This is the third installment of my "Sam Winchester" series, which was going to be all one-shots; however, this one turned into a bit of a longer story, so I have divided it into chapters. It can be read as a stand-alone piece, but it does build on the events/discussions from "Marking Sam Winchester."
Mostly PWP. Established WINCEST but still in its early stages. The boys are getting more daring with each other.
This encounter is set sometime after "Dead Man's Blood" but before the finale of Season One.
**WARNINGS: Wincest notwithstanding, there is a fair amount of sexual kink contained in the story, including some BDSM elements. Expect explicit sexual content and adult language.
Reviews are warmly welcomed and deeply appreciated. Thank you for taking the time to read a piece of my imagination. I hope you enjoy it.
~~~ Shaving Sam Winchester ~~~
Dean walked out of the bathroom to find Sam still sitting at the motel desk, pecking away on the laptop. "What'd you find?"
"Nothing yet," Sam replied, not looking up from his work.
Dean crossed the room and stood behind Sam, resting his hands on his brother's shoulders. After giving them an affectionate squeeze, Dean leaned forward and dropped a kiss on Sam's temple, then on his cheek and down further to place a kiss on his neck. "Dude, you're all prickly!" he complained. Sam hadn't shaved in several days. Somehow that sweet, dimpled baby face had managed to sprout a substantial amount of coarse stubble.
Sam chuckled. "Sorry. Been too busy to shave."
"Well shave, damn it."
When Sam didn't answer and continued typing, Dean leaned over him. He placed his hand firmly across the keyboard on top of Sam's fingers. With his other hand, he yanked Sam's hair, pulling his little brother's head back until those striking hazel eyes met his own. "Shave. It. Off." He said it in a near-whisper, his low voice even huskier with a force that clearly gave off a hint of a threat.
Sam felt the effects of Dean's command all the way into his groin and could only nod as much as the grip on his hair would allow.
Dean released him and moved to the nightstand to grab his keys and wallet. "I'm going to the Beef Barn down the street to grab some dinner. That gives you about ten minutes. Have it gone when I get back."
Sam nodded again. Then, realizing that Dean was checking the cash in his wallet and couldn't see the nod, he cleared his throat and said, "Okay."
Dean shrugged on his jacket and leveled his jade eyes on his brother. For several beats, neither of them moved or said anything. They just shared a look full of understanding and promise.
The moment the door clicked shut behind Dean, Sam jumped up and went to the bathroom. He spent several moments looking in the mirror and running his hands over his scruff. He couldn't help but wonder what Dean would do if he didn't shave. He let a few lurid scenarios play through his head for a couple of minutes. When his cock perked up and tightened his jeans a bit too much, Sam brought himself back to the present. Maybe his reward for good behavior would be even better than any punishment for disobedience. He'd have to test that later. For now, he had to admit the stubble was itchy and irritating anyway, so he was happy to get rid of it. Especially if it made Dean happy.
He had just picked up his razor and was about to turn on the water when he heard his cell phone ring.
He returned to the desk and flipped open his phone. "Hey, Bobby. Did you find anything?" Sam asked, walking over to sit on the edge of the king bed in the room.
The men talked for several minutes as Sam jotted down some notes using the motel's pen and notepad from the nightstand. "Sounds like we need to talk to this Joe guy and see what he can tell us," Sam concluded. "Thanks a lot, Bobby. See ya." He hung up the phone just as the motel door opened.
Sam looked up in surprise. His brother's tall form was only a silhouette against the brightness of the outside sunshine, so his expression wasn't instantly readable. Sam cursed himself for letting the time slip up on him.
Dean struggled to keep from grinning at the shock written plainly all over Sam's face. His little brother was wearing the epitome of the deer-in-the-headlights expression. But with effort, he kept his face stoic and shut the door forcefully behind him.
Sam held up a finger and came to his feet as he quickly said, "I can explain."
