Isaac [fuck regrets, let's burn this city down] (auberginedreams) wrote in 12daysof, @ 2007-12-14 11:39:00 |
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Current location: | Library |
Current mood: | accomplished |
Current music: | The Emo Song-Adam and Andrew |
Supernatural, Sam/Dean, 12 Christmas
Title: Paddy Likes To Whack His Ackles
Author: Isaac
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam X Dean
Prompt: Table 12, Prompt 12, Christmas
Word Count: 765
Rating: R
Warnings: kink!fic, whips, possible non-con (not full sex i.e. not NC-17)
Summary: Sam decides to give Dean a different kind of gift.
Notes: Written for my friend Emily's Christmas present. Merry Christmas, love!
“You ready for your present yet?” Sam walked Dean into the hotel room, hands covering his eyes.
“Yes, now can I see, please?” Dean tried to pry his brother’s hands off his face, but his grip held fast
“Patience, Dean. I think you’ll like this…” Sam sat him down on the bed and lifted his hands off his face. “Voila!”
“Aww, Sammy, you got me a hotel room,” Dean said, sarcasm creeping into his voice despite the grin on his face.
Smacking him across the head playfully, the younger brother pointed to the T.V. “No, dipshit. The present on the television.”
Getting up, Dean grabbed the small box and shook it curiously. “You got me porn? You shouldn’t have.”
“Just shut up and open it.” Reclining on the opposite bed, Sam watched almost hungrily as his brother tore into the present. Bow aside and holiday paper ripped to shreds, the silence was almost deafening as Dean gazed down at his gift.
“Merry Christmas,” Sam offered, trying not to crack up at his brother’s confused face.
“What…is it?” he asked, gingerly picking up the leather handle of a meticulously crafted whip. “Some kind of duster?”
Exasperated, Sam snatched the other object from the box. “Take off your shirt.”
“Oh, no.” Raising his hands up in defence, Dean started to scramble up from the bed. “I don’t need lube on my chest for you to fuck me.”
“Could you be any stupider? Look,” Sam said, waving the small, clear bottle in front of his brother. “It’s massage oil.”
Slightly intrigued, Dean sat back down and lifted off his t-shirt. “Alright, but what does this have to do with the leather duster?”
Pushing him down so he was flat on his stomach, and straddling his hips, Sam softly traced the fingernail tracks along his back. “It’s not a duster,” he said, squirting the clear gel into his palm, “it’s a whip. And by the looks of those scars, you’re going to thoroughly enjoy this.”
***
Twenty minutes later, Dean was almost asleep as his brother climbed off his back. With almost a sadistic gleam in his eye, Sam picked up the small whip and brought it down forcefully on Dean’s back.
“Fuck!” Dean cried, turning around and glaring at his brother. “Sam, what the hell are you doing?”
“Your cock isn’t protesting,” the younger boy said, flicking the whip at the bulging front of his jeans.
At a loss of words, Dean sighed prettily and flipped over. “This better not scar.”
Smiling mischievously, Sam leaned over and kissed his ear. Nibbling on the earlobe, he murmured seductively, “Oh, it will.”
***
Twenty minutes – and twenty lashes – later, Dean was lying on the now-sweaty hotel bed, completely vulnerable. His erection was almost painfully pressing into the bed sheets, and Sam’s cock pushing into the top of his tailbone wasn’t helping.
“Sammy…” he moaned, the weakness of his voice shocking him.
“I know…” His brother climbed off Dean shakily. A split second later, Sam was pinned to the bed himself and Dean held the whip.
“What…?”
“Didn’t think you’d get away with that, did you?” Leaning over, he began to unbutton Sam’s shirt; with each button he let free, Dean kissed the new patch of skin shown. By the time his shirt was off, Sam was whimpering in sheer want.
“Ah, ah, ah,” Dean said playfully, batting his brother’s hands away from his belt buckle. “Not quite yet.” Fingering the whip lightly, he snapped it forcefully at the top of Sam’s jeans. Moaning, the younger brother tried to arch up into the contact, but Dean stopped him by settling himself onto Sam’s lower stomach.
“Dean…” Sam awkwardly tried to thrust up against his brother again. “Dean, don’t be such a tease.”
His face taking on an almost violent look, Dean immediately lay a few vigorous slashes across Sam’s chest. “I am not a tease,” he said, trailing the strips of leather across his nipples and grinding down onto his brother’s erection. “Say it!”
All he elicited was a loud moan and whimpers of pleasure. When Sam received two new lashes and a nip along his collarbone, he realized Dean meant business. Through pants and mewls, the younger brother managed to say, “You’re not a tease,” before his body spastically jerked and he came hard into his jeans.
Sitting back, Dean stared proudly at his masterpiece. Sam’s curly brown hair was mussed and sticking to his sweaty forehead; his heavy-lidded blue eyes gazed up at him in adoration through the post-orgasm haze.
Dean decided at that moment that it was his turn again.