Behind the closed door II. Dean. R
May. 29th, 2011 09:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
biggeloisTitle: Behind the closed door II
Author: Vesta
Pairing: Lonesome Dean
Rating: R
Category: PWP. UST
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Don't own, don't sue.
Feedback: Yes, please, if you would be so kind.
Summary: Dean takes a short break from cleaning the guns.
Notes: MMoM. This is for now unbetad. Mind your eyes and beware of grammatical horrors. Companion piece to Behind the closed door I..
Sam's at it again. It's getting more and more frequent. Dean frowns a little, he could have used a hand with the guns. But whenever he gets to cleaning them, Sam runs off. He gets this weird look and then he's behind a closed door. It's getting annoying.
The thing that irritates Dean the most is that he can hear Sam. Of course, his little brother tries to be quiet but he always fails. Like now, he must be leaning against the door, because Dean can hear him breathe. Sam should know by know that the walls and the doors are paper thin. Besides, Dean is about five feet away from the door. There is no way the sound won't carry.
He turns back to the guns, it's not much to do today, but it still has to be done. A soft sound drifts through the door, followed by a light thump. Dean looks over his shoulder, but there is nothing to be seen. The door is firmly closed.
The worst with Sam's idea to lock himself in and jerk off, isn't that Dean has to do everything himself. The worst is that he's begun to wonder what Sam looks like when he does it, what he thinks about when his cock is hard And the very worst is that Dean has begun to get hard himself when he's wondering. Like he is now.
His dick strains against his jeans as the next soft sound floats through the door. Sam must be getting real warmed up, Dean thinks, and presses a hand against himself. He wonders if Sam uses both hands, kneads his balls like Dean does. Or touches lower, slips a finger or two in, just as Dean does.
The humid air in the room doesn't even make him flinch when he unzips and pulls himself out. There is just relief at the pressure letting up. He's wet already and wonders if Sam is or if he has to use spit to get the slipslide going. A brief image of Sam, on his back, legs spread, rushes through his head but he chases if away. He can't think like that. And he doesn't, until the next low groan hits him. It's low enough to be barely audible but it travels straight to his dick, and plasters another image in his head.
Sam, under him. It would be hard to push his fingers inside, Sam can't have done much. But he would moan just like that, and take it. He wouldn't be able to go fast, not with Sam so new to this. He would need to pace himself, behave, make it good. He slows his hand, rolls his balls with the other. He would have to hold off, until Sam was ready. It's torture to keep it this slow, but he does it. Strains against the couch, listens for more sounds, he needs to know where Sam is, how far gone. The guns are forgotten on the shabby table, they scrape against the surface when he puts his feet up and moves the table slightly. But he has to get a hand lower down, press against the spot just above his hole.
He listens to Sam's breath, keeps himself as quiet as he can so not to miss any sounds. Keeps his hand slow and the pressure steady. The breathing comes faster, small choked of moans in between gasps. He lets himself speed up, smears the precome oozing all over. Maybe it would feel like this to be inside Sam. He grips a little harder, moves a little faster. Listens. There is another thump against the door and then, a bitten off wail. Sam's there. He lets himself go at the sounds. Sees behind closed eyes how flushed Sam is, how red his mouth must be after biting off all those sounds.
He sits for a moment, catching his breath. Sam will be out soon enough and he has to clean up, hide what he just did. He has to tease Sam when he comes out. Because that's what big brothers do. Sam can never know what he just did.
Author: Vesta
Pairing: Lonesome Dean
Rating: R
Category: PWP. UST
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Don't own, don't sue.
Feedback: Yes, please, if you would be so kind.
Summary: Dean takes a short break from cleaning the guns.
Notes: MMoM. This is for now unbetad. Mind your eyes and beware of grammatical horrors. Companion piece to Behind the closed door I..
Sam's at it again. It's getting more and more frequent. Dean frowns a little, he could have used a hand with the guns. But whenever he gets to cleaning them, Sam runs off. He gets this weird look and then he's behind a closed door. It's getting annoying.
The thing that irritates Dean the most is that he can hear Sam. Of course, his little brother tries to be quiet but he always fails. Like now, he must be leaning against the door, because Dean can hear him breathe. Sam should know by know that the walls and the doors are paper thin. Besides, Dean is about five feet away from the door. There is no way the sound won't carry.
He turns back to the guns, it's not much to do today, but it still has to be done. A soft sound drifts through the door, followed by a light thump. Dean looks over his shoulder, but there is nothing to be seen. The door is firmly closed.
The worst with Sam's idea to lock himself in and jerk off, isn't that Dean has to do everything himself. The worst is that he's begun to wonder what Sam looks like when he does it, what he thinks about when his cock is hard And the very worst is that Dean has begun to get hard himself when he's wondering. Like he is now.
His dick strains against his jeans as the next soft sound floats through the door. Sam must be getting real warmed up, Dean thinks, and presses a hand against himself. He wonders if Sam uses both hands, kneads his balls like Dean does. Or touches lower, slips a finger or two in, just as Dean does.
The humid air in the room doesn't even make him flinch when he unzips and pulls himself out. There is just relief at the pressure letting up. He's wet already and wonders if Sam is or if he has to use spit to get the slipslide going. A brief image of Sam, on his back, legs spread, rushes through his head but he chases if away. He can't think like that. And he doesn't, until the next low groan hits him. It's low enough to be barely audible but it travels straight to his dick, and plasters another image in his head.
Sam, under him. It would be hard to push his fingers inside, Sam can't have done much. But he would moan just like that, and take it. He wouldn't be able to go fast, not with Sam so new to this. He would need to pace himself, behave, make it good. He slows his hand, rolls his balls with the other. He would have to hold off, until Sam was ready. It's torture to keep it this slow, but he does it. Strains against the couch, listens for more sounds, he needs to know where Sam is, how far gone. The guns are forgotten on the shabby table, they scrape against the surface when he puts his feet up and moves the table slightly. But he has to get a hand lower down, press against the spot just above his hole.
He listens to Sam's breath, keeps himself as quiet as he can so not to miss any sounds. Keeps his hand slow and the pressure steady. The breathing comes faster, small choked of moans in between gasps. He lets himself speed up, smears the precome oozing all over. Maybe it would feel like this to be inside Sam. He grips a little harder, moves a little faster. Listens. There is another thump against the door and then, a bitten off wail. Sam's there. He lets himself go at the sounds. Sees behind closed eyes how flushed Sam is, how red his mouth must be after biting off all those sounds.
He sits for a moment, catching his breath. Sam will be out soon enough and he has to clean up, hide what he just did. He has to tease Sam when he comes out. Because that's what big brothers do. Sam can never know what he just did.
(no subject)
Date: 2011-06-08 06:45 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-06-10 04:49 am (UTC)