Blame It On The Alcohol (2/2)
Aug. 31st, 2010 03:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dephigravityTitle: Blame It On The Alcohol (2/2)
Pairing: Sam/ Brady
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1828
Disclaimer: If I did own them I wouldn't be on here, now would I?
Summary: While at Stanford, Sam Winchester was practically inseparable from his roommate, Brady. When the two crash a Sorority party and Sam botches a hookup, they find themselves even closer than they could have realized and Sam's deepest held secret finally starts to surface.
Author's Notes: Beta by the magnificent![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
dcillusioned and thanks to the_rant_girl for the read through. Changed after, so all remaining mistakes are my own.
*Written for the![[community profile]](https://s.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
kink_bingo "Begging" prompt.
Sam takes full advantage when Brady’s lips finally relax, sliding in his tongue, tasting the faint traces of Doritos and tequila in his mouth. It’s all Sam; Brady’s just lying there, stunned. His tongue works in, wet and explorative. And he’s okay with that, because Brady is letting him do it. There is a tentative lick against his lip; Sam peeks through his lashes and see’s the slow burn in Brady’s eyes, confusion ebbing into desire.
Sam grins into the kiss; the sensation of Brady swallowing spurs him on. Sam slams his tongue in harder; there’s a low rumble of pleasure as he feels Brady’s hands skim under his briefs, his thumbs push them down off of his ass and down to his thighs, fingernails scraping into flesh with a rough squeeze.
The bed creaks as Sam lifts up, a silent laugh as he tugs at the waistband of his friend’s jeans. He tries unsuccessfully to work the metal button through the hole; Brady’s hands come up fast and impatient to help remove the now burdensome clothing.
Sam steps off, tugging the jeans off as Brady works his way onto his elbows. He whistles appreciatively, admiring the high pitched tent in his boxers and a glimpse of the skin hiding beneath.
From his place on his knees, he rubs his hands along the light gatherings of hairs on the inside of Brady’s thighs. Rubbing higher, Sam teases his fingertips under the legs of the boxers, grazing the heated skin of Brady’s sac.
Brady moans and throws his head back as Sam slides his hand in all the way, wrapping his long fingers around his shaft.
"God, Sam Please."
Slow and steadily he runs his fist the length of Brady’s cock while pulling at his scrotum in a playful tug. Sam inches in closer as Brady’s hips start a slow gyration, falling into rhythm with Sam’s hand. He collapses when Sam lets go and pulls back his hands in a teasing retreat.
The fly of the boxers is pulled open and his cock slips through, demanding attention. Sam grins, his eyes close when his lips wrap around Brady’s cock. There is a slight bitter, salty taste as he pushes his tongue into the slit before pulling off with a loud pop.
"Fuck Sam, feels so good. Suck it. Please, God, just suck me off."
Sam opens his eyes, darkened with lust as they rake Brady’s body. His words echo in Sam’s head making him rip the boxers open through the fly. Brady tilts his head up at the sound of tearing cloth; it’s just enough time to see his boxers fly across the room, hitting the dresser before falling to the floor.
Sam wastes no time swallowing Brady down again, careful to hide his teeth. He pushes further down, stopping only when the reflex in his throat warns him against going further. He hesitates, letting his mouth get used to the feeling of being full of cock before trying again. Another inch and he’s fighting it again. Fuck! Brady’s shaft glistens as Sam slides back up to the head, his cheeks hollowing from the suction.
His cheek contours to Brady’s dick as Sam changes position, determined to get his mouth full this time, his tongue massages the underside of his cock as he swallows, sucking down the bitter pre-come seeping out against his tongue. Sam withdraws and slams down again, fucking Brady’s cock with his mouth, humming and moaning causing Brady to buck up harder from the vibrations.
"You’re fucking killing man. God …feels so good, your lips, hands around my dick. Make me come Sam, please- make me come"
With a long slurp, Sam pulls off; his hand replaces his mouth on Brady’s cock. He jerks it quick as his tongue licks at his balls. One slides through his lips, Sam sucks hard and brutal, as he mouths around the other. He feels Brady’s bucks get more sporadic, his orgasm approaching fast as Sam tugs harder at his dick.
