Fic: (un)Caged
Title: (un)Caged
Fandom/Pairing: Supernatural/Wincest
Author: casey679
Rating: Explicit
Length: 1.6k words
Series: Caged Desires
Community: Saturday Night Specials
There's never been a time when Dean wasn't aware of Sam. Even when Dean was so angry he could barely stand to look at him, or so ashamed he could barely stand to meet his eyes, he always knew where Sam was, like some tiny part of his brain was dedicated to constantly monitoring his brother's proximity and well-being. But this… this is a whole new level. Because now, Sammy is looking right back. Now, he can really feel that he is the center of Sam's world, the way that Sam's always been the center of his.
In the morning, a sleep-mussed Sam shifts nervously in place, eyes skittering up to look at him and then blushing away. "I have to-" stammering, remembering what Dean told him to ask. "D'youwantmeto-" a nod at Dean's crotch.
"Nah, it's too early for that." Dean smiles benevolently as he fishes the keys out of his pocket. "Let's get you sorted." He doesn't make a production of unlocking each lock, not exactly, but every touch of his fingers against Sam's body feels electric. "Go take care of things. I'll meet you back in your room to help put everything back into place afterwards." He looks pointedly back up at Sam. "And no touching yourself in the shower! Be good."
Sam ducks his head down, rolling his eyes a little but also looking shyly pleased.
Fuck. That smile is gonna kill him.
As soon as Sam is out of sight, Dean pinches himself – hard – and counts to ten as he holds it, grounding himself with the pain to get his rampaging erection under control. He really hadn't been sure that his brother would actually follow through – offer to suck him off just like he'd ordered him to, without even an argument.
It took everything Dean had not to go for it. He'd be cross with himself for turning down a blow job not once, but twice, except this new side of Sam is making it all worth it.
Just a week ago, Sam would have rolled his eyes and made a snarky comment if Dean said it was too early for a blowjob. He's walked in on Dean and his flavor-of-the-night-slash-morning more than enough times to know that Dean never thinks it's too early for sex.
But this Sam doesn't argue. This Sam wants his approval, wants to please him. Wants to submit. Dean thinks of all the toys he's got stashed in Sam's dresser and feels a little giddy, like a kid who's just been handed the keys to a Baskin Robbins and told to go wild. Like taming any wild animal, though, the trick is to get it domesticated before it even knows it's happened.
Sam won't even know what hit him.
Sam comes back 15 minutes later, freshly scrubbed and shaved and still unable to meet Dean's eyes entirely when he hands the cage and plug back over to him.
"Everything go okay? No problems?" Dean's still hard enough to pound nails, but he's playing it cool – concerned but dispassionate, with just a touch of a tone that suggests that Sam can't do this on his own. Sam likes it when he treats him that way, he's noticed – kinky, forbidden, toppy, with just a faint echo of humiliation.
"Y-yeah," Sam stammers out.
"You sure? No pain, discomfort, chafing?" He gives him a stern look. "And don't lie to me."
Sam shakes his head, no. "It's fine, see? Can we just- get on with this?"
Dean's eyes flicker between the chastity cage and Sam's flaccid, shrunken cock, and then to the ice pack he's obviously been using to shrink himself down for the cage. He nods approvingly. "Hands on my shoulders, ok? Let's get this back in place." The hands are unnecessary – they could be anywhere – but all Dean can think of is kneeling down in front of five-year-old Sam, letting him steady himself on Dean's shoulders while he helps him into his pants one leg at a time. From his bright red cheeks, it's obvious that Sam is thinking about that, too.
A less twisted man might try to play down the fact that they're brothers instead of leaning into it. But whatever this dirtybadgood thing is that's happening between them, it wouldn't feel half as hot if he didn't.
Dean's dick is trapped hard and throbbing against his jeans as he leans forward and inspects Sam's cock with his fingers. He flops the shaft of Sam's dick to one side and then the other – "looks good, nothing red, no bruising" – and then cups Sam's balls gently in his hand, rolling them back and forth while he glances up into his face – "no aches?" Then he threads Sam's balls through the ring and feeds his cock into the metal tube as he clinically as he can, like a doctor finishing up an examination, and clicks the lock shut.
