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The Wanting Comes In Waves

All Sam/Dean, All The Time

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wincestMas 2017 (Sam/Dean, G-NC-17) Part 3 of 4

Back to Part 2


White Christmas Part 2 of 2

As they walked through the snow to the dining room, Dean couldn’t believe how good this thing felt inside of him, and he was pretty sure Sam had it on the lowest setting. Of course that didn’t mean Sam wouldn’t change the settings once they were seated at the dinner with all the other guests. He hoped the cock ring would hold him back, coming in his pants in public wasn’t really on his sexy to-do list.

It wasn’t until they were seated in the cavernous converted barn dining room with all the gaudy Christmas decorations that he realized that it was going to be a tough hour or so to get through. How was he going to concentrate enough to even eat? He must have been making a face because the vibration abruptly turned off and Sam looked worried.

“Hey, are you okay?” Sam asked, leaning across their small table to peer into Dean’s face. “It’s not hurting you, right?”

Dean didn’t answer, instead he leaned up and kissed Sam in silent thanks and settled back down into the thankfully well-padded seat. He concentrated on opening himself deep inside so that the vibe no longer felt like an intrusion, but a somehow new part of him.

Sam’s worried face got put away, and they ordered their meals and enjoyed the dinner show entertainment. Most of the movie’s songs were done, some more successfully than others. The vibration slowly cranked up randomly during some of the songs and he began to squirm, the pleasure of the stimulation, being kept on edge in public like this, of Sam having all the control, it was almost too much. And the whole time being surrounded by his favorite Christmas movie. Sam had really done it this time, this was going to be hard to top.

“You’re enjoying this way too much, dude,” Dean growled when he caught Sam’s grin during the final dessert number.

Sam tried to put on an innocent look, but his eyes darkened when he saw Dean squirm again. His hand went to his pocket and the vibration changed to another pattern that alternated pressing on Dean’s prostate to circling pressure around the rim beads that were keeping him open. So open, so ready for Sam.

“I think we need to go—now,” Sam said.

“What, and miss the big finale?” Dean barely managed to say, red-faced and gasping.

Sam turned the vibration off completely and stood up, holding out his hand. Dean wiped the sweat off his face with his napkin, downed the last of his wine and stood up, taking Sam’s hand.

He hoped that most of their fellow diners were paying more attention to White Christmas being performed up on stage, and not the massive hard-on he was sporting. His suit jacket was not covering up a thing at this point, and he was painfully aware of the giant wet spot in the front of his pants as it rubbed across his oversensitive skin as they walked through all the tables. Sam’s hand on his lower back was the only thing he could concentrate on.

Once they were out of the dining room, Sam slowed their walk and pushed Dean back into one of the darker hallway alcoves. His hand pressed over Dean’s cock. Dean gasped at the feeling of the wet fabric of his boxers and pants being dragged over the head, and the pressure from Sam’s hand, his knees nearly buckled at the intense feelings along with the continuing vibration from the plug deep inside him.

“You got so wet for me, baby, want to taste you, can I?” Sam asked, beginning to sink to his knees.

Dean couldn’t speak, could only nod as Sam mouthed along the already soaked line of his cock, his fingers undoing just the zipper and pulling him out. He heard people in the hallway and almost stopped Sam, but then he was inside the wet and warm and oh so perfect suction of Sam’s lips and tongue and he no longer cared. His hands went to the back of Sam’s head and he thrust deeply down Sam’s throat. The cock ring wasn’t going to be enough, he could feel his orgasm coming on, spiraling up from his toes, about to blow his head off, but then there was a sharp tug on his balls, painful, but not incapacitating. That halted everything, but he felt like he’d never been harder in his entire life.

“Sammy, need to…you gotta,” Dean panted, embarrassed to be begging, but Sam was already taking care of him, tucking him away, zipping up his pants and getting them walking towards their cabin. His brother’s hand on his lower back was again the only thing he could concentrate on, he couldn’t focus on the fabric of his ruined and soaked boxers dragging over his cock with every step. And then the vibrations started again, along with a low chuckle from Sam.

“You’re doing so good for me, Dean, love you—love that you’ll let me,” Sam said, pushing Dean’s back up against their door and slotting their bodies together. Sam pressed his hips into Dean, grinding their hardnesses together and Dean let out a sound that he’d never heard himself make.

“Sssh, sssh, you’re okay, let’s get you inside, okay, Dean?” Sam said, opening the door and ushering Dean through.

Sam was a whirlwind of activity then, turning the heater on, pulling the covers back on Dean’s bed and getting them both completely undressed before Dean had even registered they were back in the room. He’d given himself over to the vibrations that were the strongest yet, writhing on the bed and gasping with the pleasure that coursed through his body. He finally noticed the sound of Sam moaning as he stood over him, stroking his fully hard cock with one shiny lube-covered hand.

