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Oct. 7th, 2010 04:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cathybiteswe got a little crazy but we never got caught
[spn, sam/dean, nc-17, 1,157 words]
written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
salt_burn_porn: get in the backseat. Deviated a little from that, but hopefully that's okay. :D
title from "Chattahoochee" by Alan Jackson.
Sam is underage in this, around 16-17.
"Get in the back, Dean."
It took an incredible amount of self-control to keep from making a face, but Dean managed, sliding out and giving Bobby a nod before climbing into the truckbed. Sam glanced up, his look of surprise giving way to a grin.
"Banished to the kiddie table?"
"Shut the hell up," Dean said, flicking Sam's ear. "And move over some."
Sam stuck his tongue out, but moved over, long limbs folding up to make room for Dean.
Dean sighed as the truck started, then took his jacket off, rolling it up to use as a pillow.
The air wasn't chilly yet, but it was late enough in the summer that the nights had cooled off considerably. Dean's right arm was warm from where Sam was pressed against it, but everything else was shivering.
"Cold?" Sam asked, face barely visible in the dark.
"I thought there was a blanket back here."
Sam moved against him. "Hold on." He lifted up and pulled something from under him. A sleeping bag, but Sam unzipped it and laid it over both of them.
The rear window of the cab was open, and Dean could hear CCR playing over the low tones of Dad and Bobby talking. Fogerty sang about the rain, but Dean could only make out a few of the words of the conversation. He closed his eyes and started to drift to sleep.
He jolted wide awake, though, when a hand landed on his thigh. Before it could move up, he grabbed a hold of it, held it still. "What are you doing?" he whispered.
Sam just moved closer, body warm and inviting. "C'mon, it's been forever." He pulled his hand free easily and rested it on Dean's hip, thumb tracing lightly over the waist of his jeans.
Dean glanced up at the cab, and Sam huffed against his throat. "We've got at least two hours before we get to Bobby's, and they can't see anything back here."
It wouldn't be the stupidest or most reckless thing Dean had ever done, but it certainly wouldn't be the smartest. Not with Dad and Bobby so close, not with the window open.
But Sam had already made up his mind. He rolled on top of Dean, mouth open and hot against Dean's own. Saying no was no longer an option, and Dean gave in, kissing Sam back.
"What do you want to do?"
Sam ducked his head down, mouthing along Dean's throat while mumbling something.
"Wassat?"
Sam looked up. "Want you to fuck me."
"Jesus," Dean swore. He glanced back up at the cab's window; music still drifted out of it, and neither Dad nor Bobby seemed aware of what was going on. "I can't. Not here."
Sam smiled, shrugged his shoulders. "I know, but that's still what I want."
Dean's dick swelled at the thought, of being buried inside Sam. All tight, slick heat working around him, and Dean swore again, heel of his hand pressing down against his crotch. He could feel Sam hard against the back of his hand, and he had an idea.
"Here, unzip."
Sam blinked at him, then pushed himself up, one hand working to pull his jeans down. Dean followed suit, then pulled Sam back against him, cocks lining up next to each other. Sam moaned, hips rolling, and Dean held his breath, waiting for someone to ask what they were doing.
"Keep quiet," he finally said, a murmur against Sam's ear.
"Make me."
Dean just narrowed his eyes, smirking as he traced Sam's mouth with two fingers before pushing them in.
Sam's eyes closed and he sucked eagerly, tongue licking over and in between them. Dean pulled out a little, then pushed them back in, and Sam moaned around his fingers.
"Goddamn, Sammy," Dean said, pulling them completely free. Any protest Sam might have made died as Dean brought his hand around, fingers leaving a slick trail over the curve of his ass. Sam spread his legs wide, pushing back as Dean traced over his hole, teasing.
"God, Dean, do it."
Dean pushed in slowly, one finger quickly followed by the other. Sam was as tight as he'd remembered, muscles flexing around his fingers as he moaned again.
"Shhh," Dean breathed, his free hand stroking down Sam's back, over his flank. "You gotta be quiet, okay, Sammy?" Sam breathed out slowly and nodded, face buried into Dean's shoulder.