Sam shudders.
"Everything okay?"
"It's fine," Sam says tersely. Then, "It's good. Just.. a little overwhelming. More than last night."
Dean nods, keeping one eye on Sam as he inspects the butt plug, noting with approval that it's been thoroughly washed and dried.
"Alright, kiddo, this plug is still pretty new, so we need to make sure everything's healthy back there, too, okay?" He inclines his head at the table, drizzling lube onto the fingers of his right hand. "Bend over, okay? This won't take long, I promise."
Sam's got a great ass.
It's not like he didn't know that already, but empirically, looking at his brother's glutes splayed out before him, it's easy to see that all that running and working out Sam does has paid off in spades. Speaking of which-
"What do you have planned for today, Sam?" He grabs Sam's hip with his left hand and gently circles his fingers over his rim with the right. Sam squirms at first, almost pulling away, but Dean just uses his leverage to push Sam firmly into the table and then presses two fingers in, enjoying Sam's little gasp of shock.
And then immediately has to pause, not for Sam but himself, he's on the verge of coming in his pants like a 15-year-old virgin and oh my god he's fingering him.
And he's gonna do so much more than that to him, too.
"R-research," Sam responds, hole hot and ready around his fingers. "Maybe finish scanning in that book on Babylonian curses." He keeps talking, but what Dean hears is, nothing important. Nothing that can't be interrupted.
The further inside Dean's fingers slide, the stiller Sam gets. His legs spread a little further, almost of their own accord, hips tilting up to let Dean plunge even deeper, not stopping until his knuckles are pressed up his entrance and there's no further to go.
"Seems good so far, Sammy. No tears or swelling – I think that base on the plug is working better than the last one, don't you?" Before Sam can answer, he pulls his fingers out and adds a third, reaching back in and feeling around for the little nub that- there-
Sam squirms again.
"Prostate feels healthy, too, Sam." He presses his fingers over it, back and forth, enjoying the way Sam's breath begins to catch and get ragged. He knows it's not unbearable for Sam yet – probably more uncomfortable, like a little buzzing that could grow into something mind-shattering if Dean let it go on that long. Sam's into it – there's a quickly growing pool of precum gathering on the table under his cage. Dean thinks about milking him, then thinks about how much more will leak out after a week in chastity, how heavy and swollen Sam's balls will be after spending seven days in a frenzy of sexual denial. How embarrassed he can make him while he does it.
He rubs his fingertips over the prostate again, using his thumb to press against it from the outside at the same time, and Sam keens.
Immediately, Dean chirps out a cheerful "All clear!" and withdraws his fingers, ignoring Sam's disgruntled whine. After liberally coating the plug in lube, he attaches it to the harness and slides it home – not slow, like the first time, but all at once.
Sam gasps, but stays in place, still as a statue until all the locks are back in place and the keys are safely out of sight in Dean's pocket. Then he slowly, unsteadily stands up and turns around, almost swaying a little. His eyes are blown, pupils so dilated that Dean can hardly see their beautiful hazel color.
He lurches forward, steading himself with a hand on Dean's knee. The touch is electrifying for both of them.
"Dean- I need- I need to…" There's a note of desperation in his voice as he drops to his knees in front of Dean like a puppet whose strings have been cut. "Please-" he shuffles forward and licks his lips. "Can I-?"
Can I suck your cock.
Moderation, Dean reminds himself. He has a plan. Stick to the plan. Stick to-
Fuck it. He's only human.
"I don't want you to make me come today," he says, trying to keep that stern tone in his voice as he's tossing all his carefully contemplated plans to the wind. "But if you need it, you can keep me warm while I finish checking the papers for cases." He slumps his hips forward to make it easier for Sam's fumbling fingers to unbuckle his belt and slide his pants down over his hips, letting his cock spring free.
dontcomedontcomedontcome
Sam licks his lips as Dean tangles his fingers in Sam's hair.
Then he opens his pretty, pretty mouth, and Dean slides home.