Come, hot and wet shoots onto Sam’s face, his eyes closing tight to avoid the sting. It drips down the side of his nose and into his open mouth, drops landing on his outstretched tongue.
Brady staggers to sit up; his face is awestruck as Sam opens his eyes and swallows. "Fuck, Sam. I never took you for such a come slut."
Sam grins, his face full of satisfaction and wonder. Before he realizes what he’s saying, his mouth forms the words and he says, "Fuck me."
"What?" Brady asks, his brows furrowing in surprise.
Sam thinks it over, for all of a second. "Fuck me," he repeats more timidly, his thoughts straying to long forgotten fantasies. Fantasies full of green eyes and spiked hair.
"Are you..? I mean, you want me to..? Are you sure, Sam?"
Sam's heart is fluttering like a hummingbird; the silent debate in his head won't let up. He wants this, he knows he does, and Brady is willing and more than attractive. Dean. The name flickers through his thoughts, sending a ping of guilt through him.
"Sam? You still with me?"
Sam jerks his head, staring at Brady's confused stare. Pushing aside any doubts, he nods, shy yet eager to continue.
He sits on his heels, hands flat against his thighs as Brady shuffles towards the end of the bed. Sam crawls up on his forearms, his body quaking as his legs spread wide and his ass pushes up, his clenched hole bared and waiting. Brady pulls off Sam’s underwear still clinging onto his ankles. Sam feels his hands as he rubs his fingers deep into the muscles of his ass, squeezing and stretching.
"Have you ever?" Brady asks, his voice almost dry and cracking as he glides a finger along the ridge leading to his hole and strokes his cock back to firmness.
"Not exactly, but it can’t be that bad, right?" Sam replies, his head cocking back to see those familiar blue eyes staring back at him.
He watches as Brady grabs his cock in his hands and guides it to Sam’s hole and pushes. Come-slick and hard, Brady thrusts at Sam’s clenched hole as he braces for the inevitable pain. Instead he slips, sliding upwards to the base of his spine. He tries again with similar results.
"Damn, Sam. You are too fucking tight, I can’t get it in."
"See if she has any lube, probably a condom too," Sam says in a disappointed sigh, his huff of breath blows out, rippling through the short hairs leading to his wrist. A cool layer of sweat beads over his body and he searches the wall for something to distract his rapidly shifting thoughts.
Brady steps away, to head for the dresser, pausing to flip the lock on the door.
Good call. Sam thinks, his head starting to clear from the alcohol , but now intoxicated by the realization of what he is about to do.
The dresser drawers slam, panties and socks spilling to the floor in Brady’s desperate hunt for supplies.
"This’ll have to do," he says, Sam noticing the small bottle of baby oil as he squeezes some in to his hand. "No condom though, sorry."
"S’alright. I trust ya," Sam says, his voice faltering as the anxiety grows to a near excruciating level.
Brady slathers the oil over his cock, the light catches off it, glistening as the squelching sound stops. He pours some more directly on his finger tip and pokes at Sam’s hole.
God. So good. Sam thinks as Brady continues to trace around his rim. Without warning, he’s breached, knuckles flush against his ass. It hurts, not horribly, but more than just discomfort; either way Sam isn’t about to back down and tell him to quit. He feels Brady slide back out, his other hand planted of his hip, and then he shoves back in. A soft whimper escapes when another finger is added, and Brady starts finger fucking him, fast and hard.
Sam almost screams as his ass slaps back onto Brady’s hand. The head of Brady’s cock is at his hole again, it feels like an eternity while he is waiting to be filled.
Pain beyond anything he’s felt before rockets through his body, and this time his is screaming. Brady stops, only the head of his cock inside the ring of muscle, clenched tight at the intrusion. "You okay?" Brady asks with a waver in his voice.
