Fic: Caged Heat
Title: Caged Heat
Fandom/Pairing: Supernatural/Wincest
Rating: Explicit
Length: 1.9k words
Series: Caged Desires
Community: Saturday Night Specials
Summary: Of course it's not right. Dean would be the first person to admit that indulging in kinky chastity sex games with your brother is the furthest thing from right. But it's hot as fuck. And what's the worst that God's gonna do to them? Send them to hell? Been there, done that, buddy.
There's a short list of things Dean would have loved to be if he hadn't been a hunter.
Bounty hunter.
Firefighter.
Stuntman.
Racecar driver.
Bronco buster.
Yeah, especially that last one.
Bronco buster. Just thinking about it is enough to get Dean's dick hard: the hat, the jeans, the chaps, the spurs, the lasso, the feeling of taking something skittish and powerful and dangerous and making it bend under your hand. In fact, there's nothing about it that doesn't turn Dean on – except the horse, maybe. Then again, Dean's never imagined dealing with horses when he daydreams about it. After all, the thrill of breaking in a horse has got nothing on the thrill of breaking in Sam Winchester.
Sam's always been a lot to handle. High-strung, John had called him once, but high maintenance is really more like it. It's not his fault, Dean knows now – Sam's had angels and demons whispering in his ear his whole life, telling him to want what he shouldn't want and then making him hate himself for listening to them.
What this translates to, practically, at this particular moment, is a complex tango of two steps forward, one step back. Sure, when Dean gets Sam worked up and desperate and horny, he'll beg to suck Dean's cock, keep it warm for hours like a good little whore. But the minute Dean lets him come, suddenly he's all skittish and guilty and moaning about how this isn't right, Dean and we should just stop, Dean and what if Cas is out there watching somehow, Dean.
And of course it's not right. Dean would be the first person to admit that indulging in kinky chastity sex games with your brother is the furthest thing from right.
But it's hot as fuck. And what's the worst that God's gonna do to them? Send them to hell? Been there, done that, buddy.
The irony is that even with all of Sam's weird bursts of morality, Dean still comes out on top – literally, even. Oh no, Sam gets weird after he gets an orgasm? Well, then, I guess it just means more days in chastity for little Sammy. More desperate moans and glassy-eyed stares. More Sam being pliant and willing to do whatever Dean says. More Sam being so desperate and horny that he'll let Dean talk him deeper and deeper into depravity.
It's a win-win situation.
Dean would have been an amazing bronco buster.
* * *
Dean used to think there was nothing better than waking up in his motel room and getting a little morning sunshine from the hot waitress-slash-nurse-slash-teacher-slash-
"Hey Sammy…" Dean winds his fingers through Sam's hair, tugging it gently until his eyes flicker open, sleepy and devoted, and he blinks the sand out of his eyes. "Remind me now, how many days has it been?"
Sam pulls his head back slightly, Dean's dick falling out of his mouth with a gentle plop as he focuses on swallowing down all the saliva that's pooled in there while he was warming Dean's cock.
"Four…?" he says uncertainly after a few moments. Then he blinks again and shakes his head. "No, five."
Seven, Dean thinks to himself triumphantly, but doesn't correct him. It's all he can do to keep his face from showing the glee he's feeling at the fact that Sam's been caged up for seven days and plugged for half of every day, and he's so far down that he's letting it all blur together. Even though they'd only agreed to five days this time.
"You ready to stop, Sammy?" Dean asks gently. "Five's nothing to sneeze at. But if you're feeling good about things, we can go longer." He lets his fingers tighten in Sam's hair, loving the way it makes Sam whimper just so.
"Longer," Sam pants out a moment later, grinding his cage lightly against Dean's calf. It's against the rules – Sam's supposed to ask about that sort of thing first, but Dean's inclined to forgive him right now.
Dean tugs Sam up and kisses him on the forehead. "Seven," he agrees. "We'll go for seven." And then he slides him back down in the bed and presses his hips up until Sam gets the hint and sucks him down enthusiastically.
Nine, Dean thinks smugly, enjoying the rapid improvements in his brother's blowjob technique since they started. It doesn't take him long to come after that, and when he does, it's the thought of how many orgasms he's had and how many orgasms Sam hasn't that tips him over the edge.
* * *
Truth be told, they don't take on may cases outside the bunker these days. Sam needed a lot of time to recover after the trials, and Dean wasn't inclined to leave him. He'd kept busy those early days by getting Charlie to help him install a phone bank like Bobby'd used to run, and things had spiraled from there. It was easy to park Sam in front of a book or a laptop looking up information while Dean played FBI operator, and they never really got out of the habit of it. Too many hunters relying on them being there to answer questions and provide support.
Dean likes it now for other reasons… they couldn't play the kind of games they're playing out in the field. Too easy to get distracted and mess up during the hunt.
