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beansideFic: Make a Scene
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Summary: For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
spn_halloweenprompt #125: Dean steals candy from a trick or treater, but it winds up being drugged and he gets horny for Sam. (Sucky title from the awesome "This is Halloween, by Danny Elfman for the Nightmare before Christmas.
Disclaimer: I don't own them, no profit is made. Purely for fun.
Sam glanced up from the new laptop, giving Dean an easy grin. “Hey. What’d you snag for dinner?”
“I hit the Royal Farm for chicken and steak fries.” Dean sat the plastic bag on the desk, and Sam’s stomach snarled at the heavenly smell. “Yeah, I thought you’d approve. I got dessert, too.”
Sam stares at the cloth pillowcase that lands on the desk next to the chicken. “What’s that?”
“S’Halloween,” Dean reminds him.
‘You robbed a trick or treater?” Sam asked. “That’s a little much, even for you.”
“I didn’t rob him! And, dude, he was like sixteen! He was bullying the kids. I just scared the piss out of him, and he dropped the bag. Finders keepers, dude.”
“Why does this holiday always turn you into such a ten year old? Do I want to know how you scared him?”
With a little flourish, Dean unsheathed the machete that laid along his spine, and pulled a Michael Meyers mask out of the bag. “I improvised.”
“Jesus, Dean.” Sam rolled his eyes as his brother began rummaging through the pillowcase.
“Here,” Dean muttered, tossing a wrapped candy at him. “Eat that.”
“What?” Sam looked at the wrapper. “Sour apple? Ew, dude.”
“At least then you’d have a reason to make the damn bitchface. I got us free food-“
“Stolen candy,” Sam interjected.
“-and saved the local kids from a bully.”
“So that you could get the stolen candy,” Sam pointed out.
“Fine. If you’re going to get your panties in a twist, that just makes more for me!” Grinning, Dean pulled out a caramel apple. “So, you don’t want any?”
Sam shook his head. “Dean, you don’t eat apples from strangers! Jesus. Razor blades? Needles? Hello? Ring a bell?”
Dean’s switchblade opened with a soft click. “Have you always been such girl, or is this new?”
Rolling his eyes, Sam opened the chicken, somehow not all that shocked to find it half-empty. Focusing back on the laptop, he ignored Dean entirely. “Looks like Eastern Penitentiary in Philly is having some issues of late. We could head that way tomorrow, unless you’ve got more junior high students to mug.”
Dean’s answer, around a mouthful of caramel apple, was entertaining, if anatomically improbable.
Ignoring him, Sam went back to reading. “They’re saying that one of the resident ghosts tried to push a tour guide down a flight of stairs. Could be an angry spirit.”
Dean continued crunching on the apple, not bothering to reply.
“Of course, they’re doing a haunted tour, so it could just be someone being an asshole.” Sam waited a long minute for Dean to reply. “Are you even paying attention?”
“You’ve got a great voice, Sammy,” Dean purred. “Keep talking.”
“Whatever, asshole.” Sam shook his head, popping a fry in his mouth. “Turn the a/c on, would you? It’s hot in here. Jesus, I can feel my arteries hardening.”
Dean made a low, purring noise at the word ‘hardening,’ and Sam glanced back, eyes widening. “Dean…what happened to your clothes?” he asked carefully, ignoring the way Dean’s hands were stroking over his own skin, the way he was propped on the bed, in a very come hither pose. Most of all, he was ignoring the slow burn that ignited in the pit of his stomach at the sight. God, the air felt thick. Like he couldn’t suck in enough of it.
“Too hot,” Dean murmured, voice dropping to a husky moan of sound. “God you look good.”
“Dean, what the hell?”
His brother’s lean body arched against the pillows, golden skin suffused with a flush. “Please, Sammy,” he begged. “So hot, please. Touch me. Need you.”
Dean’s hand slid lower, and Sam couldn’t help but follow it with his eyes, watching as those fingers curled around his already hard cock.
