lynne_mitchell (lynne_mitchell) wrote,

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Fic: It Counts

Title: It Counts
Paring: Sam/Dean
Rating: Nc-17
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Words: Just about 2k
Warnings: Body-swap, dirty talk, wincest

Summary: Dean feels things from a different point of view ... and then there's smolderingly hot sex.

“What the hell?” Dean muttered, cracking an eye open unhappily. “Dude, I thought we had this room for three days.”

“We do,” Sam croaked, not bothering to lift his head from the pillow.

Another rapid knock came at the door and Dean grudgingly pried himself free from Sam's death grip of an embrace. It took just a second to slip the jeans over his hips and stalk toward the door on objecting legs. Last night's hunt hadn't gone well. He was battered and bruised in places that shouldn't be either and the house was no less haunted than when they'd rolled into town.

He pulled the curtain aside and surveyed the porch before opening the door. Whoever had knocked was gone. But sitting dead center on the threadbare welcome mat was a bouquet of almost garishly colored wild flowers. Dean scooped them up and took a deep whiff as he moved back inside. The scent was unfamiliar, but pleasantly sweet. Particles of pollen tickled his nose and he rubbed at it absently as he tossed the flowers at Sam's head.

“They're for you, sweetheart,” he grumbled. “And you say I'm not romantic.”

“Someone left them on the doorstep, Dean. Not exactly a grand gesture.” He propped himself up on one arm and sniffed the flowers anyway, a happy smile spreading over his face.

“Dude, it counts!”

He started toward the bathroom, one hand rubbing the scratch on his stomach idly. Mid-step, his vision went black and a wave of dizziness sent him stumbling. He grasped for anything to slow his fall, his body spinning out of control. A moment later, he heard something crash to the ground and found his nose buried in the bouquet.

“Son of a bitch!” The words came from the floor, which Dean was surprised to find he wasn't on, and even more surprised to look over and find himself staring at ... himself.

“Sam?” Dean asked, shocked to hear his brother's voice coming out of his mouth. “Is that you, man? Wait, am I you?” He hurriedly held Sam's giant hands out in front of the body he was wearing and grimaced. “Christ, they're even bigger from your perspective.”

“Right,” Sam growled and hauled himself upward. “Like you got the worst of this trade. You feel like shit, Dean.”

“That's not what you said last night, bitch,” Dean grumbled. Of course, the closest they came to touching last night was when Sam took advantage of his brother's exhaustion to gather him close and sleep in his arms, but whatever.

“Right. Is that the regular amount of delusion you've got going there or did those flowers fuck with your mind too?”

“I'm fine.” Dean threw the blanket back and got his first look at himself in Sam's naked body. Chuckling, he flexed his hips and grinned at this body's half aroused state. In comparison to his own aching body, Sam felt only slightly sore and achy in only the best of places. “Can't be that delusional.” Dean stood and gestured downward triumphantly. “Someone has morning wood.”

“Cover me up, jerk.”

“Why? You shy?” He ran his newly huge hand over the longer expanse of Sam's belly and moaned when he almost instantly became fully hard. “Little Sammy isn't shy. Are you fellow?” He wrapped a hand around his dick and gave one slow pump.

“Stop that!” Sam stalked forward and swatted away Dean's hand.

The rough treatment only made his new body tighten further. Fantasies blossomed inside his mind like a flower, one leading to another until his breath was ragged with wanting. He wanted things he'd never considered before, but the fantasies were there, begging to be played out. His groan echoed between them. It sounded both familiar and decidedly off to both brothers. Dean shrugged the unsettling feeling away and reached for Sam, openly admiring his own body.

“Don't even think about it.” Sam took a quick step back, almost tripping over his shorter legs and held up a hand that wasn't his own. “This is serious. We need to do research and ... I said, no!”

“Come on, Sammy. You know you want to.” Dean glanced down at what should have been his own body and smirked. “Hell, I know you want to. One look at your naked body and I'm hard and horny.”

“But I'm not you!” Sam protested.

“But it's my body.” Dean stepped forward, his suspicions confirmed when Sam didn't move way. He ran his fingertips over his brother's chest and toyed with the button to the jeans he'd thrown on only minutes earlier. “And that body wants this one.”

Dean slipped his fingers beneath the ban of denim and dragged Sam forward. His breathing was too harsh and needy, his blood pumping too quickly. Instead of predatory, he felt out of control. He felt raw and achy and he knew every place that this body wanted to be touched and licked and scratched and bitten. Where he usually felt the need to explore and conquer, his skin itched to be explored. To be possessed so fully that he could lose himself to sensation and pleasure.

“And this body....” he muttered, running a hand over his chest in poor substitution for the caress he craved. “You know what I want?”

Sam hung his head, the look strange on Dean's body, before meeting his brother's eyes and nodding. Quietly, he said, “Everything.”

“Sam,” Dean dragged him even closer, “please.”

This close he could see the splatter of freckles over his nose. Strangely, where he hated the marks in the mirror, they were endearing and beautiful in Sam's eyes. Dean leaned forward, desperate for his brother's mouth. The twirl and twine of tongues and press of soft lips dragged him under and took away his breath. It made his head spin and this new body quake from wanting.

