Title: the world will end in fire: sparks
Author: alakewood
Warnings: AU. Wincest (Sam/Adam).
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~800
Summary: The first time it happened, it was an accident. A mistake. A fluke.
Disclaimer: As always, I own nothing.
A/N: Title from the poem Fire and Ice by Robert Frost.


The first time it happened, it was an accident. A mistake. A fluke.

It was heat and friction and desperation that let loose a shower of sparks and ignited a slow burn within two bodies that weren't supposed to yearn for each other. Perhaps it was that it was forbidden, taboo, wrong, that stoked the flames higher.


They were in south Texas on a job and Dean had left them at the motel while he went to talk to the Frio County sheriff in Pearsall. Locals had been going wild with reports of a chupacabra, but, to the Winchesters – who knew chupracabras were just urban legends – it seemed likely something far more sinister was terrorizing and mutilating the livestock in the area. Or it was just a pack of wild dogs, Dean told him when he'd called as he left the courthouse.

The attacks had been going on for years, but the weather had been dry and a lot of the dogs' normal prey had grown scarce, hence the moving on to larger game. A half-dozen sheep, a calf, and a whole slew of chickens. Sam was slightly disappointed as he tossed his cell onto the nightstand and collapsed onto the bed nearest the door. "Not our kind of gig," he called to Adam. "Twenty bucks says he brings back Mexican again."

"Let's hope to God not," Adam said, emerging from the bathroom.

"What the hell is that?" Sam laughed, beckoning his younger brother closer. "Another of your souvenirs?"

Adam crossed the short distance from the bathroom to Sam's bedside. "Yeah. Picked it up in that truck stop outside Dallas."

Sam reached for the engraved, gold-colored belt buckle sitting low on Adam's waist, back of his knuckles grazing worn denim.

Adam sucked in a breath through his teeth, hips unintentionally rolling forward. "Shit," he whispered, taking a step back.

"Hey." Sam's fingertips caught in Adam's front pockets, stilled his younger brother then pulled him into the space between his spread thighs.

Adam shook his head, kept his gaze focused on Sam's face but his brother wasn't looking at him. "Sam." Something of a warning and a plea in that breath of a word.

Sam's intent hazel stare slipped up Adam's body, lingered on his mouth before settling on wide blue eyes. "You okay?"

"What are you doing?" Adam questioned quietly, fingers curling around Sam's and removing them from his pockets. "We can't do this."

"Can't do what?" Sam cupped the back's of Adam's thighs, slid his palms upwards over the well-broken-in cotton, over Adam's ass, long fingers splayed wide. "This?"

"We shouldn't." But he didn't try to move out of Sam's loose hold on him.

"But you want to." His fingers tensed, squeezed.

Adam's eyes slipped closed. "Sam. Please."

"Yeah. C'mere." Sam's fingers closed over that big golden belt buckle as he fumbled to undo Adam's belt, button, zipper, tug of jeans and boxers down Adam's hips, and his half-hard brother was exposed to Sam's hungry gaze.

"Fuck," Adam cursed, hands going to cradle Sam's head as his brother's mouth closed over the head of his cock. Lips, tongue, twist of Sam's spit-slick fist. Adam couldn't hold himself back, thrust into that wet heat and Sam took it, moaned around Adam's hard length and hollowed his cheeks, almost-painful suck as he pulled off Adam's dick.

Sam stood, fist still working his brother, bodies close as he tilted his head towards Adam's. He caught his lower lip between his teeth as he stared at Adam's mouth. "Can I?"

Adam answered by replacing Sam's teeth with his own and he sucked on Sam's tongue like Sam had sucked on his dick.

Sam's hand pumped faster between their bodies as Adam panted into his mouth. "Come on. You gonna come for me?"

"Fuck, Sam." He fisted his fingers in Sam's hair and crushed their mouths together, spilling hot and sudden over Sam's fingers.

Headlights washed over the front windows of their motel room, familiar rumble of the Impala rattling the glass in the panes.

"Dean. Shit." Adam fumbled with his fly, backed towards the bathroom.

Sam followed, held Adam's gaze as he brought his hand to his mouth to swipe the tip of his tongue over a knuckle. "Mind if I wash up quick? Take care of some business?"

Wide-eyed again, Adam involuntarily glanced at the bulge in the front of Sam's jeans. "Oh. Yeah. Sorry."

Sam pressed his lips to Adam's again, licked his mouth open to let Adam taste himself on Sam's tongue as Dean closed the Impala's driver's side door outside. "I'll take a rain-check." At the surprise on Adam's face, Sam laughed and disappeared into the bathroom.

A moment later, Dean pushed through the front door, grease-spotted bag in hand. "Who wants tacos?"