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exeterlindenFandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/OFC, Sam, preslash
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Underage character (Sam, 14 years old)
Summary: Sam only learned Clarissa’s name because Dean moaned it when they started making out, making it sound intimate and familiar even though Sam knew that Dean couldn't have known her for more than four hours.
Notes: First SPN fic! First of four short stories (can be read separately). Thank you so much toshay_renoylds and mad_server for beta.
Clarissa
It started with Clarissa.
In '97, John dragged Sam and Dean out of school to go on a hunt for a poltergeist in Vermont. He took them 600 miles north, only to decide that the hunt was too dangerous for them to come along and leave both of them at the motel to go hunting during the night.
Dean grumbled about being left behind, but he never complained openly to their father; not like Sam had when he'd been told that they were going on a hunt in the week of his history project - and in the week where he had a date with Josie who, two days ago, had let him slide his hand under her t-shirt to touch her soft, warm stomach.
Sam now lay on the fold-out bed in the far corner from the queen beds that Dean and their dad had laid claim to. He'd grown too tall for the motel fold-outs, lately. His shins were resting uncomfortably on the metal frame and the thin mattress was sagging in the middle, swallowing him up like a hammock. He was awake, he hadn't been able to sleep yet, although he'd pretended to so that Dean would sneak out and leave him alone.
Six hours earlier Dean had been hunched beside him on the steps of the motel stairs, shoulder to shoulder, staring out at the road the Impala had disappeared down, waiting out Sam's rage in silence. Sam knew that most of the time Dean didn't get why he was angry with their father, because Dean never pretended to, but he was always there just the same.
Sometimes though, he just needed for Dean not to try to make it better.
Sam was still awake, watching headlights trail across the walls as cars passed by on the road and listening to the hum of the neon sign outside their window, when Dean returned with Clarissa. Dean had never brought anyone home before.
Sam only learned Clarissa’s name because Dean moaned it when they started making out, making it sound intimate and familiar even though Sam knew that Dean couldn't have known her for more than four hours. Dean held her head between his hands, resting his forehead against hers while they carried out a whispered conversation in the doorway before coming into the room and closing the door behind them. The smell of cigarettes and beer wafted thickly across the room as they moved inside, still tangled up in each other.
Sam burrowed further into the mattress and pulled the blanket up around his face. He didn't know what else to do. He could feel his face burning; surprise had washed the anger straight out of him.
Dean didn't turn on the lights, and Sam fervently hoped that the neon-fused half-dark would leave him unnoticed. He didn't have anywhere else to go.
Clarissa moved away from Dean and walked to his bed. She pulled her panties off underneath her skirt without preamble, shifting her weight to get them out from under her feet. She pushed herself onto the bed as Dean walked up to her, toeing off his boots and undoing his jeans.
Dean walked with a limp because he had sprained a muscle in his thigh aiming a high kick at their dad's throat in a sparring session. The inside of his left underarm was mottled with purple bruises from archery practice.
Those bruises had gotten Sam pulled into their principal's office. "Is everything okay at home Sam? Are you and your brother doing okay?" Dean was eighteen and dressed in torn jeans and a leather jacket. He skipped classes and drank beer and knew how to hold his own in a fight. Sam knew that the principal was asking him because all the teachers believed his brother to be beyond reach. Sam also knew that every pretty, rebellious high school girl wanted to sleep with Dean.
Clarissa was straining up towards Dean to reach his mouth as he crawled onto the bed on top of her, his jeans bunched losely around his waist, sliding down the low of his back as he moved. Sam had to close his eyes for a minute. This was nothing like Sam's own experiences; nothing like Josie and the small, downy hairs on her stomach; her shy, sweet-tasting tongue. The way her breathing had quickened against his lips, her pulse strong and fast against the skin of his palm.
He opened his eyes again when Clarissa moaned.
