can let them, wings, fucking wings, out, stretch, expand, but only at night when no one would see.
He lets them go, ruffling the dark feathers as the rain slicks over them. His shoulders itch, the muscles twitching for something he doesn’t know how to give them. It has been a week. A week since he’d stumbled drunk and horny out of a bar and let himself be seduced by a pretty face. A week since a quick fuck had turned into wings, fucking wings.
Sam is in the cabin watching. Sam is always watching these days. He doesn’t sleep. He barely eats. He watches. He touches. He begs. It would make Dean smile if it weren’t so seriously fucked up.
Dean’s bare feet grip the grass beneath them, as if he needs to hold on to something to keep from flying away. The Impala points down the road, impatient, ready to be moving again. He’s tired, and while he’s starting to get used to them, he wants his life back. He wants to be able to be in the same room as his brother without it dissolving into scorching sex, or begging for sex, or conversations about sex.
All the research indicates that it is just a matter of waiting, that nothing can be done. The side affects of the phenomenon included the ability to sense sin, which isn’t as amusing as it might sound, the whole tasting like sweets thing that was driving Sam crazy and because the sin that took Michael’s wings had been sex, they had come with a sex drive that simply didn’t stop, and seemed to affect anyone he was with. They’d nearly fucked each other raw in the first 24 hours.
He feels a hand on his back, in the space between the wings, cool skin against wet. Dean’s eyes close. The touch shoots straight through him and Dean is suddenly hard. Not that that takes much these days. He isn’t really sure who the damn wings affect more, him or Sam.
Sam groans behind him and Dean turns his head. “Sam.” It’s just his name, but it lays out there, heavy with expectation. The hand is replaced by Sam’s lips, by his face nestled into the valley between Dean’s wings and he groans against Dean’s wet skin. Deans jeans are slung low on his hips, the damp weight of them dragging against his groin.
Sam’s arms circle Dean’s waist, his lips dragging over the skin all around the place where those decidedly torturous wings rose out of his flesh. They don’t hurt…exactly…Sam’s nails drag over Dean’s stomach and Dean hisses.
“Dean.” Sam whispers it, his lips near Dean’s ear, then sliding down to close over his shoulder. “Dean.” It has become Sam’s litany these last few days. Dean and please and fuck me…and Dean can’t refuse the prayer like way he says it…can never refuse.
He folds the wings so he can bring his brother around in front of him, hold his face in his hands and capture that praying mouth with his own. He walks them toward the car, his mouth on Sam’s, his tongue painting Sam’s lips and tongue and teeth.
“Sam.” His name is less supplication and more demand, Dean’s hands pulling at Sam’s jeans, the wet denim fighting back as Sam tries to help and Dean slaps his hands away. “Fuck.” Because he’s nearly coming in his jeans at the very idea, and Sam’s eyes are glowing with lust. The wings ruffle and extend, even as Dean finally gets Sam’s jeans open and his cock falls into Dean’s hands, already hard, and Sam mewls when he touches him.
“Dean…please Dean.” Sam’s voice is barely audible over the sound of the rain, but it burns Dean’s skin, burns through the last conscious thought and Dean’s kiss is urgent, teeth and tongue and lips, pressing against Sam until Sam’s body was against the car.
His cock is slick with the rain, and Dean’s mouth closed over it eagerly, licking at the water, at the pre-come that oozed. Sam’s body arches off the Impala, his hands reaching for Dean’s head, then letting go, and reaching again. Dean lifts the wings, not so much sheltering them from the rain as stretching them out where Sam could see them. Sam surged upward, his cock thrusting deep into the hot cavern of Dean’s mouth. “Dean…please Dean…fuck…Dean…want you…fuck…”
Sam’s head tosses against the hood of the Impala, his hair sticking to his face. “Sam…god Sam…” Dean pulls his lips free, away from the beauty of his brother’s cock hard and weeping for him. “Turn over…god Sam, just turn over…I need to…”
Somehow his words connect and Sam does turn, pushing his wet jeans down over the curve of his ass, pressing himself against the Impala, his head turned so that he can see Dean freeing his cock from the denim that had restrained it, approaching Sam with lust in his eyes, and in every tense line of his body.
