Two Guys for Every Girl (verse)
By AntarShakes
She leans forward. It's as if their bodies are already touching, heat coming off of both of them, but she just studies his face in search of something. Sam reels her in for a kiss and it's slow motion from there on. She fits him well, he thinks. Her upper lip touches his, just barely and they sit there breathing each other in and Sam feels his lust taking over. He closes the last space, deepening the kiss while his hands stroke their way from her arms toward her hair.
Their tongues find their own rhythm of sweet kisses. Sweet seems to be his way with her.
She stops her movement and looks at him again, eyes dark and intense. Her hands move over his chest, scratching him through his t-shirt. She seems pleased when Sam shudders at the sensation. He lets her reach for the hem of his t-shirt, slowly undressing him, spreading a waft of his aftershave and some other distinct mixture. Whatever wide-eyed, nervousness she was feeling, it seems to be gone within that moment. Lust grows instead and Sam grins at her. She sits up on her knees on the sofa bed, giving him a coy smile which he can't help but return. He's still smiling when she grabs his hair, pulls his head back and licks at the corner of his mouth. There are no more sweet, soft kisses after that. Their lips move over each other, his tongue finding its way to her earlobe, trailing wet kisses down her neck. Her nail circles around his nipple and he bites down on her neck. She finds Sam's favorite spot, just below his right ear, making him pinch her thigh in reaction. He angles his head so she can have a better go but his gaze snags upon a dark figure standing in the hallway.
His breath hitches when he realizes it's Dean, watching them. Dean doesn't move when their eyes meet and Sam feels himself getting inexplicably harder. He takes in Dean's gaze, while she licks at his neck, finding that spot again. Her lips move higher and she whispers something in his ear. He's not really sure what he's hearing, but he's definitely hard now. Her hands turn his face towards her and her look is overheated. "He can join us," she says hoarsely.
Her eyes are consenting and asking for consent at the same time. She closes his open mouth by kissing it and turning them both to look at Dean while doing so. This is turning Sam on way more than it should and he's not sure what it is that's upped the ante. It may be the fact that this was going to be his first threesome or maybe because it was going to be with Dean.
Dean thinks he misheard her, but there's no mistaking it when she repeats, "He can join us." The effect is instantaneous: pleasure shoots directly to his groin as she looks over at him, teasing him, using Sam to actually turn him on.
On auto-pilot, Dean walks around the sofa bed and sits down behind her. He spares a moment to think what-the-actual-fuck, but he's already gently undressing her. He tries not looking at Sam directly, but their knees touch every now and then and it jolts him every time.
She looks over her shoulder at him, wicked glint in her eyes. She's beautiful, he thinks. She had chosen Sam though, that was pretty obvious from the start, he should've known. And yet, here he was, finishing what he had started earlier. He doesn't want to think this through; he's not really capable of doing so anyway.
He bends over to kiss her, not closing his eyes but inevitably meeting Sam's hot stare, making the itch in his boxers more intense. Her attention is back on him fully as she quickly removes his shirt, gliding her hands down his body. Her hand easily slips down, right into his boxers, taking his already hard cock out without teasing. She sits between them now. Her other hand is down Sam's boxers, stroking them simultaneously. Sam leans back on the other end of the sofa bed, eyes closing –that oh-so-familiar frown on his face that Dean had never seen in such a context. The combination of the sight of Sam and her hand stroking him is almost too much.
He tells himself to hold on a little longer, not to look at Sam, not yet.
Dean stops her hand on him, trying to regain some control and kisses her instead; mouths further along her neck, tongues his way down to her breast, kneading the other. When his tongue reaches her nipple, her grip on Sam tightens, drawing a sudden moan out of him.
He takes some enjoyment out of the newfound power he can exert over Sam by proxy. He licks further down, glancing up occasionally to see if Sam is enjoying the show, feeling bolder now that he's in his element. His eye can't help but return to where her hand is working Sam; she's stroking Sam firm and slow, squeezing a bit harder when Dean trails her clit with the tip of his tongue.