And out in the field, Dean couldn't ask Sam to spend the day reorganizing the library and scanning some of the books they don't have as PDFs while wearing nothing but a pair of tight red-and-black spandex boy boxer panties with a clear mesh front and back that leave nothing to the imagination. The mesh perfectly frames Sam's chastity cage and the neatly trimmed bush above it – Sam had refused to shave completely but like Sam agreeing to wax his legs, Dean knows it's only a matter of time.
The hornier Sam gets, the more he stops thinking about looking and acting all proper. Seven days in means Sam's brain is pickled in a fog of lust practically 24-7, which is why he's not even embarrassed to be walking around in the panties and bending over from the waist when he drops something, giving Dean a perfect view of his hole and the way it glistens and gapes ever-so-slightly open these days as Dean uses incrementally bigger and bigger plugs.
He waits until Sam's back bent over the library table before he strikes, though. The minute he gets a hand on the back of Sam's neck, his brother practically melts into the table below him. It's easy work then to tug the boxers down lower, elastic biting into the flesh below Sam's ass, and slip his cock into the hole that's still lubed up and ready for him.
Sam's a dream of a fuck these days, tight and always willing, always welcoming, always willing to take whatever Dean's planning on dishing out. Dean lets his weight press Sam down into the table, head just inches from the rare tome he was about to scan in.
"Such a good boy," Dean whispers, fingers wrapping around Sam's throat, pressing just-so-slightly against his windpipe. "This is what you love, isn't it? Being useful… being such a good hole for me." His other hand is busy playing with Sam's nipples, enjoying the moans he can wring out of him. "Just taking what I give you, letting me use you, knowing you can't come even if you want to?"
He slams himself home to the base and swivels his hips, grinding his cock against the spot that he knows will make Sam's dick drool, and Sam whimpers again.
"That's right, Sam, you're such a good little slut for me, such a good little fucktoy." Dean hikes Sam's hips up a bit so he can slide a hand under him, let it run down over the smooth metal of the cock cage. The hole at the tip is dripping with precum, like a faucet that never quite got turned off. Now that's a good metaphor for Sam, he thinks.
"Gonna plug you up again after this," he murmurs. "Let you walk around with my jizz inside you, load after load after load. Would you like that?"
Sam gasps and squeezes, milking Dean's cock.
"Words, Sammy," he says, fucking his brother even harder. "You gotta tell me it's okay if you want me to do that, not gonna do anything without your permission."
Like Sam's gonna say anything but-
"Yes," he gasps out, and for a minute Dean almost thinks he's learned how to come despite his cage. Sam's never accomplished it yet, but Dean knows it's possible. Frankly, The thought's hot enough to tip him over the edge. Just to be on the safe side – and to be a bit of a bastard – he clamps his hand down hard behind the base of the cage, squeezing hard enough that any sperm travelling through his tubes are going to get shot right back into his testicles.
By the way Sam clenches around him, Dean's pretty sure that's exactly what happened. He squeezes again for good measure. "Careful, Sammy. Wouldn't want you to get any of those books dirty, would we?" He slaps him on the ass as he pulls out. "Keep those cheeks squeezed closed, babe. We don't want anything dripping out and making a mess you could slip in."
Good boy that he is, Sam's still in position when he comes back five minutes later with the plug. He can see Sam's legs trembling from the effort of keeping everything tight and secure.
The plug slides in without any difficulty. This one's a little more special – it's got a hose at the end, with a squeeze bulb on it.
"Got a surprise for you, Sammy." As soon as the plug's seated firmly in Sam's ass, Dean squeezes the bulb, enjoying Sam's gasp as the plug expands. He gives it a few more squeezes for good measure, then slides Sam's underwear back up over it all, making sure the bulb sits right outside the elastic. He's curious how big he can get it by the time the afternoon ends – a pump here, a squeeze there, and Sam will be walking more bowlegged than Dean ever did.
"Good boy," Dean murmurs, like a jockey talking down a horse after a race. He strokes his arm down Sam's flank, wiping away the sweat, until the muscles relax under his touch.
Two days from now, Dean'll lie back in his bed and let Sam climb on top and ride him. And maybe – maybe – he'll even let him come. Until then…
"Up," he says, and Sam stands up, eyes still glazed and focused on Dean.
Dean smiles at him, then looks down at the table, at the incriminating pool of pre-cum Sam's left behind, slowly oozing towards the books.
He taps his fingers on the table next to it authoritatively. "Clean it up." And Christ, the sight of Sam obediently bending over and extending his tongue like a kitten lapping up milk is enough to make his dick try to harden despite having just come.
Dean thinks about that collar he's still got stashed in Sam's underwear drawer. Thinks about how pretty it would look around Sam's neck.
Wonders how long it'll take before Sam lets him put a lock through the ring on that, too.
He's pretty sure it won't be long.
