Possession, Supernatural, NC-17
Dec. 14th, 2006 08:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
phantismaFandom: Supernatural
Title: Possession
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1666
Summary: This is largely an excuse for porn…Sam’s tired of waiting for Dean. For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lunardreamed who asked for: SPN. Sam/Dean. NC-17. Panic. “At six feet tall plus attitude and the ability to back it up, Dean rarely felt small, but with Sam - when he stalked towards him, loomed over him, charged him, literally picked him up and slammed him into a wall - he was reminded that he wasn't the big brother any more.”
A/Ns: Happy Holidays, my dear...I hope it's what you were looking for...Um...let's see...wincest...dubious consent, kinda...public sex, claiming....other fun boy sex stuff....
Dean was not a small man, not by anybody’s definition. At 6 foot tall with an attitude that dwarfed most of the men he encountered, and the skills to stand behind it, there wasn’t much that could make him feel small.
Yet, all it took was Sam…that look on his face, the way he held himself as he stalked across the room, the way everything else in the room faded to nothing…he loomed over Dean, loomed and glared and when his hands fisted in Dean’s jacket and lifted him inches from the floor, he slammed Dean against the wall and Dean knew he wasn’t the big brother, not tonight.
Sam growled his name and shook the water from his hair. The rain had kept the bar fairly empty…and when one of the locals said something about them getting a room, Sam only had to look at him to shut him up.
“Sam?” Dean asked, feeling a little uncomfortable dangling off the floor.
“Shut up.” Sam said and pushed him against the fake wood paneling. “I’ve been waiting.” His voice was a growl, scraping across Dean’s face as he leaned in close. “Fucking waiting.”
His kiss was bruising, his lips hard with teeth and he split Dean’s lips with his tongue, pressing his head back to the wall. Dean was a little confused, a little lost as to the reasons for this display. When he’d left Sam he’d been sleeping off a hangover. “Sam? We’re in public.”
Sam let him slide down the wall, but pinned him with a knee between Dean’s thighs. “I don’t care.”
“Dude, you okay?”
Sam’s eyes flashed green fire and his thumb traced Dean’s lips almost painfully. “I want to fuck you.”
Dean tried to laugh it off. “What? Here, on the pool table maybe?”
“Right here, against the wall.” Sam answered, his knee grinding up into Dean’s cock.
He was starting to be afraid. Sam was definitely not himself. “Sam…let’s go back to the motel…you can fuck me six ways to Sunday.”
Sam’s big hands pushed him into the wall again. “Don’t want to go anywhere.” One hand cupped Dean’s groin and Sam’s smile was vicious. “Neither do you.” He traced the length of Dean’s rapidly hardening cock. He leaned in closer, his voice sharp like razors. “Gonna fuck you right here Dean…”
Dean shook his head and tried to push Sam away. “No. Sam. Enough.” Sam grabbed his hands and pushed them up over his head, pushing them against the paneling and holding them while he kissed Dean again. “What the fuck, Sam?”
Seriously, what the hell was wrong with him? Maybe it wasn’t Sam. Maybe it was, but he was possessed. Maybe…hell, his hands knew what they were doing though. He was rocking against Sam’s hand, his cock didn’t seem to care that three local guys were staring at them from the bar.
“Gonna make you beg me to come…gonna make you scream my name.” Sam said, all hard and needy as the words crawled into Dean’s head and Dean couldn’t think past Yes and now
There was the sound of a throat clearing and Sam pushed Dean into the way. “Stay.” Like he was what? A dog? Dean shifted his feet and tried to breathe, to think. He needed to figure out what was wrong with Sam…quickly, before he did something they’d regret later.
Sam stalked to the bar, leaned in among the locals and then he was stalking back across the bar. Dean had a moment to register panic at the look in his brother’s eyes, at the strength of his arms as he stripped off his coat and dropped it, leaving the black wifebeater over black jeans and damn but he was hot…and apparently insane…or possessed.
There was no more foreplay, Sam went straight for Dean’s dick, pulling it out without regard to whether or not anyone else was in the room anymore. Dean couldn’t help the way it responded…though it confused him. This whole thing was confusing, because Sam was always the quiet one, the reluctant one…except that now, Sam was stroking his cock in the middle of a bar and Dean was hyperventilating.
“Sam?” Dean braced himself on Sam’s shoulder, half holding on as Sam fondled him, half pushing Sam away.
Sam’s eyes flicked to his, and Dean knew this wasn’t possession…not in the traditional sense anyway. “I’m done waiting for you Dean.”
