This is one of a several my stories that I'm posting here off of my livejournal. The link to my livejournal can be found in my profile.
Title: Comfort
Author: LadyReivin
Beta: unbataed
Word Count: 2,078
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: fluff, schmoop, and light porn
Disclaimer: I own nothing - not even my sanity.
Summary: This was written for the community spnkink_meme on livejournal , the prompt being: Request: Sam/Dean Thumbsucking - I've look everywhere and I can't find a story like this. Could someone please, please, please write a story about Sam being a thumb sucker? It can be when he's sleeping, under stress, whatever. Just so that Dean knows about it and it turns him on but Sam doesn't know. Sam giving Dean the best B/J at the end would be wonderful. Thanks to who ever writes it!
Author's Note: This was written during a bought of insanity when my muse decided he wasn't going to help me write what it is I'm supposed to. I have two essays due this week, along with a short story for my Creative Writing class, two tests, and other fanfictions I should be writing. But instead I write this. -_- I am terribly sorry to everyone who thought they'd be getting something else...blame my muse! And the plot bunny that went rabid and bit me!
It was something that he'd been doing since he was little. When John went to therapists and doctors, thinking that something was wrong when he hadn't broken the habit by the age of thirteen, they said it was a form of PTSD, and that it stemmed from loosing his mother and having an unstable environment while growing up. But all that medical mumbo jumbo didn't break him of the habit, nothing did.
Truth was, Sam was a thumb sucker. Had been all his life and probably would be up to the day that he died. There wasn't a day that went by that he didn't suck his thumb. When he was young he had a nighty – also known as a blankie, but Dean called it a night so that's what stuck in his head. It was this old scrap of cloth – probably a hanky at one point – that Dean had had and that Sam had latched onto. He'd spend his time in the back of the Impala as the traveled around with his thumb in his mouth, his fingers bunched up in the night as he held it to his nose, slowly moving it, comforted by the scent. The night got lost somewhere around Tulsa when he was almost eight.
Nothing John did made him stop, sometimes it even made it worse. But as he got older it became something to help him when he was stressed, and to sleep, and he grew more careful to hide it from his father. Dean was the only one that knew. Kinda hard to hide it from his brother when they shared a bed and Sam was curled up under the covers with his right thumb in his mouth and his fingers tucked up against his cheek.
The habit even followed him to Stanford, growing worse when he first was there. Too much stress, and unused to having a bed to himself. He went through several roommates because of the habit. And then, when he met Jessica, he had to start hiding it from her. Sometimes, if he was tired enough, and fucked-out he could sleep without the familiar presence of his thumb in his mouth, but most times it didn't work that way. He'd toss and turn, not feeling right until he curled up and did his best to hide it from her. And he succeeded, always careful to wake up before her and to quickly hide his hand, thumb tucked under his fingers, if she came into the room while he was stressing over midterms.
When he started hunting again with Dean, after Jessica died, he had the urge to suck on his thumb more so than he had in a long time. But he didn't want Dean to know this time, wanted his brother to think that he'd gotten over his childhood habit. So he took to only doing it when Dean was away, and at night. At night he'd curl up with his back to Dean, only his hair visible from under the blankets and his thumb firmly in his mouth. But even that didn't keep back the nightmares that would leave him screaming. What Sam didn't know was that Dean knew the whole time. Preferring to indulge his brother in his childhood habit instead of calling him out on it. Plus, Dean thought it was kinda cute, in a weird way that had him rethinking his manhood a few times.
It wasn't until after Dean's second brush with death, after they lost their father, that Dean finally mentioned something. Sam had been clingier since they got away from the hospital, his eyes just a little bit wider, and his attitude a little more twitchy.
They were still at Bobby's and having to share the large bed in the guest room because the old couch in his study did hell one's back and hips. It was awkward at first, trying to adapt to having the other in their personal space after so long apart, but they settled into a pattern pretty quick. They would press their backs together, Dean stretching out and hogging most of the bed while Sam would curl up and take all the covers, trying his best to hide his habit.
Thing was, though, Dean could hear him. Could hear the cute little suckling sounds that Sam made as he slept. And he felt exactly when Sam fell asleep, his thumb just cradled in his mouth. At first it was odd and rather nostalgic, but then it started playing havoc on Dean's mind – and other parts.
He'd find himself lying awake as Sam drifted off next to him, listening to the sounds of his brother sucking his thumb, and thinking of other things. Thinking of what it would be like to have his little brother's wide, expressive mouth around his own thumb or fingers. Or, better yet, around his cock. Just the thoughts, while lying there listening would make him harder than he'd been in a long time. He'd then lay there until he was sure Sam was fast asleep before he'd slide his hand into his boxers, getting himself off fast and rough just to those thoughts, his back pressed against his little brothers.
After they got back from taking care of the Rakshasa Sam was having trouble getting to sleep. Dean could hear the soft sucking sounds louder than usual, sounded like he was trying to suck the skin straight off his thumb. He was also incredibly twitchy, not laying still, always shifting and pressing back against Dean. It didn't take long for Dean to grow tired and somewhat irritated with it – while also taking pity on Sam (come on! He's an older brother; it's what he does).
