Title: Deficiency
Word Count: 1,711
Pairing: Wincest
A/N: Request on tumblr for various kinks. It's preeeetty much PWP.
Summary: It's the thing that Dean hasn't told Sam that's really worrying him.
Warnings: NC17, incest (wincest), knifeplay, breathplay, very, very brief mentions of past rape/non-con. Spoilers for season three and very tame spoiler for season four.
Sam can tell Dean's fucked up.
And not just the 'I had to torture people' fucked up. Dean's already admitted that. It's the thing that he hasn't told Sam that's really worrying him.
At first, Sam thought it was the guilt, hurting people, all that jazz. But there's really something wrong. It's a cold day in hell when Sam's internet history is clear of porn when Dean's around. It's been months. Sam figures it must be snowing in hell by now.
Sam waits, he watches. He pieces what he sees together and then rips it apart again. It's possible, Dean wakes up with wood all the time. So it's not a problem with his body. Sam pretends to be asleep and he can feel Dean's dying erection pressing against his hip. But Dean never acts on it. Never rubs his hands on Sam's back, never touches his ass, never beats-off.
Sam's terrified that it's him. That he's the reason Dean won't touch him. Maybe Dean just didn't want him anymore.
It's when Sam finds the book, tattered and covered in jizz beneath their hotel mattress, that Sam finally gets it.
He does his research before Dean even gets back from the store.
Sam's sitting calmly on the queen bed when Dean walks in, arms full of paper bags. He drops them in a chair and turns to Sam, brow furrowed.
"What's that look for?" Dean aks, eyeing Sam warily.
Sam hesitates, contemplating telling Dean about the magazines, about how he's noticed Dean's nightmares, but now, instead of waking up screaming, he's waking up with wood dripping enough pre-cum that even Sam's boxers are wet.
"I've, I've got some stuff I want to talk to you about," Sam starts slowly. He shifts on the bed and gestures for Dean to sit down next to him. Dean's still wary and sits down with plenty of space between them.
"Please tell me you didn't start your period, Sam, because I really don't know how to have that talk with you," Dean's joking because he's worried, Sam can tell.
"I-…" Now Sam's the embarassed one, he runs a hand through his hair and thinks for a second. "I've got something I want to admit, Dean."
Dean's imediately on the defense, Sam can tell by the way his body tenses. "There's nothing else you did while I was gone, is there?"
"What? No. Nothing like that. I promise, Dean. I. . I've just been reading some stuff online about… some things I saw on a couple of websites, and… and was just thinking I might like to try a few of them. You know. In bed."
Dean's laughing so hard Sam burries his face in the pillow. The things he does for his brother. Sam's almost too embarrassed to to sit back up, but Dean's pulling on him and chuckling and even though Sam's face is beat red, Dean manages to finally stop laughing.
"Seriously, Sam, it's just funny to me because you were watching porn at all, I promise, I don't think you're weird or anything. Come on, tell me about," Dean coaxes, pulling Sam against him.
Sam's lips are pressed into Dean's chest, so Dean doesn't hear him the first time he mumbles it against his shirt.
"What'd you say?" Dean asks, running his hand along Sam's head.
Sam groans. "I said I want you to try choking me."
Dean freezes. His body is tensed around Sam and Sam's brain instantly stops. What if this was the complete opposite of what Dean wanted and he looks like a fucking idiot?
Dean clears his throat and leans back, tilting Sam's face up to meet his eyes. "You sure about that, Sammy?"
The way Dean asks, tense and fearful but laced with a needy undertone, makes Sam sure of himself. He scoots over and lays on their bed, shifting Dean on top of him. He's hoping this goes better than the time Dean first told Sam he wanted to try spanking him.
"I've been reading about it," Sam admits, reaching for Dean's hands. He wraps Dean's fingers around this throat, positioning Dean's thumbs right above his larynx. "If it hurts too much, I'll tap you on the knee repeatedly, and-"
The way Dean is straddling him has the massive erection in his jeans straining against the denim and pressing into Sam's groin. The thought of asphixiation must have had Dean's brain ticking away as soon as the words were out of Sam's mouth. The idea of having Dean this turned on causes the blood to rush straight to Sam's dick. He rocks upward, rubbing against Dean and sucking in a breath.
