Pie in the Sky (Rated M)
<Dedicated to doctn, without whom this smut could not have been.>
Sam, 14/ Dean, 18
Drug use, mild language, *obviously* wincest, graphic sexual content.
Before the gun smoke had even cleared, Dean threw Sam into the back seat of the Impala and started burning rubber. In all his life, he had never seen so much blood. The two of them were caked with the stuff—metallic flakes dusted the steering wheel under his white-knuckled grip. He had to get them away, and fast. It was dark, but it took a few minutes for Dean to even register that his headlights were out and he hadn’t checked to see if Sam was even alive.
The older brother turned into a field and parked under an ancient looking tree. He dragged a bloody and bruised Sam out of the back and laid him on the engine-warmed hood of his baby. He felt Sam’s throat, waited to feel the beating of his stallion heart against calloused fingertips…
The sigh slipped out on its own. “Dammit, Sammy… I thought you bit it in there…” He leaned over and pressed his lips to Sam’s pulse point. With this, Sam’s eyes fluttered open.
Throbbing pain shot through Sam’s head and he winced. “What… What happened…?” He sat up a little, using his elbows as shaky props. Reflexively, he went to run a hand through his long hair but stopped when he found his fingers were stuck together with what could only be brain matter. With a gag, he lowered his hand. The night was coming back to him, through the splitting headache. All his years of hunting couldn’t compare to the carnage he had witnessed. He could tell from the strained silence that Dean was feeling it too. “Dean… what happened back there… it was-”
Lips pressed against Sam’s before he could finish. The younger Winchester was only slightly perturbed by the taste of blood in his mouth; he could tell by the tang that it was Dean’s. Dean’s voice was raspy, hoarse from screaming over gunfire, but he murmured softly, “I have something for you…” He lifted his chest from Sam’s and walked around the car, propping up the trunk and digging for something. He returned with a baggie, a lighter, and a Bible. With shaking fingers, Dean rolled up and twisted the lumpiest, strangest cigarette Sam had ever seen. The twisted paper was lit and Dean drew a long, deep pull into his chest. He passed it to Sam.
"What is this?" Sam asked, but took a puff out of practiced obedience. He choked on the acrid smoke, hacking into his sleeve. "God, Dean! Is this-"
"Shut up and take a hit." Dean exhaled slowly, smoke rolling down his chin. He held the joint for his brother, watching his lips tremble a bit as he took a shallow drag.
The two continued passing it back and forth in silence until the joint was gone and both were sinking into the heavy calm of Mary. Without saying a word, they stood and pulled their shirts off. The brothers took turns pouring a jug of holy water over the other, washing away the blood and gore until only trickles of pinkened water remained upon their skin. The horror was dulled by the drug and good company. Sore and stoned, the brothers retired to the hood of the Impala with a couple ragged blankets. They were mirror images with their arms folded behind their heads and their eyes fixed on the stars. As if connected by an unseen wire, their hands slid together and locked fingers.
"I…" Dean was cut off by the creaking of the hood as Sam sidled up beside him, a long arm curling over his chest. "A-Ah… Sammy…"
Soft lips traveled down Dean’s jaw, moving to his neck. He grunted and gasped as his brother nipped and sucked at his throat. The pleading intensity of Sam’s mouth was a silent indication of his need for comfort and Dean didn’t have to look to know the pain in his younger brother’s eyes. “Here, baby…” Dean whispered. He took a bottle out of the pocket of his jeans and popped a tablet into Sam’s mouth, offering him the jug of holy water.
Without question, baby brother downed the pill and closed his eyes. Dean took a tablet and did the same, curling back up on the hood.
The effect came on fast and sank in slowly. Memories of blood and fear faded into a glowing feeling of euphoria. Minds cleared and open, the brothers’ hands began to wander. Sam became almost obsessed with rubbing Dean’s hips and thighs, his large hands groping and squeezing independent of his will. Dean’s hands were occupied with Sam’s pectorals and abs, pressing the hard muscles like he was looking for a weak spot. Mouths found their way together and tongues began to twist and explore, more refined in motion out of practice though the drugs were making the boys clumsy.
Dean grunted, Sam nodded. As quickly as they could with nirvana-loosened muscles, the brothers shucked off their bloodsoaked jeans and boxers. Sam took his place on top of Dean, straddling his older brother’s hips. His body was long and lithe now that he’d grown into it and Dean’s sturdy, muscular frame below him felt right. They began to move together, erections wrapped against one another in Sam’s cupped hands. Dean propped himself up on one elbow, reaching around to slide a saliva-slicked finger against his brother’s entrance.
Sam hissed between his teeth and rocked his hips as Dean circled his hole with the rough pad of his index finger. He squeezed their cocks a little more, moaning like a porn star. The sound drew a shaky groan from the elder. The finger pressed into Sam and stirred his mind through the drug haze.
“H-Hey…” He pushed Dean’s hand away, his narrow young face drawn with hesitation.
