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Title: Seven Steps Into Heaven (Brought Me Seven Steps Closer to Hell) 1/7
Fandom/Pairing: Supernatural, Sam/Dean
Rating/Warnings: NC-17, presumably underage though it's unspecified, masturbation
Summary/Notes: This one's been buzzing in the back of my head for a long time, and
locknkey's birthday is coming up and she loves UST and Wincest boys like I do, so I figured I should start actually writing and sharing it.
It's cold enough that they've been squeezing into just one of the beds at night, every thin blanket they can find stacked on top, not quite long enough to stay tucked around them on the tiny twin mattress. Dean's got half his face beneath the covers just for the extra warmth of his own breath, and the only place he isn't cold is the long line of Sam's back snug against his own.
The little heater they had quit working on the second day in the cabin, and taking it apart only confirmed Dean's suspicion that it wasn't working again. They've still got most of a week until Dad's due back, and it's not an emergency – it's just fucking cold. The days are okay, but the nights go by in a dozen broken pieces of dozing, and Dean doesn't even realize at first that something woke him this time.
He feels Sam shudder against him, and thinks it's a shiver from the cold until he hears a choked-off moan and becomes instantly awake and aware. The movement – the sounds – have a faltering rhythm that he can't help but recognize, and yeah, okay... they both do it, but they're not usually in the same damn bed. His own dick is hard now, any hint of sex seems to be enough and it's clearly getting ideas, but Sam's awake. Dean's awake but Sam doesn't know that, would be mortified if he knew, and it's not the same as jerking off at the same time in separate beds, both of them maintaining the polite fiction that they have privacy. God, it's taking him forever though, and Dean can't help but stealthily work his hand down and just press it against himself.
That lasts a little while and then it's just not enough, and Dean gives up even trying to will himself down and settles for just... being subtle. The furtive, too slow drag of his fingers against the pajama bottoms is torturous, nowhere near enough to get him off. He's fighting to keep his breathing steady, and it's harder than you'd think when Sammy's making these soft little yearning whimpers and speeding up, and Dean concentrates on how it's the goddamned slow tease of his own touch that's turning him on so much, and nothing at all to do with his brother.
Sam finally comes with his breath caught and his body arching, Dean's hand squeezing and his heart racing, wondering if he'll be found out. It's probably only a minute or two and until Sam is out cold beside him and Dean edges away, careful and desperate, tugging his clothes down the moment it's safe and working himself with quick strokes of a tongue-slicked hand, coming so hard he can't even breathe.
Fandom/Pairing: Supernatural, Sam/Dean
Rating/Warnings: NC-17, presumably underage though it's unspecified, masturbation
Summary/Notes: This one's been buzzing in the back of my head for a long time, and
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It's cold enough that they've been squeezing into just one of the beds at night, every thin blanket they can find stacked on top, not quite long enough to stay tucked around them on the tiny twin mattress. Dean's got half his face beneath the covers just for the extra warmth of his own breath, and the only place he isn't cold is the long line of Sam's back snug against his own.
The little heater they had quit working on the second day in the cabin, and taking it apart only confirmed Dean's suspicion that it wasn't working again. They've still got most of a week until Dad's due back, and it's not an emergency – it's just fucking cold. The days are okay, but the nights go by in a dozen broken pieces of dozing, and Dean doesn't even realize at first that something woke him this time.
He feels Sam shudder against him, and thinks it's a shiver from the cold until he hears a choked-off moan and becomes instantly awake and aware. The movement – the sounds – have a faltering rhythm that he can't help but recognize, and yeah, okay... they both do it, but they're not usually in the same damn bed. His own dick is hard now, any hint of sex seems to be enough and it's clearly getting ideas, but Sam's awake. Dean's awake but Sam doesn't know that, would be mortified if he knew, and it's not the same as jerking off at the same time in separate beds, both of them maintaining the polite fiction that they have privacy. God, it's taking him forever though, and Dean can't help but stealthily work his hand down and just press it against himself.
That lasts a little while and then it's just not enough, and Dean gives up even trying to will himself down and settles for just... being subtle. The furtive, too slow drag of his fingers against the pajama bottoms is torturous, nowhere near enough to get him off. He's fighting to keep his breathing steady, and it's harder than you'd think when Sammy's making these soft little yearning whimpers and speeding up, and Dean concentrates on how it's the goddamned slow tease of his own touch that's turning him on so much, and nothing at all to do with his brother.
Sam finally comes with his breath caught and his body arching, Dean's hand squeezing and his heart racing, wondering if he'll be found out. It's probably only a minute or two and until Sam is out cold beside him and Dean edges away, careful and desperate, tugging his clothes down the moment it's safe and working himself with quick strokes of a tongue-slicked hand, coming so hard he can't even breathe.
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Date: 2011-02-11 12:23 am (UTC)This line but the nights go by in a dozen broken pieces of dozing I must have re-read it a dozen times it's perfect!
Bed sharing - yes!!!
Dean trying so hard not to be aroused, not be able to help it, that edge of denial - so hot!!!