Dean held up his own hand in response. "Not a word."
Sam started to form a protest, but one look at his brother's stern expression stopped him.
"What did I say before I left?"
"I was in the bathroom getting ready to—"Sam hurried to explain.
"I didn't ask what happened," Dean interrupted. "I asked what I said before I left." As he spoke, Dean moved to the desk and dropped his keys and the bag of food there.
A hot blush crept up Sam's neck and cheeks, tickling the stubble as a spiteful reminder. "You said to have my beard gone when you got back."
Dean nodded and approached him slowly. "Is it gone?" he asked softly.
Sam shook his head. His brother's demeanor was doing all kinds of crazy luscious things to his insides and Sam was having a hard time keeping evidence of his interest from straining against his jeans.
The command was so sudden and unexpected that Sam thought he might not have heard correctly. "What?"
"You heard me." Dean pulled off his jacket and laid it over the back of the desk chair.
"But…what about dinner?"
"We have a microwave. Undress." He paused and gave his brother the full force of his gaze. "Now."
Before he could analyze why he did it, or why he really, really liked being told to do it, Sam pulled off his shirts and tossed them over toward the closet. He unfastened his jeans, his fingers trembling ever so slightly as he tugged the denim along with his grey boxer-briefs down his long legs and stepped out of them.
"Get in the shower."
Sam's brow furrowed and he opened his mouth to ask why when another glance from Dean changed his mind and he walked to the bathroom without a word of protest.
Dean watched his naked brother's sinewy back and squeezable ass as he made his way to the bathroom and finally gave into his grin. He was excited that Sam hadn't shaved. He wanted to play.
Stripping off his own clothing, Dean threw them over to join Sam's on the floor. He heard the shower spray from the bathroom and quickly went in to join his brother under the hot water.
Sam had already soaped the washcloth and was just about to begin scrubbing himself clean when Dean snatched it from his hand. "I'll do it." After such a violent grab for the rag, Sam was shocked to feel Dean's gentle touch from behind him as he rubbed the soapy cloth along Sam's shoulders and down his back. Sam couldn't stop the sigh that escaped his lips as the tension melted from his muscles under Dean's touch.
Dean methodically covered every inch of his brother with the washcloth and then put it away. "Rinse," he commanded, and Sam dutifully turned this way and that under the water until he was squeaky clean. "Now wash me," said Dean, handing his brother the rag again.
Sam moved to stand behind Dean. He lathered up the rag and ran it along Dean's strong shoulders. He never tired of looking at the curve of Dean's back, or the perfect shape of his ass. Trying to suppress his growing erection, Sam concentrated on being as clinical as possible while soaping Dean's thighs. Yet when it came time to clean between Dean's legs, Sam lost his restraint and moaned at the feel of Dean's thick, warm cock in his fingers. He leaned into Dean's back and let his left hand fondle Dean's balls while his right hand pulled very gently along his cock. Sam's erection pressed greedily into Dean's backside.
"You're hard, Sammy?" asked Dean, reaching around to feel the evidence of his brother's arousal. Sam whimpered when Dean's fingers slid slowly along his shaft. "Who owns this cock?" Dean asked, his voice like honeyed sandpaper.
"You," whispered Sam, and he was so distracted that he stopped washing his brother entirely.
"Did I say you could get hard?"
Shivering at the tone of ownership, Sam replied softly, "No."
"So first you didn't shave as I told you to. And now you're getting hard when I haven't given you permission." Dean turned to face his brother and laced his strong fingers in Sam's hair. "I think we need to train you, Sammy."
Sam couldn't do anything but nod. Dean picked up the shampoo and placed a dollop in his right hand. "Turn around. We're going to finish the shower first, and then we'll talk about your punishment."