Sam desperately tries to catch his breath, his mouth dry as he works to form some semblance of words. Sweat drips from his brow as he hisses, "I’m fine."
Sam lifts his hips up as Brady wraps his hands around hip, his fingers tips skirting at the edge of his pubic hair. There is a gentle squeeze from his fingers as he pulls Sam further on to his cock. Sam bites, deep and hard into his arm, drawing blood as he muffles his cry.
Brady pulls back, the head of his dick still stuffed just inside him. Fuck it burns. Sam’s knees wobble, he’s thankful for the bed beneath him, giving him some form of comfort as he is filled again and again. It’s slow, the burn still there but dulling into more of an ache.
He’s getting used to it, or so he thinks until Brady pounds into him, bottoming out. Sam’s head is a jumble of incoherent phrases and pictures, Dean’s face etches itself behind his eyelids as Brady’s hands brush his chest and then he’s pulling him up against his own.
"Move, just please move. Jesus!"
Sam can almost hear Dean whispering words of encouragement to him, as the comforting thoughts of his brother fight with the realization of who is actually in him.
Brady wraps his hands under Sam’s arms, hugging tight on his shoulders; Sam hisses as he starts slamming his cock in all the way to the hilt, over and over. The slap of flesh on flesh fills the room as Sam grabs hold of his own dick.
He’s close. So fucking close.
"Harder Dean, harder," he pleads; his eyes shoot open at the slip of the name.
If Brady notices it, Sam can’t tell. He’s picks up his pace, thrusting in furiously. Sam falls back into him as his come spurts out, coating his hand and the pink bedspread. Brady never lets up, fucking hard and quick until he comes, hot and wet inside of Sam. They collapse onto the bed, Brady still inside of him.
The door knob jiggles and Sam’s heart almost stops.
"Kimmy, you locked the door again," Sorority Girl whines as she bangs a futile fist against the locked door.
"Fuck," Brady curses into Sam’s neck. "How the hell are we supposed to leave now?"
Sam looks around the room, his eyes latching onto the window.
"Get off me and grab your clothes," he says. "How good are you at climbing trees?"
Part 1
Pairing: Sam/ Brady
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1828
Disclaimer: If I did own them I wouldn't be on here, now would I?
Summary: While at Stanford, Sam Winchester was practically inseparable from his roommate, Brady. When the two crash a Sorority party and Sam botches a hookup, they find themselves even closer than they could have realized and Sam's deepest held secret finally starts to surface.
Author's Notes: Beta by the magnificent
dcillusioned and thanks to the_rant_girl for the read through. Changed after, so all remaining mistakes are my own.*Written for the
kink_bingo "Begging" prompt.Sam takes full advantage when Brady’s lips finally relax, sliding in his tongue, tasting the faint traces of Doritos and tequila in his mouth. It’s all Sam; Brady’s just lying there, stunned. His tongue works in, wet and explorative. And he’s okay with that, because Brady is letting him do it. There is a tentative lick against his lip; Sam peeks through his lashes and see’s the slow burn in Brady’s eyes, confusion ebbing into desire.
Sam grins into the kiss; the sensation of Brady swallowing spurs him on. Sam slams his tongue in harder; there’s a low rumble of pleasure as he feels Brady’s hands skim under his briefs, his thumbs push them down off of his ass and down to his thighs, fingernails scraping into flesh with a rough squeeze.
The bed creaks as Sam lifts up, a silent laugh as he tugs at the waistband of his friend’s jeans. He tries unsuccessfully to work the metal button through the hole; Brady’s hands come up fast and impatient to help remove the now burdensome clothing.
Sam steps off, tugging the jeans off as Brady works his way onto his elbows. He whistles appreciatively, admiring the high pitched tent in his boxers and a glimpse of the skin hiding beneath.
From his place on his knees, he rubs his hands along the light gatherings of hairs on the inside of Brady’s thighs. Rubbing higher, Sam teases his fingertips under the legs of the boxers, grazing the heated skin of Brady’s sac.