Then Dean’s face was pressed into the wood paneling and cool air caressed his ass as Sam yanked his jeans down. Dean could hear Sam’s own zipper, feel his hands moving across the bare skin…and he jumped as Sam’s finger filled him, finding his prostate in one and pressing into it until Dean was gulping air trying to keep from coming on the spot.
“Sam…Sammy…please…”
The finger was gone and Sam’s hands were on his ass, pulling his cheeks apart and the touch of Sam’s cock was electrifying. Sam wasn’t gentle as he pushed into Dean, pressing Dean against the wall. “Mine,” he growled as he filled him and Dean could only gasp in response. “Do you hear me Dean?”
Sam pulled out and slammed back in, his hands migrating now to Dean’s hips, pulling them up and back so that Dean was standing on his tip toes and leaning into the wall, held up mostly by the position of Sam’s body as he fucked him. “Mine, Dean…I’m through waiting.”
On some level Sam’s words were registering and fuck if they didn’t make his cock twitch…Dean couldn’t respond, could only try to hold on…try to follow the pace as Sam slammed him, he wasn’t even trying to understand it…just survive, just hold on…Sam’s hand closed around Dean’s dick and Dean made some guttural sound he couldn’t have made any other time…His hand slammed the wall and Sam took that as some signal, changing up his rhythm and angle and pressing against Dean’s prostrate as he pulled dry and hard down his dick.
“God…please…Sam…please…” He wasn’t sure what he was begging for…only that he’d give anything for more…say anything to get more…of the pleasure/pain/pleasure.
“Mine.” Sam snarled in response. His free hand, the one not currently short circuiting every thought in Dean’s head with the way it was mauling his cock, slid through Dean’s short hair, grabbing just enough to pull Dean’s head back so he could look him in the eye. “Tell me, Dean.”
Dean nodded as much as he could. Sam’s face was a mask of lust and anger and his eyes were dark. “Anything, Sam.”
Sam shook his head. “No Dean.” He pushed into Dean hard, lifting him off his feet. “Mine.”
Dean shivered. He was seldom helpless…but at that moment… ”Fuck…Sam…yeah…okay…”
“Say it.”
Dean’s eyes rolled back as Sam rotated his hips with his cock buried inside him. His whole body thrummed with need, with desire, with please. “Yes, Sam…yours…I’m…yours…just…please…please…need it…”
Sam’s hand and face suddenly gentled and he leaned into Dean for a sloppy, wet kiss. “I know what you need, baby,” he whispered, and then there were no more words…just their bodies crashing into one another, into the wall and Dean could only moan and bite his lip to keep from screaming out.
Sam’s hand stroked in expert counterpoint to the thrusts of his cock, fast, furiously hard and Dean was half aware he was babbling an endless stream of please, more, harder, Sam, Sam, Sam…until all that was left was his brother’s name, on eternal repeat in his brain, in his ass, in his dick…pouring out of his mouth at ever growing volumes, until Sam’s hand twisted around him and started filling Dean with his come.
Dean screamed it then, just as Sam had said he would, as he painted the wall with his own orgasm. Then Sam was gone, leaving Dean empty and aching and oozing. There was the sound of a zipper and Dean wasn’t even coherent enough to begin pulling his pants up.
Sam’s hand slid up over Dean’s back, all gentle and tender. “I’m going back to the motel. Pull yourself together. Don’t keep me waiting.” A soft kiss on his cheek, and Sam was gone…and if not for the soreness and the come oozing out of him…and the jeans pooled at his feet, Dean could almost imagine it hadn’t happened.
But, the bruises on his wrists, on his hips…the burn in his muscles as he bent down to retrieve his pants…told them it had…told him that his baby brother had just fucked him in a bar in the middle of nowhere…fucked him hard and deep…and he was fairly certain that Sam hadn’t been possessed, but there was no doubt that he had taken possession of Dean, right there in front of total strangers.
Dean got himself dressed and took a deep breath. He turned slowly. The three locals were gone and there was only the bartender, and he was studiously washing glasses. Dean’s face flushed as he dropped a twenty on the bar to cover his tab and tip and then he stumbled out into the night, into the rain.
He stood outside the door, in the rain, reliving the scene in his head, trying to find a reason, a cause…but all he found was that look on his brother’s face, that dark growl in his voice…the feeling of his hands and cock and voice claiming him.
He opened the door slowly. Sam looked up from the laptop, his expression almost innocent. Dean let himself in and closed the door. Sam tossed a towel at his head and Dean felt himself relax. Maybe Sam was done now, got it out of his system…and he wasn’t sure if that was…good or…if Dean wanted more.
He wiped his face and hair and when he pulled the towel away, Sam was suddenly in his face, his hand cupped to Dean’s groin. “Mine.” Sam whispered.