~fin~
Fandom/Pairing: Supernatural/Wincest
Rating: Explicit
Length: 1.9k words
Series: Caged Desires
Community: Saturday Night Specials
Summary: Of course it's not right. Dean would be the first person to admit that indulging in kinky chastity sex games with your brother is the furthest thing from right. But it's hot as fuck. And what's the worst that God's gonna do to them? Send them to hell? Been there, done that, buddy.
There's a short list of things Dean would have loved to be if he hadn't been a hunter.
Bounty hunter.
Firefighter.
Stuntman.
Racecar driver.
Bronco buster.
Yeah, especially that last one.
Bronco buster. Just thinking about it is enough to get Dean's dick hard: the hat, the jeans, the chaps, the spurs, the lasso, the feeling of taking something skittish and powerful and dangerous and making it bend under your hand. In fact, there's nothing about it that doesn't turn Dean on – except the horse, maybe. Then again, Dean's never imagined dealing with horses when he daydreams about it. After all, the thrill of breaking in a horse has got nothing on the thrill of breaking in Sam Winchester.
Sam's always been a lot to handle. High-strung, John had called him once, but high maintenance is really more like it. It's not his fault, Dean knows now – Sam's had angels and demons whispering in his ear his whole life, telling him to want what he shouldn't want and then making him hate himself for listening to them.
What this translates to, practically, at this particular moment, is a complex tango of two steps forward, one step back. Sure, when Dean gets Sam worked up and desperate and horny, he'll beg to suck Dean's cock, keep it warm for hours like a good little whore. But the minute Dean lets him come, suddenly he's all skittish and guilty and moaning about how this isn't right, Dean and we should just stop, Dean and what if Cas is out there watching somehow, Dean.
And of course it's not right. Dean would be the first person to admit that indulging in kinky chastity sex games with your brother is the furthest thing from right.
But it's hot as fuck. And what's the worst that God's gonna do to them? Send them to hell? Been there, done that, buddy.
The irony is that even with all of Sam's weird bursts of morality, Dean still comes out on top – literally, even. Oh no, Sam gets weird after he gets an orgasm? Well, then, I guess it just means more days in chastity for little Sammy. More desperate moans and glassy-eyed stares. More Sam being pliant and willing to do whatever Dean says. More Sam being so desperate and horny that he'll let Dean talk him deeper and deeper into depravity.
It's a win-win situation.
Dean would have been an amazing bronco buster.
* * *
Dean used to think there was nothing better than waking up in his motel room and getting a little morning sunshine from the hot waitress-slash-nurse-slash-teacher-slash-
"Hey Sammy…" Dean winds his fingers through Sam's hair, tugging it gently until his eyes flicker open, sleepy and devoted, and he blinks the sand out of his eyes. "Remind me now, how many days has it been?"
Sam pulls his head back slightly, Dean's dick falling out of his mouth with a gentle plop as he focuses on swallowing down all the saliva that's pooled in there while he was warming Dean's cock.
"Four…?" he says uncertainly after a few moments. Then he blinks again and shakes his head. "No, five."
Seven, Dean thinks to himself triumphantly, but doesn't correct him. It's all he can do to keep his face from showing the glee he's feeling at the fact that Sam's been caged up for seven days and plugged for half of every day, and he's so far down that he's letting it all blur together. Even though they'd only agreed to five days this time.
"You ready to stop, Sammy?" Dean asks gently. "Five's nothing to sneeze at. But if you're feeling good about things, we can go longer." He lets his fingers tighten in Sam's hair, loving the way it makes Sam whimper just so.
"Longer," Sam pants out a moment later, grinding his cage lightly against Dean's calf. It's against the rules – Sam's supposed to ask about that sort of thing first, but Dean's inclined to forgive him right now.
Dean tugs Sam up and kisses him on the forehead. "Seven," he agrees. "We'll go for seven." And then he slides him back down in the bed and presses his hips up until Sam gets the hint and sucks him down enthusiastically.
Nine, Dean thinks smugly, enjoying the rapid improvements in his brother's blowjob technique since they started. It doesn't take him long to come after that, and when he does, it's the thought of how many orgasms he's had and how many orgasms Sam hasn't that tips him over the edge.
* * *
Truth be told, they don't take on may cases outside the bunker these days. Sam needed a lot of time to recover after the trials, and Dean wasn't inclined to leave him. He'd kept busy those early days by getting Charlie to help him install a phone bank like Bobby'd used to run, and things had spiraled from there. It was easy to park Sam in front of a book or a laptop looking up information while Dean played FBI operator, and they never really got out of the habit of it. Too many hunters relying on them being there to answer questions and provide support.
Dean likes it now for other reasons… they couldn't play the kind of games they're playing out in the field. Too easy to get distracted and mess up during the hunt.
