âbig broâ dean x reader ⌠âbig broâ sam x reader (18+)
warnings: pseudocest, double penetration (anal and vaginal), pussy eating, anal fingering, creampies, aftercare, angst! happy ending though, NO WINCEST wincest dni this is not the place to be on a saturday! or ever!đđđ
note: the moment youâve all been waiting for. im so excited to share this with you guys!! i hope you all like it!!! sorry for the long wait!!!
The first time Dean allowed himself to lay his hands on your skin he felt damned.
Now, heâs never been much of the religious type, but for the first time in his life he felt like he might need to turn to God. He wanted so badly to feel disgusted by your flesh, to feel grossed out with every inch he sank. But he didnât. You felt good.
He can remember it clear as day. It was in the back of an abandoned house you all were squatting in for the night.
Dean reminisces the feeling of your tongue pressing against his. Heâd stolen kisses every now and then before this but pulled away before he could turn it into anything more. He was too scared. His head hurt every time he thought to do it. Too much emotion running through his sharp mind to be happy.
Bed rotations were stalled. He never faced you, but youâd wake up to his arm around your stomach or his hand in yours each morning.
The first time he allowed himself to let go of all that guilt he felt free. He allowed himself to feel the warmth of your body, the warmth heâd envied for weeks that Sam got to feel before him. He adored every scratch you put on his back in the mirror afterwards, debating if he could get it tattooed. He remembers the way you looked at him as he stretched you out, an unfamiliar feeling to you because you were already used to Sam.
Dean remembers the way you blinked back tears, pulling him in for a deep kiss when he came inside you. There were no condoms where there typically should be. He remembers the feeling of relaxation in his bones when he kissed you back.
He feels relaxed as he sleeps beside you, arm around your stomach and his face in your neck. His brows are furrowed and his exhales grow shaky with every scratch of your nails against his head.
No, he doesnât love you like that. Not in the same way you love Sam, not in the same way he loved any woman before shit got.. weird. But he loves you in another way, the way a father loves his daughter and wants to protect her, doesnât want her to leave home in fear of others taking advantage of her. Thatâs how he loves you. He knows you love him in that way, too.
âDean?â Your voice manages to lull him out of whatever daze he was in. His eyes feel heavy. His fingers curl around your waist and he hums softly. âMm?â Your body turns somewhat, hand pulling out of his hair. He makes a disgruntled noise from being pushed out of his resting place. âI.. need a smoke.â
âA smoke?â He grunts, lifting his head and squinting at you. âItâs too late for a smoke.â His scolding words make you smile. âIâm capable of going by myself. Plus, I can watch for Sam whenever he comes back.â
âYouâre not going by yourself,â He murmurs, lifting his body and rubbing his eyes. âCome on.â
Dean forces you to sit close by. He has his arm around your shoulder, letting your head lean into his chest as you inhale and exhale the cigarette between your fingers. Each hit feels like a punch to the lung, but you like it.
When Sam rolls back in with Baby he parks smoothly and exits the car with haste.
âSammy,â He calls out, sliding his arm away from you and standing up. Sam smiles that lopsided smile of his, tossing the keys back to his brother and standing near. âSheâs fine. Not a scratch, âkay?â
âHope not.â He shoves the keys into his jeans. âWhatâd you get?â
âGot a pack of gum, some beer, and a newspaper.â He skims through the plastic bag in glances.
âFucking hell. One thing I asked for was the damn pie.â
You snort, resting your cheek on the heel of your palm. âGas station pie might kill you, De. Ever thought of that?â
Sam sighs, walking over to you and plopping himself down on the gravel. âThank god someone else has some sense here.â
When he kisses you, Deanâs stomach churns. He wonders to himself, is this how he looks with you? Does he look this relaxed as his lips press against yours, his tongue brushing against the opening of your mouth and sticking it in? Does Sam feel this sick when he sees it? Does his stomach churn and bubble with disgust, too, or does he feel peachy keen?
âIâm going inside.â He grunts, turning abruptly and heading back in. You turn towards him, brows furrowing a bit.