Dean swallowed and nodded. “Yours.” Because, really, he always had been Sam’s for the taking…he never even had to ask.
Title: Possession
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1666
Summary: This is largely an excuse for porn…Sam’s tired of waiting for Dean. For
lunardreamed who asked for: SPN. Sam/Dean. NC-17. Panic. “At six feet tall plus attitude and the ability to back it up, Dean rarely felt small, but with Sam - when he stalked towards him, loomed over him, charged him, literally picked him up and slammed him into a wall - he was reminded that he wasn't the big brother any more.”A/Ns: Happy Holidays, my dear...I hope it's what you were looking for...Um...let's see...wincest...dubious consent, kinda...public sex, claiming....other fun boy sex stuff....
Dean was not a small man, not by anybody’s definition. At 6 foot tall with an attitude that dwarfed most of the men he encountered, and the skills to stand behind it, there wasn’t much that could make him feel small.
Yet, all it took was Sam…that look on his face, the way he held himself as he stalked across the room, the way everything else in the room faded to nothing…he loomed over Dean, loomed and glared and when his hands fisted in Dean’s jacket and lifted him inches from the floor, he slammed Dean against the wall and Dean knew he wasn’t the big brother, not tonight.
Sam growled his name and shook the water from his hair. The rain had kept the bar fairly empty…and when one of the locals said something about them getting a room, Sam only had to look at him to shut him up.
“Sam?” Dean asked, feeling a little uncomfortable dangling off the floor.
“Shut up.” Sam said and pushed him against the fake wood paneling. “I’ve been waiting.” His voice was a growl, scraping across Dean’s face as he leaned in close. “Fucking waiting.”
His kiss was bruising, his lips hard with teeth and he split Dean’s lips with his tongue, pressing his head back to the wall. Dean was a little confused, a little lost as to the reasons for this display. When he’d left Sam he’d been sleeping off a hangover. “Sam? We’re in public.”
Sam let him slide down the wall, but pinned him with a knee between Dean’s thighs. “I don’t care.”
“Dude, you okay?”
Sam’s eyes flashed green fire and his thumb traced Dean’s lips almost painfully. “I want to fuck you.”
Dean tried to laugh it off. “What? Here, on the pool table maybe?”
“Right here, against the wall.” Sam answered, his knee grinding up into Dean’s cock.
He was starting to be afraid. Sam was definitely not himself. “Sam…let’s go back to the motel…you can fuck me six ways to Sunday.”
Sam’s big hands pushed him into the wall again. “Don’t want to go anywhere.” One hand cupped Dean’s groin and Sam’s smile was vicious. “Neither do you.” He traced the length of Dean’s rapidly hardening cock. He leaned in closer, his voice sharp like razors. “Gonna fuck you right here Dean…”
Dean shook his head and tried to push Sam away. “No. Sam. Enough.” Sam grabbed his hands and pushed them up over his head, pushing them against the paneling and holding them while he kissed Dean again. “What the fuck, Sam?”
Seriously, what the hell was wrong with him? Maybe it wasn’t Sam. Maybe it was, but he was possessed. Maybe…hell, his hands knew what they were doing though. He was rocking against Sam’s hand, his cock didn’t seem to care that three local guys were staring at them from the bar.
“Gonna make you beg me to come…gonna make you scream my name.” Sam said, all hard and needy as the words crawled into Dean’s head and Dean couldn’t think past Yes and now
There was the sound of a throat clearing and Sam pushed Dean into the way. “Stay.” Like he was what? A dog? Dean shifted his feet and tried to breathe, to think. He needed to figure out what was wrong with Sam…quickly, before he did something they’d regret later.
Sam stalked to the bar, leaned in among the locals and then he was stalking back across the bar. Dean had a moment to register panic at the look in his brother’s eyes, at the strength of his arms as he stripped off his coat and dropped it, leaving the black wifebeater over black jeans and damn but he was hot…and apparently insane…or possessed.
There was no more foreplay, Sam went straight for Dean’s dick, pulling it out without regard to whether or not anyone else was in the room anymore. Dean couldn’t help the way it responded…though it confused him. This whole thing was confusing, because Sam was always the quiet one, the reluctant one…except that now, Sam was stroking his cock in the middle of a bar and Dean was hyperventilating.
“Sam?” Dean braced himself on Sam’s shoulder, half holding on as Sam fondled him, half pushing Sam away.
Sam’s eyes flicked to his, and Dean knew this wasn’t possession…not in the traditional sense anyway. “I’m done waiting for you Dean.”
Then Dean’s face was pressed into the wood paneling and cool air caressed his ass as Sam yanked his jeans down. Dean could hear Sam’s own zipper, feel his hands moving across the bare skin…and he jumped as Sam’s finger filled him, finding his prostate in one and pressing into it until Dean was gulping air trying to keep from coming on the spot.