“Dean! Snap out of it. What the fuck is wrong with you?” Panic made his voice go higher.
Dean didn’t bother to answer, just slid his fingers over his blood-darkened cock, stroking lightly.
Sam willed his cock to stop hardening. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t Dean, something was wrong—“Shit. The apple!” Must have been a spell of some sort. Dean must have triggered it. “I told you not to eat the damned thing—Jesus, what are you doing?”
With a faintly quizzical look, Dean slid his finger from his mouth, rolling onto his stomach, and sliding his hand back. He moaned as it slid over his entrance, teasing for a moment, then sinking deep.
Sam bit his lip staring at the floor. Jesus. This should not be hot. Dean was drugged for God’s sake. Also this was his brother. He was not looking. He wouldn’t look. He was getting out of here. Couldn’t handle this.
The door was stuck. Not locked, just stuck. And no amount of pulling and tugging was opening it.
“Oh, yeah,” Dean growled. “God, want your cock in me, Sammy. Want you to fuck me just like this; spit and a prayer.”
“Ohgod. Dean, this isn’t you. Come on, cut it out.” Sam hazarded a glance up, just in time to see Dean move towards him, all languid grace. “Dean. Stop.”
Dean paused for a moment, a startled look on his face. “Why?”
“It’s a spell. I’m your brother. You’re not into this,” Sam muttered, staring back at the floor, glad of the long shirt that would cover his reaction to Dean.
He heard the slither of the sheets, but before he could look up, he was pressed against the wall, the heat of Dean’s skin sinking through his clothes. “I’m not into this? But you are, Sammy?” Dean moaned. His hand slid down Sam’s stomach, green eyes dark with lust.
Sam bit his lip as Dean’s fingers ghosted over the zipper of his jeans.
With another broken moan, those fingers pressed harder, stroking along his length, and Sam let his head fall back, heat flooding his face. God, what was wrong with him? It was the spell, it had to be. No other option.
Dean’s lips brushed his throat. “You do want this,” he murmured. “God, Sammy. Wanted this for so long.” He slithered down Sam’s body, jerking the button of his jeans free, and tugging them down. His cock sprang free, hard and aching, tip shiny with moisture.
“Dean, I-“
Dean didn’t bother to wait, just bent his head, tongue darting out to taste.
Sam’s knees loosened, and he clutched at the table. “Jesus, Dean, you shouldn’t-“
Without warning, Dean pressed closer, and Sam watched his full lips open, sliding over Sam’s cock like they belonged there.
God, this was fucked up, Sam thought. But Dean’s mouth was sinking down on him, enveloping him in wet heat. Was he going to…ohfuck.
Dean’s throat worked around him, drawing him deeper, and Sam moaned low and desperate, fighting not to thrust. Dean pulled back a little, tongue swirling around the head. “C’mon, Sammy,” he growled. “You can do it. Fuck my mouth.”
“Dean,” Sam tried again. “I-you—God, what-“ His hand was seized in a strong grip and pulled up to Dean’s head.
“C’mon, Sam,” Dean purred, curling Sam’s fingers into his hair tightly. The tip of his tongue darted out, flicking at the little spot behind the head of Sam’s cock that made his vision white out.
Something in Sam gave with a nearly audible snap, and his grip on Dean’s head tightened. “You want this?”
The lazy, sensual smile was answer enough, and Sam shifted, pressing his cock against Dean’s lips.
God, Dean was good at this. Definitely not his first time sucking a cock. Sam started to move, thrusting lightly, and Dean moaned, his hand sliding down to his own hard cock, stroking in time with Sam’s thrusts.
“No,” Sam said sharply. “Not until I tell you to. Not coming until I’m buried in you.”
Dean moaned around Sam’s cock, looking up with his pupils blown, eyes wide and trusting.
