The Coalition For Disturbing Metaphors (halfshellvenus) wrote,
The Coalition For Disturbing Metaphors

Supernatural Slash Fiction: All Wrapped Up In You

Title: All Wrapped Up In You
Author: HalfshellVenus
Pairing: Sam/Dean (Wincest)
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~3200
Summary: Dean offers Sam the kink of his choice for Christmas.
Author's Notes: A very late delivery for spn_christmas, but I hope still worth reading. This was one of those times where the porn really slowed me down! Sooo much detail. ;) pheebs1 and others on my f-list will recognize their inputs on the "kinks" displayed here.


"So what would you get me? If we had all the money in the world?" Dean asked.

Christmas was approaching, and Dean was very big on the "what ifs" and "Twenty Questions"— when he was in the mood for it. Strangely enough, Sam's philosophical debates and ponderings were never all that welcome.

"If money were no object?" Sam asked, dunking takeout fried chicken in barbecue sauce. "A hot tub… a classic ought-thirty… leather pants—"

"Oooh, kinky," Dean interjected.

"…front-row tickets to a Black Sabbath reunion concert… and a jar of chocolate sauce."

"Wait— chocolate sauce?" Dean fell right out of the spell Sam had woven. "Where did that come from? It's not even expensive."

"Using the chocolate sauce would be part of your present to me," Sam said.

"Sammy, Sammy, I never knew you had it in you." Dean's smile was slow and pleased.

"We've got a lot of downtime in motels," Sam said huskily. "We might as well take things slow once in awhile."

Dean appeared completely sidelined by that whole train of thought, his eyes never leaving Sam's lips while Sam spoke.

"So given that we actually have virtually no money," Sam said, "What are you going to give me for Christmas this year?"

Dean thought for a moment, pinching his bottom lip between his fingers until an idea came to him. "I think you'll like this one, Sammy," he grinned. "Here goes: the kink of your choice, anything you want. Only try not to make it too nasty, okay?"

"Public affection," Sam shot back instantly. "I want kissing and hugging and handholding where other people can see. I want you all over me like a lovesick teenager." He beamed at the prospect.

"Sam!" Dean protested. "Are you insane? You want to get us killed?" Then he went for the technicality. "And that's not really a kink, anyway."

"It is to you," Sam said smugly.

"Aw, geez!" Dean said. "I was hoping for something more private. And a lot sexier."

"You in women's underwear?" Sam offered. "Or a dog collar and a leash?"

It was worth it just for the expression on Dean's face. "What?" he sputtered. "What?"

Sam threw back his head and laughed. "And you say I'm gullible. Boy, I really had you going!"

Dean scowled at him. "How about a new set of bruises and a tube of Ben Gay for Christmas instead?"

Sam said nothing, just took off his t-shirt and his jeans and let them slide to the ground. He eased his boxer shorts down and walked lazily to the bathroom, looking back over his shoulder at Dean before stepping in to turn on the water.

He waited for it to warm up, then got inside the shower. Dean would either stay angry and stew out in the bedroom, or—

"Save some hot water for me," Dean said, slipping in behind him.


In Boston, Sam snuck off to a Rock-N-Roll paraphernalia store, and bought Dean a Led Zeppelin t-shirt to replace the one shredded by a banshee five years back.

"Thought about what you want for your present?" Dean asked when Sam returned to the motel.

"I already told you," Sam answered.

"No dog collars!"

Sam smiled slyly at him and said, "My choice, remember? And it was the other one, anyway."

"Cross-dressing?" Dean cringed.

"Nope. Think hard."

"God, you can't be serious about the kissing thing, Sam."

"So you keep saying." Sam dug out the whetstone and oil. "Four more days," he teased Dean happily.

Dean turned on the television and flipped through the channels glumly, while Sam polished his knives in gleeful silence.


Two days later they were in Louisville. Dean dropped Sam off at the library to do research while he went to the auto-parts store. After five minutes, Sam was out the door and headed to the Goodwill three blocks away.

He rummaged through the shelves of cassette tapes, looking for Winchester-style gold. He found Santana, but that was iffy. Lynyrd Skynard was better, but Sam hit paydirt with Physical Graffiti and a decent-looking Metallica album that would do when the current one died.

He bought all but the Santana, and hightailed it back to the library to settle in and look studious before Dean got back.

