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spn_springflingTitle: Surprising Confessions
Pairing: Sam/OFC/Dean
Rating: NC17
Any warnings: set in current canon
“Come on, it’ll be fun. Please? Come on, Sam. It’s Sam, right?”
The woman – Darla, Sam thinks Dean said when he introduced her – tugs on his sleeve, giving him her most beguiling smile. Her lipstick is smudged from Dean’s mouth on hers; Dean’s lips are redder than usual, fuller.
Dean runs his tongue over his bottom lip with deliberate slowness, waits until Sam lifts his gaze to speak.
“Yeah, Sammy, she’s right. It’ll be fun. Nothing else going on in this town.”
Sam blinks. They’ve been in this situation before, but it didn’t go down like this. There was a girl in Baton Rouge once who couldn’t make up her mind which one of them she wanted, so she invited them both to her room. Sam remembers the hot shiver that went up his spine when she said it, the way his mouth went dry. He was only 22; things were fragile between him and Dean, being on the road again after Jessica, and he couldn’t bring himself to answer. The suggestion hit him like a punch to the gut, making his knees weak with the sudden knowledge that he kinda sorta seemed to be on board with the idea. He’d tried not to think about it too often since then.
“Forget it,” Dean had said, quashing his fantasies and the girl’s too. Sam wasn’t sure which of them was more disappointed. Dean had been so pissed that neither of them ended up with that girl. He’d practically dragged Sam out of there, his boots stomping hard on the pavement as they walked to the car. Sam supposed it was for the best. He put it down to some complicated grief reaction he was having at the time, not that the idea of sharing a bed with his brother was at all appealing.
This time is different. Sam’s not 22, and Dean’s not stomping off. The mark is riding him hard, pushing him toward violence and alcohol and, apparently, sex. Whatever Cain said to him in that warehouse, it’s had Dean on edge ever since. He doesn’t want to let Sam out of his sight, but he won’t let him get too close either. For all Dean’s ‘no chick flick moments’, he’s usually physical with Sam. A pat on the arm, a brush of shoulders. But not recently. A few days ago Sam slapped him on the back and Dean jumped out of his chair with a knife at the ready, then yelled at Sam for hours. “Don’t scare me like that, Jesus I could’ve killed you!”
Sam was careful to keep his distance after. The last time they touched was when Dean fell into his arms after the showdown, exhausted and weak, and just let Sam hold him. Sam misses it, the physical contact. Neither of them has been touched since that night. Dean won’t touch him, but he won’t let Sam out of his sight so no one else can touch him either.
“Whaddya say, Sammy?” Dean asks. His voice is deep, gravel and whisky. Unintentionally seductive.
“Yeah, whaddya say, Sammy?” Darla echoes, and she winks. Nothing unintentional about that.
“You know he’s my brother, right?”
He has to say it, wouldn’t be right not to. Not that it will make any difference. He knows how this goes. She’ll keep herself between them, a barrier neither of them will cross, like in those porn threesomes where the guys never make eye contact and studiously avoid checking each other out even when their dicks are inches apart. That thought makes Sam flush hot, and he thinks he’s probably blushing.
Darla hmms, looking from Sam to Dean and back. Then she reaches out and takes Sam’s arm again, this time rubbing over the skin of his wrist with her thumb. “Well this really is my lucky night, isn’t it?” she asks sweetly, and the decadence of it, the deliberateness, makes Sam’s stomach flip hard.
“So,” she presses, “You in?”
“Okay,” Sam says, and it comes out like a gasp. He clears his throat. “Okay.”
Dean’s smile is blinding, surprised and almost childlike in how joyous it is. It’s not what
Sam was expecting.
Her apartment is only a half mile away, second floor above a storefront. It’s nice, clean and decorated and lived in. The bed, conveniently, is a king. Sam wonders if this is a thing with her, bringing home two guys at a time to share her big bed. The bed is plenty big enough for two of them never to touch – but that’s not what he hopes for.
It’s a surprising confession, even as he makes it to himself.
Dean wastes no time getting naked, and neither does Darla. Sam hesitates, momentarily struck by the weirdness of this, his brother and some stranger about to go at it while Sam is standing right there. He’s seen Dean in action before, but it’s been a glimpse, a pause before he follows expected protocol and turns away, covering with a comment about needing to gouge out his eyes. This is different. Now it would almost seem weirder if he turned away, if he didn’t watch. He’s supposed to be here; supposed to be a part of this.