“You ready, Dean?” Sam asked, kneeling up on the bed between Dean’s outstretched legs. Sam’s fingers were inside of him then stretching him even more while the vibrations continued, he couldn’t even make a sound, wordlessly gasping at how good it felt. But when Sam removed his fingers he couldn’t help begging.

“Please, Sam, feel so empty now, need it, need you in me now,” Dean said, feeling a hot flush of shame at begging, but Sam’s wicked smile wiped all of that away.

Sam entered him slowly, pressing the vibe even deeper for a moment, his hard length pushing Dean to the limits of what he could take. He lost track then, of how many times Sam thrusted into him along with the vibe, of how much noise he made or how much more he was begging. And just at the moment when he knew he couldn’t possibly take any more stimulation, Sam undid the clasp on the cock ring. Dean came, distantly he observed himself coming, gone into another realm of pleasure he watched himself writhe and howl and clench and claw at Sam’s body.

The next thing Dean felt was Sam lifting him into the other bed, it was cool against his overheated skin, as was the wet cloth he cleaned him with. Sam folded himself into the small bed against Dean, pulling him into the circle of his arms and sighed a big contented breath into his hair.

“You good now?” Sam asked quietly.

“No, I’m awesome,” Dean mumbled. “Thanks, Sammy, didn’t know how much I needed that.”

“Merry Christmas, Dean,” Sam said.

“Merry White Christmas, Sammy.” Dean answered.


Of course the snow storm had to arrive the morning after they’d had the epic New Year’s Sex-a-thon. Sam had refused to call it that, but it was an awesome name and Dean was sticking with it regardless. Just like he was sticking with the snow shoveling that needed to get done before it got too dark out. They’d gotten at least a foot already, which was a lot at once for where the Bunker was located, the plows sure as hell didn’t make out to their little dirt road either. If they really needed to go somewhere in this mess, they could take the four-wheel drive vintage jeep in the garage.

The shoveling he was doing was all about making sure they had a viable exit out of the place, just in case. After getting locked inside their own home by the British Men of Letters, Dean wasn’t taking any chances. Especially since they knew that Ketch psycho was still out there, he might have a way to lock them in again. The shoveling was tough going though, the snow was wet and very heavy, and there was so much of it in the Bunker’s sunken doorway entrance.

Dean felt something go ‘zing’ in a very bad way in his back and found he couldn’t straighten up all the way. He thought about calling Sam to come help him down the stairs, but didn’t want to get him out of their warm cozy bed. His brother needed the rest, they’d both used each other fast and hard several times over the last two days. He remembered fucking Sam up against the green tiled wall in the kitchen, how Sam’s body had slid along the slick surface with every single thrust. No wonder his back hurt before he’d even started shoveling.

He tried straightening up again and felt the ‘zing’ once more. It was all over for him, for today at least. He used the shovel as a cane and was barely able to get the door open. Once inside with the door securely locked behind him he managed to start hobbling his way down the stairs.

“You okay?” Sam’s voice floated up as through the metal staircase.

“No, snow shoveling got me,” Dean grumbled, pausing on the third step down.

“Hold on, I’ve gotcha,” Sam said, striding into view and up the staircase. He had on Dean’s dead guy robe, which was very loosely tied around his waist and god, Dean just wanted to drop to his knees right then and there and get day three of the New Year’s Sex-a-thon going.

Sam had him scooped up in a fireman’s carry and all the way down the stairs before Dean had realized what was happening. His brother’s strength was tested by carrying him through the bunker’s hallways, but it was worth it for the turn-on. At least it was until Sam went to lower him to the bed and cried out in pain.

“Oh no, not your back too?” Dean said, “Who’s going to finish the shoveling?” He kicked his jeans and boots off and rolled under the covers.

“So we’re stuck in bed for a while, worse things could’ve happened, right?” Sam asked, unwrapping the robe as he hobbled around the bed,  and gingerly climbed in naked on his side. He cuddled up to Dean under their pile of quilts and went quiet when Dean didn’t say anything.

“There is a lot worse, you’re right,” Dean said, serious about getting snowed-in and maybe trapped.

“Day three of the New Year’s sex thingy then?” Sam asked with a grin.

“It’s a sex-a-thon, Sammy, if you can’t say it, then you obviously can’t participate.”

“Guess you’re on your own then,” Sam said with an even larger, more obnoxious grin. He even had the audacity to waggle his eyebrows.

Dean decided that he would definitely do that at some point, especially since he was most of the way hard again, something about being carried and naked Sam in a bed that smelled like several days of hot sweaty sex had him going even though his back hurt. He sneaked a hand down under the covers and palmed his dick through his boxers. Yeah, a one-man show would work pretty well, it’d probably help him get to sleep and relax his back. He started stroking himself until he hardened all the way and finally pulled himself free of his boxers.

