aeroport_art | Fic: Honey

Title: Honey
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Author:

aeroport_art
Rating: unabashed PWP
Warnings: Season 1 spoilers, but only if you read between the lines. (Sort of) non-con, UST.
Word Count: 4,050
Disclaimer: Do I look like I'm making money from this? Yeah, I didn't think so.
Notes: My first foray into the Supernatural fandom is a complete and total smutfest. Lol. A big side of angst snuck in there somehow but in my mind, there's a happy ending :).

Summary: Sam harbors a secret desire for his older brother. When Dean is hit with demon-aphrodasiac, Sam has to decide whether or not he should take advantage of his big brother. UST galore!

It’d been a demon like any other; run-of-the-mill. Piece of cake, easy street, whatever you wanted to call it, it only took four hours and presto, humans lives saved at the hands of Sam and Dean Winchester. So they packed up, called it an early night and ordered take-in pizza at the motel.

Sam was scrubbing the filth off his arms in the bathroom sink when the sound of a chair being knocked over rattled through the flimsy struts of the room.

“Dean?” Sam whirled around past the doorway at the sound of the crash, eyebrows crinkled up in worry as the older brother crumpled to the ground. “Dean!!” Sam dashed forward and propped his hands against Dean’s shoulder, pushing erratically in hopes of getting the grimacing man’s attention.

Dean groaned. “Maybe… maybe that purple goo wasn’t as harmless as we’d—ungh—thought.” Dean hunched forward, clutching at his chest in attempt to stave off the burning sensation that traveled through his body like fire ants marching through his veins.

“Fuck—okay hold on. Hold on,” Sam blurted, eyes darting between his brother and the laptop, oscillating between propping the groaning man up and getting online to find pertinent information. “Dean, I’m just gonna go look—mmph—”

But Sam couldn’t begin researching, couldn’t even get up off the motel floor because his older brother had suddenly shoved him down to the threadbare carpet and shut him up with an insistent kiss that was more teeth and tongue than lips.

Sam’s back was slammed against the hard floor, the wind knocked out of him when Dean’s ravaging mouth sucked any remaining breath out of his lungs. The older brother threw his weight down and pinned Sam to the ground, crushing any possibility of escape. Not that Sam was trying to escape; more in a state of shock than anything, he squeezed his eyes shut and waited for this strange, strange vision to dissipate. Fourteen seconds and three blossoming hickeys later, Sam opened his eyes.

Nope, Dean was still there. Still nestled between Sam’s kicked-apart legs, latching his mouth onto any bit of tanned skin he could find and still groping his little brother in very unbrotherly ways. Still manhandling Sam like he was the last fuckable thing on Earth, and—

Wait, what the fuck!? Feeling like he’d been bludgeoned over the head with something heavy, Sam finally began to struggle against the sinuous weight above him, scrabbling at the T-shirt clad chest and kicking his long legs in protest, but after Dean’s thoroughly wetted mouth had traveled back up from Sam’s neck he only succeeded in crossing his eyes at the too-close sight of Dean’s light freckles. Sam blinked one more time— there couldn’t be two Deans—and his eyes uncrossed. Dean licked at the open-mouthed lips below.

“Dean what the—stop, you’re not in your right mind, hey stop it—“ Sam nearly yelped when an unabashed hand snuck its way down Sam’s jeans, massaging the flesh below cotton boxers until it began perking up in interest. The younger brother leapt up to his elbows and stared at the man between his legs.

“C’mon Sammy,” Dean breathed.

No freaky black pupils, no fangs or flickering lights, it was still ostensibly Dean but fuck if it was his Dean, because the older brother Sam knew wouldn’t be holding his baby brother’s tightly bunched abs down with one splayed palm, other hand working the burgeoning cock into hardness.

Hell if this wasn’t some cruel-ass joke God, or Satan, (the Demon?) was playing on him because as much as Sam refused to acknowledge it, this was brilliant. Oh, he’d been good about hiding it… ignoring the clench in his chest when lipstick prints began appearing on Dean’s clothes, feigning indifference when Dean undressed in front of him, strangling any Dean-induced erections with a fanaticism that would rival any horny-toed pastor. Sam even went so far as wanking to photos or videos of women at convenient moments when he knew Dean might see, as if he didn’t have an imagination strong enough to censor the big tits and girlish moans. All it took was a little something and Sam had trained himself to see Dean in every brunette, every green-eyed gaze, every pouty mouth and leather jacket and fuck, by the time Sam was eleven years old with Dean in his bed and jizz on his hand, he knew he had a Problem.

