White Bread: An SPN Fanfiction
I couldn't find any policies here on posting fanfiction. If I missed it, please let me know. I'll assume that a standard disclaimer will suffice. This was originally written for this prompt at the spn_blindfold kink meme on livejournal:
Dean's in the bathroom a bit constipated and Sam he just doesn't care to wait. He gives him a blow job right there while jerking himself off. Can make it as graphic as you want. Please forgive my second language English, and also any mistakes I made on the use of fleet suppositories. I have no experience with them, but they seemed to fit best for this story. I do not own Supernatural or anything related to it, and make no money off of this.
Sam knows what’s going on with Dean. Weird how he has no problems getting fucked up the ass and is very loquacious about that procedure and the joys of it, but when it comes to things that want to exit same place and has nothing to do with sex, he clams up completely.
Sam suspects that for Dean the two are secretly associated, that’s why he doesn’t talk about it, and also why he’ll get constipated even though he knows very well how to clean himself out.
They haven’t had sex for six days. That’ll happen sometimes when they are just too busy and tired or hurt, or sometimes when Dean is in one of his moods and drinking so hard he couldn’t even get it up if he wanted to. But this is not one of those times. Dean has been remarkably sober, and they haven’t been on a real job for more than a week. So when Dean has turned down sex and not been winning any poker games while doing it, Sam knows it’s because his steady diet of white bread and meat has got him properly plugged up.
However, Sam is horny and sort of annoyed that he has to go without while Dean is pretending to be inconvenienced by something he seems to actually enjoy.
He’s been in the bathroom for twenty minutes now and the shower isn’t on. Sam is quietly leaning against the door listening. He’s definitely not beating off either. He’s unusually silent. Just a very quiet grunting escapes once in a while. Sam imagines Dean hunched on the commode, face red. Is he rocking back and forth? Is he fingering his own ass? Sam wants him. His dick is hard and neglected and he wants in on the fun. Fuck the prude. He hammers on the door.
"DEAN! Let me in!"
"Go away! I’m not done!"
"I don’t care! Let me in NOW!"
There’s something about somebody yelling outside a bathroom door that’ll make most people get up and unlock the door, if they are not teenage girls using the bathroom together.
The lock clicks. The toilet hasn’t even been flushed. Dean looks up in surprise from buttoning his jeans as Sam barrels in and pushes him backwards. His face is indeed red and sweaty, his eyes slightly glassy.
He yanks Dean’s jeans and shorts back down and trips him so he falls back onto the toilet. Dean squeaks, "What the hell is up with you?!?"
"No. What is up with you?"
Dean squirms, "Nothing!"
"Don’t give me nothing! I know you."
Sam relents. Dean is looking caught in the headlights and Sam figures having somebody standing over you and yelling while you’re on the toilet and unable to take a crap must be a bit disconcerting. He kneels down and puts his hands on Dean’s thighs.
"Come on. I know what’s up. I know why you’ve been hiding in here and we haven’t been having sex. Let me do this."
He gets up and fetches the fleet suppositories he bought yesterday and put in the bathroom cabinet. Dean eyes him suspiciously while he kneels back down and gets one out.
He whispers and Dean reluctantly puts his hands on Sam’s shoulders and leans up. He looks disappointed, biting his lower lip and looking towards the ceiling, which makes Sam look down to hide his own satisfied smile. He quickly reaches around Dean and slips the suppository inside him before it melts in his fingers. Dean moves to slump back down on the seat but Sam spreads his hands over his ass and catches him. Dean squints down at him and this time he meets his eyes with a wicked grin. Now the fun begins.
Dean draws a deep breath as he realizes Sam isn’t going to just leave him alone to relieve the problem. His fingers grip Sam’s shoulders tighter and he leans back into Sam’s hands experimentally. Sam holds him up and kneads his ass hard, pushing his cheeks together, then pulling them apart. Dean breathes heavily.
"Sam, you know…"
"I know what’s gonna happen. That’s kind of the point."
Dean’s breath hitches, and he squirms against Sam’s hands.
Sam congratulates himself silently. This was definitely the right move. He wraps his left forearm beneath Dean’s ass so he can reach out for the lube with his right. As he flips the lid one-handedly and holds Dean tighter so he can hold out his other hand behind him and squeeze out enough to cover the fingers, he feels Dean’s naked erection get pressed against his chest. Dean sheeshes and jumps.
The muscles of his ass are starting to clench and unclench against Sam’s arm and he knows the glycerine is beginning to work. He hopes he can get to tease Dean a bit more before he loses the battle. He quickly folds his fingers against Dean’s asshole and works the lube in and around as best he can. It’s a bit difficult, with Dean’s sphincter spasming against what’s inside, but he manages and carefully probes inside with his fingers. There’s not really any room as his rectum is filled to the brim with what feels like packed pebbles, but Sam just stretches his asshole for a while and works his fingertips around the end of the hard mass, pushing against it slightly. Dean gasps. Sam whispers:
"You are so fucking hot like this, all filled up and stretched and unable to do anything about it."
The mass inside Dean starts to push back. Sam has to retract his fingers and soon he’s just running his fingertips around the rim of Dean’s hole as he starts prairie dogging it. Dean is breathing deeply and a bit shakily against him as he gently lowers him down onto the seat again. Dean bends over and covers his face with his hands – trying also to hide his erection.
Sam leans up on his knees so he can reach the sink and washes his hands. Then he catches Dean’s wrists and pries his hands away, triumphantly enjoying the beautiful blush and the sweat beading his brow.
Dean takes a deep breath and slowly leans back against the cistern, spreading his thighs as far as he can. He puts his hands against his stomach, pushing. Sam stares, fascinated. He puts his own hands over Dean’s and between the tightenings of his stomach muscles, he can feel the hard lumps that are distending his bowels. A loud rumbling starts up. Things are moving.
Sam quickly opens his own jeans and gets his wet, hard dick out. With one hand on Dean’s stomach and one on himself, he takes Dean’s dick in his mouth and gently licks and mouths it. It’s hard and jumping, and Sam knows this isn’t really about dick for Dean, this is just the finishing touch, so he tries not to make it too intense, just pressing lightly with his lips and tickling the tip with his tongue. The taste is exquisite, and Sam fists his own dick with a lot less reservation. Dean is now alternating between gasping like a dog and pushing and keening miserably, and Sam imagines how his asshole must be stretching to allow the passage of what he feels under his hand. Suddenly he feels something give, and he finally goes all the way down on Dean and sucks hard, while Dean groans and shoots, and he hears several loud splashes from the toilet bowl. He closes his eyes for a moment and comes powerfully in his own hand, before swallowing down and licking Dean clean. He sits back bonelessly and runs a hand through his sweaty hair, shaking slightly while the gurgles from his stomach and the splashing into the bowl water continue for a while.
Finally, Sam looks up at him and smiles.
"So, wanna go grab a bunch of cheese burgers?"