“Come on, Sammy… It feels good, I promise…” Dean slid his hand around Sam’s buttocks once more, pressing a finger against his puckered hole. “I’ll be gentle…” God, Dean’s stoner voice was sexy…
While Sam and his older brother had developed an intimate relationship, their exploits had never gone beyond a little bit of kissing and hand-holding. Though Sam’s mind was fuzzy, he knew violating that taboo would be the straw that broke the camel’s back. Murder, larceny, and fraud were one thing; incest was another beast altogether. However, that probing digit was stirring something inside of him. A part of him wanted to jump off the hood of the car, utterly disgusted and terrified by the things Dean murmured in his ear, in his sleep; the other part of him wanted to engulf his brother fully and ride him like an animal. Contemplation under the effect of a narcotic just made Sam’s headache worse, and the tense moments of non-friction were beginning to grate at Dean’s nerves.
Suddenly, the decision was no longer Sam’s to make. Dean pushed his finger in and curled it, pressing hard against his baby brother’s virgin prostate. The explosion of color behind Sam’s eyes was logic enough.
“Fuck me, Dean.”
Articulate as ever. The command was followed by a rough tugging of hair and crashing of lips. The brothers kissed hard, teeth clicking together unceremoniously as Dean began fingering Sam. Friction had never made Sam’s body burn like that before; he mewled and panted into Dean’s mouth, sucking his brother’s tongue against his own. He yelped when a second finger was pushed inside and sighed hotly when the invading appendages began to scissor and stretch him.
“Ohh, Dean…” Sam’s voice was syrupy as he slid his tongue inside the shell of Dean’s ear. He purred, “Be gentle with me, big brother…”
The novelty of the term used in such a lecherous fashion drew a deep, growling moan from the older teen. Dean was impatient at the best of times and hearing his little brother dirty talk him was just too much. He grabbed Sam’s long, soft hair and pushed his head down toward his stiff, demanding member.
The words were blatant and Sam didn’t dare to challenge them. He slid down, gripping the hilt of his brother’s throbbing cock and swirled his tongue over the swollen head. It tasted unlike anything Sam had ever sampled… salty, bitter, musky… He slid his mouth over Dean’s need and savored it. This was the taste of his brother, his lover… He licked all over, coating his brother’s shaft in saliva.
Unable to take the sensation any longer, Dean pulled his brother’s head away from his member. He couldn’t wait another second for gratification. With little effort, Dean switched their positions and dug his fingers into Sam’s narrow hips. God, was he jealous of those hips, that tapered chest… Gripping Sam’s pale thighs, he pressed the head of his cock against his brother’s wrinkled hole. He growled, “Ready?”
Sam could barely see straight, let alone speak. He nodded a little, gripping the blanket spread beneath him. That was enough for Dean.
The pain was sharp and concentrated. Sam felt like the entire world had fizzled out and nothing was left but that searing, splitting, mind-numbing pain. He cried out, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. Dean kissed them away, breathing heavily. The hot, velvet tightness was incredible. “Relax…” He pressed in slowly, steadily. Sam felt like he could break in half, right down the middle, but his irrational competitive instinct kept him from begging Dean to slow down. The younger boy bit his lip, arched his back, and tried to relax around the Herculean girth of his brother’s manhood. Dean pressed forward until he couldn’t anymore; Sam’s young body could only take about three-fourths of his member. The older brother remained still inside of his younger counterpart, kissing the tears of pain away and giving him time to adjust.
After a moment, Sam nodded a little, cheeks flushed. Dean pulled out almost all the way, pushing back in once more. Instead of sharp gasps, Sam responded with a breathy sigh. He was in the clouds now, body overwhelmed with pleasure from the drugs and fresh penetration. He rocked his hips and slid his hands over Dean’s shoulders and biceps, digging fingernails into tanned skin. Dean grunted and began moving his hips, thrusting into the suffocatingly hot confines of his brother’s tender virgin body. Even without the help of the pills and weed, the sensation would be heaven on Earth.
“H-How do I feel, Dean?” Sam’s voice was obscenely tender as he beckoned his brother’s hips against his own. His pupils were dilated from substance and sensation and he tossed his head. The gesture, followed by wanton sighs and moans, was intensely,irrationally erotic.
Thrusting like a piston, Dean slurred, “Like warm apple pie, baby…” He clamped his lips on Sam’s neck and started sucking, striking Sam’s prostate. He was rewarded with the filthiest moan he had ever heard. Instinctively, he began pounding against that spot over and over, sending Sam tumbling into an explosive white-around-the-edges orgasm.
The young Winchester’s cries of pleasure echoed off the distant trees. Dean released the spot on Sam’s neck and cried out, reaching his own orgasm quickly when Sam clenched around him. He filled his little brother with spurts of hot seed, moaning. He collapsed, still inside.
The brothers curled together, panting, and shared afterglow kisses. Both were exceedingly content, if not sweaty and aware of the chilled metal of the Impala’s hood.
“Look at the stars, Dean…” Sam wrapped his arms around his older brother’s neck, high fading into a sleepy daze. He murmured, barely awake, “They’re brighter… now…”
Dean wrapped the extra blanket and his own jacket around Sam, kissing the dark bruise on his neck. The bloodshed seemed a million years away from the perfect serenity of this quiet moment. His eyes were heavy. “It ain’t the stars, Sammy… It’s just you shining down on me…” He held his baby brother close, drifting to sleep.
“Just you… my apple pie in the sky…”
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