"What is it, Sammy?" He asked softly, rolling over and pressing against Sam's back, one arm draping over him, resting atop the covers. He felt the younger man go instantly still and tense as he jerked his hand away from his mouth, as if he was fearful of Dean finding out.
"Dean, what – "
"Dude, you don't have to hide." He said, voice still soft as he pushed the blankets aside, wrapping his hand around Sam's wrist gently. "It's okay."
Sam's head slowly turned to look at him, frowning in the dark room, barely able to see Dean's face in what little moonlight filtered through the rough curtains. "Dean?" He asked slowly.
"It's okay." He said again, smiling gently at him as he squeezed Sam's wrist gently. He unfurled Sam's fingers, running his own over Sam's thumb lightly before he tried to bring Sam's hand back to his mouth, only to be met with resistance and a stubborn shake of Sam's head.
"Dean, I don't anymore…" Sam tried to say, trying his hardest to make Dean believe that he'd given up that habit. To make Dena believe that he was older now, mature.
Dean smiled slowly, indulgent. "You always sucked at lying to me." He said lightly, resting his chin on Sam's arm as he brought his own fingers up to run them lightly over Sam's lower lip. "I've known the whole time, kiddo."
He watched, as Sam's cat-like tilted eyes grew wide, his mouth instinctively opening to the touch.
"It's okay." Dean said softly again as he slid his own thumb slowly into Sam's mouth, giving the younger man the choice to pull away if he wanted.
He didn't. Instead his pink lips closed around Dean's appendage as he began to suck. It didn't take him long to relax, his eyelids slowly drifting shut, a slight smile peaking around Dean's thumb.
Dean laid like that for awhile, just watching as Sam slept, enjoying the feel of his brother's mouth on his finger. Other parts of him were enjoying it too, but he feared that taking care of that problem would wake Sam. So instead he laid his head on the pillow behind Sam's, and settled down for a long night.
Unintentionally that became a habit for Sam, first while they were at Bobby's waiting for Dean to finish fixing the Impala. After Sam knew that Dean was aware of his habit he'd come out to sit in the shade of the shed that housed the tools, a different book in his lap each time, and his thumb in his lap. He'd hide it the moment they heard Bobby's boots on the gravel.
And then the habit followed them after they left. At first they tried to go back to their separate beds but Sam would spend most the nights sleepless, tossing and turning. And even Dean had grown used to the comfort and feel of Sam sucking on his thumb. So they began to share a bd. They continued getting two beds, but one was always used as a place to store their weapons and research. Dean also got used to going to sleep with a hard-on and waking up with a hard-on, being careful to position his body so Sam wouldn't know, and later taking care of his problem in the shower with his thoughts filled with images of Sam's mouth.
It worked out fine for several months, until Sam woke up before Dean. Woke up to Dean's hard cock pressed snuggly up against his ass, with only their boxers as a barrier. He was still for a bit, processing, his sleep slow mind having trouble comprehending what was going on. And when he did, he decided it wasn't a bad thing. So instead of freaking out and flying out of the bed to put as much distance between him and Dean as he can, he carefully pulls away from Dean's hand and turns around under his arm. He smiles slightly as he looks at his brother's lax face. Dean looks younger, vulnerable in his sleep.
Now isn't the time to be distracted though, he has an intention that he is aiming to fulfill. He carefully slips under the covers, sliding down Dean's body while biting his lower lip. It was hot, almost stifling under the blankets and with each breath he took in lungfulls of Dean's comforting scent. A scent that was now mixed with the muskiness of arousal. He was careful and slow as he pulled down Dean's boxer's enough to release his hard, weeping erection, falling still whenever Dean would shift or make a sound. His patience was awarded when he let go of the material and Dean's cock was right in front of his face, large, flushed and weeping.
He licked his lips, wincing at the taste of his morning mouth before he leaned forward and licked lightly at the slick head, just tasting. The touch got him a soft moan from a still sleeping Dean, and gave him the courage to open his mouth and take the velvety member in.
It was sloppy and wet, but tasted oh so good, hot and pulsing on his tongue. So different than his fingers or Dean's fingers. He closed his eyes as he tasted and suckled, shivering at the salty-sweet taste of Dean's precome. He was so lost in what he was doing that he didn't notice when Dean woke up. It was only the covers pulling back and the shock of cold morning air that had him opening his eyes to look up at his brother, his mouth stuffed full of cock. He took Dean's slightly dazed, sleepy look of pleasure as a green light and continued, letting his eyes fall shut again. He was sure that Dean had probably had better blow jobs, given that Sam had never given one before in his life, but the moans and gasps that his brother gave made it seem like he had it right at least. He leaned into Dean's hand as it fisted in his long hair and pulled back so that only the head of Dean's cock was in his mouth when Dean stuttered out a warning. He didn't open his eyes again until after he'd swallowed everything and Dean was twitching – over sensitive.
He pulled away from his brother's softening cock then, biting his lower lip as he looked up at him, bangs falling his eyes.
Dean's reply was to smile and say "Good morning to you too, Sammy" before pulling him up for a kiss, tasting himself on Sam's lips.