Without conscious thought, Sam’s hips jerked, pressing into Dean’s mouth hard, feeling the fluttering resistance of his throat. Before he could pull back, it gave, and Dean’ slid down onto him, nose buried in the wiry nest of pubic hair.
Strong fingers curled around his hips, and Sam’ found himself pushed against the wall as Dean’s head moved on him, harder and faster than Sam would have taken him.
Sam’s head hit the wall with a thump as he let Dean take control, let him draw him into that incredible mouth. “God, yeah. So good, Dean,” he managed.
Dean didn’t slow down at all, sucking, swallowing him down. His voice, when he pulled back, was ragged; a hoarse moan that went straight to Sam’s balls.
It was too much, he was too close. “Dean, stop,” Sam barked, forcing his eyes open to look down at Dean’s bruised, swollen mouth. His cock was flushed dark, the head glistening.
“Sammy, please,” Dean moaned, fingers sliding over his hot skin, pinching at his nipples. His hips moved constantly, rocking against nothing, fucking the air as though it would help.
“On the bed,” Sam ordered.
Without waiting to see whether Dean would obey, Sam turned, digging in his bag for lotion.
“Don’t need that,” Dean murmured. His voice was shot, soft and rough. “I like to feel it. Spit’s enough.”
“Dean-“
His brother arched on the bed, body twisting sensually. “Please, Sam. Please. Feels like I’ll die if I don’t have you in me.”
How could he resist?
Before Sam could even think about it, he was on top of Dean, pressing him down. His fingers curled around Dean’s wrists, pinning them with ease.
Dean was writhing under him, trying to find the right position, trying to press down, to force Sam inside him.
“Shh. Hold still for a second. I’ve got you.”
Wild eyes met Sam’s for a moment, and Dean stilled. “Now,” he gasped. “Hard, c’mon, Sammy.”
A quick spit-slick later, and he was pressing into Dean none to gently, feeling the tight ring of muscle just…open for him. “Yeah,” Dean hissed, arching, taking him deeper.
“Oh god,” Sam gasped. “Jesus, so fucking tight.”
“Whatever, dude,” Dean managed. “C’mon. Gonna just lay there and think of England?”
Sam snorted, rocking his hips, finding a rhythm. It only took a moment for Dean to match it, head falling back, sinful lips parted. “Yeah, God. Mmm…Sam, so big, so hard in me. Yeah, c’mon, fuck me good and hard, wanna feel it.” His eyes darkened as Sam shivered over him. “Yeah, you want that, too.”
Sam settled in and gave Dean just what he was asking for, reveling in the desperate, needy sounds that seemed to hang in the room. The feeling of Dean’s sweaty, hot skin against his was almost too much, almost felt too sensitized.
A high, choked off keening noise slid from Dean’s mouth, his body tensing. Sam slammed into him again, and he felt the shudders wracking his brother, felt the cock riding in the dip of Sam’s belly twitch. Wet heat bloomed between their bodies, and Dean tightened around Sam.
“G-god,” Sam whimpered, driving into Dean, letting those muscles milk him, the orgasm hitting him hard, slamming the base of his spine like a freight train.
The air in the room suddenly loosened somehow, and Sam shivered in the cool wash of air.
“Fuck,” Dean muttered. “Jesus, get off me, Gigantor.”
Sam slid out, wincing at Dean’s sharp intake of breath. “Sorry.”
“S’okay.” Dean rolled his shoulders a little, stretching. “Well, that was fucked up.”
“Told you not to eat the apple, asshole. Come on, who gives apples out, unless they’re planning something?” Sam shook his head, rolling onto his back. “You’re just lucky it wasn’t something worse.”
“Shut up, Sammy. I’m the one who won’t be walking straight for a week, and you don’t hear me complaining.”
Sam stared at him for a second. “Dean-‘
“But for God’s sake, next time, we use lube, got it?”
Sam’s jaw fell open. “Next time?”
-End.