He looked up and caught Sam's eyes, staggered by the animalistic desire he saw there. The look didn't falter as Sam reached for him. Maybe he should have shrunk back. Maybe he should have been afraid. Maybe. But he wasn't. He whimpered before Sam ever touched him, the desire coursing so hard and fast in his veins that he couldn't believe he wasn't vibrating with it. When the caress against his shoulder turned to sharp nails raking down his back and digging into the hard muscles of his ass, Dean let out a mewling sound as his knees buckles.

Sam pushed him against the bed and he went down in a boneless heap. Rough hands gripped his thighs and parted them. And then Sam was there, his hips wedged between Dean's legs, their erections rubbing together. Blunt teeth sank into his neck, the blessed pain making him writhe.

“Sam!” He gasped. “I can't breathe. I can't....” He ran a hand over his face, trying to calm this body's pounding heart and regain anything close to control. At the same time, he arched his back hard, one incredibly long leg wrapping around Sam's hips to pull him closer.

“Make noise.” Sam grunted and dug his nails into Dean's hip. His brother came off the bed in one harsh arch, his mouth obediently falling open to let out a low pitched growl of a moan. “Come on, Dean.” His teeth scraped over muscle and settled around one prominent nipple before nipping harshly. “Pant for me.”

Dean nodded dumbly, not sure whether it was a demand or advice, and not really caring. The teeth left one nipple to torture the other and his body seemed to move on its own, alternatively arching into Sam's teeth and then thrusting against the blinding pleasure of their cocks moving together. As instructed, his mouth hung agape, harsh gasps and half formed words spilling into the air.

“Please,” he begged, almost sobbing. “God, please. Sammy....” His fingertips dug into the thrusting hips of his brother. The teeth left his nipple and sank directly into the muscles of his chest, wringing a rough cry from his throat as Dean threw his head back.

“Do you want it yet?” Sam ground out as he sank his fingers into Dean's now long hair and jerked until their eyes met. “I bet you're just aching to be fucked, aren't you?”

He squeezed his eyes shut, body shaking in need. He wanted to tell Sam to fuck off or at least bite out something sarcastic. Instead, he nodded. Every scratch, bite and forming bruise pulsed beneath his skin until he was a mass of over sensitized, quivering need. Sam pressed upward, his body laying hard and heavy against Dean as he jerked open the bedside table and brought back a tube of lube.

A slick finger slid against his ass an instant later and Dean jumped, his nerves resurfacing for a heartbeat before he was pressing into the touch, begging for more. First one finger and then another slipped inside of him, stretching and teasing and making his breath escape in sharp gasps. His hips arched off the bed, his weeping cock sliding against his stomach and causing pleasure so insistent he shook with it.

When the head of Sam's cock pressed against him he held his breath, not out of fear or nerves, but because he was so focused on where their bodies met that he couldn't force himself to simply breathe. Heat and harsh friction came as Sam slowly inched his way forward. The leg around Sam's hips trembled and he had to force himself not to drag his brother forward.

Every instinct was screaming for more. After all this time of refusing, he wanted it harder and faster and now. The pain was grounding and familiar. It was one more place that now pulsed and throbbed.

“Now,” Dean growled, losing the battle with restraint and using his heel to urge Sam closer. “Harder, Sammy. I need-”

“I know what you need.” Sam leaned forward and caught his brother's lips in a scorching kiss as his hips slammed home. Dean gasped into the kiss, his body tightening reflexively.

His nails bit into Sam's shoulders. His head was thrown back in pleasure so intense he couldn't concentrate enough to breathe and kiss and feel at the same time. The slow, steady thrusts were replaced with the rapid snap of Sam's hips. And everywhere they touched, every tingling patch of skin and abused muscle quivered and trembled.

“Please.” Dean was begging, his voice rough and needy. His cock was aching, his entire world centered around the friction in his ass and what it was doing to his throbbing erection. Frantic, he reached downward and growled when Sam shoved his hand away.

“Ask me.” Sam panted, his thrusts growing harder and faster as his breathing raged out of control. “You want it? Ask me.”

“Make me come.” Dean's hand tangled in the covers until his knuckles were white. “Hurt me, Sammy. Fuck me harder. Jerk me off.” His breathing was ragged, his teeth clenched between words. “Make me come.”

Sam's hips were moving out of rhythm, his control all but shot as he grasped blindly for his brother's cock. The grip was tight, pain melded with pleasure and surged through Dean like a burst of lightening. He cried out as his body tensed, his orgasm harsh and violent and nearly painful in its intensity. On top of him, Sam slammed himself to the base once more and bared his teeth as Dean's body tightened around him.

Long seconds of oblivion faded back to reality and Sam collapsed forward, both boys panting and too sensitive to move. Smirking, Sam pressed a kiss to Dean's chest and murmured, “Told you you'd like it.”

Dean glanced at the flowers and groaned. “You used your freaky ass body to drug me, it doesn't count.”

“Dude,” Sam pressed a lazy kiss to Dean's pliant lips, “it counts.”

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