He noticed Sam was watching him closely, so he decided to put on more of a show, maybe he’d decide to participate after all. He let out a few quiet moans and even brought his palm up to lick it nice and wet to make the glide better. Sam swallowed loudly and his big warm hand closed over the back of Dean’s. Dean almost came right then and there from the surprise of how good it felt, the added pressure, and that it was Sam always did it for him.

“Thought this was a sex-a-thon for one now,” Dean said in a gasp that was barely decipherable.

“Not when you’re in our bed it’s not,” Sam said, increasing the speed of the strokes and tightening the grip of his hand.

Dean wriggled his other hand between them and took Sam in hand, matching the speed and grip of Sam’s strokes. Sam groaned and came, hot and slick all over Dean’s hand and his own belly. Dean brought that hand over to stroke himself with, adding the slickness of Sam’s come was enough to push him over the edge.

They fell asleep together, sticky and sated for the moment, backs still aching and snow still un-shoveled. There was always Aleve and whisky and hot packs later, Dean told himself. Much later.


Cuddling to Stay Warm

Dean tried to remember as he staggered back to the car with an unconscious Sam in his arms, but there wasn’t anything harder in his life that he had to endure than having to strip his near-unconscious brother of all his icy soaked clothes. Sam’s body barely resisted being moved, his arms and legs were limp and colder than the ice that had covered the lake.

“Flathead Lake monster, we had to investigate, in the middle of fucking winter, in the middle of fucking Montana,” Dean grumbled, as he removed his own soaked clothes.

The Impala was warming up a little now that the engine had been running. The three blankets he had wrapped around them smelled like the closets in the Bunker they’d been stored in. But thankfully they were thick wool and were trapping the heat between their frozen bodies quite well.

Dean’s hands were moving all over Sam’s damp skin, desperately trying to keep the circulation going in his brother’s body so he wouldn’t lose any vital body parts.

He tried to not think about where he was touching Sam, pretty much everywhere, or how damn good Sam smelled, even wet with the dank lake water that spicy Sam smell came through. Dean breathed in deep in the crook of Sam’s neck, willing himself to memorize it for later. It was embarrassing how much he was enjoying this, even though Sam had just almost died in the lake. But after all of these years, he couldn’t help it, he’d always had this need for Sam’s skin, and scent, his laugh.

Sam laughed and coughed in Dean’s face. “You’re enjoying this too much, dude.” He rearranged himself in the circle of Dean’s arms, his broad back pressed up against Dean’s chest. Dean tried to angle his hips away from Sam’s ass, but he had no where to go, the Impala seats weren’t wide enough.

“Sorry,” Dean muttered, feeling a hot flush of shame run through him, didn’t make him lose his hard-on unfortunately, because Sam’s ass was right there, wiggling against him. It could happen to anyone, right? That’s what Sam would hopefully be thinking, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to ask.

Sam sighed in answer and rearranged them again, switching their positions so that Dean was now in Sam’s arms. The shock Dean felt at feeling Sam’s erection pressing against his own ass was complete and devastating. It could happen to anyone right, but both of them?

“You warmed up enough yet?” Dean asked into the soft skin of Sam’s bicep where his lips weren’t kissing, just resting there he swore to himself.

“No,” Sam said in a voice that sounded like he’d just been strangled.

Dean raised his head to look back at Sam and saw eyes that were as lust-blown as his own felt. He sighed and snuggled back against Sam, pressing himself against his brother’s now warm skin, relishing the feeling of the small shimmies of Sam’s hips into his own ass. If this was all he ever got to have with Sam, it would be enough, he swore (for the thousandth time) that it would have to be enough. He could never ask for what he really needed or wanted, it would be too much.

Sam’s lips were on the back of his neck now, and Dean couldn’t help shivering with the pleasure of it. They were moving, was Sam saying something?

“Did you say something?” Dean asked, he couldn’t help himself, he wanted to know what Sam would be saying in a moment like this where the world seemed to be holding its breath for what came next.

Sam’s lips stopped moving for a moment and then Dean felt them move into a wide smile. Dean almost came just from how good that felt, he’d never imagined what his brother’s beautiful smile would feel like on his own skin.

“Just giving thanks,” Sam said.

“For me saving your ass again?” Dean said.

“Yeah, that and this too,” Sam said, squeezing his arms even tighter around Dean. He went still after that, his breathing dropping off into the regular sleep pattern Dean knew as well as his own face in the mirror.

The Impala rumbled under them, and the bunker’s blankets weighed them down, pressing them together in the heat they generated, it was full dark outside, and his brother was safe now. That had to be enough.

“Happy New Year, Sammy,” Dean murmured, letting himself fall asleep to the sound of his brother’s regular breaths fluttering past his ear and the steady beat of his heart against his back.

Part 4