“Easy, big boy,” Darla is saying. Dean is wound up, so eager he’s rough with her, fingers leaving pink indentations on her hips, on her arms. It’s not like him. Sam can see the mark darken, a dull red on his arm.
“Dean,” Sam says, and it comes out like a warning.
Dean pauses. He doesn’t let Darla go, but he turns to look at Sam, holding himself still.
“Wait,” Sam says, and pulls his shirts off over his head. They both watch him unbuckle his belt and pull down his zipper. Dean’s eyes narrow as Sam pushes his jeans down, but he doesn’t look away. When Sam straightens, Darla and Dean both drop their eyes to his crotch, where he’s already tenting his shorts.
“Damn,” Darla says, and that breaks the spell. Dean growls and pushes her down, attacking her mouth, spreading her thighs. She goes with it for a minute, then pushes him back.
“I said, take it easy,” she repeats, breathless. For a moment, Sam thinks Dean isn’t going to listen. Maybe isn’t able to listen.
“Dean,” Sam says, climbing onto the bed. He gets one hand on his brother’s shoulder and Dean whirls on him. Sam barely gets out of the way of his fist; the attempt unbalances Dean, and Darla squirms out from beneath him.
“What the—“ Darla starts.
“Tie me up,” Dean blurts out, sitting back on his haunches. His eyes are dark, and he’s holding the mark with his other hand, like it’s hurting him. His cock is as angry red as the mark on his arm, standing up stiff and eager, and Sam can’t help staring.
“What?”
“Get the rope from the car,” Dean insists. When Sam hesitates, he raises his voice. “Get the fucking rope, Sam – I almost -- I don’t want to -- just get the goddamn rope.”
Darla looks like she’s changing her mind about the whole threesome thing, no matter how hot Dean looks kneeling there naked and hard.
“Please. Sammy, please.” Dean is starting to look frantic, more scared than turned on.
Sam nods. “Okay. Okay, hang on. I have to go out to the car. Just – just stay there, okay?”
Sam is thankful nobody is outside to see him grabbing things from the trunk in his underwear. When he comes back, neither Dean nor Darla have moved.
Dean nods and turns around, still on his knees, hands crossed behind his back. The gesture of trust makes Sam’s cock leap in his shorts.
Darla still looks uncertain. “You guys do this kinda thing often?”
“You might say that,” Sam answers, looping the rope around his brother’s wrists.
“Tighter,” Dean orders. Sam pulls until the skin is red and the ropes dig in, and Dean nods.
“Good?”
“Yeah,” Dean says, and lets out a breath. He tests the ropes, twisting and tugging.
“Okay,” he says when he’s satisfied they’ll hold. “Now where were we?”
Darla takes charge then, tugging Dean forward by the shoulders and kissing him. It’s strangely hot, watching them kiss when Dean can’t move, can’t take what he wants. Darla’s hands are small on his shoulders, sliding over his arms. The muscles bunch under her hands as Dean fights the ropes. They’re both breathing hard when Darla pulls away, and Dean nearly falls on his face chasing her mouth.
“Gotta give your brother a turn,” she croons. “C’mere Sammy.”
Sam’s still got his shorts on, too engrossed in watching Dean and Darla make out to bother taking them off. He’d started to think maybe this was the way it would go, Dean and Darla getting it on and Sam watching. He was mostly okay with that. Darla, however, has other ideas.
“Lemme see what you got, Sam,” she says as she kisses him, her hands pushing at his shorts, slipping under the waistband to palm his cock and fondle his balls. God, he’s so ready, on a hair trigger already from watching them.
“You’re so wet,” Darla says, and pulls one of Sam’s hands between her thighs. “Me too,” she confides, and she’s not kidding.
Darla moans when Sam remembers what to do with his fingers, and Darla has a pretty damn good idea of what to do with hers too. For a minute, Sam forgets Dean is even there, so caught up in the sensations of her hot mouth and the way she’s riding his fingers and stroking his dick. It’s been so long.
“Fuck, fuck,” Dean swears, sounding pained. It takes effort to stop kissing Darla and look, but when he does, Sam groans too.