Fandom/Pairing: Supernatural/Wincest
Author: casey679
Rating: Explicit
Length: 1.6k words
Series: Caged Desires
Community: Saturday Night Specials
There's never been a time when Dean wasn't aware of Sam. Even when Dean was so angry he could barely stand to look at him, or so ashamed he could barely stand to meet his eyes, he always knew where Sam was, like some tiny part of his brain was dedicated to constantly monitoring his brother's proximity and well-being. But this… this is a whole new level. Because now, Sammy is looking right back. Now, he can really feel that he is the center of Sam's world, the way that Sam's always been the center of his.
In the morning, a sleep-mussed Sam shifts nervously in place, eyes skittering up to look at him and then blushing away. "I have to-" stammering, remembering what Dean told him to ask. "D'youwantmeto-" a nod at Dean's crotch.
"Nah, it's too early for that." Dean smiles benevolently as he fishes the keys out of his pocket. "Let's get you sorted." He doesn't make a production of unlocking each lock, not exactly, but every touch of his fingers against Sam's body feels electric. "Go take care of things. I'll meet you back in your room to help put everything back into place afterwards." He looks pointedly back up at Sam. "And no touching yourself in the shower! Be good."
Sam ducks his head down, rolling his eyes a little but also looking shyly pleased.
Fuck. That smile is gonna kill him.
As soon as Sam is out of sight, Dean pinches himself – hard – and counts to ten as he holds it, grounding himself with the pain to get his rampaging erection under control. He really hadn't been sure that his brother would actually follow through – offer to suck him off just like he'd ordered him to, without even an argument.
It took everything Dean had not to go for it. He'd be cross with himself for turning down a blow job not once, but twice, except this new side of Sam is making it all worth it.
Just a week ago, Sam would have rolled his eyes and made a snarky comment if Dean said it was too early for a blowjob. He's walked in on Dean and his flavor-of-the-night-slash-morning more than enough times to know that Dean never thinks it's too early for sex.
But this Sam doesn't argue. This Sam wants his approval, wants to please him. Wants to submit. Dean thinks of all the toys he's got stashed in Sam's dresser and feels a little giddy, like a kid who's just been handed the keys to a Baskin Robbins and told to go wild. Like taming any wild animal, though, the trick is to get it domesticated before it even knows it's happened.
Sam won't even know what hit him.
* * *
Sam comes back 15 minutes later, freshly scrubbed and shaved and still unable to meet Dean's eyes entirely when he hands the cage and plug back over to him.
"Everything go okay? No problems?" Dean's still hard enough to pound nails, but he's playing it cool – concerned but dispassionate, with just a touch of a tone that suggests that Sam can't do this on his own. Sam likes it when he treats him that way, he's noticed – kinky, forbidden, toppy, with just a faint echo of humiliation.
"Y-yeah," Sam stammers out.
"You sure? No pain, discomfort, chafing?" He gives him a stern look. "And don't lie to me."
Sam shakes his head, no. "It's fine, see? Can we just- get on with this?"
Dean's eyes flicker between the chastity cage and Sam's flaccid, shrunken cock, and then to the ice pack he's obviously been using to shrink himself down for the cage. He nods approvingly. "Hands on my shoulders, ok? Let's get this back in place." The hands are unnecessary – they could be anywhere – but all Dean can think of is kneeling down in front of five-year-old Sam, letting him steady himself on Dean's shoulders while he helps him into his pants one leg at a time. From his bright red cheeks, it's obvious that Sam is thinking about that, too.
A less twisted man might try to play down the fact that they're brothers instead of leaning into it. But whatever this dirtybadgood thing is that's happening between them, it wouldn't feel half as hot if he didn't.
Dean's dick is trapped hard and throbbing against his jeans as he leans forward and inspects Sam's cock with his fingers. He flops the shaft of Sam's dick to one side and then the other – "looks good, nothing red, no bruising" – and then cups Sam's balls gently in his hand, rolling them back and forth while he glances up into his face – "no aches?" Then he threads Sam's balls through the ring and feeds his cock into the metal tube as he clinically as he can, like a doctor finishing up an examination, and clicks the lock shut.