"Anything interesting?" Dean strolled in half an hour later, looking almost cheerful. He must have found what he needed at the store— practically a miracle when your car was nearly forty years old, classic or not.

"Possibly," Sam said. He pointed to an image in the book on Mesopotamian legend, and then the echo of one of the symbols in a book on Medieval art. Dean leaned in closer to examine the resemblance, and Sam slid his hand over Dean's and squeezed, grinning at the blush that flashed over his brother's face.

"Sam! Not here," Dean reminded him.

"Just warming you up," Sam teased.

The look of panic on Dean's face was absolutely priceless.


Christmas morning came in a hotel room outside Baton Rouge. Sam woke Dean by licking over his navel until Dean curled up to a half-sitting position under the sensation.

"Gonna follow through on that?" Dean asked hopefully.

"All in good time," Sam answered. "Merry Christmas, Dean." He kissed Dean warmly and settled in next to him, leaning on an elbow.

"Got something for me?" Dean said lazily.

"You want the hot-tub first, the private jet—"

Dean shuddered.

"—or the stuff I could actually afford?"

"Ah what the hell." Dean put his arms behind his head and waited. "I'll take Door Number Three."

Sam drew his presents out one-by-one from the nightstand drawer. Presentation was all he could fall back on in a life like theirs, and Sam could tell that Dean was impressed.

"Where did you find the Regal Crown Sours?" Dean asked.

"I lucked into them in Cleveland, while you were out doing laundry."

"You're one hell of a planner, getting all of this together," Dean admitted.

"Let's take a shower and get cleaned up, and then we can move on to your present to me."

Dean followed Sam into the bathroom, unusually quiet as they took care of business. He relented under the heat of the water, where Sam eased the tension from him bit by bit. He soaped slowly over Dean's body, caressing his arms and chest and back. He shampooed Dean's hair tenderly, wrapping his arms around Dean as his brother tipped his head back against Sam's shoulder. Dean rarely let Sam spoil him with affection this way— typical of Dean, he could dish it out but he couldn't take it.

A soft kiss to Dean's cheek— a gentle brush of lips over the freckles that dusted the skin below those dark, wet lashes— and Dean was turning in Sam's arms, kissing him back and letting their bodies blend sweetly together.

Hands moving over ridges, curves, and the striated mapping of scars, they sought and soothed each other, touching in a delicious slow slide toward slick-warm breathlessness and the sharp, rushing flood of release.

Afterwards, they sprawled together on the bed and ate breakfast. Dean's idea of breakfast was Ho-Hos and Pepsi, but it was Christmas and Sam decided that guzzling sugar-laden garbage just this once probably wasn't going to kill him.

"So are you ready?" Sam finally asked.

Dean looked at him with dread. "As much as I'm going to be, and I hope you've changed your mind." He took a deep breath. "Okay. The kink of your choice, whatever you want. And you decided on…"

Sam held back just long for Dean to start squirming, and then let him off the hook. "Bondage." He smiled at Dean wickedly. "I want to tie you up and drive you wild. Hope you brought your A-game to the bed today," he added.

Dean was so stunned he didn't speak for a moment. "Uh— yeah. I'm totally up for that!" he blurted out. A grin stole over his face and then he blushed at his own eagerness. "Got, uh, something to start us off with?"

"Right here," Sam said, pulling out the shredded remains of a black silk shirt. "Clear off the bed and lie down. On your back."

Dean lay down, and Sam noticed that this was working out nicely already— Dean was half-hard just from the idea of it.

"So what made you think of this?" Dean asked, as Sam tightened Dean's wrists to the bedpost.

"You're talking too much." Sam put a finger to Dean's lips. "Do I have to gag you too?"

Dean looked so worried that Sam was torn between laughing and wanting to reassure him. Instead, he finished securing Dean to the bed and used the last big piece of cloth to blindfold his brother.

"Why're you doing that?" Dean sounded nervous.

"Because you'll get bossy and try to control everything if you can see, and right now it isn't your turn to drive." Sam kissed the tip of Dean's nose to make his point, smiling at the scrunched-up face he got in return.

Now this was one hell of a fine-looking present, he thought. Dean lay spread out before him, a banquet of golden skin and muscled limbs shifting lightly in the cool sweep of air sent stirring by the ceiling fan.