Dean took a deep breath himself, then pushed his fingers back in. He twisted them a little, and Sam tightened around him, shuddering. His cock leaked against Dean's stomach, and Dean repeated the motion, drawing a muffled moan out of Sam.
He could barely breathe, caught between the desire to completely unravel Sam and the fear of being caught. At some point, CCR had turned into Skynyrd, but he could still hear Dad and Bobby talking.
Then Sam's hand wrapped around his dick, and the only thing Dean could hear was the heavy breaths from both of them, the choked-off whimpers from Sam as Dean fucked him with his fingers, curling and scissoring them.
Dean gripped Sam's hip with his free hand, pushed Sam back onto his fingers. He twisted his wrist around, aiming for just the right angle. On the fourth try, he found it, Sam going impossibly tight around him, thighs clamping down hard, mouth open in a silent moan against his throat. He kept that angle, fingers relentless, and Sam came with a quiet shudder all over Dean's stomach.
"Fuckin' hell," Sam said, breathlessly. "Fuckin' hell."
Dean gulped for air, fingers still stroking inside of Sam.
Sam batted him away, then slid to the side. His head disappeared underneath the sleeping bag, and the next thing Dean knew, wet warmth surrounded his cock. Dean bit down on his lip, hand reaching automatically to wrap in Sam's hair. "Saturday Night Special" drifted out from the cab window, and Dean felt his dick slide deeper into Sam's mouth, down his throat. He tightened his hold on Sam's hair in warning, and Sam pulled off just enough to let Dean come in his mouth.
Sam's head popped back out and he grinned, looking completely self-satisfied. Dean grumbled, letting his arm fall over his face.
"Wait a sec. Did you put the hand that was in my ass in my hair?"
Dean smirked, laughing even as Sam punched him in the arm.
The music quieted for the first time that night, and the cab window slid open wider. "You boys okay back there?"
Dean could feel the blood drain out of him, thinking of how close they might've been to being discovered. But Sam just grinned.
"We're cool. You should make Dean ride back here all the time."
Dean elbowed him in the ribs, but Dad just said, "We'll see," before sliding the window shut.
Dean gave him a glare, but Sam just smiled wider and laid back down, leg hooking over Dean's.
thank you for reading!
[spn, sam/dean, nc-17, 1,157 words]
written for
salt_burn_porn: get in the backseat. Deviated a little from that, but hopefully that's okay. :Dtitle from "Chattahoochee" by Alan Jackson.
Sam is underage in this, around 16-17.
"Get in the back, Dean."
It took an incredible amount of self-control to keep from making a face, but Dean managed, sliding out and giving Bobby a nod before climbing into the truckbed. Sam glanced up, his look of surprise giving way to a grin.
"Banished to the kiddie table?"
"Shut the hell up," Dean said, flicking Sam's ear. "And move over some."
Sam stuck his tongue out, but moved over, long limbs folding up to make room for Dean.
Dean sighed as the truck started, then took his jacket off, rolling it up to use as a pillow.
The air wasn't chilly yet, but it was late enough in the summer that the nights had cooled off considerably. Dean's right arm was warm from where Sam was pressed against it, but everything else was shivering.
"Cold?" Sam asked, face barely visible in the dark.
"I thought there was a blanket back here."
Sam moved against him. "Hold on." He lifted up and pulled something from under him. A sleeping bag, but Sam unzipped it and laid it over both of them.
The rear window of the cab was open, and Dean could hear CCR playing over the low tones of Dad and Bobby talking. Fogerty sang about the rain, but Dean could only make out a few of the words of the conversation. He closed his eyes and started to drift to sleep.
He jolted wide awake, though, when a hand landed on his thigh. Before it could move up, he grabbed a hold of it, held it still. "What are you doing?" he whispered.
Sam just moved closer, body warm and inviting. "C'mon, it's been forever." He pulled his hand free easily and rested it on Dean's hip, thumb tracing lightly over the waist of his jeans.
Dean glanced up at the cab, and Sam huffed against his throat. "We've got at least two hours before we get to Bobby's, and they can't see anything back here."
It wouldn't be the stupidest or most reckless thing Dean had ever done, but it certainly wouldn't be the smartest. Not with Dad and Bobby so close, not with the window open.