Dean can’t touch himself. He’s on his knees, watching them, squirming and writhing against the ropes that are making him keep his hands to himself, his cock standing straight up, bobbing as he moves. It would be comical if it wasn’t so damn hot.
“Somebody touch me, please,” he moans when he sees them looking. “I’m dyin’ here.”
Darla’s pretty red mouth turns up and she quirks an eyebrow. “You do it, Sam.”
“What?” Sam splutters. That wasn’t part of the plan. That’s not how these threesomes go. Sam knows, he’s seen the porn.
He waits for Dean to say no fucking way, but Dean’s just staring at him, eyes dark. His dick is drooling, he’s so hard.
“Surprising confession,” Darla giggles. “I’d kinda like to see that.”
“Surprising confession,” Dean echoes, voice so deep it rumbles. “I kinda would too.”
Sam blinks. “But—but we’re brothers.” It’s a stupid thing to say; they all know that.
Darla shrugs. “Hey, only if you want to. But I think someone needs to take the edge off or this will be over before it starts. I’m happy to touch him if you don’t want to, believe me. I mean, look at him.”
Sam does. It hits him like a cyclone then. He wants to. He wants to touch his brother.
“Sam,” Dean whines, thrusting his hips like he can just come into thin air if he tries hard enough.
It’s an irresistible invitation. Sam crawls across the bed and kneels up. He takes a second to drink in the sight of Dean’s hooded eyes and full lips before he pulls his brother into his arms and smashes their mouths together. Dean oomphs against him, struggling to keep his balance, and Sam likes it, the feel of Dean a little bit helpless. Their cocks brush and it’s electric, forbidden but that just makes it better. Dean kisses like he can’t get enough, all tongue and teeth until there’s the tang of blood between them, somebody’s lip bruised and bitten. He rubs against Sam like a big horny cat, trying to hump the groove of Sam’s hip, and Sam reaches around and gets both hands on Dean’s ass, digging his fingers in and kneading the firm flesh there. He never knew how much he liked Dean’s ass, but now that he’s seen it. Now that he’s had his hands on it…
Dean makes a desperate noise, and Sam takes pity on him, getting a hand on his dick, and Sam finds he likes that too. It doesn’t take long for Dean to spill between them, and Sam keeps stroking him until it’s painful, until Dean squirms away and falls back on the bed, flushed and winded.
“God damn,” Darla swears, and she’s on Sam like a hurricane, pushing him backwards and climbing on top to straddle his hips. She’s got a condom on him before he even sees it, and then she’s sinking down, blissful tight wet heat. She rides him like she can’t get enough, and he hangs on as long as he can, just barely waiting until she grinds down on him and comes before he loses it.
“Ohmygod,” Darla says again, bending down to kiss Sam before gingerly climbing off and collapsing beside him. “That was so fucking hot.”
Sam tosses the condom and turns to find Dean watching him. He’s lying on his side, hands still bound behind his back, his stomach wet from where he came all over himself. Spent as he is, Sam wants to reach out and touch, run his finger through the slick and put it to Dean’s lips.
He wonders if they’ll talk about this in the morning.
Darla curls up against Sam with a contented sigh. “You guys can stay,” she says, already sounding sleepy.
Sam looks at Dean, is surprised to see him nod.
“Yeah, okay.”
“Really?”
Dean shrugs. “’m tired.”
“Want me to untie you?”
Dean shakes his head, then does an awkward inchworm-like scramble to get his head up on the pillow next to Sam.
“I’m fine,” he says from only inches away. His eyes are heavy-lidded, his face still flushed with pleasure, and Sam wants to kiss him again. They haven’t shared a bed in a long time. Sam’s going to make the best of it.
“C’mere then.”
With his arms tied, Dean can’t get away. He grumbles when Sam pulls him closer, but finally gives in. Sam gets an arm around him, manhandles until Dean’s head is resting on his chest.
“Seriously?” Dean complains, muffled against Sam’s skin, but he’s already nestling in, getting comfortable. Darla pulls the quilts up over all three of them.
“Surprising confession,” Sam says, running his fingers through the soft bristles at the nape of his brother’s neck. “I like to cuddle.”
Dean throws one of his legs over Sam’s, yawning. “That one’s not surprising,” he says, and starts to snore.
Pairing: Sam/OFC/Dean
Rating: NC17
Any warnings: set in current canon
“Come on, it’ll be fun. Please? Come on, Sam. It’s Sam, right?”