And out in the field, Dean couldn't ask Sam to spend the day reorganizing the library and scanning some of the books they don't have as PDFs while wearing nothing but a pair of tight red-and-black spandex boy boxer panties with a clear mesh front and back that leave nothing to the imagination. The mesh perfectly frames Sam's chastity cage and the neatly trimmed bush above it – Sam had refused to shave completely but like Sam agreeing to wax his legs, Dean knows it's only a matter of time.
The hornier Sam gets, the more he stops thinking about looking and acting all proper. Seven days in means Sam's brain is pickled in a fog of lust practically 24-7, which is why he's not even embarrassed to be walking around in the panties and bending over from the waist when he drops something, giving Dean a perfect view of his hole and the way it glistens and gapes ever-so-slightly open these days as Dean uses incrementally bigger and bigger plugs.
He waits until Sam's back bent over the library table before he strikes, though. The minute he gets a hand on the back of Sam's neck, his brother practically melts into the table below him. It's easy work then to tug the boxers down lower, elastic biting into the flesh below Sam's ass, and slip his cock into the hole that's still lubed up and ready for him.
Sam's a dream of a fuck these days, tight and always willing, always welcoming, always willing to take whatever Dean's planning on dishing out. Dean lets his weight press Sam down into the table, head just inches from the rare tome he was about to scan in.
"Such a good boy," Dean whispers, fingers wrapping around Sam's throat, pressing just-so-slightly against his windpipe. "This is what you love, isn't it? Being useful… being such a good hole for me." His other hand is busy playing with Sam's nipples, enjoying the moans he can wring out of him. "Just taking what I give you, letting me use you, knowing you can't come even if you want to?"
He slams himself home to the base and swivels his hips, grinding his cock against the spot that he knows will make Sam's dick drool, and Sam whimpers again.
"That's right, Sam, you're such a good little slut for me, such a good little fucktoy." Dean hikes Sam's hips up a bit so he can slide a hand under him, let it run down over the smooth metal of the cock cage. The hole at the tip is dripping with precum, like a faucet that never quite got turned off. Now that's a good metaphor for Sam, he thinks.
"Gonna plug you up again after this," he murmurs. "Let you walk around with my jizz inside you, load after load after load. Would you like that?"
Sam gasps and squeezes, milking Dean's cock.
"Words, Sammy," he says, fucking his brother even harder. "You gotta tell me it's okay if you want me to do that, not gonna do anything without your permission."
Like Sam's gonna say anything but-
"Yes," he gasps out, and for a minute Dean almost thinks he's learned how to come despite his cage. Sam's never accomplished it yet, but Dean knows it's possible. Frankly, The thought's hot enough to tip him over the edge. Just to be on the safe side – and to be a bit of a bastard – he clamps his hand down hard behind the base of the cage, squeezing hard enough that any sperm travelling through his tubes are going to get shot right back into his testicles.
By the way Sam clenches around him, Dean's pretty sure that's exactly what happened. He squeezes again for good measure. "Careful, Sammy. Wouldn't want you to get any of those books dirty, would we?" He slaps him on the ass as he pulls out. "Keep those cheeks squeezed closed, babe. We don't want anything dripping out and making a mess you could slip in."
Good boy that he is, Sam's still in position when he comes back five minutes later with the plug. He can see Sam's legs trembling from the effort of keeping everything tight and secure.
The plug slides in without any difficulty. This one's a little more special – it's got a hose at the end, with a squeeze bulb on it.
"Got a surprise for you, Sammy." As soon as the plug's seated firmly in Sam's ass, Dean squeezes the bulb, enjoying Sam's gasp as the plug expands. He gives it a few more squeezes for good measure, then slides Sam's underwear back up over it all, making sure the bulb sits right outside the elastic. He's curious how big he can get it by the time the afternoon ends – a pump here, a squeeze there, and Sam will be walking more bowlegged than Dean ever did.
"Good boy," Dean murmurs, like a jockey talking down a horse after a race. He strokes his arm down Sam's flank, wiping away the sweat, until the muscles relax under his touch.
Two days from now, Dean'll lie back in his bed and let Sam climb on top and ride him. And maybe – maybe – he'll even let him come. Until then…
"Up," he says, and Sam stands up, eyes still glazed and focused on Dean.
Dean smiles at him, then looks down at the table, at the incriminating pool of pre-cum Sam's left behind, slowly oozing towards the books.
He taps his fingers on the table next to it authoritatively. "Clean it up." And Christ, the sight of Sam obediently bending over and extending his tongue like a kitten lapping up milk is enough to make his dick try to harden despite having just come.
Dean thinks about that collar he's still got stashed in Sam's underwear drawer. Thinks about how pretty it would look around Sam's neck.
Wonders how long it'll take before Sam lets him put a lock through the ring on that, too.
He's pretty sure it won't be long.
~fin~