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

Supernatural "Questions and Answers" Wincest Drabbles: Searching

Title: Searching
Author: HalfshellVenus
Category: Sam/Dean (Slash, Drabbles)
Rating: R (Under-age warning on first drabble)
Summary: 5x100-word Wincest Drabbles on “Questions and Answers,” written for the supernatural100 challenge.


Caught (Under-age warning. This one is also separate from the others)
They stifle their giggles, and all other noises, in this room where the walls are too thin.

Dizzy in the darkness under the covers, they kiss and lick, rub with intent.

Dean’s quiet now, so close, and “What’s going on in there?” comes through the door. He shoots off so fast Sam nearly chokes, before they wipe and settle themselves side-by-side. “Nothing,” Dean says calmly. Footsteps leave.

Sam pokes him. “You get off on Dad almost busting us?”

“No!” Dean whispers. “I was surprised.”

But Sam will wonder for years to come. Coincidence? Being twisted? Or the thrill of danger?


The gateman at the gay resort won’t let them in to poke around. “Are you sure you’re a couple?” he asks.

“Of course,” Dean flusters.

“I don’t think so,” the man replies.

Sam turns. Dean’s always goading him about taking the initiative. Fingers along Dean’s jaw, he leans in toward those startled eyes, kissing Dean like… like he knows what he’s doing. Dean lifts underneath him, opening, sucking in Sam’s lip. Hand on Sam’s arm, he brings him closer.

They lose themselves… blushing as a sudden cough pulls them away.

“I guess you are,” the man says.

We are now.

Sam kisses up Dean’s belly, mouthing, molding the skin. The writhing under his attentions stirs his tongue to join in devotion. He pushes up Dean’s shirt, calloused fingers brushing hardened nipples, feeling the lift of Dean’s heaving chest. Hands in his hair urge, caress as Dean bucks under Sam’s weight. Dean rolls his hardness into Sam, impatient, wanting.

Sam bites Dean’s neck softly, rocking groin to groin in response. He moves to kiss and soften, slows the thrusting as his mouth devours Dean’s whimpers. In the heated, glorious, incredible build--

“Now?” Sam shoves up quickly, and “Oooh” Dean is finished.

“What do you want?” Dean asks.

“Your mouth,” Sam groans beneath him. Just the shape of it—sight of it—sets him off, and Dean sweeps and strokes and swirls like a pro. Sam is lost now, floating inside and above himself as Dean coaxes Heaven down to greet him and sacrifices Sam in this glorious ritual.

Sweetly sated, Sam lets Dean take him. Dean’s hands are Do you? on his chest, Dean’s face is Love me? in its heat and hesitancy. His waiting hovers between them.

Sam’s body holds him, enfolds him, and welcomes with an answer of Yes.

The Mirrored Self
“How long can we keep doing this?”

Twined together in Baton Rouge, his head is on Dean’s chest when Sam asks the question. Dean wonders if Sam felt his heart quicken at those words, at the threat of being left.

He lost Sam before, back when they were brothers with nothing new between them. This is different— bigger. This is the love of Warriors, matched and mated. It is the question sought and answered, the self mirrored and completed. It is the domain of philosophers and poets, and it would shatter Dean to lose it.

“Forever,” Dean whispers. And hopes.

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

Tags: drabbles, my_fic, sn_slash, wincest

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