The woman – Darla, Sam thinks Dean said when he introduced her – tugs on his sleeve, giving him her most beguiling smile. Her lipstick is smudged from Dean’s mouth on hers; Dean’s lips are redder than usual, fuller.
Dean runs his tongue over his bottom lip with deliberate slowness, waits until Sam lifts his gaze to speak.
“Yeah, Sammy, she’s right. It’ll be fun. Nothing else going on in this town.”
Sam blinks. They’ve been in this situation before, but it didn’t go down like this. There was a girl in Baton Rouge once who couldn’t make up her mind which one of them she wanted, so she invited them both to her room. Sam remembers the hot shiver that went up his spine when she said it, the way his mouth went dry. He was only 22; things were fragile between him and Dean, being on the road again after Jessica, and he couldn’t bring himself to answer. The suggestion hit him like a punch to the gut, making his knees weak with the sudden knowledge that he kinda sorta seemed to be on board with the idea. He’d tried not to think about it too often since then.
“Forget it,” Dean had said, quashing his fantasies and the girl’s too. Sam wasn’t sure which of them was more disappointed. Dean had been so pissed that neither of them ended up with that girl. He’d practically dragged Sam out of there, his boots stomping hard on the pavement as they walked to the car. Sam supposed it was for the best. He put it down to some complicated grief reaction he was having at the time, not that the idea of sharing a bed with his brother was at all appealing.
This time is different. Sam’s not 22, and Dean’s not stomping off. The mark is riding him hard, pushing him toward violence and alcohol and, apparently, sex. Whatever Cain said to him in that warehouse, it’s had Dean on edge ever since. He doesn’t want to let Sam out of his sight, but he won’t let him get too close either. For all Dean’s ‘no chick flick moments’, he’s usually physical with Sam. A pat on the arm, a brush of shoulders. But not recently. A few days ago Sam slapped him on the back and Dean jumped out of his chair with a knife at the ready, then yelled at Sam for hours. “Don’t scare me like that, Jesus I could’ve killed you!”
Sam was careful to keep his distance after. The last time they touched was when Dean fell into his arms after the showdown, exhausted and weak, and just let Sam hold him. Sam misses it, the physical contact. Neither of them has been touched since that night. Dean won’t touch him, but he won’t let Sam out of his sight so no one else can touch him either.
“Whaddya say, Sammy?” Dean asks. His voice is deep, gravel and whisky. Unintentionally seductive.
“Yeah, whaddya say, Sammy?” Darla echoes, and she winks. Nothing unintentional about that.
“You know he’s my brother, right?”
He has to say it, wouldn’t be right not to. Not that it will make any difference. He knows how this goes. She’ll keep herself between them, a barrier neither of them will cross, like in those porn threesomes where the guys never make eye contact and studiously avoid checking each other out even when their dicks are inches apart. That thought makes Sam flush hot, and he thinks he’s probably blushing.
Darla hmms, looking from Sam to Dean and back. Then she reaches out and takes Sam’s arm again, this time rubbing over the skin of his wrist with her thumb. “Well this really is my lucky night, isn’t it?” she asks sweetly, and the decadence of it, the deliberateness, makes Sam’s stomach flip hard.
“So,” she presses, “You in?”
“Okay,” Sam says, and it comes out like a gasp. He clears his throat. “Okay.”
Dean’s smile is blinding, surprised and almost childlike in how joyous it is. It’s not what
Sam was expecting.
Her apartment is only a half mile away, second floor above a storefront. It’s nice, clean and decorated and lived in. The bed, conveniently, is a king. Sam wonders if this is a thing with her, bringing home two guys at a time to share her big bed. The bed is plenty big enough for two of them never to touch – but that’s not what he hopes for.
It’s a surprising confession, even as he makes it to himself.
Dean wastes no time getting naked, and neither does Darla. Sam hesitates, momentarily struck by the weirdness of this, his brother and some stranger about to go at it while Sam is standing right there. He’s seen Dean in action before, but it’s been a glimpse, a pause before he follows expected protocol and turns away, covering with a comment about needing to gouge out his eyes. This is different. Now it would almost seem weirder if he turned away, if he didn’t watch. He’s supposed to be here; supposed to be a part of this.
