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darkforetold for <user site="livejournal.com" use
Jun. 16th, 2012 12:08 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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spn_springflingTitle: Breathe Me
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: R
Any warnings: None listed
Written bydarkforetold for icelily01!
Hold me, wrap me up,
Unfold me,
I am small, I'm needy,
Warm me up,
And breathe me.
—Sia, Breathe Me
Warroad, Minnesota
It had happened too quickly; the cold water, Dean disappearing beneath its black surface. Too quickly for Sam to think, act—breathe. Everything else had been a blur.
Sam flung open the Impala’s rear passenger door, laying his brother on the seat as carefully as he could. Dean shivered, body rigid as the lingering chill of the water began to shut him down. Shoving the fear and panic into his gut, Sam began ripping off Dean’s wet clothes and throwing them aside. Anything to stop the hypothermia from progressing.
“Sammy,” Dean whispered, teeth chattering violently. “So fucking… cold.”
“I know, Dean. I know. Just hang in there. Gotta get these clothes off you,” Sam said, jerking off his boots and socks. “Guess I gotta save your ass for a change, huh?”
“Yeah, Sam,” Dean groaned out. “About time you… pull your weight.”
Lethargy set in. Dean’s slurred speech and apathy, the way his eyes began to droop, set off the alarms in Sam’s head. The thought of losing Dean lit a fire in him, flooding adrenaline through his veins and aiding him in the removal of Dean’s clothes. Sam unbuckled his brother’s jeans, pulling them down and off. Without hesitation, he hooked his fingers into the hem of Dean’s underwear—
“Dude, not the boxers.”
“Shut up, Dean,” Sam barked, yanking them off. He tossed them with a wet splotch and worked his way up Dean’s body, hovering over him to ease off the layers of shirts until he was bare. With another groan, Dean rolled into a fetal position as Sam shut the door. Getting the blanket from the trunk, firing up the engine and blasting the heat—it had happened on auto-pilot, rhythmical and fluid. As if saving his brother’s life was natural, instinctual—just like it was for Dean.
As Sam stripped, he concentrated on the bite of cold air against his skin. Sam forced himself not to think about the temptation, his secret, as he piled into the backseat of the car with his brother. But as their naked skin touched, as fireworks exploded behind Sam’s eyelids, he couldn’t think of anything else but. The smell of him, the softness of his breath against his face. Sam bit his lip hard as he pulled Dean on top of him, laying the warm blanket over the both of them. Here, in the cocoon of their combined heat, Sam dangled over the precipice of damnation.
“The fuck you doing, man?” Dean mumbled weakly into his neck.
Sam closed his eyes. The way Dean’s lips brushed against his skin—he swallowed the lump in his throat. “Sharing body heat. Just... trust me, all right?”
Trust me.
Sam wrapped his arms around Dean’s shoulders, holding him as he shivered. He tried to steer his thoughts away from the torture of having Dean’s body against his own. Skin-to-skin yet not in the way he wanted—had always wanted. Sam needed more than this, more than just brotherly swats on the back. More than the rare and too-few hugs when either of them had been close to dying—and only then. The agonizing closeness reminded Sam of the ache he had to suffer through every night when he slept in his bed, alone. Sam knew that he’d never have Dean the way he wanted; the way he needed, and he was a freak for wanting his brother the way he did. The fear of Dean hating him for urges he couldn’t change—it killed him every second they were together.
As Dean nuzzled into his neck, Sam desperately tried to think of anything else to keep his body from reacting to this. The urges, the want to just… give into his dark fascination made his heart punch against his ribs. Faster, harder. Sam clasped his fingers together tightly behind Dean’s back to keep his hands from roaming, from touching his brother’s soft skin. Dean had been so close to dying, yet all he could think about was this; their bodies together, the want to have his older brother inside him. God, he needed help.
“Sammy…”
The whisper tickled his skin, sent a shiver down the length of his spine. “You’re gonna be okay, Dean.” Sam mouthed against the shell of his ear. “I’m gonna take care of you. Keep you safe. I promise.”
Sam slipped his fingers along Dean’s skin, memorizing the curve of his back through touch. To warm him, he rubbed his brother’s arms, using it as an excuse to touch him. This was wrong, Sam knew. Wrong to play out his sick fantasy like this, to flirt and fuck with sin. But when Dean stopped shivering, when his brother framed his hips with strong hands—
Sam forced out a breath. “Dean…”
“Be quiet, Sammy.”
His brother’s voice was like gravel, dark-tinted glass and the roll of rich tobacco. The heaviness of it sent Sam’s head whirling, the heat of it slamming him with everything all at once. His heart pounded in his ears, his skin bursting with tiny prickles of electricity. Sam felt his cock thicken, become harder than it had ever been. The way Dean kissed his neck, pressed his hips into his own—fuck. Sam groaned against Dean’s ear, nipping at the lobe. Without thinking, he threaded his fingers into his brother’s hair and gripped tight, jerking down on Dean’s hip with his other hand. That and Dean’s quick and hard rubbing created an indescribable friction; breathtaking, euphoric—something from a dream.
Rough, desperate, they fucked into Dean’s hand. His brother’s breath left behind wet, tender skin and the memory of bite marks made Sam shiver. The moaning, the heat—everything. What should have been hours of bliss ended in mere seconds. Sam’s orgasm ripped through him suddenly, spreading a wet warmth between them. He had come prematurely, like some goddamn teenager, and the shame of it mingled with the afterglow. But he didn’t care. No amount of shame could touch the beauty of Dean’s gut-deep groan, raw and freeing. When Dean didn’t move, when instead his brother pressed himself harder against his body, Sam kissed his forehead. Together, they fought against the chill outside.
