boyking!sam – Page 4

holdmesamthatwasbeautiful:

Little Sammy is only fifteen when he tilts his head
back and opens his mouth to let Dean pour droplets of bourbon on his tongue. Dean’s
been pouring liquid want down his
little brother’s throat for years, and Sammy always begs for the same thing-

“Tell me again, big brother.”

Dean always compels. He licks liquor from the corner
of Sam’s mouth, and then: “This is where it started,” he whispers, eyes dark
and fixed on the pale line of Sammy’s throat. “It trickled down your throat
right here, baby boy. Dad told me, you swallowed it, it’s in you.”

Sammy’s small hand is warm and urgent against Dean’s denim
covered rockhardfuckingleaking cock,
and he whines: “That’s why I’m like this, right? Why I’m, why I’m fucked up.”

“Yeah Sammy,” Dean nods against his little brother’s damp
temple as he pushes two fingers against Sam’s still blood-red lips. “Get‘em wet.
Gonna shove my fingers so deep down your throat. Gonna get demon blood on my fingertips, you hear me?”

Sam’s fingers are tight around Dean’s wrist, his eyes
a calm, calculating storm in the yellow glow of the flickering fireplace. “I
want to taste it again,” he says.

Dean’s eyes go a little wide and his heart pounds
against his ribs because there’s unfamiliar
power thrumming around them; power he’s
unable to name or define, and it makes him weak and it makes him strong, and Dean thinks he might come
from the cold gleam in Sammy’s eyes.

“I’ll find you more,” Dean promises –

and Sam could’ve sworn Dean’s eyes flickered, for only
a moment, into black.