He can see Sam rocking into her hand, eyes locked on where Dean's head is lowered.
Dean decides to fully commit, right then and there, and licks into her, across the folds, back to full suction on her clit. He strokes his nails up and down her thigh, down her leg and they wander; the next piece of skin belongs to Sam's, his coarse hair soft as he strokes downwards. His fingers come across curly coarse hairs next, definitely male. He scratches at the skin, stroking, feeling Sam's muscle flex under his touch. When he slips his tongue inside her, her breath catches and she pulls him up, a limp hand motioning towards a drawer next to the sofa bed with a heated smile playing on her lips. She turns to Sam, licks at his upper lip and wraps both her hands around his cock. Dean can't tear his gaze away from where her hands are holding Sam, curling her fingers and pumping up and down. He imagines holding Sam like that, the unbidden thought of seeing if he likes the same things Dean likes.
He tears one from the strip, deftly opening it with his teeth and rolling it on, finally able to focus his eyes elsewhere than whatever this hotter-than-hell mirage in front of him is. He seats himself behind her, condom-clad dick in one hand as his other finds its way to her folds and down, fingers slipping easily inside. Expertly avoiding Sam's heavy gaze on him, he keeps a hold on her hips as he slides in with no restraint. The groan she lets out makes him involuntarily twitch inside her, can't help but love the sounds his partners make when he first enters. She backs into him a little more as he thrusts into her slowly, palming the soft flesh available to him.
Her new position allows for what Dean hadn't dared to hope; she lowers her head and laps at the head of Sam's cock, swirling around it before she eases down, taking inch by inch, before coming back up and taking it all in one go. She has angled it perfectly to give Dean a full show. As she bobs up again, Dean rewards her with deeper thrusts and she rewards Sam in turn by taking him in entirely. He decides to fully enjoy the show, to commit, and makes sure to situate himself as deeply as possible without hurting her. When no protest comes forth, he starts grinding his hips while reaching over to gather up her hair in a fistful. He just needs to see: see how Sammy looks, spread out like this, vulnerable; pleasure instead of pain for once.
Sam moans as he watches his own dick disappearing out of her stretched mouth, but he seems to sense Dean's gaze on him and, helplessly, they both lock eyes. Dean can admit it, no matter his sexual exploits, he's never felt this out of depth as he catalogs the changes in Sam's face with every movement she administers with her tongue along with every thrust from Dean.
She goes up and down faster, her hand helping her, making circular motions up and down his glistening dick, firm, and long strokes.
Dean savors and files away Sam's breathy "Oh, fuck!". Upon Sam's jerky move into her mouth, she lifts her head, pressing her tongue against the head to swallow all Sam has to offer.
Dean couldn't tear his eyes away even if he wanted, holding still inside of her. His own mouth had apparently opened along with hers and he licks his own lips thinking of licking out her mouth next; taste what she tastes. Before he can muse much further, she pulls away from Dean and pushes him into a seated position, deftly grabbing his dick and guiding it back into herself. She's so wet, he glides right in. She rests her hands on the back of the sofa bed and quickly licks into Dean's open mouth, smiling–definitely on to something. She starts a slow grind that builds into something faster, faster, and Dean can't help but close his eyes, grab onto her hair and push her face into his neck as he allows the taste of Sam to take over his senses.
Sam's usually a bit stupid after he comes, especially when it's wrung out of him with the type of build-up he just had. Now, however, his senses are all still on high alert, muscles tensed and poised. The sight that's before him, a close-up-and-personal view of a girl riding Dean, of his thick cock slipping in and out–it's enough to set a new record for his refractory period.
Sam's to full attention again as she stops moving, her skin shining with exertion. With one hand she holds Dean back against the cushions and lift herself up enough that only the tip of Dean's dick remains inside her, the condom shiny, his balls wet with her slick. Sam's eyes track her as she grabs the strip of condoms, he must've been holding his breath because when he's handed one, it's released out of him like a sucker punch. It's like a wicked dream he may or may have not had once before. Dean must have realized what's about to go down as well because his hips just lift off at the same time he pulls her back down on himself. She lets out a breathy laugh as Dean continues thrusting into her, slowly now, grinding. His hands sweep over her arms, a soft touch, slide across her gleaming back and come to rest on her ass. Dean slowly inches a finger toward the dark furl, but she shakes her head with another breathy laugh.