Brady moans and throws his head back as Sam slides his hand in all the way, wrapping his long fingers around his shaft.
"God, Sam Please."
Slow and steadily he runs his fist the length of Brady’s cock while pulling at his scrotum in a playful tug. Sam inches in closer as Brady’s hips start a slow gyration, falling into rhythm with Sam’s hand. He collapses when Sam lets go and pulls back his hands in a teasing retreat.
The fly of the boxers is pulled open and his cock slips through, demanding attention. Sam grins, his eyes close when his lips wrap around Brady’s cock. There is a slight bitter, salty taste as he pushes his tongue into the slit before pulling off with a loud pop.
"Fuck Sam, feels so good. Suck it. Please, God, just suck me off."
Sam opens his eyes, darkened with lust as they rake Brady’s body. His words echo in Sam’s head making him rip the boxers open through the fly. Brady tilts his head up at the sound of tearing cloth; it’s just enough time to see his boxers fly across the room, hitting the dresser before falling to the floor.
Sam wastes no time swallowing Brady down again, careful to hide his teeth. He pushes further down, stopping only when the reflex in his throat warns him against going further. He hesitates, letting his mouth get used to the feeling of being full of cock before trying again. Another inch and he’s fighting it again. Fuck! Brady’s shaft glistens as Sam slides back up to the head, his cheeks hollowing from the suction.
His cheek contours to Brady’s dick as Sam changes position, determined to get his mouth full this time, his tongue massages the underside of his cock as he swallows, sucking down the bitter pre-come seeping out against his tongue. Sam withdraws and slams down again, fucking Brady’s cock with his mouth, humming and moaning causing Brady to buck up harder from the vibrations.
"You’re fucking killing man. God …feels so good, your lips, hands around my dick. Make me come Sam, please- make me come"
With a long slurp, Sam pulls off; his hand replaces his mouth on Brady’s cock. He jerks it quick as his tongue licks at his balls. One slides through his lips, Sam sucks hard and brutal, as he mouths around the other. He feels Brady’s bucks get more sporadic, his orgasm approaching fast as Sam tugs harder at his dick.
Come, hot and wet shoots onto Sam’s face, his eyes closing tight to avoid the sting. It drips down the side of his nose and into his open mouth, drops landing on his outstretched tongue.
Brady staggers to sit up; his face is awestruck as Sam opens his eyes and swallows. "Fuck, Sam. I never took you for such a come slut."
Sam grins, his face full of satisfaction and wonder. Before he realizes what he’s saying, his mouth forms the words and he says, "Fuck me."
"What?" Brady asks, his brows furrowing in surprise.
Sam thinks it over, for all of a second. "Fuck me," he repeats more timidly, his thoughts straying to long forgotten fantasies. Fantasies full of green eyes and spiked hair.
"Are you..? I mean, you want me to..? Are you sure, Sam?"
Sam's heart is fluttering like a hummingbird; the silent debate in his head won't let up. He wants this, he knows he does, and Brady is willing and more than attractive. Dean. The name flickers through his thoughts, sending a ping of guilt through him.
"Sam? You still with me?"
Sam jerks his head, staring at Brady's confused stare. Pushing aside any doubts, he nods, shy yet eager to continue.
He sits on his heels, hands flat against his thighs as Brady shuffles towards the end of the bed. Sam crawls up on his forearms, his body quaking as his legs spread wide and his ass pushes up, his clenched hole bared and waiting. Brady pulls off Sam’s underwear still clinging onto his ankles. Sam feels his hands as he rubs his fingers deep into the muscles of his ass, squeezing and stretching.
"Have you ever?" Brady asks, his voice almost dry and cracking as he glides a finger along the ridge leading to his hole and strokes his cock back to firmness.
"Not exactly, but it can’t be that bad, right?" Sam replies, his head cocking back to see those familiar blue eyes staring back at him.
He watches as Brady grabs his cock in his hands and guides it to Sam’s hole and pushes. Come-slick and hard, Brady thrusts at Sam’s clenched hole as he braces for the inevitable pain. Instead he slips, sliding upwards to the base of his spine. He tries again with similar results.