The pressure starts, sweet and easy, and Sam lets his eyes slip shut. Dean's thumbs rub in idle circles as they grind against each other. They're panting and groaning when the pressure starts becoming more intense, and Sam's surprised to find himself straining his neck upwards, pushing for Dean to press down harder.
Sam's seeing spots behind his eyelids. White and burning and his dick feels so great, both of their knees digging against the other's cock.
Sam can't get any air at all when suddenly the pressure's gone and Dean's there, against him, tongue and teeth digging and scraping against his neck, hot heavy breath dragging over the brusing skin.
Sam bites the inside of his cheek and it's only been minutes and he can't even help it, hestarts to come, holding his own breath now, the jizz hot and sticky, pooling in his underware. Dean grinds down against him and slips his hands behind Sam and into his jeans in order to cup his ass, fingernails digging into the curve of Sam's cheeks.
Sam's gasping in fresh air, feeling the coolness of it in his lungs as Dean holds his own breath, body shaking as he stares down at Sam's face, the noises Sam's making causing him to reach his own orgasm.
Dean moves as if to roll off Sam, but Sam's hands dart up to catch Dean's face and pull him back down for a kiss. Their erections don't have a chance to even die down, Sam's got his tongue down Dean's throat and they're kissing, almost angry in a way, teeth gnashing and shreading the soft insides of their mouths.
Dean's got a hand down Sam's pants and his stroking his dick, keeping the blood flowing. Dean's dick feels numb, but he's not complaining. The inside of Sam's mouth tastes great, all wam and hot. Dean can't get enough. He'd never get sick of Sam's tongue massaging up against his, fighting for control.
Suddenly, Sam's stilling him with a hand, holding Dean's hip in place and pulling his mouth away from Dean's.
"There's something," Sam's breath is shallow huffs, "else I wanna do."
Dean's balls clench. He's already going crazy. His body was more turned on than it had been in months and he knew why. There were some things that happened in hell that he would never tell Sam.
"What could be more out of the box for you than that?" Dean manages to ask in a rush, concentrating instead on running his fingers up and down Sam's ribs under his t-shirt.
Sam doesn't say anything, just stretches over and leans towards the edge of the bed, grasping for something. He comes back up with a sheathed hunting knife. a sliver of silver glistening beneath the handle.
Dean almost comes right then and there. Instead, he wraps his hand around Sam's and then uses his other to remove the sheath. The knife rests between them and then Dean's worried.
"You don't want me to like, cut you, do you Sam? I don't know…" Dean bites his lip in that way that drives Sam absolutely mad, "I don't know if I could bring myself to do that."
"I-I was kind of hoping I could use it on you. Not to cut you, just, you know…"
Dean just nods. They stare at each other for a moment, eyes searching each other to see if this was going to far, if one of them was going to break. Sam gulps down any hesitancy and decides if he's doing this, he's doing it. He pushes Dean up and off the bed. Dean looks at him questioningly but then Sam's got him turned around and against the wall.
He holds very still, the tip of the knife runs gently along his side and Dean's dizzy with need. The urge to thrust against something is too great, but he's also worried about cutting himself and having to stop, so he stills.
The rip of fabric as Sam's cutting along his shirt has Dean groaning in antisipation. He feels dirty, this is probably worse than fucking Sam in the first place. This is digging of memories of wrong and blood, somuchfuckingblood, and Alastair, twisting knives in his side as Dean swallows down his cock.
The blade disappears and Sam slips off the scraps of Dean's shirt, then he's running the blade along Dean's sholder blades, tracing the curve of bone, dipping to scrap along every hollow and crevice.
"Sammy, I swear to God, I need you to fucking do something about my dick right now or I'm going to die," Dean's worried his voice is a whine, but he's in so much pain he can't even care.
Sam's got him turned around, then, and is undoing the zipper on Dean's Levi's and is yanking them down. Dean does whine, then, a low, desperate sound as Sam sucks him down, tongue rubbing against his shaft and a hand coming up to massage his balls. Sam's nails are digging into Dean's thighs, holding him against the wall as he tries to buck up, dig his cock farther down Sam's throat.
When Dean comes, there's barely anything left at all but it doesn't feel any less amazing. Sam quickly laps up what little come there is and then pulls out his own erection, finishing himself off in a few, quick strokes.
Dean just slides to the ground to meet Sam and they lay there for several moments, sweaty and panting, pants still dirty as they try to come down from their highs.
"That…" Dean breathes against Sam's chest, "was fucking awesome."