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Summary: For
spn_halloweenprompt #125: Dean steals candy from a trick or treater, but it winds up being drugged and he gets horny for Sam. (Sucky title from the awesome "This is Halloween, by Danny Elfman for the Nightmare before Christmas.Disclaimer: I don't own them, no profit is made. Purely for fun.
Sam glanced up from the new laptop, giving Dean an easy grin. “Hey. What’d you snag for dinner?”
“I hit the Royal Farm for chicken and steak fries.” Dean sat the plastic bag on the desk, and Sam’s stomach snarled at the heavenly smell. “Yeah, I thought you’d approve. I got dessert, too.”
Sam stares at the cloth pillowcase that lands on the desk next to the chicken. “What’s that?”
“S’Halloween,” Dean reminds him.
‘You robbed a trick or treater?” Sam asked. “That’s a little much, even for you.”
“I didn’t rob him! And, dude, he was like sixteen! He was bullying the kids. I just scared the piss out of him, and he dropped the bag. Finders keepers, dude.”
“Why does this holiday always turn you into such a ten year old? Do I want to know how you scared him?”
With a little flourish, Dean unsheathed the machete that laid along his spine, and pulled a Michael Meyers mask out of the bag. “I improvised.”
“Jesus, Dean.” Sam rolled his eyes as his brother began rummaging through the pillowcase.
“Here,” Dean muttered, tossing a wrapped candy at him. “Eat that.”
“What?” Sam looked at the wrapper. “Sour apple? Ew, dude.”
“At least then you’d have a reason to make the damn bitchface. I got us free food-“
“Stolen candy,” Sam interjected.
“-and saved the local kids from a bully.”
“So that you could get the stolen candy,” Sam pointed out.
“Fine. If you’re going to get your panties in a twist, that just makes more for me!” Grinning, Dean pulled out a caramel apple. “So, you don’t want any?”
Sam shook his head. “Dean, you don’t eat apples from strangers! Jesus. Razor blades? Needles? Hello? Ring a bell?”
Dean’s switchblade opened with a soft click. “Have you always been such girl, or is this new?”
Rolling his eyes, Sam opened the chicken, somehow not all that shocked to find it half-empty. Focusing back on the laptop, he ignored Dean entirely. “Looks like Eastern Penitentiary in Philly is having some issues of late. We could head that way tomorrow, unless you’ve got more junior high students to mug.”
Dean’s answer, around a mouthful of caramel apple, was entertaining, if anatomically improbable.
Ignoring him, Sam went back to reading. “They’re saying that one of the resident ghosts tried to push a tour guide down a flight of stairs. Could be an angry spirit.”
Dean continued crunching on the apple, not bothering to reply.
“Of course, they’re doing a haunted tour, so it could just be someone being an asshole.” Sam waited a long minute for Dean to reply. “Are you even paying attention?”
“You’ve got a great voice, Sammy,” Dean purred. “Keep talking.”
“Whatever, asshole.” Sam shook his head, popping a fry in his mouth. “Turn the a/c on, would you? It’s hot in here. Jesus, I can feel my arteries hardening.”
Dean made a low, purring noise at the word ‘hardening,’ and Sam glanced back, eyes widening. “Dean…what happened to your clothes?” he asked carefully, ignoring the way Dean’s hands were stroking over his own skin, the way he was propped on the bed, in a very come hither pose. Most of all, he was ignoring the slow burn that ignited in the pit of his stomach at the sight. God, the air felt thick. Like he couldn’t suck in enough of it.
“Too hot,” Dean murmured, voice dropping to a husky moan of sound. “God you look good.”
“Dean, what the hell?”
His brother’s lean body arched against the pillows, golden skin suffused with a flush. “Please, Sammy,” he begged. “So hot, please. Touch me. Need you.”
Dean’s hand slid lower, and Sam couldn’t help but follow it with his eyes, watching as those fingers curled around his already hard cock.