â..You two did talk it all out, didnât you?â You frown, stubbing your cigarette out on the ground. Sam nods. He squeezes your hand gently and you turn to him, brows knotted in worry. âI.. am going to see if heâs okay. Yeah?â
You know Dean too well to not want to check on him. You know that even if he says he needs space what he really needs is comfort. Something to lean on that isnât just his own arm.
âYeah, okay.â Sam smooths his hands out on his jeans, smiling up at you.
When you find Dean again heâs just sitting at the bed. Heâs got his shirt off and on the ground, feet planted into rotting wood panels and his fingers in his hair. Itâs almost statuesque.
You donât say anything at first. Just crawl behind him on the bed and smooth your hands over his back until his muscles stiffen under your touch. He bounces his leg stiffly, running his hand over his face when he turns to look at you.
âWhat?â He huffs, frowning at your pitiful expression. âGod, donât look at me like that. Let Sam in. Donât keep him out like a stray dog.â
âYou guysâve been tense for a while.â You mutter, blinking and straightening your face out. âEven though you talked.. or so you say you talked.â
âOh, we talked.â He snarls. You squeeze his back. âHey. Iâm trying to ease the tension here, alright?â You sit back, settling your hands in your lap. âTalk to me now.â
âI donât need you playing shrink, sweetheart.â
âIâm not being one. God forbid I want to make sure my brotherâs okay, yeah?â
Brother, brother, brother. Your brother. Samâs brother. Your big brother. Your pseudo-brother.
The same âbrotherâ you had sex with not even two nights ago, that brother.
âI-I donât..â He rasps, standing up and covering his face. You perk up, watching as he paces. He moves like heâs preparing for the worst. âDonât fucking call me that,â He grunts. âWe had sex the other night, donât fucking call me that.â
âI am sick!â Dean can barely speak. He feels like heâs better off rotting in some unknown place, better off anywhere but here. When he manages his way back to you, he looks lost. Like a child. You tilt your head. âI-Iâm fucking sick in the head. This whole thing is sick. You and Sam surely thought of that when you started fucking each other, yeah? Surely? At any time did you think it was weird?â
âI mean, yeah, but- but itâs not like anythingâs going to change with us.â You exhale. You shrink into yourself, wiping your hand down your face. You donât want to look at him. He doesnât want to, either, but he stares at you with the same ferocity he does when he whacks off a vampireâs head. âShouldnât it change?â
You swallow. âDo you want it to?â
Dean grabs at your arms, pulling you closer until youâre writhing with discomfort. His lips meet yours aggressively, tears bubbling behind his eyes as he shoves his tongue into your mouth.
Itâs always like this, isnât it? Itâs always heat, messy forces of mouths combining into one. You maul at each other like animals, desperate to fight for your own. It sounds like you two are growling.
Neither of you notice when the door opens, when Sam sneaks his way back in and sees your bodies running along each other like a river of passion. Your fingers are loyal to the curves of Deanâs muscles in a way they never are to his. It almost makes him jealous.
He doesnât get the sharp dig of your nails in his arms with every scrape of his teeth against yours. He doesnât get the same brush of your hands riding up to his shoulder blades. What you two have is animalistic. Driven by pure devotion and a need for each other that Sam doesnât provide. Itâs almost familial the way you two paw at each other like youâve known eachotherâs nakedness for more than just the last few weeks.
Sam knocks on the wall. Once, twice, then thrice with a cough to go with it. âHey,â He calls out, brows furrowed with irritation. He doesnât want to watch you two hump each other. He doesnât want to feel jealous anymore. Dean can barely pull himself off, but he does begrudgingly. His head turns and he glares at his brother like theyâre going to have a dog fight.
âWhat?â He snaps. Sam makes a face. âI donât need to see you two having sex.â
âIf you donât like it then youâve got a few places to go.â
âYeah, well, some people need more than just five hours of sleep, Dean. Like me.â
âYou can sleep in the damn car for all I care! You got her for months, I get her for two seconds before Iâm being begged to stop!â
âYeah, well how about you guys go to the car if you want to fuck like rabbits instead?â
Their bickering fills your ears. It rises to the top of your head and makes you feel dizzy. Youâre all kiss-dazed and suddenly immersed in loud noise.
