Eee, I actually did it! It got, er, a little long, and I have no idea if you're gonna like it cause you're all conditional with your wincest, yeah? But it's porn! So, um, hope you enjoy! :)
Dean liked fire. He knew that was probably twisted, given... everything, but. He couldn't help it. Fire was beautiful in a way most things weren't, alive but not, powerful yet insubstantial.
He sat very still, cross-legged in front of the fireplace, hypnotized by the random flickering of the flames devouring the kindling and log. His frame occasionally shook with a shiver, but he figured trekking through knee deep snow for an hour or so would do that to a person. He'd be fine. The fire would warm him up.
Dean didn't move when two large hands found his shoulders and slid down his arms, rubbing gently. His only response was to quirk his lips in a small smile - he was content to see what Sam would do. Sam's hands found Dean's and began massaging each digit in turn. Dean's fingers began to tingle painfully as feeling crept back in, and he let his eyes slip shut at the sensation, a small puff of air involuntarily escaping his lips.
Warm breath ghosting over his ear warned him just before Sam's baritone rumble washed over him. "You know, sharing body heat is one of the best ways to ward off hypothermia."
Dean snorted softly. "And here I thought you were pre-law. They teach you that in biomedical ethics?"
Sam's lips curved in a gentle smile against Dean's neck, then Sam's none-too-toasty fingers were slipping under Dean's t-shirt. Dean hissed and jerked away involuntarily.
"See, Dean, I need you to warm me up too. You gonna let your little brother suffer?"
And that just wasn't fighting fair, so Dean turned around between Sam's arms with a growl, crushing his lips to Sam's and fisting his hands in Sam's plaid flannel shirt. Sam wasted no time pulling Dean against him as they rose to their knees, the better to divest each other of their clothing. The plaid landed in a crumpled pile on the floor, followed closely by Dean's button up, then sundry t-shirts and undershirts. Sam's mouth hungrily sought out Dean's, and Dean responded with fervor, the heat of Sam's intensity flooding through him at every point of contact. His fingers dug into the smooth skin of Sam's lower back, pulling Sam's hips flush to his as their tongues twined and fought for dominance. This thing between them, it was never quiet or passive - always a contest, because that was just the Winchester way. Dean could feel the heat of the fire caressing the bare skin of his back, fighting back the chill air of the locked up cabin they had stumbled upon in the mountains, but Sam felt like a goddamn furnace, toned arms surrounding and swallowing him whole.
Which reminded Dean of the point of this exercise. "Pants. Off," he demanded between kisses, nipping and sucking at Sam's bottom lip as his fingers scrabbled for the button of Sam's jeans.
Sam laughed, wide and happy, then batted Dean's hands away, pausing briefly to slip lube out of his pocket and toss it on the floor before undoing his pants and shimmying out of them with surprising ease for someone with legs a fucking mile long. Dean quickly followed suit, discarding the offending clothing and tugging Sam towards him again by the hips. Sam grinned, warm eyes glinting green in the light of the fire, and pressed his forehead to Dean's. His hands skated up Dean's sides, feather light.
"I dunno, Dean. You seem pretty warm to me. Maybe this isn't necessary--" He started to pull away, eyes sparking with mischief, but Dean was having none of that -- he hooked his foot behind Sam's leg and an arm around his torso, yanking Sam to his back on the rug and straddling his waist.
"Necessary or not, you are going to do some warming up, if I have to hold you hostage." Sam looked anything but reluctant as Dean slid down until he felt his cock slide against Sam's, eliciting a moan from both of their throats. Dean slipped a hand between their bodies and took them both in his palm, stroking slowly yet firmly. He leaned down to nip at Sam's earlobe, then whispered, "You're going to fuck me until I forget what season it is."
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Date: 2006-12-24 03:46 am (UTC)Dean liked fire. He knew that was probably twisted, given... everything, but. He couldn't help it. Fire was beautiful in a way most things weren't, alive but not, powerful yet insubstantial.
He sat very still, cross-legged in front of the fireplace, hypnotized by the random flickering of the flames devouring the kindling and log. His frame occasionally shook with a shiver, but he figured trekking through knee deep snow for an hour or so would do that to a person. He'd be fine. The fire would warm him up.
Dean didn't move when two large hands found his shoulders and slid down his arms, rubbing gently. His only response was to quirk his lips in a small smile - he was content to see what Sam would do. Sam's hands found Dean's and began massaging each digit in turn. Dean's fingers began to tingle painfully as feeling crept back in, and he let his eyes slip shut at the sensation, a small puff of air involuntarily escaping his lips.
Warm breath ghosting over his ear warned him just before Sam's baritone rumble washed over him. "You know, sharing body heat is one of the best ways to ward off hypothermia."
Dean snorted softly. "And here I thought you were pre-law. They teach you that in biomedical ethics?"
Sam's lips curved in a gentle smile against Dean's neck, then Sam's none-too-toasty fingers were slipping under Dean's t-shirt. Dean hissed and jerked away involuntarily.
"See, Dean, I need you to warm me up too. You gonna let your little brother suffer?"
And that just wasn't fighting fair, so Dean turned around between Sam's arms with a growl, crushing his lips to Sam's and fisting his hands in Sam's plaid flannel shirt. Sam wasted no time pulling Dean against him as they rose to their knees, the better to divest each other of their clothing. The plaid landed in a crumpled pile on the floor, followed closely by Dean's button up, then sundry t-shirts and undershirts. Sam's mouth hungrily sought out Dean's, and Dean responded with fervor, the heat of Sam's intensity flooding through him at every point of contact. His fingers dug into the smooth skin of Sam's lower back, pulling Sam's hips flush to his as their tongues twined and fought for dominance. This thing between them, it was never quiet or passive - always a contest, because that was just the Winchester way. Dean could feel the heat of the fire caressing the bare skin of his back, fighting back the chill air of the locked up cabin they had stumbled upon in the mountains, but Sam felt like a goddamn furnace, toned arms surrounding and swallowing him whole.
Which reminded Dean of the point of this exercise. "Pants. Off," he demanded between kisses, nipping and sucking at Sam's bottom lip as his fingers scrabbled for the button of Sam's jeans.
Sam laughed, wide and happy, then batted Dean's hands away, pausing briefly to slip lube out of his pocket and toss it on the floor before undoing his pants and shimmying out of them with surprising ease for someone with legs a fucking mile long. Dean quickly followed suit, discarding the offending clothing and tugging Sam towards him again by the hips. Sam grinned, warm eyes glinting green in the light of the fire, and pressed his forehead to Dean's. His hands skated up Dean's sides, feather light.
"I dunno, Dean. You seem pretty warm to me. Maybe this isn't necessary--" He started to pull away, eyes sparking with mischief, but Dean was having none of that -- he hooked his foot behind Sam's leg and an arm around his torso, yanking Sam to his back on the rug and straddling his waist.
"Necessary or not, you are going to do some warming up, if I have to hold you hostage." Sam looked anything but reluctant as Dean slid down until he felt his cock slide against Sam's, eliciting a moan from both of their throats. Dean slipped a hand between their bodies and took them both in his palm, stroking slowly yet firmly. He leaned down to nip at Sam's earlobe, then whispered, "You're going to fuck me until I forget what season it is."