So, Do You Wanna Have Sex? [Sam/Dean]
Jul. 5th, 2009 07:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hysteriaSoTitle: So, Do You Wanna Have Sex?
Author:hysteria
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Dean Smith/Sam Wesson
Word Count: 1,286
Warnings: A little cracky, PWP, slightly public sex, spoilers for It’s a Terrible Life, Un-beta'd
Summary: Sam Wesson had Dean Smith all, all wrong.
Disclaimer: Don’t own Supernatural, or the character involved.
The elevator ride always seemed to drag on, and Sam would try to start an easy conversation for the long ride down and Dean would brush him off. He'd turn his head, or pull out his Blackberry and act like Sam hadn't said a word, the one time he did say something he was a total ass, asking how the day went didn't qualify as asking to take him home and have his way with him, he'd never seen someone so uptight, so the third time they caught the elevator together he hadn't even planned on trying to be nice this time.
“So do you wanna have sex with me or not?”
“I--what?” Sam looks at the usually quiet, and conservative corporate douche bag with the stick up his ass in utter confusion. It’s when he feels those conservative lips on his that he realizes he had this all wrong, that stick up his ass apparently isn’t always there.
When he pulls back he hears him say something, a name “What?” and even he’s not sure what he sounds like because those soft lips are working down his neck “Dean,” he says “m’name is Dean.”
“Sam,” he groans, hand gripping at Dean’s short hair “Sam.”
“Sammy,” and he can feel Dean grinning against his skin, rough hands pulling his shirt from his pants “s’pretty name.” any other time Sam would correct his but it’s harder than you’d imagine when you’ve got a hand trying to shove it’s way down your pants. It seems like Dean gives up when he practically yanks Sam’s shirt over his head and attaches his lips to his newly exposed flesh, but then he feels fingers pull his belt open and pop the button on his khakis and suddenly it’s perfectly okay that Dean calls him Sammy.
He can feels his pants being pushed down around his ankles, and the hand that was gripping his waist is suddenly in his boxers, and he can hear the sound of Dean’s knees hitting the marble floor, and the ding of the elevator. He glances at the panel and the floor number 42 is lit up, but doesn’t keep his eyes open long enough to see who’s waiting because Dean’s lips wrap around his cock, and it’s hot and wet and perfect. He can hear a gasp coming from the other side of the now closing doors, that could’ve been anyone, could’ve been someone from HR; but all that mattered at the moment were those lips, and his cock.
Dean pulls of his cock with a loud pop and laughs “Two,” he says, licking at the slit of Sam’s dick, and Sam has no idea what he’s talking about “how many more do you think’ll see us?” and suddenly Sam feels like he should be embarrassed, ashamed even but when Dean swallows him back down Sam thinks everyone should be able to see, to feel this once in their life, in his case hopefully more than once.
“Aren’t you worried?” Sam mumbled, and he doesn’t know where it comes from but he looks down at Dean, head bobbing up and down and watches his eyes flutter open and look up at him. “Someone could--”
When he pulls of again, he rises to his feet; and now Sam wishes he would’ve kept his mouth shut and let him keep going “See?” when Dean pushes his lips back against Sam’s his mouth opens out of reaction and he can taste the salty bitter taste still on his tongue, “No, don’t care Sammy.”
He can hear the sound of Dean’s buckle coming undone and he looks down when Dean shoves his pants to the floor, cock flush against his stomach, it takes a moment for Sam to realize Dean’s holding something in front of his face but when he looks up he sees the small bottle of lotion, Dean had been planning this. “Always gotta be prepared,” Dean grins, and Sam can’t help but smile back; because Dean should always be smiling if he looks like that.
He watches Dean put his hands against the wall of the elevator and can’t help but think of how it would look if it were mirrored. He’s squeezing lotion onto his hands when the elevator dings again, Dean’s reaching around to spread his ass as the women gasp, he wants to look over and smile at them but he’s not that brave. There’s still whispering when the doors close, but Sam’s got one finger all the way to the second knuckle and Dean’s practically keening below him. One hand holding Dean there, other teasing him and pushes two lotion-slick fingers inside to the hilt just to hear the greedy sounds Dean’s making. He moves his hand to grip the back of Dean’s neck and when he pulls he’s fingers out Dean makes the most obscene noise, hips thrusting backwards towards him for more “Fuck” and Sam doesn’t know where it comes from “such a slut, Dean.”
