secretly, in between your heart and your soulauthor. moveablehistoryrating/warnings.
nc-17; fraternal incest and rough-ish sex.gratitude. dev_earl
for betaing - all remaining mistakes are mine, eboniorchid
for audiencing, and belovedsnail
for making it feel
This is a 1500 words teaser for a longer fic which I am writing for angstslashhope
's birthday - she had asked for wee!Winchesters. These boys aren't wee by any standards, but I'm still working on it. :) Title translated from Neruda's Soneto XVII
Ellen stared at him, and he'd just fucked his brother. The rain on the tin roof was splashing over the sides of the roadhouse, the sheets beneath them were mussed and it was obvious, and he'd just fucked his brother. Bone-deep lethargy and satisfaction went through all his bones up and down his insides, he was warm and happy and so embarrassed he could die, and he'd just fucked his brother.
Ellen stared at them, lips pressed thin and eyebrows so raised they almost disappeared, shook her head and shut the door behind her as loudly as she could without actually slamming it. He turned to look at Sam (who he'd just fucked, who has his hair sticking up in all directions, who had a hickey sucked on to his collarbone and the thin skin of his belly and who he'd just fucked) and he could barely hold back the hysterical laughter.
Sam didn't look very pleased at all.
Sam slammed the Impala's door shut, Dean made a c'mon Sammy noise but Sam stalked over to the driver's side, wrenched the door open, hauled Dean out and up against the side of the car.
Dean sputtered, not sure what was going on or if he was even going to think about stopping it, what with Sam's thigh between his legs, Sam's cock hard against his hip, denim darkening with sweat.
"The fuck are you doing?" Dean whispered, didn't even try to make eye contact with Sam when he was like this.
"I'm fucking sick of playing like they don't know," Sam spat the words out, shot a dark look at the roadhouse windows and rocked against Dean again. "Ellen fucking walked in on us. Jo's bedroom is next door. You don't think she can't hear your moans, the sound you make when I come inside you? Fucking wake up, we're not fooling anybody and there's no point trying now, not anymore."
Dean breathed hard, turned his head, didn't let his hands rest at Sam's hips like he wanted.
"Discretion, Sam, you ever heard of it? You think they wanted to know that? You think Ellen wanted to walk in on us like that?" He lowered his voice, didn't let his anger rise. "I don't want to hide it, Sam, I don't, you think I want to? But facts are nobody likes this, not anybody, and we can't just... flaunt it because there'll be hell to pay and I ain't joking around about that."
"You like this, Dean?" Sam's sudden grip on Dean's wrists made it obvious that he meant them, not Ellen and Jo and the roadhouse and all the rest of it.
"Why're you even bothering asking that, Sam? You think I'd go along with something I didn't want, especially something like this?"
"Tell me," Sam demanded, bent so that Dean could feel him breathing, pressed up along Dean's body, heart beating.
"I'm gonna fuck you against the Impala right here in fucking broad daylight and I don't give a damn who sees, you understand?"
He could practically feel Sam's snarl all the way through his bones down to his cock, didn't even bother with looking at the roadhouse windows to see if anybody was watching, was so beyond caring if anybody was watching. He barely managed to nod against the side of Sam's neck while Sam pushed a hand between them, thumbed open Dean's belt buckle and wrapped his hand around his cock, every part of him hard and aching. Sam touched his forehead to Dean's, jacked rough and slow. Dean pressed openmouthed kisses against the side of Sam's neck, the skin under Sam's chin; made a growling sound low back down in his throat, pushed his jeans and boxers down past his knees and wriggled while he got a better grip on Sam, better angle against Sam's hips and hard cock. Sam grunted in approval, whispered hoarse, saying, "Gonna take you dry, aren't you glad I fucked you open first thing in the morning? Slow, huh, swollen red all around my cock? You're gonna feel me for days, can't wait to see you sitting at the bar inside shifting around can't get comfortable 'cause I'm not inside you-"
"Shit, you're all talk, huh? C'mon, what are you waiting for?" Dean arched against Sam, bare hips to bare hips, bones on every square inch.
