Sam moves like a cat in the backseat, like a kitten craving attention; rubbing his nose against the spot beneath Dean’s ear.
“Gonna kiss you now,” Sam murmurs softly.
Dean only gasps softly as Sam kisses him: noisily and open-mouthed, his fingernails dragging pink lines down Dean’s neck. Dean knows he shouldn’t, knows it’s so wrong and fucked up but he doesn’t call the shots anymore because his little brother has ways of getting beneath his skin with his words and his tongue and Dean can’t help but to moan helplessly into his pretty baby brother’s mouth.
Sam’s eyes glitter in the darkness when they part and he hums softly with approval. That’s when he notices the way Dean looks to the front seat, and Sam turns his head to glare.
John’s eyes meet Sam’s cold ones in the rear view mirror, his throat thick with bile and fear because he doesn’t know what to do anymore, doesn’t know what Sam is or how it got to Dean, too – he just knows that his youngest boy licked his brother’s mouth open in the backseat, and that’s the first time they hadn’t even tried to hide it.
“Please,” John pleads brokenly, eyes wide with desperation. “Don’t.”
Sam only smiles a cold, horrible smile that looks hideously wrong on that innocent fourteen year old face.
“Keep your eyes on the road, old man,” Sam tells John darkly as he turns back to his big brother. He pets Dean’s hair, and adds gently: “You’ve got precious cargo.”
Tag: wincest
Some guy to Sam: Damn boy whats your @
Dean: He’s @ mine
It’s an addiction ok
Care for me, care for me. I know you care for me,
there for me, there for me. Said you’d be there for me.
—Ex-factor by Lauryn Hill
[[Part 2]]
Fic rec
This is a list of First Time wincest. If you’re as obsessed with this trope as I am this list is the one for you. All of these are Top Dean, ‘cause that’s what I read. Unless I specify otherwise.
Please note that I will not write any warning here, so read the writer’s tags on AO3, and please take some time to leave something nice for the writer.
Wincest.
Keys in the Icebox by FrancesHouseman
Dean spends a lot of time worrying about autoerotic asphyxiation. Almost as much time as he spends fantasizing about touching his brother.
“Sam’s head falls back, his neck arches, and his entire body stiffens into one imploring arc of strained muscle and smooth, naked flesh.”
My wincest fanart for russian Fandom Kombat 2014 (team fandom SPN 2014)
fun fact:
there’s a deleted scene from the pilot in season one where dean looks at Jessica
up and down, before he winks and says: “light hair, green eyes, prettiest in
town? I guess our Sammy’s got a type, huh?” then he walks out to the impala
where Sam’s waiting for him
“Hey – hey, what’s wrong?” Dean’s voice is still groggy with sleep, but he can hear Sam’s deep breaths; the barely-held-in sniffles. He gets out of his bed, stumbling towards Sam’s, touching his arm.
“Nothing,” Sam’s voice is hoarse. “Nothing’s wrong. Go back to sleep.”
They’re on a case, staying at a motel for the first time in a long time, the comfort of the bunker left behind.
Dean crawls into Sam’s bed – hey, he doesn’t give a damn – and turns towards him. “C’mon. I’m not stupid.”
“I – I don’t know why I’m upset,” Sam suddenly says, his voice soft. “And it feels so fucking stupid.”
Dean bites his lip. “Is this…kind of what we talked about the other day? That you’re…feeling sad, and stuff?”
Sam nods, staring down at the comforter.
He keeps his lip between his teeth, concentrating, trying to figure out how to say it gently. “Sam – Sammy. I…man, it’s not…normal to wake up crying in the middle of the night, you know? Have you…”
Sam looks at him – and he always looks at him like he’s his whole world – and swallows hard. “What?”
“…I think you’re depressed, Sam. Not just – ‘oh, I had a bad day and I’m sad.’ But…like depressed. I don’t know a lot about…y’know, this kind of stuff, but I know you’ve been suffering. And man, you don’t…you don’t have to suffer.” Dean reaches for him, ‘cause he knows that physical affection will soften the blow. Not that he minds holding him, anyway.
The whole room’s suddenly quiet, save for the way Sam exhales into the crook of Dean’s arm, and the way the coarseness of Dean’s hand glides against the soft fabric of Sam’s t-shirt.
“I think I am, too,” he murmurs, as if giving in, struggling to accept this thing that’s been haunting him for months now. “And I don’t know how to fix it.”
Dean holds him, moving his hand to Sam’s hair. “Maybe we should…” He swallows thickly. “Book an appointment with someone? And just…see what they say?” Two years – hell, even a year ago – he’d be against this. But…seeing the way this invisible force of grief is tearing through Sam is breaking his heart.
Honestly…he knows the feeling. And he doesn’t want that for Sam; he never has.
“Okay,” Sam acquiesces after a minute. “I’ll…I’ll go. See someone.”
Dean can hear the fear in his voice. “I’ll come with you. Don’t worry. Okay? I have your back.” He squeezes him tightly.
Sam nods, but he knows…eventually, at least part of this will come down to being in love with Dean, and not being able to tell him.
It always does; doctors can’t right this kind of wrong, even with drugs.
Dean: What are Charlie and Kevin arguing about?
Jo: They have a bet going about what Sam’s like in bed. Kevin thinks he’s secretly really kinky but Charlie thinks he’s romantic.
Dean: Yeah, he’s actually both.
Jo:
Dean:
Dean: I mean… How would I know? I don’t know what Sam’s like in bed.
Dean: But I would assume he’s both.
Backup bloh 