“Easy, big boy,” Darla is saying. Dean is wound up, so eager he’s rough with her, fingers leaving pink indentations on her hips, on her arms. It’s not like him. Sam can see the mark darken, a dull red on his arm.
“Dean,” Sam says, and it comes out like a warning.
Dean pauses. He doesn’t let Darla go, but he turns to look at Sam, holding himself still.
“Wait,” Sam says, and pulls his shirts off over his head. They both watch him unbuckle his belt and pull down his zipper. Dean’s eyes narrow as Sam pushes his jeans down, but he doesn’t look away. When Sam straightens, Darla and Dean both drop their eyes to his crotch, where he’s already tenting his shorts.
“Damn,” Darla says, and that breaks the spell. Dean growls and pushes her down, attacking her mouth, spreading her thighs. She goes with it for a minute, then pushes him back.
“I said, take it easy,” she repeats, breathless. For a moment, Sam thinks Dean isn’t going to listen. Maybe isn’t able to listen.
“Dean,” Sam says, climbing onto the bed. He gets one hand on his brother’s shoulder and Dean whirls on him. Sam barely gets out of the way of his fist; the attempt unbalances Dean, and Darla squirms out from beneath him.
“What the—“ Darla starts.
“Tie me up,” Dean blurts out, sitting back on his haunches. His eyes are dark, and he’s holding the mark with his other hand, like it’s hurting him. His cock is as angry red as the mark on his arm, standing up stiff and eager, and Sam can’t help staring.
“What?”
“Get the rope from the car,” Dean insists. When Sam hesitates, he raises his voice. “Get the fucking rope, Sam – I almost -- I don’t want to -- just get the goddamn rope.”
Darla looks like she’s changing her mind about the whole threesome thing, no matter how hot Dean looks kneeling there naked and hard.
“Please. Sammy, please.” Dean is starting to look frantic, more scared than turned on.
Sam nods. “Okay. Okay, hang on. I have to go out to the car. Just – just stay there, okay?”
Sam is thankful nobody is outside to see him grabbing things from the trunk in his underwear. When he comes back, neither Dean nor Darla have moved.
Dean nods and turns around, still on his knees, hands crossed behind his back. The gesture of trust makes Sam’s cock leap in his shorts.
Darla still looks uncertain. “You guys do this kinda thing often?”
“You might say that,” Sam answers, looping the rope around his brother’s wrists.
“Tighter,” Dean orders. Sam pulls until the skin is red and the ropes dig in, and Dean nods.
“Good?”
“Yeah,” Dean says, and lets out a breath. He tests the ropes, twisting and tugging.
“Okay,” he says when he’s satisfied they’ll hold. “Now where were we?”
Darla takes charge then, tugging Dean forward by the shoulders and kissing him. It’s strangely hot, watching them kiss when Dean can’t move, can’t take what he wants. Darla’s hands are small on his shoulders, sliding over his arms. The muscles bunch under her hands as Dean fights the ropes. They’re both breathing hard when Darla pulls away, and Dean nearly falls on his face chasing her mouth.
“Gotta give your brother a turn,” she croons. “C’mere Sammy.”
Sam’s still got his shorts on, too engrossed in watching Dean and Darla make out to bother taking them off. He’d started to think maybe this was the way it would go, Dean and Darla getting it on and Sam watching. He was mostly okay with that. Darla, however, has other ideas.
“Lemme see what you got, Sam,” she says as she kisses him, her hands pushing at his shorts, slipping under the waistband to palm his cock and fondle his balls. God, he’s so ready, on a hair trigger already from watching them.
“You’re so wet,” Darla says, and pulls one of Sam’s hands between her thighs. “Me too,” she confides, and she’s not kidding.
Darla moans when Sam remembers what to do with his fingers, and Darla has a pretty damn good idea of what to do with hers too. For a minute, Sam forgets Dean is even there, so caught up in the sensations of her hot mouth and the way she’s riding his fingers and stroking his dick. It’s been so long.
“Fuck, fuck,” Dean swears, sounding pained. It takes effort to stop kissing Darla and look, but when he does, Sam groans too.
Dean can’t touch himself. He’s on his knees, watching them, squirming and writhing against the ropes that are making him keep his hands to himself, his cock standing straight up, bobbing as he moves. It would be comical if it wasn’t so damn hot.
