phantisma: (Winchesters)
[personal profile] phantisma
Fandom: Supernatural
Title: Its' the Way You Smell
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Summary: For [livejournal.com profile] plutogirl10 On the occassion of her birthday! Its Sam and Dean and leather...Yes, my darling Porn Buddy...I wrote you leather!porn.

Warnings: Incest...of course...possible abuse of leather pants. This is just porn, people...for the sake of porn....



Black leather. Clean. Supple. He would never have asked…would never have expected…this…but now he can’t take his eyes off. “Dean,” he breathes it, scarcely audible in the stale motel room air.

Dean looks back, over his shoulder, half-lidded eyes touching him, igniting…and Sam is on his knees before he turns back, before he can take the step that would let him reach his shirt.

Sam’s hand drags down from his hip, over the clinging pants, still open at the zipper. He groans as his fingertips press into Dean’s ass, pulling the leather tighter still. “Fuck.” He whispers it, feels himself harden in his boxers and he wants…to touch…to taste…Hands down leather encased legs, caressing, pulling.

Dean’s hand is on his head as Sam looks up, and Sam’s head swims with the smell of Dean and soap and leather. “Want to taste you.” Sam says just before his tongue sweeps out, over a knee, following a crease up until it disappears in the tightness of the leather across a thigh.

Sam rises up on his knees, his hands ghosting over hips and around again to Dean’s ass. He kneads against the leather and skin, feeling Dean rock back with the motion. And it isn’t enough. Sam’s mouth opens, sucking on the leather that covers Dean’s hip, kissing around behind.

Dean moans as he reaches the crease of his ass, clearly outlined and Sam lowers his head, puts his face under and licks slowly up that crease to the waistband. His hand is under and between and pressing against Dean’s cock, caressing and bringing it up hard and hot in it’s casing.

“Sam…” Its half groan, half growl…desire dripping and Sam hasn’t even gotten started yet. His hands glide down the inside of Dean’s thighs then up again with just the fingertips, claws dragging up until they’re gripped between thighs, grabbing, pushing those thighs a little further apart.

Dean sways a little on his feet, his breathing different now and Sam knows if he looks Dean’s face will be lost in a haze of lust. He licks again. This time down the crease, and under, mouthing against the hard bundle that is Dean’s balls. “Fuck.” And their words are gone to whispers and groans, barely articulate, though there isn’t any doubt to the meaning…

That hitch of breath is more. That whimper is please. Sam slides through…through Dean’s legs and sits, his face level with the hard line of cock under black beautiful leather. The smell is stronger here….leather and musk and need…and Sam’s whimpers bubble up and out as he licks at it…at the leather separating him from his brother…little licks that slowly travel the length until Dean is swaying and begging with that sound…that need it now sound he never admits to…

His fingers hitch at the waist of the pants, ready now to push them out of the way to get Sam’s mouth on him, but Sam’s hands and growl stop him. “Leave them.”

And Sam’s hands hold his away, unable to do more than stand as Sam’s lips pull on the leather…one side of the zipper…and his lips touch Dean’s cock and Dean surges…a little more and Sam’s tongue presses in, wraps…fucking wraps around him and slowly tugs him out into the air.

Sam drags Dean’s hands behind his own back, pinning them against his leather clad ass as Sam’s tongue slides over him, around the tender spot near the head…over the tip and without warning Sam engulfs him in heat and Dean bucks forward, unable to stop himself. Sam works his throat in response, swallowing and humming with Dean’s cock as deep in his mouth as it can go.

“Fuck.” Dean whispers again, pulling at Sam’s hands, trying to free one so he can touch…but Sam is firm, tight and fucking sucking so hard Dean sees stars. There’s no warning, nothing but the stutter thrust and Dean’s yell and Sam’s smile as he backs up enough to catch the come on his tongue. He swallows and gently licks and mouths Dean until he has to beg him to stop.

Slowly, they move away from one another. Sam gets up from the floor. Dean tucks himself into the pants and the sound of the zipper seems loud in the small room. “Leather?” Dean asks, turning.

Sam blushes and looks away. “Dude…why do you think I always want to do it in the Impala? It’s…the way you smell in leather…”
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