âGuys, come on! Knock it off!â You turn your head and cover your ears. He gets off the bed, picking his shirt back up. âOh, Iâll knock it alright. Iâm going to the bar. Howâs that for some peace and quiet?â
Sam scoffs and rolls his eyes, kicking his feet at the ground and rubbing his hands over his face. âYouâre always so damn defensive. Can never hold a conversation without flipping out!â
âI can hold a damn conversation!â He barks, shoving the fabric over his head and shoulders. âLearn to hold a pillow over your head if Iâm fucking the shit out of her!â
âJesus Christ, shut up!â Your shouting hurts. It scratches the inside of your throat like metal wires. âShut up, shut up! What the hell is the matter with you two?!â
Their chests rise and fall with irritation.
Classic Winchester bickering. Anything but a normal conversation with healthy boundaries, right?
âGod, you two canât do anything without screaming at each other! Itâs ridiculous! Whatâs got your panties in a twist all of a sudden?â You sit up, wiping the back of your mouth and flipping your hair out of your face. âDean, sit back down.â
Itâs not a request. Itâs a meek attempt at ordering him around like a dog.
âI said Iâm goingââ
âFor the love of everything, sit down!â You yell. You feel like youâre choking on air. Itâs too much voice, too much being exhaled for someone like you. He sits. Sam subconsciously sits at your request, too. His fingers grasp at the sheets and he sinks into himself, staring at you like a scolded child.
Itâs heavy breaths that fill the silence. Nobody speaks. The air is weighted, pressed against your shoulders like an elephant in the room. You feel it the most. Itâs all your fault, isnât it? For making Sam this way, for enticing Dean into it, too. The pit of guilt circles your stomach like a frolicking sheep.
âI-â You shake your head. All you want to do is crawl away. Somewhere far, somewhere nobody will see you. You wonder if they feel like this, too, or if anger consumes them like moss to a house. âI donât.. want you to fight. We shouldnât fight. This is all stupid.â You blubber, squeezing your hands into fists. Your throat closes and opens.
âTalk to each other.â You ask, running your fingers through the crest of your hair. Sam squeezes the sheets. âWe talked already, princess. Heâs just being an asshole.â
âIâm not being an asshole.â Dean chimes. If he were a dog, his fur would be sticking straight up. âYou decided to antagonize me.â The younger one scoffs. âAntagonize. Big words arenât going to make me feel bad for you.â
âHoly shit.â Youâre always amused by their inability to communicate. It sounds like a bunch of four year olds without any manners. âHoly fucking shit. I-I canât. I canât.â You roll off the bed, making way towards your sweater and pulling it back over your body. Dean gives you a look. âOh, you can leave but I canât?â
âYou canât even have a proper talk with your own brother about something so trivial!â You scream. You rub your temples, groaning and burying your fists in your hair. âI-Itâs my fucking fault for this whole mess but at least I could tell you if I was upset over something! You canât do anything without someone yelling at you!â
You feel terrible. Your whole world is going to shit.
You shouldâve told Sam to wait that day. Shouldâve locked the door extra good so he couldnât get in. Anything, anything but letting Dean find out. Anything.
âI need air. I need something. I need you two to talk, please, I am begging.â
Samâs face scrunches up. Heâs making the same face you do to Dean; itâs pitiful and scorning. You hate it, too. â..Alright. Okay.â
The cold air fills your lungs and calms you like nothing else could. Takes the stress away in the same manner the cigarette does. Flick, light, and burn.
It fills your lungs like a kiss. Stronger than the scent of cologne at your back, stronger than an arm around your waist. It isnât strong enough to hold the tears back. Isnât strong enough to pull you back together through shaky breaths and coughs of choked up smoke with each sob.
Yeah, it hurts. Would it be easier if you didnât know them? How much of a difference would that make? If you were some random woman hobbling along through hunts, would they care so much about sleeping with you?
You are a hydrangea, blossoming through wet tears and turning a beautiful blue. Your feet are crouched in dirt so close you can feel it in your nose with every breath. You wish you were being washed away, absorbed like the air that goes into your lungs and comes back a white cloud.
The sound of shoes stills you out of a sob. It pulls you like a fish on a line, squeezes you tight.