“Somebody touch me, please,” he moans when he sees them looking. “I’m dyin’ here.”
Darla’s pretty red mouth turns up and she quirks an eyebrow. “You do it, Sam.”
“What?” Sam splutters. That wasn’t part of the plan. That’s not how these threesomes go. Sam knows, he’s seen the porn.
He waits for Dean to say no fucking way, but Dean’s just staring at him, eyes dark. His dick is drooling, he’s so hard.
“Surprising confession,” Darla giggles. “I’d kinda like to see that.”
“Surprising confession,” Dean echoes, voice so deep it rumbles. “I kinda would too.”
Sam blinks. “But—but we’re brothers.” It’s a stupid thing to say; they all know that.
Darla shrugs. “Hey, only if you want to. But I think someone needs to take the edge off or this will be over before it starts. I’m happy to touch him if you don’t want to, believe me. I mean, look at him.”
Sam does. It hits him like a cyclone then. He wants to. He wants to touch his brother.
“Sam,” Dean whines, thrusting his hips like he can just come into thin air if he tries hard enough.
It’s an irresistible invitation. Sam crawls across the bed and kneels up. He takes a second to drink in the sight of Dean’s hooded eyes and full lips before he pulls his brother into his arms and smashes their mouths together. Dean oomphs against him, struggling to keep his balance, and Sam likes it, the feel of Dean a little bit helpless. Their cocks brush and it’s electric, forbidden but that just makes it better. Dean kisses like he can’t get enough, all tongue and teeth until there’s the tang of blood between them, somebody’s lip bruised and bitten. He rubs against Sam like a big horny cat, trying to hump the groove of Sam’s hip, and Sam reaches around and gets both hands on Dean’s ass, digging his fingers in and kneading the firm flesh there. He never knew how much he liked Dean’s ass, but now that he’s seen it. Now that he’s had his hands on it…
Dean makes a desperate noise, and Sam takes pity on him, getting a hand on his dick, and Sam finds he likes that too. It doesn’t take long for Dean to spill between them, and Sam keeps stroking him until it’s painful, until Dean squirms away and falls back on the bed, flushed and winded.
“God damn,” Darla swears, and she’s on Sam like a hurricane, pushing him backwards and climbing on top to straddle his hips. She’s got a condom on him before he even sees it, and then she’s sinking down, blissful tight wet heat. She rides him like she can’t get enough, and he hangs on as long as he can, just barely waiting until she grinds down on him and comes before he loses it.
“Ohmygod,” Darla says again, bending down to kiss Sam before gingerly climbing off and collapsing beside him. “That was so fucking hot.”
Sam tosses the condom and turns to find Dean watching him. He’s lying on his side, hands still bound behind his back, his stomach wet from where he came all over himself. Spent as he is, Sam wants to reach out and touch, run his finger through the slick and put it to Dean’s lips.
He wonders if they’ll talk about this in the morning.
Darla curls up against Sam with a contented sigh. “You guys can stay,” she says, already sounding sleepy.
Sam looks at Dean, is surprised to see him nod.
“Yeah, okay.”
“Really?”
Dean shrugs. “’m tired.”
“Want me to untie you?”
Dean shakes his head, then does an awkward inchworm-like scramble to get his head up on the pillow next to Sam.
“I’m fine,” he says from only inches away. His eyes are heavy-lidded, his face still flushed with pleasure, and Sam wants to kiss him again. They haven’t shared a bed in a long time. Sam’s going to make the best of it.
“C’mere then.”
With his arms tied, Dean can’t get away. He grumbles when Sam pulls him closer, but finally gives in. Sam gets an arm around him, manhandles until Dean’s head is resting on his chest.
“Seriously?” Dean complains, muffled against Sam’s skin, but he’s already nestling in, getting comfortable. Darla pulls the quilts up over all three of them.
“Surprising confession,” Sam says, running his fingers through the soft bristles at the nape of his brother’s neck. “I like to cuddle.”
Dean throws one of his legs over Sam’s, yawning. “That one’s not surprising,” he says, and starts to snore.
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Date: 2015-03-23 03:38 pm (UTC)and he wonders why he hasn't done it sooner.
So good, thank you for sharing!
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Date: 2015-03-30 05:06 am (UTC)This was super great!
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Date: 2015-04-04 04:24 pm (UTC)