“Dean! Snap out of it. What the fuck is wrong with you?” Panic made his voice go higher.
Dean didn’t bother to answer, just slid his fingers over his blood-darkened cock, stroking lightly.
Sam willed his cock to stop hardening. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t Dean, something was wrong—“Shit. The apple!” Must have been a spell of some sort. Dean must have triggered it. “I told you not to eat the damned thing—Jesus, what are you doing?”
With a faintly quizzical look, Dean slid his finger from his mouth, rolling onto his stomach, and sliding his hand back. He moaned as it slid over his entrance, teasing for a moment, then sinking deep.
Sam bit his lip staring at the floor. Jesus. This should not be hot. Dean was drugged for God’s sake. Also this was his brother. He was not looking. He wouldn’t look. He was getting out of here. Couldn’t handle this.
The door was stuck. Not locked, just stuck. And no amount of pulling and tugging was opening it.
“Oh, yeah,” Dean growled. “God, want your cock in me, Sammy. Want you to fuck me just like this; spit and a prayer.”
“Ohgod. Dean, this isn’t you. Come on, cut it out.” Sam hazarded a glance up, just in time to see Dean move towards him, all languid grace. “Dean. Stop.”
Dean paused for a moment, a startled look on his face. “Why?”
“It’s a spell. I’m your brother. You’re not into this,” Sam muttered, staring back at the floor, glad of the long shirt that would cover his reaction to Dean.
He heard the slither of the sheets, but before he could look up, he was pressed against the wall, the heat of Dean’s skin sinking through his clothes. “I’m not into this? But you are, Sammy?” Dean moaned. His hand slid down Sam’s stomach, green eyes dark with lust.
Sam bit his lip as Dean’s fingers ghosted over the zipper of his jeans.
With another broken moan, those fingers pressed harder, stroking along his length, and Sam let his head fall back, heat flooding his face. God, what was wrong with him? It was the spell, it had to be. No other option.
Dean’s lips brushed his throat. “You do want this,” he murmured. “God, Sammy. Wanted this for so long.” He slithered down Sam’s body, jerking the button of his jeans free, and tugging them down. His cock sprang free, hard and aching, tip shiny with moisture.
“Dean, I-“
Dean didn’t bother to wait, just bent his head, tongue darting out to taste.
Sam’s knees loosened, and he clutched at the table. “Jesus, Dean, you shouldn’t-“
Without warning, Dean pressed closer, and Sam watched his full lips open, sliding over Sam’s cock like they belonged there.
God, this was fucked up, Sam thought. But Dean’s mouth was sinking down on him, enveloping him in wet heat. Was he going to…ohfuck.
Dean’s throat worked around him, drawing him deeper, and Sam moaned low and desperate, fighting not to thrust. Dean pulled back a little, tongue swirling around the head. “C’mon, Sammy,” he growled. “You can do it. Fuck my mouth.”
“Dean,” Sam tried again. “I-you—God, what-“ His hand was seized in a strong grip and pulled up to Dean’s head.
“C’mon, Sam,” Dean purred, curling Sam’s fingers into his hair tightly. The tip of his tongue darted out, flicking at the little spot behind the head of Sam’s cock that made his vision white out.
Something in Sam gave with a nearly audible snap, and his grip on Dean’s head tightened. “You want this?”
The lazy, sensual smile was answer enough, and Sam shifted, pressing his cock against Dean’s lips.
God, Dean was good at this. Definitely not his first time sucking a cock. Sam started to move, thrusting lightly, and Dean moaned, his hand sliding down to his own hard cock, stroking in time with Sam’s thrusts.
“No,” Sam said sharply. “Not until I tell you to. Not coming until I’m buried in you.”
Dean moaned around Sam’s cock, looking up with his pupils blown, eyes wide and trusting.