Sam crouches down with you at the same level, places his hand on your shoulder and rubs at your back. âPrincess.â He whispers. When you look back, your eyes are blurry. Itâs his turn to hate a look now.
âOh, sweetheart..â His embrace envelops you without a second thought. Lifts you out of your own misery. You stub your cigarette out, watch it crumble into the dirt. You hope thatâll be you one day.
Sam kisses the side of your head, places his hands on your cheeks and rubs out the tears into his own skin. His guilt consumes him. âIâm sorry.â He murmurs. You nod, sniffling and shrugging him off. At least you try to; he doesnât really budge. His lips press between your brows, at your nose, and against your lips. Brings you warmth a cigarette cannot provide. Brushes his tongue against your lips and dips it in to taste the tobacco on your skin. He pulls away.
âCome back inside?â He furrows his brows, smiling a bit. You purse your lips. â..Okay.â
Heâs always gentle with you, especially now as tears blur your vision and you keep wiping at your face with the hem of your sleeves. He keeps his hand at the small of your back, guiding you until youâre inside again.
Dean isnât there, but the shower water runs so you know heâs in it. Sam helps tug off your sweater and places it onto a spare chair. His hands feel like silk as they glide against your arms, leading you into bed so he can unravel you like a bandage. He does all the work for you, wiggles your boots off, then your pants and shirt to leave you just in your undergarments. He sheds his own like itâs a second skin.
His body is solid like a rock. It curls into you and keeps you steady, hard abs at your back. He brushes his fingertips against the curves of your hips and thighs, up your waist, eventually to your chest.
âYou talked it out?â You ask softly. Your hand curls into his. âWe.. we did.â He murmurs, kissing the back of your head. You furrow your brows and turn your head back to him. âYou sound nervous.â
âIâm not. Itâs just,â He shakes his head. âHeâs doing his best to come to terms with stuff. Itâs tough shit.â Sam smiles so softly but his dimples pop out just the same. He leans down, pecks your lips gently. âHe needs time.â
Lightly, you nod. Lean up into him and give a light peck, too. And another. And another that delves deeper, tongue darting out to part his lips and wet your own. He accepts his fate.
Hands crawl to your hips, squeeze the fat so tightly it leaves handle marks. The shitty air conditioning stops working from the heat of the shower. You can get a quickie in, he thinks. Dean showers for too long anyway.
He turns you. Fingers glide against your back and cup your ass, squeezing the flesh tightly as he flips you over him. They inch down to your panties, thin fabric bunched up between your ass which he paws at incessantly until it gives. You can feel him pressing at your asshole, circling the tight ring until you ease up.
You moan softly into his mouth, peeling yourself away from him. Sam smiles again. This time itâs wide and teasing. You groan when he dips his fingers lower, towards your aching cunt blossoming for him with nectar. He coats his skin in the wetness and brings it back up, the same fluid motions beginning again, small circles around your rim as if threatening you.
âWe donât have time,â You murmur, wincing as his finger gently begins a push in. It forces you to exhale. âSam!â He laughs under his breath, large finger stretching you open as you groan beside his neck. Your face buries into the crook. Soft, languid, hot exhales against skin and brushing back into you. Each centimeter of his finger that goes makes you twitch and roll. He pulls it out, pushes a second in alongside it. It glides right in, your body trained to open for him.
âDeanâll be a while,â His voice is hushed, like his words are a secret. You nod, reluctantly so. âHe takes too long in those damn showers. You know him.â
His fingers widen, stretching your hole open until youâre reduced to a whining mess, fingers clammy as they grip into the sheets below. Your skin collects sweat from each pore, it seeps out onto him like rain, coats him in it like an oil spill.
His lips kiss at your neck, the meat of your shoulder pressed against his lips. He can feel his cock rising with every shudder. He adds a third just to be safe.
âOh, fuck,â You gasp. Tears well and drop like flies. You bare your teeth into his neck, bone against skin. They push and press, nip at him until he relents and releases you with a gaping ass, pulsing with need. A silent cry for him and all he is.
Samâs body listens without needing to be told, it grinds into you until he manages to wiggle off his boxers and slip your panties off your legs. Both go on the floor in a pile. âUp.â He pats your hip and you go.