This had to be a joke of the lowest, meanest degree because as of this moment, Sam had everything he ever wanted in his arms (and pinning them down with heady domination), but it wasn’t real.

“Sammy, Sammy,” Dean moaned incoherently, shoving Sam’s wrists up over his head and clutching them with one grasp as the other hand flipped the button off of Sam’s jeans. “God, want you so bad—“

“Dean, snap out of it,” Sam pleaded, feeling tears in his eyes because this was wrong, wrong in so many ways (wrong like how fucking much he wanted this), and Dean’s hand had roughly jerked Sam’s zipper halfway down when he reached in, fishing for the younger man’s now-fully erect cock and jerking it out of the slit of his boxers and jeans.

“Shut up Sammy, just let me—“ Dean licked his lips. “I’ll make you feel so good, just you wait.”

“Stop it Dean, please,” Sam bit out as his older brother clamped both hands on the jerking, jutting hips below him, ducked his head down, and wrapped his plump lips around the crown of Sam’s twitching dick. “Shit, Dean! ” Fist flying to his mouth, Sam bit down so hard that the pain almost drew attention away from the shocks of pleasure/relief that vibrated down his ecstatic penis. Almost, but not quite because Dean was fast sinking down, cheeks hollowed out in the sluttiest portrait Sam had ever seen of a man sucking his little brother off. And he’d seen several, if the history link in his browser was anything to go by.

After what seemed an eternity, Dean hit as far as he would go, swallowing just a little too deeply and gagging around the intruding flesh. Sam involuntarily bucked at the sensation of pulsing muscles around the tip of his dick and thrust up, further choking his brother. Dean pulled off and coughed wetly, saliva obscenely clinging from his mouth and trailing over Sam’s reddened dick.

“Dean…” Sam groaned, emotions battling against each other in a swirl of guilt, horror, desire, elation. Dean wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and swallowed thickly, tasting precum in the back of his throat, and fuck, that little taste of Sam’s sperm drove him completely mad with lust, as if the induced lust that tore up and down his limbs wasn’t enough.

Sam looked up in fear as Dean sat back on his haunches, nursing his swollen lips with flashes of white teeth. Oh god, he’s snapped out of it, he thought, watching his older brother’s eyes smolder with anger.

Only, it maybe it wasn’t anger because Dean had started to remove his jacket, shucking it off muscled arms and tossing it behind him, followed closely by his white T-shirt and leather belt. He got up onto his knees and edged forward and Sam tried not to hyperventilate at the sight of Dean’s lusciously contoured body, Dean’s dark, indigo denims slipping down narrow hips and revealing stark indents that disappeared into the waistband of Dean’s black boxer-briefs.

Fuck fuck fuck, Sam mentally swore. Fuck, because he was as hard as a pole, leaking like a cheap faucet, and with just one more erotic look from his brother or one more electrifying brush of skin, Sam was going to surrender. And if Dean came out of his lust-frenzy with his memory intact, Sam was screwed, but not in the way he wanted (had always wanted) to be. Screwed to the ends of the Earth because Sam hadn’t struggled as hard as he could’ve, hadn’t protested as much as he should’ve.

“Dean, you don’t want this,” he weakly objected; once more, for appearances sake. One more shred of dignity he could cling to before he gave in to this demon-aphrodisiac, before he rolled over on all fours and begged to be fucked by his wet dream of an older brother.

“Like hell I don’t,” Dean growled, continuing to disrobe and deftly jerking his jeans down around his thighs. Sam had never heard sexier words spoken, had never seen anything hotter than his big brother kneading himself into a prominent, tented bulge. Christ, he could even see the head of Dean’s dick, neatly outlined through the thin fabric.

“Dean…” Sam bit his lip.

“Yeah Sammy, you want some of this?” Dean got up, sat on the edge of the nearest bed and languidly rubbed his lower belly with a sinuous hand before sliding down, down in slow motion until Sam blinked and suddenly, his older brother’s cock was out, slowly fisted into a straining, quivering rock that begged to be soothed with a curious tongue. “You want to suck this dick, Sammy? Wanna feel your big brother’s cock lodged in your throat?”