Sam ran his hands slowly up and across Dean's legs, stroking the silky hair along Dean's thighs— so much lighter in color than his own. He pressed a kiss into the hollow of Dean's hip, trailing his tongue across his brother's belly in a series of slow laps that left goosebumps in their wake. Lips traveled down and to the side, mouthing up along the satin skin from waist to underarm. Sam licked over the bumpy scar near the bottom of Dean's ribs, the one Dean never let him linger on. He savored the strangeness of it against his tongue, memorizing that forbidden area. Even now, Dean was trying to twist away from Sam's interest in that spot. He quieted Dean with a hand on his stomach, and kept licking and suckling as he pleased.

He blew gently across Dean's underarm, causing an undignified giggle to erupt from his brother as the fine hair waved with that slight breeze. "Sam!" Dean protested. He probably wanted Sam to get serious and focus on the main event, but this was his present and Sam definitely was in no mood to hurry.

He sat back and then traveled up Dean's abdomen again, hands and thumbs stroking outward from the middle, feeling the exquisite softness-over-strength that defined how Dean was made. Sam caressed over Dean's shoulders, moving toward his throat where he slipped both hands under Dean and let them swerve and pull sweetly against the back of Dean's neck. Dean went loose in Sam's arms under that touch, tipping his chin up like a grateful housecat.

Sam smiled at that, leaning in to kiss and nibble along Dean's jawline while his brother turned his head toward Sam's attentions and nuzzled him back where he could.

Dean's hair was still damp under Sam's fingers, as he brushed it back from his brother's face and lay kisses on the skin below it. He straddled Dean carefully, bending down to lean his elbows on either side of Dean's head and devote all his skill to that centerfold-fantasy mouth. Dean bucked up under him, arms suddenly jerking against the restraints, and Sam smoothed over the skin from wrist to elbow, reminding Dean who was in charge and who was setting the pace.

Dropping his head down to lap at the hollow of Dean's throat, he ran his hands down Dean's chest again, circling over those sensitive nipples with his thumbs. "Oh—y eah, Sam," Dean said breathlessly, lifting and writhing under the sensations. Sam shut him up with a kiss, hard and oh-so-teasingly slow. Dean's tongue curled around his own, his whole body telegraphing Faster, c'mon, faster. Sam kept on going heedlessly, his sweet-slow kissing clearly driving Dean crazy with pent-up desire. He rolled his hips forward against Dean's erection, felt Dean gasp against his mouth and try to shift his body to get more contact down below.

"Oh, I'm not done yet," Sam murmured. "Not nearly." He picked up a stray piece of the silk shirt, pulling it taut between his hands and rubbing the stretched fabric back and forth over Dean's nipples. Dean breathed in sharply at the unknown sensation, a flush creeping down his chest. Sam leaned down and bit the nipples lightly, then licked over them and blew on them to the chorus of Dean's choked-off moans.


"Shhhhh." Sam circled his tongue down Dean's front, sliding down his legs as he did so. He sucked slow and hard along the edge of Dean's stomach, then the middle, and then dived down and licked up the length of Dean just for the taste of the moisture beading at the tip.

"God, Sam! Just—"

Sam's hand clamped over Dean's mouth as he moved back down again, licking and nibbling at that dark red tip and enjoying the burst of sweet-sour flavor.

Dean started to thrust up, trying to urge Sam on, and Sam pulled back instead. He moved his hands between Dean's legs and parted them, stroking up the insides of his thighs and leaning down to kiss and nuzzle slowly along the same path, licking that sensitive skin.

Dean sighed happily, his legs opening wider to give Sam more access. But Sam took his own sweet time in complying.

He kissed the inside of Dean's knees, his hands roaming along that fine leg hair as he mouthed his way down. Dean was oddly quiet, giving the extent of the tease Sam was putting on, and Sam lifted his head up to see what Dean was doing.

Biting his lip, as it turned out. Sam stopped him before he drew blood, brushing his fingers across his brother's mouth and welcoming the way Dean's attention shifted to that touch instead.

The sight of those gorgeous lips taking his fingers in and sucking on them was so damn hot that Sam nearly abandoned his plans for taking things slow. His hips jerked with the impulse to crawl up there and put Dean's mouth to better use— he could almost feel that wet heat surrounding him already.

A moan escaped him, and Dean smiled, the brief loss of sensation breaking Sam out of the moment. Sam's head dropped, and there was Dean's arousal front and center, curving toward his stomach and leaking. Sam leaned forward and swirled his tongue over the tip, then pulled off to lick up the little drops that had splashed on Dean's stomach even as Dean thrust uselessly against his hair.