Without conscious thought, Sam’s hips jerked, pressing into Dean’s mouth hard, feeling the fluttering resistance of his throat. Before he could pull back, it gave, and Dean’ slid down onto him, nose buried in the wiry nest of pubic hair.
Strong fingers curled around his hips, and Sam’ found himself pushed against the wall as Dean’s head moved on him, harder and faster than Sam would have taken him.
Sam’s head hit the wall with a thump as he let Dean take control, let him draw him into that incredible mouth. “God, yeah. So good, Dean,” he managed.
Dean didn’t slow down at all, sucking, swallowing him down. His voice, when he pulled back, was ragged; a hoarse moan that went straight to Sam’s balls.
It was too much, he was too close. “Dean, stop,” Sam barked, forcing his eyes open to look down at Dean’s bruised, swollen mouth. His cock was flushed dark, the head glistening.
“Sammy, please,” Dean moaned, fingers sliding over his hot skin, pinching at his nipples. His hips moved constantly, rocking against nothing, fucking the air as though it would help.
“On the bed,” Sam ordered.
Without waiting to see whether Dean would obey, Sam turned, digging in his bag for lotion.
“Don’t need that,” Dean murmured. His voice was shot, soft and rough. “I like to feel it. Spit’s enough.”
“Dean-“
His brother arched on the bed, body twisting sensually. “Please, Sam. Please. Feels like I’ll die if I don’t have you in me.”
How could he resist?
Before Sam could even think about it, he was on top of Dean, pressing him down. His fingers curled around Dean’s wrists, pinning them with ease.
Dean was writhing under him, trying to find the right position, trying to press down, to force Sam inside him.
“Shh. Hold still for a second. I’ve got you.”
Wild eyes met Sam’s for a moment, and Dean stilled. “Now,” he gasped. “Hard, c’mon, Sammy.”
A quick spit-slick later, and he was pressing into Dean none to gently, feeling the tight ring of muscle just…open for him. “Yeah,” Dean hissed, arching, taking him deeper.
“Oh god,” Sam gasped. “Jesus, so fucking tight.”
“Whatever, dude,” Dean managed. “C’mon. Gonna just lay there and think of England?”
Sam snorted, rocking his hips, finding a rhythm. It only took a moment for Dean to match it, head falling back, sinful lips parted. “Yeah, God. Mmm…Sam, so big, so hard in me. Yeah, c’mon, fuck me good and hard, wanna feel it.” His eyes darkened as Sam shivered over him. “Yeah, you want that, too.”
Sam settled in and gave Dean just what he was asking for, reveling in the desperate, needy sounds that seemed to hang in the room. The feeling of Dean’s sweaty, hot skin against his was almost too much, almost felt too sensitized.
A high, choked off keening noise slid from Dean’s mouth, his body tensing. Sam slammed into him again, and he felt the shudders wracking his brother, felt the cock riding in the dip of Sam’s belly twitch. Wet heat bloomed between their bodies, and Dean tightened around Sam.
“G-god,” Sam whimpered, driving into Dean, letting those muscles milk him, the orgasm hitting him hard, slamming the base of his spine like a freight train.
The air in the room suddenly loosened somehow, and Sam shivered in the cool wash of air.
“Fuck,” Dean muttered. “Jesus, get off me, Gigantor.”
Sam slid out, wincing at Dean’s sharp intake of breath. “Sorry.”
“S’okay.” Dean rolled his shoulders a little, stretching. “Well, that was fucked up.”
“Told you not to eat the apple, asshole. Come on, who gives apples out, unless they’re planning something?” Sam shook his head, rolling onto his back. “You’re just lucky it wasn’t something worse.”
“Shut up, Sammy. I’m the one who won’t be walking straight for a week, and you don’t hear me complaining.”
Sam stared at him for a second. “Dean-‘
“But for God’s sake, next time, we use lube, got it?”
Sam’s jaw fell open. “Next time?”
-End.
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Date: 2006-10-24 12:22 pm (UTC)Thanks!