But Sam had already made up his mind. He rolled on top of Dean, mouth open and hot against Dean's own. Saying no was no longer an option, and Dean gave in, kissing Sam back.
"What do you want to do?"
Sam ducked his head down, mouthing along Dean's throat while mumbling something.
"Wassat?"
Sam looked up. "Want you to fuck me."
"Jesus," Dean swore. He glanced back up at the cab's window; music still drifted out of it, and neither Dad nor Bobby seemed aware of what was going on. "I can't. Not here."
Sam smiled, shrugged his shoulders. "I know, but that's still what I want."
Dean's dick swelled at the thought, of being buried inside Sam. All tight, slick heat working around him, and Dean swore again, heel of his hand pressing down against his crotch. He could feel Sam hard against the back of his hand, and he had an idea.
"Here, unzip."
Sam blinked at him, then pushed himself up, one hand working to pull his jeans down. Dean followed suit, then pulled Sam back against him, cocks lining up next to each other. Sam moaned, hips rolling, and Dean held his breath, waiting for someone to ask what they were doing.
"Keep quiet," he finally said, a murmur against Sam's ear.
"Make me."
Dean just narrowed his eyes, smirking as he traced Sam's mouth with two fingers before pushing them in.
Sam's eyes closed and he sucked eagerly, tongue licking over and in between them. Dean pulled out a little, then pushed them back in, and Sam moaned around his fingers.
"Goddamn, Sammy," Dean said, pulling them completely free. Any protest Sam might have made died as Dean brought his hand around, fingers leaving a slick trail over the curve of his ass. Sam spread his legs wide, pushing back as Dean traced over his hole, teasing.
"God, Dean, do it."
Dean pushed in slowly, one finger quickly followed by the other. Sam was as tight as he'd remembered, muscles flexing around his fingers as he moaned again.
"Shhh," Dean breathed, his free hand stroking down Sam's back, over his flank. "You gotta be quiet, okay, Sammy?" Sam breathed out slowly and nodded, face buried into Dean's shoulder.
Dean took a deep breath himself, then pushed his fingers back in. He twisted them a little, and Sam tightened around him, shuddering. His cock leaked against Dean's stomach, and Dean repeated the motion, drawing a muffled moan out of Sam.
He could barely breathe, caught between the desire to completely unravel Sam and the fear of being caught. At some point, CCR had turned into Skynyrd, but he could still hear Dad and Bobby talking.
Then Sam's hand wrapped around his dick, and the only thing Dean could hear was the heavy breaths from both of them, the choked-off whimpers from Sam as Dean fucked him with his fingers, curling and scissoring them.
Dean gripped Sam's hip with his free hand, pushed Sam back onto his fingers. He twisted his wrist around, aiming for just the right angle. On the fourth try, he found it, Sam going impossibly tight around him, thighs clamping down hard, mouth open in a silent moan against his throat. He kept that angle, fingers relentless, and Sam came with a quiet shudder all over Dean's stomach.
"Fuckin' hell," Sam said, breathlessly. "Fuckin' hell."
Dean gulped for air, fingers still stroking inside of Sam.
Sam batted him away, then slid to the side. His head disappeared underneath the sleeping bag, and the next thing Dean knew, wet warmth surrounded his cock. Dean bit down on his lip, hand reaching automatically to wrap in Sam's hair. "Saturday Night Special" drifted out from the cab window, and Dean felt his dick slide deeper into Sam's mouth, down his throat. He tightened his hold on Sam's hair in warning, and Sam pulled off just enough to let Dean come in his mouth.
Sam's head popped back out and he grinned, looking completely self-satisfied. Dean grumbled, letting his arm fall over his face.
"Wait a sec. Did you put the hand that was in my ass in my hair?"
Dean smirked, laughing even as Sam punched him in the arm.
The music quieted for the first time that night, and the cab window slid open wider. "You boys okay back there?"
Dean could feel the blood drain out of him, thinking of how close they might've been to being discovered. But Sam just grinned.
"We're cool. You should make Dean ride back here all the time."
Dean elbowed him in the ribs, but Dad just said, "We'll see," before sliding the window shut.
Dean gave him a glare, but Sam just smiled wider and laid back down, leg hooking over Dean's.
thank you for reading!