Sam gritted his teeth, set his jaw and fucking lifted Dean up against the car, whispering I'm gonna make you scream against your teeth, into my mouth, gonna walk in there and order a drink with your come drying on my stomach-
"Shit-" Dean had no idea where this was coming from, not really, and he sure wasn't gonna complain because there wasn't a whole lot he liked more than Sam getting all... possessive on him, had him saying things he'd never say otherwise, doing crazy things like this. Dean craved Sam's attention and by God, he was getting it now. "-shit, Sam, come on already - don't wanna waste this one on my pants, wanna- fuck-"
Sam moved around a bit, slid into Dean without any preamble, any warning. Dean hissed at the feeling, the fuckfuckfuck too much of it. Sam didn't give him a lot of time to adjust, just rocked and buried himself as deep as he could - Dean jerked wildly - Sam didn't let him go.
He looked up, over to the roadhouse windows, and Jo was staring at him wide-eyed, her mouth slack, looking somewhere between mildly betrayed and really fucking turned on. Sam locked gazes with her, stared while he licked a line up Dean's throat and mouthed not sharing at the window. Jo started, stepped back and disappeared inside. Sam's eyes went back to his brother, Dean's lashes fluttering closed as he sank as far down as he could on Sam's cock, gasping for air, hands bruising and hard on Sam's shoulders.
"What are you waiting for?" Sam whispered, "Come on already." He barely eased out and then pushed in, Dean's head in his hands so he doesn't hit himself against the Impala.
"You first," Dean said, "No fair I'm the floor show." He wriggled around, fit himself flush against Sam and tightened around him, "Come on, Sammy, give 'em something to look at-" Dean kissed Sam, lips parted and tongue out flicking against the roof of Sam's mouth, along his teeth, nipped at Sam's lower lip and Sam came embarrassingly easy, hot and liquid. Dean pulled away, panting and more than a little amused. "Dude. You're so - you just came from me-"
"-shut up," Sam finished. "I've made you come from less."
Dean held up his hands in mock surrender, then leaned against Sam, pressed his cock against Sam's belly. "C'mon then, let's see."
Sam grinned, took a minute to just hold on and look. Dean would have tapped his feet against the ground if he could actually feel them. "What are you waiting for?" he asked impatiently, but Sam didn't say anything, just stood still, cock softening but he wasn't about to pull out when Dean's body was holding him inside.
Dean shifted around, nearly started whining but didn't. He was itching for motion, for friction. Sam's cock hot inside him and huge hand wrapped around him, he shifted around some more and kept thinking, like when sometimes it was so cold out and they just stayed inside under blankets and Sam would do that thing with his tongue and goddamn christ—
Sam laughed as Dean came, whispered "You just proved me right," as Dean shook against him, whispered. "I want to see you do that for me a million times."
Dean came down slow, chest heaving, he took a minute to shake his head and clear the air a bit, let Sam slide out of him and they leaned against each other. Sam grinned, turned back and leaned against the Impala beside Dean, breathing in sync. He bent a little, took Dean's lower lip between his teeth and sucked it red. Dean made a noise in the back of his throat approving, then he moved away.
"No," Sam said, stopped Dean from grabbing the teeshirt they left in the backseat from last time. "Naw, don't clean up. Wanna have you in there smelling like sex."
Dean eyed Sam carefully, looked him up and down - lips bee-stung full, marks along the side of his neck, finger-shaped bruises on his ribs, easy satisfied look in his eyes.
"Yeah, all right," Dean said, "Gross as hell, but whatever." He pulled his jeans and boxers up, made a face at the cooling stickiness.
"I'll make it up to you," Sam whispered.
It was getting dark out, getting colder and Sam was more than ready to borrow one of Ellen's spare beds - if she'd let them - and just sleep through the rest of today and most of tomorrow. He turned to go inside, and Dean smacked his ass lightly, stepped forward to touch their fingertips together.