Sam’s ears burned at the words, thick and dirty words teased from a mouth made for sinful temptation.

“Strip for me, Sammy.”

Fuck it. Might as well get laid before the shit hit the fan. Sam tentatively got up off the carpet and crawled forward until he was kneeling between Dean’s legs. Pulled his T-shirt off, steadfastly unbuckled his belt and kicked his trousers off. Face burning underneath the palpable gaze of his older brother, Sam undressed until all of his clothes were in a small pile beside to him. He obediently moved closer but he still couldn’t bring himself to look at his brother’s erection dead-on, despite it being a mere few inches from his tingling lips. The entire situation was wrong, and it was bad enough Sam had buckled in to his weakness; he didn’t need to lascivious about it. And so he looked down, studying the triangle of maroon bedcover visible between Dean’s spread thighs as he inhaled the heady musk of his brother’s sex. Parted his lips slowly and carefully, trying not to be too obvious about how disturbingly eager he was to (finally) taste, suck, swallow Dean’s cock.

The older man curled rough fingers into Sam’s longish, floppy hair and grasped tightly, yanking Sam’s head back until he had no choice but to meet Dean’s gaze.

“C’mon baby brother, I know the way you look at me. Don’t stop now,” he growled before shifting his grip and pointing the head of his dick at Sam’s grimacing mouth, prodding it against tightened lips. “Open that big mouth for me, show me how bad you want it.” Sam opened his mouth. Dean jerked his hips forward and stabbed his hard dick into the proffered cavity, then reached up to with both hands to force Sam’s head further into his lap. Ignoring the resistance from the younger man, Dean pushed him down until Sam’s nose was nestled in the slit of Dean’s boxers and buried in dark curls.

“Swallow, swallow,” Dean said, voice lilting in casual instruction like he was teaching a baby to drink. “That’s it Sammy—“ he ground his hips in slow circles, biting his lip at the feeling of his dick being caressed around his brother’s lashing tongue.

“Mmmph—“ Sam struggled, trying to let his euphoric brother know that he was running out of air. Unfortunately, the vibrations only purred through Dean’s sensitized dick and he groaned at the sensation.

“Yeah Sammy, just like that. Just hum a little tune for me, god damn,” Dean rambled, clenching fistfuls of soft hair and rocking into the wet cavern. Sam’s gag reflex started working as he fought for air, but the thick pole battered its way down his gullet and Sam could do naught but blink back tears. Finally he reached up and smacked Dean across the hip.

“Fuck, what?” Dean pulled out of Sam’s mouth, a little torrent of saliva parting from his brother’s shining lips.

“I couldn’t—“ Sam coughed again, then swallowed the excess drool and precum. Fuck. He tasted Dean’s sperm on his palate and gods, it was such a fucking turn on. “Couldn’t breathe, asshole.”

“I’ll show you not breathing,” Dean countered, suddenly reaching for his own boxer-briefs and slipping them off his legs until he was completely, gloriously naked. Sam nearly moaned aloud at the sight of his brother’s freed erection, long and thick with a smooth crown and gods, he even had a little mole on the underside. Sam vaguely wondered if Dean knew about it but his train of thought was cut short when his older brother leaned down and shoved Sam to the ground.

“Hey—“ Sam protested as he landed on his back, affronted at the rude behavior.

“’Not breathing’ isn’t having a hard dick in your throat, baby brother. ‘Not breathing’ is when I’m riding you so hard, so deep that you’re choking on me all over again. We’ll see if you can breathe when I’m fucking you into the ground.” Dean strung a litany of filthy promises as he kneeled between Sam’s legs, grabbed his thighs and pushed them into Sam’s chest as he awkwardly settled the long calves on his shoulders. “—Gonna fuck you into next week and you’re going to love it.”

Sam looked up at his brother’s wild eyes, flashing green with huge, black pupils and he felt tears prick all over again at the knowledge that while this was singularly the hottest sex he’d ever had, it was thanks to the basic fact that his brother was strung out on demon-spawned chemicals. Knowing what a pathetic mess he was making of himself, Sam bit back a strangled cry and shoved his face to the side, unable to look at Dean’s drugged eyes when they fucked.

Unaware of his brother’s internal conflict, unheeding of Sam’s pooling tears, Dean hocked up spit from the back of his throat and parted the ass cheeks below him, easily exposing Sam’s dark, quivering pucker. He aimed and spit, watched the thick saliva dribble down Sam’s balls, over his perineum, and onto the target.