The tremor that passed through Sam from head to toe nearly caused his legs to fail him. Dean smiled knowingly as he worked his fingers through Sam's thick hair. He loved the way Sam gave himself over to being commanded. He was deeply independent and highly intelligent, so he never, ever gave an inch in any other type of situation if he disagreed with Dean about something. Yet in the bedroom, he completely relented to Dean's will. It made Dean so horny that he almost came just thinking about it.
He had never told Sam outright, but washing his little brother's hair was one of his very favorite things to do. What he didn't realize was that Sam already knew this, mainly because Dean always took three times longer to finish shampooing Sam's hair than was really required. Sam enjoyed it as much as Dean did, so he wasn't about to call attention to it and embarrass Dean so much that he stopped doing it altogether.
"Rinse," Dean ordered, and Sam stood directly under the hot stream of water as shampoo suds sluiced down his muscular chest and arms. With effort, Dean suppressed a groan of need at the sight of his brother's hard, wet body.
"Turn around and put your hands on the wall," Dean commanded once Sam's hair was fully rinsed. Sam did as he was told. Dean adjusted the shower head so that the spray wouldn't hit Sam directly for the moment. Without another word, he picked up the soap and lathered his hands, then slid them along Sam's butt cheeks. Sam gave a little jump of surprise.
"Stay still," warned Dean. "No squirming." The soapy fingers of Dean's right hand glided easily into the crack between Sam's nether cheeks.
"God," Sam moaned, his head falling backward just slightly.
Dean smiled, but Sam couldn't see him. His voice remained stern. "Stay still."
Dean made several passes back and forth along Sam's puckered hole, teasing but never entering. When he finally pressed his fingertip inside, Sam whimpered. "You like that?" Dean asked, pulling his finger out and then pressing just the tip back inside Sam's tight hole.
"Do you want more?"
"Then you'll have to get through your punishment first."
Dean pushed his finger inside Sam again. Sam groaned loudly. "And Sammy?"
"Yes?" Sam's answer was breathless, and he struggled to stay still as Dean's finger worked slowly in and out of him.
"You aren't allowed to come until I say so."
Sam moaned. Dean continued: "Do you think you can hold it back on your own?"
"Dean, I…" Sam let out another loud groan when Dean's finger slid deeper inside him, wiggling in circular motions. "Ohh, God! Dean, please…"
"I don't…I don't know if I can stop it. Not if you keep—"
"You need to control it. You need to restrain yourself till I give the order to come."
Just from this directive alone, Sam could feel himself nearly explode. When his brother's second finger joined the first, Sam cried out and rested his forehead on the tile.
"Let's rinse off now," Dean said suddenly, and Sam whimpered again when he felt his brother's fingers leave him. Dean took the washcloth and made sure that he rinsed Sam's ass well, pushing clean, clear water up inside him to get all the soap out. Meanwhile Sam was making such delicious mewling noises that it was all Dean could do to stop his own orgasm from spraying across the shower tile.
Dean ordered Sam out of the shower and told him to go sit on the bed and wait. Dean quickly shampooed his own hair and rinsed, then got out and toweled himself dry. He wrapped a towel around his waist and walked into the bedroom.
Sam sat on the bed wrapped in his own towel. Without ceremony, Dean said, "Towel."
Sam stood and removed the towel, tossing it into the corner. Dean took just a moment to admire his brother's tall, well-built frame. Sam was noticeably more muscular than he had been the night Dean pulled him from Stanford to go find their father. All their hunting activities were transforming his brother's lanky form into one of sleek, defined muscle. Seeing Sam in all his glory never failed to put a hitch in Dean's breathing.
"Bathroom. Sit beside the sink."
Sam hurried to the bathroom again and shoved their various toiletries aside. He settled himself comfortably on the cool marble of the vanity. Luckily, the sink was set to one side and the rest of the cabinet allowed him room to sit.
Dean entered the bathroom turned on the faucet, waiting for the water to get to the right temperature. "Since you didn't do what I asked, I'm going to do it for you."