Dean's eyes squeeze shut at that and his hands just squeeze these little helpless indentations in her skin.
Sam watches, magnetized, and for some reason, it's mostly because of Dean's thick fingers morse-coding his disbelief into her skin. She catches his wide-eyed gaze again and the condom lying right in his open palm. At the quirk of her eyebrow, he reboots again, making quick work of the condom. He's not able to keep his eyes off of them while he goes on autopilot and seats himself behind her, his legs bracketing Dean's, their flushed skin touching. Being this close to Dean and about to be closer is–it's too much.
She reaches for his hand and draws it in to take two fingers in her mouth, making sure to look Dean straight in the eye as she sucks on them intently. With Dean's slack-jawed expression seared into his brain, Sam takes his fingers with him, down, way further down.
His wet fingers trail softly along the curve of her ass, resting lightly against her hole. With a decisive, silent fuck-it, he grabs at her cheeks, fingers glancing Dean's and almost interlocking, and just goes to town. There are noises, intermingled noises, groans distinctly his and distinctly not. Sam just lets the taste rush along his tongue, making him salivate more–the smell of latex and pussy juice adding a whole different layer to the assault on his senses. He just rides it out, mind blissfully blank the way it gets whenever he gets to go down on someone.
He licks her to make her ready, while Dean holds still inside her, the tremble of his thighs clear as day as he waits for Sam to properly prepare her. When Sam pulls his wet face away to look for some sort of lube, both of them let out a shaky sigh.
She takes the first finger easily and Sam licks at the puckered flesh, loosening her up as he slides another along. He wonders what would happen if his tongue would lead him somewhat more south. Instead, he lets his thumb rub over the spot where Dean's cock is still visible, where his balls hang full and slick. He lets his other hand softly trail along them, caressing the velvety skin, the dusting of hair. Dean shivers and can't seem to hold still anymore, jerking his hips into a rough thrust inside.
Dean swallows her moans and his own in a heated kiss as Sam keeps scissoring his fingers deeper into her, imagining he can feel Dean through her thin walls. Sam sits up then, more than ready to enter her and she's more than willing to receive, arching her back. He licks the fingers that had touched Dean before, savoring the taste as he wets the tip of his dick.
He pushes into her gently; the clutch of her is maddening, and her moans mixed along with Dean's while she squeezes around him almost proves to be too much. He groans deeply as he is finally sheathed, amazed at his perseverance. He takes a beat to just breathe and feels Dean's hands stroking up and down his arms, holding still as they both adjust. He's spurred into action as she arches her back again, tits pressing into Dean's chest, hair splayed beautifully. Sam slowly draws out again and feels Dean's grip on his arms tighten: he wants to stay suspended in this moment forever. Dean starts up a slow grind however, and moves them all along with it.
He hears her breathing his own name into Dean's mouth, and he feels Dean bucking up into her, and then all bets are off–
As their thrusts, movements, and moans find a rhythm, it's easy for Sam to get lost in the feel of her, eyes locked with Dean where he has her face pushed into his neck. He feels wild, in every sense of it – so easy to imagine the space of a third person between them disappearing. He's erratic, too hot, electric –he comes, hard.
He keeps still inside her, breathing in deeply. He's dizzy, foggy, stupid with it, and finally understanding what people mean with seeing stars. He comes back to reality at the sounds Dean's making, the way his legs move more frantically against where Sam's thighs have been squeezed right against him.
Dean's moaning turns into one long groan and he feels the body beneath him shuddering, the squeeze around his softening dick barely there. Sam pulls out gingerly and rolls over onto his back, hand stroking over her damp skin.
A soft head lands on his bicep along with an arm over his chest. A while later he feels fingers in his hair; long, thick fingers. Sam opens his eyes a little to see Dean on the other side of her, eyes closed in exhaustion, hair dark with sweat.