Your body rises slowly, face flushed with these unbearably horny tears. He laughs. âSo pretty.â His hand glides against your back, up and at the clasp of your bra, unhooking it skillfully until it drops fully. âTurn around, sweetheart. Mâgonna take care of everything.â
You do. You lie against him, legs held up by one strong hand while the other holds the base of his cock at your hole. He teases, rubs the length against your cunt which leaks down between your ass. He slaps his tip against your clit, kissing your shoulder as you whine and writhe. Finally, he pushes in. It stretches you painfully at first, hurts and stings like a burn, but then feels like too much pressure. It fills you up and you can feel it in your stomach. He bottoms out and whines, squeezes your body to his.
His thrusts are always slow at first. They ease in and slip out quicker and quicker with each thrust until a rhythm picks up. Youâre too caught up in how good it feels to have all of him inside youâhis hand gently rubbing at your clit with each thrust, his moans filling the room alongside yoursâthat you donât notice when the shower turns off.
Dean can hear it. Your sex is loud but not rough. He can tell by how you whine his name out breathily. He rubs the towel into his damp hair, droplets falling like a sprinkler. He wraps it around his waist, turning the knob reluctant to even leave the bathroom. He almost contemplates just staying in until youâre done, but heâs a big boy. He can handle a little sex.
The door opens under your ears. Sam notices before you, eyes widening and a groan escaping. âFuck,â He rasps, coming to a halt. Dean smiles at his misery. âOh, by all means, donât stop on my account.â He waves his hand, shuts the door. You blink, opening your eyes and looking at him. He does a finger-wave.
âDean,â You whine, hips bucking and rolling into Sam. He makes a face. âCome, come.. Please?â
âCome?â He snorts, rubbing the back of his neck. âYou seem a bit.. occupied.â
You shake your head, bringing a hand down alongside Samâs stilled one. You rub at your cunt yourself, spread it open with your fingers as if to invite him in. He throbs.
âSam?â He coughs. He can feel himself rising under his towel. Sam seems reluctant, toes curling down into the mattress. He wants to make you happy, though. He knows what youâre thinking; you hope this will bring you all together again. âOkay, fine. Just.. donât touch me.â Dean unwraps himself. âWasnât planning on it.â
Warmth radiates off of Deanâs body when he comes close. His hands are powerful against your thighs while Samâs scramble away. They grab like tentacles, hands against your knees and opening your thighs. Youâre wet as ever, dripping down onto Sam as his cock fills your ass. Itâs a beautiful sight, he thinks, watching you glisten and twitch with a need so strong it flows out of you.
His fingers dip into you, scoop your essence onto his hands and laps it up. You watch him with a giggle, the sound turning breathy suddenly as Sam begins fucking you again. He hugs your waist, kissing at your shoulder like an apology for the stillness. Heâs a cat, trying to get your attention by rubbing onto you.
âSo sweet.â Dean groans, bringing his fingers down again. He slaps your clit lightly, smiling when you moan and buck into the pressure. âDonât be so greedy. Youâll get whatâs coming.â
A whine leaves your lips. Itâs more of a huff.
âFucking rude,â You blubber. He shrugs.
He shuffles downwards onto his knees, scratchy motel sheets against his chest, pressing against his chubbed cock and sensitive tip until his face is between your legs.
âHey,â Sam grunts, slowing his hips. You groan and kick. Keep going, it says to him, like a whip to a horse. He does. âI said donât touch me.â
âIâm not touching you!â
âShut up and fuck me!â
Their lips snap shut. Dean shakes his head and whips away the irritation like a dog with a tick. His mouth opens and wraps around your clit like second nature. You immediately yelp, feet planting onto his shoulders and curling into the meaty flesh of his back. Sam ignores the closeness to chase his own pleasure. His cock presses deep inside like a rabbit in a burrowâhe fucks you like one, too, balls slapping against your ass.
Dean groans and moans into your cunt, tonguing your folds and dipping his tongue as far as itâll go. Heâs skillful, years and years of women who come and go into your lives finally being made to use right here where it matters most: your pussy in his face.
