Destiny Interrupted

Supernatural. Sam/Dean. NC-17. ~400 words. Gangbang.

Dean knows only the weight and pleasure of the way Sam’s gaze moves over his skin.

Laid Bare

They’re kissing for long minutes, necking really, wet and slippery with hot pushes of tongue between the smearing crush of lips on stubble-pricked skin. Sometimes Dean can’t believe how quickly he’s adapted to making out like this in public with appreciative, watchful eyes on them, but none of the guys know they’re brothers. Dean keeps that secret to himself whenever Sam wants to parade him around and show off what gets him moaning, what makes him come the hardest. In a crowd like this, odds are more than a few would find it hot knowing the truth, but that’s something just for the two of them, their little sin when everything else is laid bare.

Shivers seize Dean as Sam strips him of his shirt, tugs it up and over his head. Already, his nipples are taut, his skin crawling with something hot and wanton, and his ass, fuck, his asshole clenches in anticipation of doing whatever the hell Sam wants.

Sam kisses him deeper, tongue licking against his, and Sam takes in every sound that creeps from his throat, translates the wordless noises into the right kind of touches to make him quiver. Sam peels off what’s left of Dean’s clothes, and then, slowly, slowly, all of his hesitation, his worries and his misgivings. Before long, he’s begging, mouth parted on needy sounds and the bruised flush of his lips faltering on the simplest of kisses.

“You ready?” Sam asks, his hands framing Dean’s shoulders, and Dean lets himself feel vulnerable, exposed, naked beyond the warm glow of his skin in the dim orange lights.

“Yes,” Dean breathes, and shivers when Sam smiles. It’s so different when they’re in a place like this, when their usual roles are stripped away by the anonymity of warehouse walls, leather and sex.

Sam isn’t afraid to be a god here.

Dean keeps his eyes locked to Sam’s as he’s released into greedy, clutching hands. Bodies crowd around him, stroke and touch and Dean knows only the weight and pleasure of the way Sam’s gaze moves over his skin. Sam licks his lips, watches intently as Dean is taken over and over, fucked open and sloppy until he can’t even hold himself up for the next cock that lines up to slam into his greased-up hole.

“So gorgeous,” Sam says. “So perfect.”

Hands covering every inch of his arms and legs, someone’s cock bottoming out in him, Dean accepts it, believes it.

*

End