He wakes up a little while later: his arm feels numb from her head resting on it. He's somehow covered in a blanket. He sees Dean's arm spread out over her waist and his hand lying contently on Sam's stomach. Sam's body is relaxed. His body is sated, but his mind is doing overtime. Thoughts race through his head: it seems unfathomable for him to truly grasp what has just happened to them, between them. It's as if some veil has been lifted, something resolved, something they did not know needed resolving. He needs to know if things will be weird between them, or if maybe, somehow this would repeat again. As images of the night flashby–Dean watching him, Sam wanting him–he rests his hand on Dean's.
Dean wakes up, body still lax from the little adventure he had. His immediate reaction is to check for Sam and his surroundings. Sam's not there though. The place where he had been laying is still warm, though, and as soon as something unknots at the thought, an onslaught of images and sensations have their way with him. He lets himself experience all of it, shame, guilt, mind-blowing pleasure–all of it. When his stomach and thighs stop clenching at the thoughts, he gets up. Not really sure why, he follows the light to where he finds Sam bowed over the sink, washing his face.
The muscles in Sam's back tense and Dean knows he's noticed. There's a heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach, but he can't ignore the instinct to check on Sam, to make sure he's okay. He tries to speak but only a weird croak comes out.
"Hey," is the best he manages.
Sam's fox-eyed gaze fixes on him in the mirror and then cuts away.
"Hey, you're up," he replies, but Dean knows forced nonchalance.
"Yeah..." He breathes out stupidly. Dean stares at his feet, scratches at his head. Sammy has to be okay.
"Sam–Sammy. Are y- are we okay?" He hates how his voice catches on the name, how he can't hide the emotion in him, but it does the trick. Sam turns around to face him, eyes staring right into him for a moment and he feels a full-body flush coming on.
"Yeah. Sure. Some adventure right?" Sam's smile is so forced that it's obvious he doesn't expect Dean to buy it either. He walks past Dean out of the bathroom, but Dean grabs his shoulder, forcing him to stop. He looks at Sam, but can't seem to hold eye contact. He drops his hand and lets it glide down Sam's naked shoulder. He can't.
"See you in the morning," he says abruptly and walks past Sam towards the guestroom.
Sam's hand shoots out to stop Dean before he even realizes it. He can't let this fester until the morning; until everything that happened between has faded and everybody puts on their mask again. He sighs and lets his eyes linger on Dean's lips before mustering up the courage to look him in the eyes again.
"Sam, don't" Dean's voice catches again.
Sam pulls him closer and rests his forehead against Dean's. As honest as anything, he just says: "This is fucked up, Dean."
Dean's silence seems to beg Sam for something as hesitantly lifts his hand to stroke through Sam's hair, pressing their foreheads together.
"We're a whole new level of fucked up, Sammy," he pants against Sam's mouth.
Their lips find each other, neither of them able to tell who started the kiss. They stand in the middle of the hallway, slowly exploring each other's mouths, tongues playing a careful game.
Sam tightens his grip on Dean, trying to keep him as close as possible. His heart races, ringing in his ears. He wants this to last forever. Sam kisses the corner of Dean's mouth, slowly moves on further to his jawline. His fingers trace the throbbing vein in his neck, pressing into it. There's just one thought that refuses to let go.
"Dean…"
"Hmm?" Dean's apparently too busy being curious about exactly how mad he can drive Sam with his clever mouth.
Sam moans softly, question almost forgotten.
"How–how'd she guess?"
Dean strokes his thumb over Sam's bottom lip. Sam kisses it, takes it in and sucks on it. He closes his eyes and licks the tip of the finger suggestively, making Dean bite into his neck.
"Oh, she knew …"
She smiles inwardly when they lay down beside her again.
She stretches, spoons Dean, reaches behind her and pulls Sam's giant arm over her like a blanket and makes sure his hand ends exactly just on Dean's lower stomach.
She sniggers quietly when she feels Sam's hand move and Dean startle.
She knows, all right.
END