Dean is too hard and too far gone with desire to be careful, to go slow. They’ve done this enough in the last few days that Sam is open for him, and he still hisses as Dean sinks into him, though whether that is from pleasure or pain, Dean isn’t sure. At this point the two are nearly the same anyway, for both of them. “Dean…god…fuck…Dean.” From prayer to damnation on that boy’s lips and Dean’s shaking with need, desire as he pushes into him.
Sam arches up into him as lightening splits the sky, painting the Impala’s windshield with a portrait of Dean over Sam, wings spread to the sky. Dean’s breath stutters along with his rhythm because he can suddenly see what Sam sees when he looks at him, and its all he can take, pulling Sam down onto him with a force that will leave bruises, more bruises, and he’s coming, whispering obscene words in Sam’s ear, words that bring Sam right to the brink of coming himself.
“Look at us.” Dean says, pulling Sam up to him, off the car and circling those long, black wings around them both. The end feathers caress Sam’s dick and he yells out, his body thrusting forward and back, and his come spilling out of him onto the ground.
“Fuck, Dean.” Sam mutters, holding his brother’s arms around him. “Just…Fuck. Give me…a minute…need a minute.”
Dean pulls him closer, his dick still inside him, semi-hard and over sensitive and he just knows that it wouldn’t take much to bring it back to life. Sam groans, his fingers stroking over feathers and bone, up over the top ridge of his wings, where they’re the most tender. “Sam…god, stop.”
Sam freezes for a moment, his ass clenching around Dean. “Does it hurt?”
Dean presses his head to Sam’s back. “No…not…like that…too much.”
He can almost feel Sam’s smirk as his fingers go back to caressing them. “Sam…Sammy…” It’s Dean’s turn to beg, his eyes rolling shut as Sam’s nimble fingers pet, fucking pet, him and damn but Dean’s getting hard again. At this rate his dick just might fall off before the damn wings do…”Sam…stop…please…”
But Sam’s fingers don’t stop moving…don’t stop playing over the strange muscles, over the soft, and dripping wings…and fuck, Dean can’t stop the way his hands are squeezing on Sam’s hips, the way his body wants to thrust into him more…His whole body tightens as the rain falls harder and lightening throws shadows, obscene and beautiful, against the cabin, and car and the canopy of trees.
Sam is grunting as Dean’s body presses him forward again, against the cold metal of the bar, and he holds on to the wings, too tight…too much…Dean’s lost conscious thought, lost in wild rutting with no rhythm, no finesse…His entire body burns hot enough the rain should sizzle as it washes down his back.
Sam’s voice reaches him, a stream of Dean and fuck and god yes and Dean knows he’s leaving bruises on his skin, hips and shoulders and anywhere else he can reach.
The lightening strikes closer, thunder booming, shaking the car under them, and Dean wonders for a moment if they haven’t finally crossed some line, lost their souls in this frenzied lust and the lightening had come to end it. Sam yanked on his wings, drawing a scream out of Dean’s throat. His hand came away filled with feathers and Dean pulled the wings away. “Fuck that hurt.”
He pressed into his brother harder, and Sam arched into him until another strike hit nearby and a tree groaned. The thunder rumbled, knocking them off balance, pulling them apart. Before Dean fully recovered, Sam was grabbing him, pushing him to his knees in the mud, surging forward to bury his cock in Dean’s ass. Frantic, Sam’s hands petted down Dean’s back, over the just of wings, over feathers. Dean arched up and Sam grabbed both wings, pulling them back toward him until Dean hissed. “So fucking hot.” Sam says.
“Fuck!” is the only response Dean has. He’s panting, lost, his hand yanking now on his cold, but still hard cock and he wants to come. Wants desperately to come. “Sam.”