âPerfect,â He purrs, suckling your clit until the heels of your feet are digging into his back. He lets it go with a pop. âBeautiful pussy over here.â He licks one stripe, staring up at you with a cheeky smile. You can barely look at him, eyes threatening to roll back into your head. Your forehead presses against Samâs temple, twisted away yet scrunched with pleasure. âP-Please, please donât stop,â You sob, grinding against his teeth. Sam twitches under you, biting your shoulder. Youâre squeezing the life out of him.
âWant it?â He flicks his tongue against your clit. You writhe, worm to dirt. âYes, yes. God, yes, please, De!â Sam canât take it anymore. He feels like his dickâll pop off. âMake her cum, Dean,â He rasps. He tucks his chin onto your shoulder so he can hear better. âIâll lose my shit if you donât.â
âNeedy. Both of you.â He scoffs, buries his face back between your legs and whips it around like heâs mauling you. Heâs too fucking good at what he does, the sex god he is, forcing an orgasm out of you thatâs so powerful it makes your spine rigid. You sit up straight, Sam grunting at the suddenness, your hands burying into Deanâs hair and shoving his face until youâre all finished. He could die happy right here.
You slump back into Samâs chest like a sack of potatoes, eyes fluttering shut. Dean sits up, licking his lips happily and beginning to press his tip against your cunt.
âWill it fit?â Sam manages, head tilting somewhat. His body comes to a complete stop. Dean shrugs. âProbably. Just go with the flow, man. Seriously.â He slaps your clit and watches how you jump at the spark. âTell me if it hurts, baby.â
Feels like youâre being ripped wide open, the thickness of his length pushing your walls out. Dean glances at you every so often but you only nod for him to keep going. You really just want to get this over with.
Thin skin inside you threatens to rip, threatens to fuse your insides into one. This is what it feels like to be a big ball of dough, stretched out by rolling pins and rested to expand under cloth. To be baked under heat, your skin warm and burning with every inch further. Deanâs hand is under your knees, face scrunched up at the tight squeeze until it finally gets balls deep. He sighs, muscles releasing themselves while he bottoms out. You whine like a horse, head tilting back against Samâs shoulder who only kisses the side of your head and rubs your stomach like youâre pregnant.
âDidnât think thatâd work,â Dean admits, sighing and staring down where your bodies meet. Sam snickers. âA âtrust the processâ thing. Yâdoing okay?â He rests his palm on your inner thigh, smiling at how your eyes flutter and you exhale in relief. âMm. I-I feel okay. Itâs okay. Just a lot.â You manage, voice croaky and tight. Dean leans down, kisses your lips like an apology. You accept it entirely, letting your lips part for him as he tongues you into a writhe.
Sam buries his face back into your shoulder, slides his hands back onto your hips and lifts you up somewhat. You choke at the suddenness and itâs swallowed by Deanâs mouth. You feel panicked when he moves, his cock sliding in and out of your ass slowly but surely as Dean kisses you like a distraction. You peel away, twisting your head and squeezing your face. Skin reddens like a pomegranate. He smiles, sits back up and squeezes your legs. âGonna move.â
He thinks that this is how it feels to be okay again.
That aching, swirling pit inside him is gone. Doesnât pull or tug at his insides anymore when he watches your face contort with a pleasure so intense it makes you bite your lip until skin tears. It feels surreal.
The last time he had sex with you he wanted to cry. Didnât let you look at him, didnât let himself look at you. Buried his face between your legs but closed them, let your nails dig like shovels. Kissed and bit and tongued at your shoulders and neck but didnât leave that spot until he finished and went to clean you. Forced you to turn away when you tried, so desperately tried, to look. But now he wants you to look.
To him in this moment thereâs nothing more beautiful than your pleasure, the ecstasy you get from him and Sam splitting you open, buried deep inside your flesh and sharing the love they so deeply have for you.
He brings a hand down, lets your leg rest around Samâs and begins circling your clit. They both groan in unison at the sudden tightness.
