#teencest

[samdeecest]

touchy-feely manhandly hands aren’t incest. It’s just how normal brothers touch each other.

[deansbambi]

weecest/teencest but it's Dean blowing raspberries on Sam's stomach to make him shriek with laughter like he always does.

eventually though, those shrieks and giggles peter out into little breathy gasps, whimpers and mewls as Dean focuses less on blowing on Sammy's tummy and, well... just blowing him.

[brotherfucker69]

Sams so drunk he can barley think

Hes situated in Dean's lap. His own thighs are on either side of Dean's and theyre on the shitty motel bed. Just an hour ago dean had walked in with a cheap bottle of bottom shelf whiskey, bought with his new fake id. John wasn't expected back for a few more days, so dean said yes.

But now, as dean tilts the bottle to his lips, Sam cant help but wonder how long its been. When he goes cross eyed looking at the whiskey he can see its almost empty- a few swigs of amber settle at the bottom. But he just cant quite connect the dots all the way.

Dean likes him like that

Likes it when his genius baby brother is reduced to a pliant mass in his lap. When he cant do anything but stare at dean with his big glazed eyes and be hand fed liquor.

The closest thing sam can do is realize that hes hard as a rock. And dean might be too, but hes not sure. That would mean looking away to check and he doesn't wanna do that.

instead, he takes another gulp and lets it burn down his throat. And when dean mutters out a, good boy Sammy, his brain fires. It makes his hips buck and a whimper fall from his lips.

Dean knows this is wrong, but when he meets his hips to sams and more pretty noises fall, he just cant stop.

[brotherlylovestory]

Sam catches Dean jacking off when Dean is 16 and he’s 12. Sam opens the motel room to Dean holding a magazine in one hand, his cock in the other. A gasp escapes Sam’s lips and he freezes in the doorway. Dean looks mortified and covers his dick with the skin mag. They stay in confused silence for a second, Dean expecting Sam to make some grossed out comment and bolt, but Sam just gulps and closes the door behind himself.

“Dude… oh my god!” Dean waits for Sam to do something, say something, LEAVE, but he just stands there in a trance looking at Dean get more and more flushed. Sam’s eyes meet Dean’s for the first time and Dean thinks Sam almost looks… curious.

“Privacy!” Dean chokes out, trying to yell but coming out more like a croak. He’s desperate. Sam hasn’t looked away once, a glint in his eyes Dean has never seen before. He was about to cum before Sam came home, and now having his little brother look at him like this— not that he could say exactly what “this” is— it’s making it hard to form sentences.

“It’s fine, I don’t mind.” Sam tries to say it casually to not freak Dean out, tries not to look as needy as he feels so Dean doesn’t see what Sam really wants. Sam doesn’t realize how obvious he is, how a normal little brother would have covered his eyes, how a normal little brother would be gone before they could make eye contact.

Dean should tell him to get out, or lock himself in the bathroom, or—

Sam moves closer to the lounge chair Dean is sitting in, jeans as his ankles, skin mag covering his dick pulled through his boxers. Dean leans backwards to put more space between them, but Sam is within reach now and Dean feels so electric he can’t even think. Sam uses all his confidence to ask “Can I look at that?” He points to the magazine, but they both know it’s not really what he’s pointing at.

Dean’s eyes are wild with nerves. He doesn’t want to say no, couldn’t say no to his brother, but can’t say yes. Sam knows. So he grabs the magazine from right off his lap, pretends to look at it for a brief second before fixing his eyes on Dean’s hard cock in plain view for the first time in his life. It’s dripping and twitching, and Sam lets out a nearly inaudible “woah…” not really meaning to.

Shit. Fuck. Shit. He fumbles over a few sentence starts before he lands on “This must be some good stuff!” God I’m so fucking stupid.

Sam tunnel visions onto the magazine and tries to pretend he didn’t just fucking audibly gasp at his brother’s cock.

Dean tries to form a word, any coherent thought, but he can’t say any of it out loud. Does he want what I want? He can’t want this. He’s my baby brother.

Sam is brimming with a tingly feeling, he’s hot in his thighs, his stomach, his face. He tries not to care that Dean can probably see how hard he’s blushing now. Maybe he’ll think it’s from the pictures. Sam decides to sit in the lounge chair next to him so his already growing erection isn’t as obvious. Sam focuses on the mag, and flips to a page with two women fingering themselves side by side and kissing.

He knows Dean won’t say yes if he really asks, so he places the spread on the coffee table in front of them and looks at Dean wide-eyed if to silently ask Can I join?

Dean thinks This can’t be real. I’m going to hell for this.

Dean nods.

The next moment Sam is reaching his hand into his own pants. He’s seen this in porn before, where guys jack off together. It doesn’t have to mean anything. He’s also seen the ones where it does mean something. But right now, he gets to sit with Dean, finally in on one of the few things that seem to bring Dean real pleasure. Sam closes his eyes hard, trying to push down the nerves and focus on the better butterflies he’s getting from being able to hang out with Dean like this. Sam lets out a breathy sigh, settling into his chair and letting his head fall back.