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: R
Any warnings: None listed
Written by
darkforetold for icelily01!Hold me, wrap me up,
Unfold me,
I am small, I'm needy,
Warm me up,
And breathe me.
—Sia, Breathe Me
Warroad, Minnesota
It had happened too quickly; the cold water, Dean disappearing beneath its black surface. Too quickly for Sam to think, act—breathe. Everything else had been a blur.
Sam flung open the Impala’s rear passenger door, laying his brother on the seat as carefully as he could. Dean shivered, body rigid as the lingering chill of the water began to shut him down. Shoving the fear and panic into his gut, Sam began ripping off Dean’s wet clothes and throwing them aside. Anything to stop the hypothermia from progressing.
“Sammy,” Dean whispered, teeth chattering violently. “So fucking… cold.”
“I know, Dean. I know. Just hang in there. Gotta get these clothes off you,” Sam said, jerking off his boots and socks. “Guess I gotta save your ass for a change, huh?”
“Yeah, Sam,” Dean groaned out. “About time you… pull your weight.”
Lethargy set in. Dean’s slurred speech and apathy, the way his eyes began to droop, set off the alarms in Sam’s head. The thought of losing Dean lit a fire in him, flooding adrenaline through his veins and aiding him in the removal of Dean’s clothes. Sam unbuckled his brother’s jeans, pulling them down and off. Without hesitation, he hooked his fingers into the hem of Dean’s underwear—
“Dude, not the boxers.”
“Shut up, Dean,” Sam barked, yanking them off. He tossed them with a wet splotch and worked his way up Dean’s body, hovering over him to ease off the layers of shirts until he was bare. With another groan, Dean rolled into a fetal position as Sam shut the door. Getting the blanket from the trunk, firing up the engine and blasting the heat—it had happened on auto-pilot, rhythmical and fluid. As if saving his brother’s life was natural, instinctual—just like it was for Dean.
As Sam stripped, he concentrated on the bite of cold air against his skin. Sam forced himself not to think about the temptation, his secret, as he piled into the backseat of the car with his brother. But as their naked skin touched, as fireworks exploded behind Sam’s eyelids, he couldn’t think of anything else but. The smell of him, the softness of his breath against his face. Sam bit his lip hard as he pulled Dean on top of him, laying the warm blanket over the both of them. Here, in the cocoon of their combined heat, Sam dangled over the precipice of damnation.
“The fuck you doing, man?” Dean mumbled weakly into his neck.
Sam closed his eyes. The way Dean’s lips brushed against his skin—he swallowed the lump in his throat. “Sharing body heat. Just... trust me, all right?”
Trust me.
Sam wrapped his arms around Dean’s shoulders, holding him as he shivered. He tried to steer his thoughts away from the torture of having Dean’s body against his own. Skin-to-skin yet not in the way he wanted—had always wanted. Sam needed more than this, more than just brotherly swats on the back. More than the rare and too-few hugs when either of them had been close to dying—and only then. The agonizing closeness reminded Sam of the ache he had to suffer through every night when he slept in his bed, alone. Sam knew that he’d never have Dean the way he wanted; the way he needed, and he was a freak for wanting his brother the way he did. The fear of Dean hating him for urges he couldn’t change—it killed him every second they were together.
As Dean nuzzled into his neck, Sam desperately tried to think of anything else to keep his body from reacting to this. The urges, the want to just… give into his dark fascination made his heart punch against his ribs. Faster, harder. Sam clasped his fingers together tightly behind Dean’s back to keep his hands from roaming, from touching his brother’s soft skin. Dean had been so close to dying, yet all he could think about was this; their bodies together, the want to have his older brother inside him. God, he needed help.
“Sammy…”
The whisper tickled his skin, sent a shiver down the length of his spine. “You’re gonna be okay, Dean.” Sam mouthed against the shell of his ear. “I’m gonna take care of you. Keep you safe. I promise.”
Sam slipped his fingers along Dean’s skin, memorizing the curve of his back through touch. To warm him, he rubbed his brother’s arms, using it as an excuse to touch him. This was wrong, Sam knew. Wrong to play out his sick fantasy like this, to flirt and fuck with sin. But when Dean stopped shivering, when his brother framed his hips with strong hands—
Sam forced out a breath. “Dean…”
“Be quiet, Sammy.”
His brother’s voice was like gravel, dark-tinted glass and the roll of rich tobacco. The heaviness of it sent Sam’s head whirling, the heat of it slamming him with everything all at once. His heart pounded in his ears, his skin bursting with tiny prickles of electricity. Sam felt his cock thicken, become harder than it had ever been. The way Dean kissed his neck, pressed his hips into his own—fuck. Sam groaned against Dean’s ear, nipping at the lobe. Without thinking, he threaded his fingers into his brother’s hair and gripped tight, jerking down on Dean’s hip with his other hand. That and Dean’s quick and hard rubbing created an indescribable friction; breathtaking, euphoric—something from a dream.
Rough, desperate, they fucked into Dean’s hand. His brother’s breath left behind wet, tender skin and the memory of bite marks made Sam shiver. The moaning, the heat—everything. What should have been hours of bliss ended in mere seconds. Sam’s orgasm ripped through him suddenly, spreading a wet warmth between them. He had come prematurely, like some goddamn teenager, and the shame of it mingled with the afterglow. But he didn’t care. No amount of shame could touch the beauty of Dean’s gut-deep groan, raw and freeing. When Dean didn’t move, when instead his brother pressed himself harder against his body, Sam kissed his forehead. Together, they fought against the chill outside.
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