“More,” it’s the last thing he expected to hear “please, more Sam.” He can feel the rim stretch around him when he pushes the head in, hand on Dean’s neck gripping tighter to keep him from thrusting back. When he’s flush with Dean’s ass he release his grip on his neck and Dean practically claws his way up the wall to get distance between them, Sam’s almost sure he’s hurt he starts to pull out when Dean thrusts back so hard he almost falls back “Fuck me, Sam” and he can see the light on the floor panel blink again “please.”
Sam’s making the elevator shake from the force of his thrusts, when the bell dings again he sees Dean look over as the door opens and he looks obscene, lips red and puffy face flushed, and he can hear the sound of someone yelling security but he can’t look away from the way Dean’s biting his lip now, because they’re already at floor 17, and that means there’s just 18 left to go. He wraps his fingers around Dean’s cock when the doors close and they start moving again, he pulls hard a few more times and he can feel Dean spurting against the wall, come coating his hand. His hand moves back up to Dean’s hip and he pushes forward until Dean’s flush with the wall, slow strokes upward until he feels him clench tight around him, another dig from the elevator while he’s riding out his orgasm, pumping into Dean. He watches Dean move his face, cheek lying against the wall when the doors open again and he hears Dean “Mr. Adler,” he looks over for the first time and the older man doesn’t even look surprised, like gay sex in an elevator is normal for him he just pushes the button again and watches them while the doors close. He doesn’t ask Dean about it, both of them catching their breath before he pulls out, listening to Dean moan when he pulls his soft cock out.
There’s only three floors left and they’re both rushing to pull up their pants and fix their shirts, Dean’s grabbed his suitcase and is standing by the door when it opens, Sam just moving to pull on his shirt. “Do you have a cigarette?” Sam asks, odd way to break the ice when you’d just finished fucking the guy; but he wasn’t sure what to say, it was all rather sudden.
“It’s a filthy habit.” hey says, not looking over at Sam, who is finally catching up to him.
“That means a lot coming from you,” he snorts “how many floors did we stop at?” he asks, not sure if even Dean noticed all the people watching them.
“Well, ‘round four I think.”
“Think we’re gonna get fired?”
“Be one hell of a way to go out though, wouldn’t it?” Dean grinned, stopping at his car and watching Sam walk past.
"Can say that again." Sam laughed making his way down the next level to his car, he could be possibly losing his job in the morning because he fucked a conservative corporate douche bag (who lost the stick up his ass) in an elevator, that might’ve opened up four times along the way.
He really needed this job, but what a way to go.
Author:
hysteriaRating: NC-17
Pairing: Dean Smith/Sam Wesson
Word Count: 1,286
Warnings: A little cracky, PWP, slightly public sex, spoilers for It’s a Terrible Life, Un-beta'd
Summary: Sam Wesson had Dean Smith all, all wrong.
Disclaimer: Don’t own Supernatural, or the character involved.
The elevator ride always seemed to drag on, and Sam would try to start an easy conversation for the long ride down and Dean would brush him off. He'd turn his head, or pull out his Blackberry and act like Sam hadn't said a word, the one time he did say something he was a total ass, asking how the day went didn't qualify as asking to take him home and have his way with him, he'd never seen someone so uptight, so the third time they caught the elevator together he hadn't even planned on trying to be nice this time.
“So do you wanna have sex with me or not?”
“I--what?” Sam looks at the usually quiet, and conservative corporate douche bag with the stick up his ass in utter confusion. It’s when he feels those conservative lips on his that he realizes he had this all wrong, that stick up his ass apparently isn’t always there.
When he pulls back he hears him say something, a name “What?” and even he’s not sure what he sounds like because those soft lips are working down his neck “Dean,” he says “m’name is Dean.”
“Sam,” he groans, hand gripping at Dean’s short hair “Sam.”
“Sammy,” and he can feel Dean grinning against his skin, rough hands pulling his shirt from his pants “s’pretty name.” any other time Sam would correct his but it’s harder than you’d imagine when you’ve got a hand trying to shove it’s way down your pants. It seems like Dean gives up when he practically yanks Sam’s shirt over his head and attaches his lips to his newly exposed flesh, but then he feels fingers pull his belt open and pop the button on his khakis and suddenly it’s perfectly okay that Dean calls him Sammy.
He can feels his pants being pushed down around his ankles, and the hand that was gripping his waist is suddenly in his boxers, and he can hear the sound of Dean’s knees hitting the marble floor, and the ding of the elevator. He glances at the panel and the floor number 42 is lit up, but doesn’t keep his eyes open long enough to see who’s waiting because Dean’s lips wrap around his cock, and it’s hot and wet and perfect. He can hear a gasp coming from the other side of the now closing doors, that could’ve been anyone, could’ve been someone from HR; but all that mattered at the moment were those lips, and his cock.