"Damn, Sam. You are too fucking tight, I can’t get it in."
"See if she has any lube, probably a condom too," Sam says in a disappointed sigh, his huff of breath blows out, rippling through the short hairs leading to his wrist. A cool layer of sweat beads over his body and he searches the wall for something to distract his rapidly shifting thoughts.
Brady steps away, to head for the dresser, pausing to flip the lock on the door.
Good call. Sam thinks, his head starting to clear from the alcohol , but now intoxicated by the realization of what he is about to do.
The dresser drawers slam, panties and socks spilling to the floor in Brady’s desperate hunt for supplies.
"This’ll have to do," he says, Sam noticing the small bottle of baby oil as he squeezes some in to his hand. "No condom though, sorry."
"S’alright. I trust ya," Sam says, his voice faltering as the anxiety grows to a near excruciating level.
Brady slathers the oil over his cock, the light catches off it, glistening as the squelching sound stops. He pours some more directly on his finger tip and pokes at Sam’s hole.
God. So good. Sam thinks as Brady continues to trace around his rim. Without warning, he’s breached, knuckles flush against his ass. It hurts, not horribly, but more than just discomfort; either way Sam isn’t about to back down and tell him to quit. He feels Brady slide back out, his other hand planted of his hip, and then he shoves back in. A soft whimper escapes when another finger is added, and Brady starts finger fucking him, fast and hard.
Sam almost screams as his ass slaps back onto Brady’s hand. The head of Brady’s cock is at his hole again, it feels like an eternity while he is waiting to be filled.
Pain beyond anything he’s felt before rockets through his body, and this time his is screaming. Brady stops, only the head of his cock inside the ring of muscle, clenched tight at the intrusion. "You okay?" Brady asks with a waver in his voice.
Sam desperately tries to catch his breath, his mouth dry as he works to form some semblance of words. Sweat drips from his brow as he hisses, "I’m fine."
Sam lifts his hips up as Brady wraps his hands around hip, his fingers tips skirting at the edge of his pubic hair. There is a gentle squeeze from his fingers as he pulls Sam further on to his cock. Sam bites, deep and hard into his arm, drawing blood as he muffles his cry.
Brady pulls back, the head of his dick still stuffed just inside him. Fuck it burns. Sam’s knees wobble, he’s thankful for the bed beneath him, giving him some form of comfort as he is filled again and again. It’s slow, the burn still there but dulling into more of an ache.
He’s getting used to it, or so he thinks until Brady pounds into him, bottoming out. Sam’s head is a jumble of incoherent phrases and pictures, Dean’s face etches itself behind his eyelids as Brady’s hands brush his chest and then he’s pulling him up against his own.
"Move, just please move. Jesus!"
Sam can almost hear Dean whispering words of encouragement to him, as the comforting thoughts of his brother fight with the realization of who is actually in him.
Brady wraps his hands under Sam’s arms, hugging tight on his shoulders; Sam hisses as he starts slamming his cock in all the way to the hilt, over and over. The slap of flesh on flesh fills the room as Sam grabs hold of his own dick.
He’s close. So fucking close.
"Harder Dean, harder," he pleads; his eyes shoot open at the slip of the name.
If Brady notices it, Sam can’t tell. He’s picks up his pace, thrusting in furiously. Sam falls back into him as his come spurts out, coating his hand and the pink bedspread. Brady never lets up, fucking hard and quick until he comes, hot and wet inside of Sam. They collapse onto the bed, Brady still inside of him.
The door knob jiggles and Sam’s heart almost stops.
"Kimmy, you locked the door again," Sorority Girl whines as she bangs a futile fist against the locked door.
"Fuck," Brady curses into Sam’s neck. "How the hell are we supposed to leave now?"
Sam looks around the room, his eyes latching onto the window.
"Get off me and grab your clothes," he says. "How good are you at climbing trees?"
Part 1