Sam swallows, trying to stifle the urge to look at Dean. If only he could see how Dean was leering at him now, watching Sam’s new Adam’s apple bobbing, trying to swallow his own urge but failing. Sam’s head rocks back down and his eyes flutter open and try to steal a glance at Dean, to see if he’s started up again. His hand isn’t on his cock. Sam looks up to his face, and Dean’s pink tongue tentatively wets his bottom lip. His gaze is firmly on Sam’s fist in his pants. Sam’s eyes widen and he wonders for the first time if maybe his want isn’t just one way. Dean’s eyes flick up to meet Sam’s, and he realizes Sam knows he was watching him.

Both of their faces are so red you’d think it was sunburn.

A hot, wet ocean of shame crashes over Dean. Fuck, he knows. He knows what a creep I am and he’s never going to be able to look at me the same. He’s just a kid, I’m such a fucking pervert—

Looking at Dean’s absent gaze, Sam can tell Dean’s fears outweighs his own, for once in their lives. He wants to do the brave thing, so he thinks what Dean would do— probably make a joke to lighten the tension, say something cool and suave like It’s weird if I’m doing this all by myself.

But Sam isn’t really thinking straight. He does something even braver. He lets the moment happen and leans into his own pleasure as he starts to moan, still staring directly at his big brother.

Realization washes over Dean as he realizes this is exactly what Sam wants, too. All the blood in his head is rushing to his dick and he can’t think of anything to say other than “Oh, Sammy.”

Sam’s breath hitches multiple times as he lets out an uncontrollable whimper at hearing his own name. “Please…” Sammy says, not quite sure what he’s even asking for until he’s turning his whole body towards Dean, placing his left hand on his knee. Dean is shaking. Sam goes to make eye contact but gets caught on his lips. He doesn’t think, he just leans in.

The kiss is pillow-soft and Sam can feel himself floating. Dean quivers against Sam’s lips and everything is just too much, too perfect, and his hips buck up as he comes on himself. He pulls back from the kiss and moans as he continues to finish, another spurt landing on his t shirt. Sam is simply in awe at how gorgeous Dean is when he’s allowed to enjoy himself. Before Dean’s pleasure has a chance to turn to shame at how quick he’s cum, Sam says in earnest “Wow, you must love me a lot.”

Deans eyes are closed and he just whimpers, unable to fully comprehend what just happened, that his dream came true, that Sam doesn’t even care that he came too soon. His lashes get damp and he opens his eyes to see Sam staring in adoration at Dean’s spent cock. He whimpers again and Sam looks up at him, smiles and says “I’m so happy you get to know how much I love you now,” as he leans in to kiss his big brother again.

[winchester-sympathizer]

torn between dean hating that sammy is taller than him and him loving he can still make the big man bottom

[samdeanlvr]

Samdean sex tape is real. Trust me. I’ve seen it.

[according2thelore]

john gets fourteen-year-old sammy a protection charm to keep in his pocket. it's supposed to heat up when he's in danger, which in sam's opinion, is about as helpful as having a personal alarm that only goes off once he's already been shot, and he tells john this pointedly.

john just says it'll give him and dean a few extra seconds to get their guards up--hit them with their fists up instead of unawares. dean thinks it's a great idea and implores sam to keep it. sam shrugs. it's about the size and width of a half-dollar, bronze in colour, and unobtrusive in his jeans pocket, so he keeps it on him.

sam and dean are left alone in the motel room while john prowls a nearby bar for info, and sam and dean are sprawled across the two beds. sam is reading a book on his back, holding the book above his head. the sleeves of his jacket gape and settle down near his elbows, a few sizes too large. his hair is mussed on the pillows, and he chews on his lip absently as he reads. dean is on his stomach on the other bed, ostensibly reading a magazine, but his eyes are riveted to the sliver of sam's stomach where his shirt has ridden up.

the skin is smooth and never-seen-sun pale, a little mole next to his navel that drives dean a little crazy. his eyes glaze over as he imagines hooking a finger underneath sam's shirt and skimming a hand up his stomach. would he squirm, like when dean tickled him? would he arch into it? or instead, dean pulling the rough denim waistband of his jeans down, instead, hooking a thumb into the belt loop. fuck, he wouldn't even have to unbutton the pants--they're his own hand-me-downs, and the waistband gapes a bit on sam's narrow hips. dean--

sam yelps, and drops the book. it clatters to the floor, and dean jerks to attention, hiding his guilty half-mast against the mattress as sam begins to squirm. he fumbles at his waistband, and for a blinding moment, dean thinks he's going to pull his jeans right off those hips, that he heard dean--but sam fumbles in his pockets and comes out with the protection charm. he flings it down on the mattress and shakes his hand like it's burned.

"fuck!" he hisses, "that almost burned a hole straight through my pants!"

the charm bounces to a stop on the mattress, no longer bronze but red-hot.

"just now?" dean asks, heartbeat in his throat and mouth bone-dry.

sam is still shaking his hand out, staring at the charm on the bed. "yeah," he says. he casts a look around the motel room. "unless it thinks a paper-cut is a nuclear-level threat, it must be defective."

but it's not, dean knows. there is only one danger that poses a threat to sam in this room. and the charm fucking knows it. he gets up, puts his shoes on, and stumbles out of the motel room without another word.

[tripledeanburger]

An older drawing I did of dog and puppy Dean and Sammy :P ~M