Dean pulls of his cock with a loud pop and laughs “Two,” he says, licking at the slit of Sam’s dick, and Sam has no idea what he’s talking about “how many more do you think’ll see us?” and suddenly Sam feels like he should be embarrassed, ashamed even but when Dean swallows him back down Sam thinks everyone should be able to see, to feel this once in their life, in his case hopefully more than once.
“Aren’t you worried?” Sam mumbled, and he doesn’t know where it comes from but he looks down at Dean, head bobbing up and down and watches his eyes flutter open and look up at him. “Someone could--”
When he pulls of again, he rises to his feet; and now Sam wishes he would’ve kept his mouth shut and let him keep going “See?” when Dean pushes his lips back against Sam’s his mouth opens out of reaction and he can taste the salty bitter taste still on his tongue, “No, don’t care Sammy.”
He can hear the sound of Dean’s buckle coming undone and he looks down when Dean shoves his pants to the floor, cock flush against his stomach, it takes a moment for Sam to realize Dean’s holding something in front of his face but when he looks up he sees the small bottle of lotion, Dean had been planning this. “Always gotta be prepared,” Dean grins, and Sam can’t help but smile back; because Dean should always be smiling if he looks like that.
He watches Dean put his hands against the wall of the elevator and can’t help but think of how it would look if it were mirrored. He’s squeezing lotion onto his hands when the elevator dings again, Dean’s reaching around to spread his ass as the women gasp, he wants to look over and smile at them but he’s not that brave. There’s still whispering when the doors close, but Sam’s got one finger all the way to the second knuckle and Dean’s practically keening below him. One hand holding Dean there, other teasing him and pushes two lotion-slick fingers inside to the hilt just to hear the greedy sounds Dean’s making. He moves his hand to grip the back of Dean’s neck and when he pulls he’s fingers out Dean makes the most obscene noise, hips thrusting backwards towards him for more “Fuck” and Sam doesn’t know where it comes from “such a slut, Dean.”
“More,” it’s the last thing he expected to hear “please, more Sam.” He can feel the rim stretch around him when he pushes the head in, hand on Dean’s neck gripping tighter to keep him from thrusting back. When he’s flush with Dean’s ass he release his grip on his neck and Dean practically claws his way up the wall to get distance between them, Sam’s almost sure he’s hurt he starts to pull out when Dean thrusts back so hard he almost falls back “Fuck me, Sam” and he can see the light on the floor panel blink again “please.”
Sam’s making the elevator shake from the force of his thrusts, when the bell dings again he sees Dean look over as the door opens and he looks obscene, lips red and puffy face flushed, and he can hear the sound of someone yelling security but he can’t look away from the way Dean’s biting his lip now, because they’re already at floor 17, and that means there’s just 18 left to go. He wraps his fingers around Dean’s cock when the doors close and they start moving again, he pulls hard a few more times and he can feel Dean spurting against the wall, come coating his hand. His hand moves back up to Dean’s hip and he pushes forward until Dean’s flush with the wall, slow strokes upward until he feels him clench tight around him, another dig from the elevator while he’s riding out his orgasm, pumping into Dean. He watches Dean move his face, cheek lying against the wall when the doors open again and he hears Dean “Mr. Adler,” he looks over for the first time and the older man doesn’t even look surprised, like gay sex in an elevator is normal for him he just pushes the button again and watches them while the doors close. He doesn’t ask Dean about it, both of them catching their breath before he pulls out, listening to Dean moan when he pulls his soft cock out.
There’s only three floors left and they’re both rushing to pull up their pants and fix their shirts, Dean’s grabbed his suitcase and is standing by the door when it opens, Sam just moving to pull on his shirt. “Do you have a cigarette?” Sam asks, odd way to break the ice when you’d just finished fucking the guy; but he wasn’t sure what to say, it was all rather sudden.
“It’s a filthy habit.” hey says, not looking over at Sam, who is finally catching up to him.
“That means a lot coming from you,” he snorts “how many floors did we stop at?” he asks, not sure if even Dean noticed all the people watching them.
“Well, ‘round four I think.”
“Think we’re gonna get fired?”
“Be one hell of a way to go out though, wouldn’t it?” Dean grinned, stopping at his car and watching Sam walk past.
"Can say that again." Sam laughed making his way down the next level to his car, he could be possibly losing his job in the morning because he fucked a conservative corporate douche bag (who lost the stick up his ass) in an elevator, that might’ve opened up four times along the way.
He really needed this job, but what a way to go.