Dean’s head is hanging almost to the ground but he feels the lightening as it strikes another tree not far from where they are fucking on the ground like animals. It sends a shock through him, shivers that make Sam moan and double his pace. His pull on the wings is incredible and Dean screams as uses them to fuck him deeper.
He knows they need to get out of this storm before the lightening finds them, but he can’t stop this…”Sam….god, Sam…”
Suddenly Sam releases him and leans over him, his lips near Dean’s ears. “If we ever get free of this Dean, no one else ever gets to use you again. No one but me Dean.” Sam’s teeth nip at his ear, at his neck. “From now on, you fucking belong to me.” Sam bit down then, and the combination has Dean coming, his cock untouched and spewing into the mud. Dean can feel blood oozing from the wound as Sam lets go to focus on the two strokes it takes to fill Dean with his come.
As he pulls out, Dean falls forward, all strength gone, his body limp in the mud. The rain seems to shift, soften. “Dean?” Sam’s voice has lost some of its edge. Dean tries to fold the wings back so he can get up without tearing them, but they aren’t responding.
“Sam?”
“Just hold still. I think…” Sam’s hand touches him, on his shoulder, near the right wing. “I think…you’re…molting.”
Sam touches the wing and Dean seizes up. He comes away with a handful of feathers. “This is it.” Dean says through clenched teeth “Don’t touch…fuck that hurts.”
He had thought the pain of getting the wings would kill him, but this was something else entirely. Dean falls forward again as he sheds feathers and skin, blood…all of it washing away from his skin in the rain. It seems to go on forever, and when it’s finally over Dean isn’t sure he can even move.
“Dean?”
“Yeah?” Dean manages to roll over onto his back, something he hasn’t been able to do since this started, and looks up at Sam.
Sam’s pants are back up around his waist, his cock tucked in, his hands on his hips. “I mean it. No more fucking strangers.”
Dean nods wearily. “Yes, sir.” He makes a half hearted attempt at a salute, but gives up before his hand gets above his shoulder.
“You okay?”
Deans eyes close. “I’m good.”
“We should get you inside, clean up.”
“I don’t know if I can even move, Sammy.”
“Suit yourself. You should at least get your pants pulled up. I’m going to shower.”
Dean listens as he walks away, sure he’ll come back when Dean isn’t right behind him. The door to the cabin opened, closed. Dean opened one eye. “Sam?”
No answer. Dean groans and looks up at the sky. The clouds are parting, a few stars peeking through. “No more strangers.” Dean says to the sky. “And no wings. No horns, no weird piercings or tattoos. None of that. My word to God.”
Thunder rumbles and Dean jumps. “Okay. Lesson learned.” He climbs to his feet and moves toward the house, holding his pants up with one hand. His balance is off without the extra weight and he stumbles more than once before he finds his way into the bathroom where Sam is filling the room with steam.
Dean shivers, and slips into the small shower space behind his brother. The hot water feels good, washing the mud from his skin as Sam turns to face him. “I don’t think I’ll be able to get it up for a week.” Dean whispers, resting his head on Sam’s shoulder.
Sam’s hand closes over Dean’s chin and tilts his face up to meet Sam’s eyes. Dean isn’t sure what that look is, but it makes him shiver again. “One month, Dean. One whole month. No fucking, no masterbating. Nothing.”
Dean tries grinning, but the look on Sam’s face is serious. Deadly serious. “You need to learn how to control yourself. Or you are going to be the death of me.”
“Sam…I—“
Sam shakes his head. “Mine Dean.” He kisses him, deep, hot, his lips soft. “From here on out, you don’t get to touch it unless I tell you to…and neither does anyone else.”
Sam’s hand closes over his limp cock and squeezes, then with the tiniest kiss, Sam leave the shower, leaves Dean standing there, considering his words…and damn, but Dean’s hard all over again…