“Sam…Sammy…please…”
The finger was gone and Sam’s hands were on his ass, pulling his cheeks apart and the touch of Sam’s cock was electrifying. Sam wasn’t gentle as he pushed into Dean, pressing Dean against the wall. “Mine,” he growled as he filled him and Dean could only gasp in response. “Do you hear me Dean?”
Sam pulled out and slammed back in, his hands migrating now to Dean’s hips, pulling them up and back so that Dean was standing on his tip toes and leaning into the wall, held up mostly by the position of Sam’s body as he fucked him. “Mine, Dean…I’m through waiting.”
On some level Sam’s words were registering and fuck if they didn’t make his cock twitch…Dean couldn’t respond, could only try to hold on…try to follow the pace as Sam slammed him, he wasn’t even trying to understand it…just survive, just hold on…Sam’s hand closed around Dean’s dick and Dean made some guttural sound he couldn’t have made any other time…His hand slammed the wall and Sam took that as some signal, changing up his rhythm and angle and pressing against Dean’s prostrate as he pulled dry and hard down his dick.
“God…please…Sam…please…” He wasn’t sure what he was begging for…only that he’d give anything for more…say anything to get more…of the pleasure/pain/pleasure.
“Mine.” Sam snarled in response. His free hand, the one not currently short circuiting every thought in Dean’s head with the way it was mauling his cock, slid through Dean’s short hair, grabbing just enough to pull Dean’s head back so he could look him in the eye. “Tell me, Dean.”
Dean nodded as much as he could. Sam’s face was a mask of lust and anger and his eyes were dark. “Anything, Sam.”
Sam shook his head. “No Dean.” He pushed into Dean hard, lifting him off his feet. “Mine.”
Dean shivered. He was seldom helpless…but at that moment… ”Fuck…Sam…yeah…okay…”
“Say it.”
Dean’s eyes rolled back as Sam rotated his hips with his cock buried inside him. His whole body thrummed with need, with desire, with please. “Yes, Sam…yours…I’m…yours…just…please…please…need it…”
Sam’s hand and face suddenly gentled and he leaned into Dean for a sloppy, wet kiss. “I know what you need, baby,” he whispered, and then there were no more words…just their bodies crashing into one another, into the wall and Dean could only moan and bite his lip to keep from screaming out.
Sam’s hand stroked in expert counterpoint to the thrusts of his cock, fast, furiously hard and Dean was half aware he was babbling an endless stream of please, more, harder, Sam, Sam, Sam…until all that was left was his brother’s name, on eternal repeat in his brain, in his ass, in his dick…pouring out of his mouth at ever growing volumes, until Sam’s hand twisted around him and started filling Dean with his come.
Dean screamed it then, just as Sam had said he would, as he painted the wall with his own orgasm. Then Sam was gone, leaving Dean empty and aching and oozing. There was the sound of a zipper and Dean wasn’t even coherent enough to begin pulling his pants up.
Sam’s hand slid up over Dean’s back, all gentle and tender. “I’m going back to the motel. Pull yourself together. Don’t keep me waiting.” A soft kiss on his cheek, and Sam was gone…and if not for the soreness and the come oozing out of him…and the jeans pooled at his feet, Dean could almost imagine it hadn’t happened.
But, the bruises on his wrists, on his hips…the burn in his muscles as he bent down to retrieve his pants…told them it had…told him that his baby brother had just fucked him in a bar in the middle of nowhere…fucked him hard and deep…and he was fairly certain that Sam hadn’t been possessed, but there was no doubt that he had taken possession of Dean, right there in front of total strangers.
Dean got himself dressed and took a deep breath. He turned slowly. The three locals were gone and there was only the bartender, and he was studiously washing glasses. Dean’s face flushed as he dropped a twenty on the bar to cover his tab and tip and then he stumbled out into the night, into the rain.
He stood outside the door, in the rain, reliving the scene in his head, trying to find a reason, a cause…but all he found was that look on his brother’s face, that dark growl in his voice…the feeling of his hands and cock and voice claiming him.
He opened the door slowly. Sam looked up from the laptop, his expression almost innocent. Dean let himself in and closed the door. Sam tossed a towel at his head and Dean felt himself relax. Maybe Sam was done now, got it out of his system…and he wasn’t sure if that was…good or…if Dean wanted more.
He wiped his face and hair and when he pulled the towel away, Sam was suddenly in his face, his hand cupped to Dean’s groin. “Mine.” Sam whispered.
Dean swallowed and nodded. “Yours.” Because, really, he always had been Sam’s for the taking…he never even had to ask.