Sam shudders.
"Everything okay?"
"It's fine," Sam says tersely. Then, "It's good. Just.. a little overwhelming. More than last night."
Dean nods, keeping one eye on Sam as he inspects the butt plug, noting with approval that it's been thoroughly washed and dried.
"Alright, kiddo, this plug is still pretty new, so we need to make sure everything's healthy back there, too, okay?" He inclines his head at the table, drizzling lube onto the fingers of his right hand. "Bend over, okay? This won't take long, I promise."
Sam's got a great ass.
It's not like he didn't know that already, but empirically, looking at his brother's glutes splayed out before him, it's easy to see that all that running and working out Sam does has paid off in spades. Speaking of which-
"What do you have planned for today, Sam?" He grabs Sam's hip with his left hand and gently circles his fingers over his rim with the right. Sam squirms at first, almost pulling away, but Dean just uses his leverage to push Sam firmly into the table and then presses two fingers in, enjoying Sam's little gasp of shock.
And then immediately has to pause, not for Sam but himself, he's on the verge of coming in his pants like a 15-year-old virgin and oh my god he's fingering him.
And he's gonna do so much more than that to him, too.
"R-research," Sam responds, hole hot and ready around his fingers. "Maybe finish scanning in that book on Babylonian curses." He keeps talking, but what Dean hears is, nothing important. Nothing that can't be interrupted.
The further inside Dean's fingers slide, the stiller Sam gets. His legs spread a little further, almost of their own accord, hips tilting up to let Dean plunge even deeper, not stopping until his knuckles are pressed up his entrance and there's no further to go.
"Seems good so far, Sammy. No tears or swelling – I think that base on the plug is working better than the last one, don't you?" Before Sam can answer, he pulls his fingers out and adds a third, reaching back in and feeling around for the little nub that- there-
Sam squirms again.
"Prostate feels healthy, too, Sam." He presses his fingers over it, back and forth, enjoying the way Sam's breath begins to catch and get ragged. He knows it's not unbearable for Sam yet – probably more uncomfortable, like a little buzzing that could grow into something mind-shattering if Dean let it go on that long. Sam's into it – there's a quickly growing pool of precum gathering on the table under his cage. Dean thinks about milking him, then thinks about how much more will leak out after a week in chastity, how heavy and swollen Sam's balls will be after spending seven days in a frenzy of sexual denial. How embarrassed he can make him while he does it.
He rubs his fingertips over the prostate again, using his thumb to press against it from the outside at the same time, and Sam keens.
Immediately, Dean chirps out a cheerful "All clear!" and withdraws his fingers, ignoring Sam's disgruntled whine. After liberally coating the plug in lube, he attaches it to the harness and slides it home – not slow, like the first time, but all at once.
Sam gasps, but stays in place, still as a statue until all the locks are back in place and the keys are safely out of sight in Dean's pocket. Then he slowly, unsteadily stands up and turns around, almost swaying a little. His eyes are blown, pupils so dilated that Dean can hardly see their beautiful hazel color.
He lurches forward, steading himself with a hand on Dean's knee. The touch is electrifying for both of them.
"Dean- I need- I need to…" There's a note of desperation in his voice as he drops to his knees in front of Dean like a puppet whose strings have been cut. "Please-" he shuffles forward and licks his lips. "Can I-?"
Can I suck your cock.
Moderation, Dean reminds himself. He has a plan. Stick to the plan. Stick to-
Fuck it. He's only human.
"I don't want you to make me come today," he says, trying to keep that stern tone in his voice as he's tossing all his carefully contemplated plans to the wind. "But if you need it, you can keep me warm while I finish checking the papers for cases." He slumps his hips forward to make it easier for Sam's fumbling fingers to unbuckle his belt and slide his pants down over his hips, letting his cock spring free.
dontcomedontcomedontcome
Sam licks his lips as Dean tangles his fingers in Sam's hair.
Then he opens his pretty, pretty mouth, and Dean slides home.