âI-I canât do it anymore,â Sam murmurs, eye twitching. Sweat pools above his brow, dips down his eyelid and onto his cheek. Heâs twitching, legs suddenly trembling with a need he cannot escape from. Toes curl into the bed until it creaks from just the pressure alone. When the springs shoot back up so does he, his hips rutting at your back so hard youâre scared he might bruise you. Sam cums with a whine, a sob, a nuzzle of his nose against your neck, smooths his hands against your waist and up to your breasts, squeezing them lightly.
âSo damn quick.â Dean grunts. Sam huffs with annoyance, deciding not to give into it for once. âStarted before you, anyway. Just hurry up.â He scoffs, fingers coming and pinching at your clit until you jerk up. âDonât gotta tell me twice. Make her cum fâme, Sammy.â
He removes his hand and braces them on your knees while Sam does the honor of rubbing your clit. Your legs become pushed to your chest against your breasts, feet kicking at his biceps with every push of his cock. Samâs fingers are delicate where Deanâs werenât, soft and sweet. Two completely different energies all in one space.
Your body numbs and tingles as your orgasm approaches. You canât feel your feet anymore. Deanâs cock drills into you like itâs the last thing heâll ever do. Thereâs no stopping him, youâve come to terms with this. His body leans into yours and kisses you right on the lips, tonguing you and fighting for a spot. You give it up immediately. Let him taste you, all of you, all of the love you have for them. Tongues and teeth.
âHoly shit,â He groans into your mouth. The words vibrate against your bone, make you lean your head away. Samâs fingers are tight, a dull ache in the muscle from repetitive action. âGonna cum, sweetheart.â
âY-Yeah, yeah, okay.â You whimper. Your hips buck and roll into Samâs hand, into Deanâs cock. Both are still inside you, and even as Sam softens itâs still so deep inside. Dean huffs and smashes his face into yours again. His teeth hit your upper lips first, bone into flesh to force it to bleed again. The pain sends a shock up your spine, up your pussy, into your gut. You climax with a shriek. Dean follows.
He topples onto your bodies like heâs dead, lets himself empty his balls until he feels relaxed enough to pull out. Sam takes the hint and does the same, though heâs slower with it as to not tear at your skin.
A dull throb runs through your body, your clit begging for a break. Itâs puffy and hardened, stimulated enough to poke out beneath the hood. Dean chuckles into your neck, kisses the skin.
âGet off,â Sam grumbles, smacking Deanâs arm. Theyâre both sweaty, sticking to each other as if itâs a hot summer day. âI canât hold up her and your big ass.â He rolls.
âIâll get a towel or something.â He stands, rubs the back of his ivy-league short hair and walks around. You breathe heavily and flip over like a seal, arms stiff and barely moving as you shove onto the other side of the mattress. Sam curls beside you, wraps an arm around you and kisses your forehead.
âYouâre okay?â He whispers. His thumb brushes your lips, smears blood away and it coats your skin like lipstick instead. You nod and a grimace at the sting, legs flexing with discomfort and twisting together. It relieved him more than anything. âGood. You did amazing.â
When Dean comes back he takes his time. Passes Sam his own towel but cleans you with such tenderness youâre surprised itâs coming from him of all people. Wipes you up and down, between every crease, against your neck and even kisses your forehead as part of the treatment. Smiles charmingly at you, teeth glowing pearly white even in the dim light.
You exhale something of a shake. âDe,â You murmur. He stills, lips faltering for only a short moment. âAre you okay? With everything?â He shifts, chewing at his bottom lip and sinking down onto the bed. âI donât want you to tell me something and mean the other. I.. I want to know. Really, really do. That youâre okay with this. Everything. That it wonât make you as upset anymore.â
âI mean.. Shit.â He sighs, shrugging his shoulders and rubbing your leg. Heâs more so trying to soothe himself. âIâd be idiotic to say no after all of that.â He doesnât think heâs ever seen you smile so wide since the words left. The last time he remembers anything close you had no front teeth and a wobbly lip, blood trickling from getting your teeth pulled. This time they bleed from his love.
Samâs relieved, too. He loves Dean. Not in that way, of course, but he does. You both are the only family heâs got.
âSleep with us tonight?â You murmur, reaching and squeezing his hand. He nods, glances at Sam who just rolls his eyes. âSure. If I fit.â
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