“Dean—“ Sam pleaded, aching voice breaking across the room, but to no response. For awhile the only audible noises were the muted, pained sounds Sam made as Dean roughly worked his brother’s asshole open with spit and probing fingers. By the time Dean had inserted a third, a fourth finger, Sam was openly weeping into the carpet, wet tracks spilling down one side of his temple as he obstinately refused to look up.

This could be so good, Sam listlessly thought. But maybe this was karma, retribution for years of being such a sick fuck. After all, he had been the owner to true perversions.

Sam helplessly thought back to when they were younger, still sharing a motel bed with Dad in the one over. He would complain about being chilly just to feel Dean’s strong arms around him regardless of whether he really was or not. One time when they were spooned on their sides, Sam had cautiously snuck a hand into his own briefs and touched himself, masturbating to the hot, moist breath at his neck and the feel of Dean’s hips snug against his ass. When Sam had imagined Dean’s soft dick, imagined the way it was pressed up against his own ass, he had come so hard that his ears rang. For weeks after, the guilt had clung to his chest like poisonous honey.

“Sammy, look at me,” Dean commanded, grabbing his little brother’s tear-tracked cheeks and turning his face up. “I’ll make you feel so good, just open up for me,” he whispered as he leaned down, brushing almost gentle lips against Sam’s. The irony twisted itself into Sam’s gut like a serrated blade.

Dean let of his face and returned his hands to Sam’s thighs, insistently pressing them forwards again until his younger brother’s ass was raised off the ground. Dean still pressed further until only Sam’s shoulder blades were digging into the carpet for balance. Using his weight to keep Sam’s legs in the air, Dean positioned himself at his little brother’s stretched, sloppy entrance and pushed in.

“Dean!!” Sam felt his mind drain of thoughts as the spongy head pressed against his opening. Suddenly, he didn’t care anymore, didn’t give a flying fuck that everything about this was wrong because fuck, Dean’s dick was pushing its way inside of him.

Bent nearly in half, Sam watched his older brother bear down and work his way into Sam’s virgin hole with short, rhythmic thrusts that charted new ground with each roll of the hips.

“Fuck, Sammy,” Dean winced. “So tight, god—gonna make me blow my load—“ In one grinding shove, Dean sheathed himself inside of his little brother. “Ffffuck.”

Sam cried out when Dean’s hips skittered, pushing him down like a coiled bedspring. Jesuschrist, Dean’s dick is inside of me. He’s—we’re… Sam shut his inane inner voice up and spread his legs a little wider, letting Dean slip closer.

Dean took the invitation and bruisingly grabbed Sam’s thighs for leverage as he pulled out, drunk on the feeling of his brother’s ass clinging to his dick. “God Sammy, you’re such a good boy, saving yourself for this.” He slammed back down, buried to the hilt.

“Nngh,” Sam grunted as Dean repeated the action.

“How does it feel—“ Up. “—knowing I’m the only one who’s—“ Down. “—ever had my dick up your ass?” Dean hissed between clenched teeth as he picked up speed, pummeling his way into his little brother like a piston.

“Oh god Dean—“ Sam yelled, ignoring the rug burn on his shoulder blades as the older man fucked him soundly. God it hurt; the huge girth of his brother fucking a space inside of him brought fresh tears to the corners of Sam’s eyes, but it was so good. Because with Dean shoving Sam’s knees over his shoulders and pounding into him so hard his spine nearly snapped in half, Sam could almost pretend that he was the one being taken advantage of. When Dean was hurting him like this, he could pretend that it wasn’t his fault that he’d given in to the aphrodisiac without batting an eyelash.

Dean eyed the long string of precum that dangled from the tip of his brother’s penis, watched the hard pink cock bounce against Sam’s belly from the shocks of rough thrusts. The older man spit in his palm, leaned down and swiped the leaking fluid for extra lube as he palmed Sam’s generous erection.

Sam wasn’t expecting it. He was too busy getting mindfucked by how delicious Dean’s meat felt inside of him to notice much of anything, but when that hot/tight/slick/perfect grip squeezed over his cock, Sam just about screamed.

“Sh, sh,” Dean hushed and Sam nearly came from the sight of his brother’s swollen, bitten lips forming a little ‘o’ shape in the flawless mimicry of a professional cocksucker.