Sam felt his cock jump in response, and a flush crept up his neck and into his cheeks. The thought of Dean giving him a shave caused a delicious tingle between his legs. His erection grew again when Dean nudged his legs apart and stood between them.
Dean ran his fingers through Sam's wet hair to push it out of his brother's face and make sure it stayed put. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you purposely didn't shave like I told you to," he remarked, picking up the shaving cream. He squirted the white foam onto his hand.
Sam swallowed and closed his eyes when Dean's fingers touched his cheek and spread the shaving cream carefully around his face. "I didn't do it on purpose," Sam told him softly, and then gave a moan when Dean's fingers moved down to lather his neck.
"So what happened?" asked Dean, lifting the razor and taking the first careful scrape across Sam's cheek.
Careful not to disrupt his brother's shaving strokes, Sam told him about the phone call with Bobby. "We'll check out that lead tomorrow. It's too late now anyway," said Dean, running the razor lightly up Sam's neck. "And we have some important training to do."
Sam's groin throbbed in anticipation. It wasn't lost on his brother, who continued his task but said, "I want you to touch yourself, Sam."
"Yes, while I finish shaving you. Keep stroking your cock but don't come."
Sam shivered ever so slightly but did as Dean said. He wrapped his fingers around his shaft and slowly moved them up and down.
"Do you like this, Sammy?" asked Dean, shaving off another swipe of white foam.
"Yes," Sam whispered.
"Harder. Work that cock like you mean it."
Sam whimpered but increased his speed. He tightened his grip and groaned as his cock responded to the sensation overload. His big brother taking control, the feel of him shaving Sam's neck, and of course the actual friction along his cock was building into a hurricane of arousal. Sam felt himself getting closer and closer to the edge. "Dean…please. I can't hold back. Please…"
"Please let me come."
Sam grunted and bent his head back even more in frustration. Dean took another swipe with the razor and was nearly finished.
"Look at all that precome, Sammy." Dean gave the mushroom tip of Sam's cock a gentle pinch, and Sam nearly jumped off the vanity. "Don't you come. Not yet."
"Dean please…God, please…too much."
"Faster and harder, Sammy. I want you to milk that cock. I want to see it covered with precome. But no orgasm or it's another punishment."
Sam let out a noise that was half-whimper and half-scream, but yanked his cock even faster and harder than before. He was almost delirious with need, making all kinds of desperate noises as the razor made its final scrape along his neck.
Sam gasped. "Dean…Dean…no, no, no, I can't…"
Quickly, Dean grasped the base of Sam's cock and squeezed it hard. "Stop."
Panting, Sam cried out in surprise and discomfort but stopped stroking. He leaned back against the mirror. "Th-thank you."
"Don't thank me. You still get punished for not shaving and for getting hard before I said you could."
"Didn't…didn't want…to come and disappoint you," Sam said in between heavy breathing.
Dean couldn't help himself. He leaned forward and kissed Sam squarely on the mouth, drinking in the taste of his baby brother until Sam whimpered again. Breaking the kiss, Dean said very softly, "You could never disappoint me, Sammy."
Dean wiped off Sam's face and neck with a hand towel. Sam rested his forehead against Dean's for the briefest moment before Dean pinched the tip of Sam's wet cock again. "Bedroom. Lie down on the bed."
Dean continued over to a duffle bag while Sam complied and sprawled out on his back on the bed.
"What's in the bag?" Sam asked. His heart hammered in his chest when Dean pulled out an electric trimmer. Sam's jaw dropped. "But I thought you wanted me to grow it out!"
Dean fought not to chuckle at his brother's terrified expression. "Relax, genius. It's not for the hair on your head."
Relief washed over Sam until Dean's words sank in. Then his adrenalin was back with a vengeance. "Wh-What?"
This time Dean couldn't stop the smile that curved his lips. Without another word, he plugged in the trimmer and settled himself between his brother's long legs. "Time for another shave, Sammy."