Sam laughed softly, determined to force some patience on his brother, and shifted down again to nuzzle and rub his mouth in the crease of Dean's leg. He nibbled and stroked close to those curls, then moved lower and lower toward that starburst target, feeling Dean's legs shake against his shoulders.

Sam blew on that puckered skin, and then licked across it slowly to the sound of Dean nearly swallowing his own tongue. The taste was slightly soapy, but the musky scent rising from Dean's skin clouded his senses. He moved in for the kill.

He drew letters with his tongue— they might have been Sam and Dean, though he'd never admit it to anyone. Dean writhed and gasped and wriggled further down the bed, anything to be closer to that incredible touch.

Sam sucked on that spot with his lips, which— "God, Sammy! Oh my fucking god!" —clearly felt very good.

He licked toward the middle, biting the edges softly as Dean squirmed and whimpered. Then he thrust slowly in with his tongue, getting the tip far enough in to flick it up and down as—

"Sammyyyyy!" Dean's hips lifted right up off the bed and took Sam with them, and Sam held on and kept going as Dean shuddered and gasped in blind ecstasy.

"Ohhhhhhhh." Dean settled back down on the bed limply, and Sam lifted his head in astonishment. Dean's chest was painted in bursts of come, his cheeks flushed red and his mouth redder.

Hot, hot, hot. Although—

"You can't be done already!"

"Jesus, Sammy, you had me going for at least half an hour. What did you think was going to happen?"

Sam rolled his eyes— a wasted effort, when Dean couldn't see it.

Then he decided, What the hell. He'd finish this the way he'd intended to. It was too damned good to pass up.

He reached out to scoop up a handful of come, rubbing it on himself and easing slick fingers inside of Dean.

"Whoa!" He'd expected Dean to be surprised. But Dean was already half-open for him, and he smoothed the way by stroking up and searching for that exact spot that—


Yeah, that was it. Dean twisted on his fingers, still responding in spite of being all fucked out.

Sam positioned himself and moved on in, holding steady for a moment while he massaged the last traces of Dean's release into his brother's chest and around those hardened nipples.

Dean smiled blissfully, and Sam took that as his cue, starting up a slow rhythm and leaning down to capture Dean's mouth with his own.

He rode Dean in sensual tide of pleasure, angling his hips upward in smooth thrusts and listening to the music of the sounds Dean made in his throat. Leaning on his elbows to support his weight, he kissed Dean and stroked his hair in a sweet haze of happiness until Dean did something with his muscles down below and Sam's orgasm was wrung out of him from the tips of his fingers to the bottom of his spine.

"Mmmmmm," he moaned into Dean's mouth, feeling Dean's legs wrap around the back of his own. He buried his face in Dean's neck, that place that was as close to home as any he'd ever had.

"Merry Christmas, Sammy," Dean murmured.

"You too." Sam placed a kiss above Dean's collarbone, bringing a hand up to cup the top of Dean's head.

"Untie me now?"

How could he have forgotten that part? He loosed the bindings and pulled them off Dean's wrists, and Dean removed the blindfold and blinked at the sudden light.

"Maybe I should have left everything where it was," Sam teased.

But Dean's arms pulling him back down and curving around his shoulders pushed that idea right out of his head.

It was afternoon by the time they surfaced again, ready to go out and find something to eat even if it was only the questionable offerings of a McDonald's or a mini-mart.

Sam waited by the car in the parking lot, puzzled when Dean came around to the passenger side.

"You want me to drive?" he said.


He nearly fell over when Dean pushed him back against the door and pulled his head down for a long and breathless kiss.

Sam could only stare at him in shock when Dean pulled back. "I thought you didn't—"

"I don't," Dean said. "But just this once, just for you…" He winked. "Merry Christmas."

And Sam grinned like a maniac. Because god— it really was.

------ fin ------

Tags: holiday, my_fic, sn_slash, spn_christmas, wincest

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  • So, apparently this happened...

    I know this probably isn't news to people living in Europe, but it's the first I've heard of it, and it cracks me up. Can you imagine? Walrus:…

  • Dismayed

    to be looking for something like a mesh, gnat-resistant face-mask for bicycling, and discovering that some people are making and/or regularly…

  • Bits of Tid

    It takes me so long to get updates out now that they become info-dumps, where the fun, random stuff never quite fits in. And since I'm massively…