“Dean!!” Sam squealed as the older man jacked him tightly, efficiently like he was cocking a gun.

“Yeah Sammy, such a slut for your big brother, aren’t you—“ Dean growled, kicking the pace up a notch as he worked Sam’s dick in luxurious pulls. Sam felt the violent thrusts rattle the teeth in his head and he could feel his asshole clenching in protest. Dean whined. “That’s it, milk it, god you’re so fucking tight— “

Although his back threatened to snap, his shoulders burned to the bone and tears streaming freely down the sides of his head, Sam teetered on the brink of orgasm. Dean, Dean, Dean, he chanted, whispery quiet against his lips, over and over again like his brother’s name was absolution.

“Sammy,” Dean said, rough and commanding. “Sammy, open your mouth.”

Sam obeyed, so far beyond coherence that he would’ve complied with anything asked of him, so long as Dean didn’t. Stop. Fucking him. He stretched his mouth wide open.

“Come for me.” With one final shove, Dean nearly climbed his way into Sam’s ass, the tip of his cock rubbing against his little brother’s prostrate. Striking gold just as he twisted off Sam’s throbbing pole, jacking another stranglehold of a stroke to nudge Sam into orgasm.

“Dean!!” The younger man gasped loudly as Dean kept pumping his fist, the come churning up out of Sam’s balls and erupting in lance after lance of thick white fluid that squirted over his own face. Almost there himself, Dean subconsciously aimed the jets into his brother’s still-open mouth and upon the sight of Sammy coming in his own mouth, Dean fell over the edge.

Fell over, and over until he blacked out.

It could have been seconds, minutes, or years, Dean didn’t know. He just knew that when he opened his eyes, he saw—

Sam naked beneath him, curled up on his side. Sam’s tear-streaked face. Thumb-shaped bruises on Sam’s jaw, come dripping down Sam’s face and hair.

He saw—thick, milky fluid oozing out between the cleft of Sam’s ass. Come. His come in Sam’s ass.

Dean shakily stood up and blinked two, three times. Sam peered up at him from beneath a fringe of semen-mottled bangs. He felt something crash over him like a tidal wave of bleak, disbelieving horror, which was quickly replaced with rising panic.

Ohgod— Dean snatched up a pair of mesh shorts and a wrinkled T-shirt on the way out the room. Slammed the door behind him, turned to the bushes on the left of him, and emptied his stomach.

Sammy… Dean braced himself against a pole and let the second wave overtake him. Tried to orient himself long enough to think of something, anything, but the only thing that came to mind was the image of his little brother, crying in a fetal position, face and hair splattered with God knows whose semen. He kneeled down and vomited again.

Inside the motel room, Sam had gotten up off the floor, painfully aware of the fire that shredded up and down his asshole. He felt something warm trickle down his thighs and touched at it, finding thick pink fluid over his index finger. Blood and come. How appropriate.

Sam hobbled into the bathroom, tried hard to ignore the despondency that threatened to overtake him in the realization that his brother had taken one look at Sam and fled.

He turned the hot water on, waited for it to warm up, and gingerly climbed in. Under the pounding spray he thought of all the things he would have to do to convince Dean that this was a fluke, that Sam wasn’t really head over heels in lust over his only family member. Thought of how he’d apologize for taking advantage of his Dean’s drugged state.

A good twenty or thirty minutes in, Sam heard the front door open and shut over the sound of the shower. Good, it was close to freezing in the winter night outside, and Dean hadn’t been wearing much of anything.

He closed his eyes and steeled himself. Turned the water off, stepped onto the bathmat, and dried himself off with a starchy white towel. Primly slung and tucked it around his waist, turned the knob of the bathroom, and stepped out.

Dean was underneath the sheets already, facing the opposite wall. Blankets rucked high up over his chin, curled into a tight ball as if he was trying to drown himself in the bedcovers and overstuffed pillows.

“Dean.”

Dean burrowed into himself. Sam pulled on some clothes and cautiously padded over to his older brother.

I’m sorry, he thought. I fucked up.

Sam decided against touching Dean, as much as he wanted to. If his older brother’s trembling figure was anything to go by, this was probably not the best time to give in to his freakish impulses. So he turned around, pulled back the covers of the other bed and slipped in.

They fell asleep to remorse, thick and heavy on their minds. Neither one slept for hours.

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