Clarissa was taller than Dean. Her long legs were spread and bent wide on each side of his and still her white socks were being pushed down her ankles by his dirty brown feet. She had sleek blond hair that fanned out around her head, and she was wearing a a short skirt that rode up to reveal her hipbone, the smooth muscle of her buttock. Dean's ass was flexing tightly as he thrust into her and she was moaning, sounding surprised somehow, maybe faking it a little bit.
The spring mattress was creaking, the wood frame groaning, and Sam was straining to hear what his brother was whispering in between their noisy, breathless kissing. He felt too hot beneath his comforter; his dick was getting hard, his own breathing was loud in his ears in the cocoon of his blanket.
He watched Dean's hand caressing Clarissa's baby smooth skin stretched out over a grown up body; sliding underneath her top, then down her stomach and down between her legs.
Sam knew the touch of that hand ruffling his hair, patting his shoulder like he was still twelve years old.
The last couple of years it seemed like the age gap between them had grown, and Dean had become someone slightly different. He thought about Dean dusty and sweaty, smelling like candy or grease. Coming home from hunts bleeding and bruised. Lately, coming home from bars smelling like beer and smoke, and sometimes sweet and strong and alien.
Dad was bringing Dean on hunts now, he was letting him drive, he pretended not to know about Dean sneaking out at night and coming home in the early morning. Sometimes Sam was sick with envy, most of the time he was desperate to be Dean, or to just get back Dean's attention. He had this vague sense of a world just outside his reach which Dean inhabited.
Sam turned around on his bed, careful not to make a sound, carefully ignoring his stupid, hard dick. He stared into the wall and tried not to listen; something hot and shameful building up inside him.
It used to be there wasn't anything he didn't know about his brother.
He stared determinedly at the moss green wallpaper, almost black in the sparse lighting; one hand clenching his pillow, the other in a fist by his side. Trying not to listen.
When he gave in and turned back around, he saw Clarissa slipping her panties on and kissing Dean deeply before heading for the door. Dean stayed sitting, watching her leave before pushing himself off the bed and shrugging out of his shirt, pushing his jeans down and stepping out of them.
He stretched with his hands on the small of his back, pushing his hips forward. His hipbones stood out clearly under the tight skin, his dick was red and huge looking, still half hard.
Sam had never seen him like this. Naked, Dean looked small and compact; way too muscled for an eighteen-year-old, no fat on his body. It was probably the reason he had turned out shorter than Sam and their dad: too much training, too young; Dean had always been too eager, pushing to prove himself able to come hunting.
He walked to the window, limbs loose, running a casual hand down his stomach and brushing through his pubic hair, scratching idly with a lack of modesty that convinced Sam that he was sure he was unwatched. In the neon light he could see a slight sheen of sweat dewing on his shoulders.
Sam could tell the moment Dean became aware of him in the room- his back tensing up - so he had his eyes screwed tightly shut before Dean was finished turning towards him.
"Sam?"
Sam could hear the alcohol in his slurred, drawn out voice. He knew that Dean probably couldn't see him clearly in the shadows, but he still had a childish urge to hide beneath his blanket.
"Sammy, you awake?"
He could hear Dean shifting his weight on his feet, the floorboards creaking. He stood there for what seemed to Sam like a long time, and then he turned away.
Dean went to the bathroom, and when Sam heard the shower turning on he put his hand in his damp boxers and jerked off quietly and quickly into the tight circle of his thumb and forefinger, with his eyes carefully trained on the bathroom door.
He got this feeling, this sense of possibilities, then. Nothing really clear, just the sense of something. Watching Dean the next day, listening to him hum under his breath in the passenger seat in front of him. Watching the stretch of his leg with his foot resting on the dashboard, his fingers tapping out a rhythm on his knee; feeling like he was seeing someone new.
Part 2: Marianne
Pairing: Dean/OFC, Sam, preslash
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Underage character (Sam, 14 years old)
Summary: Sam only learned Clarissa’s name because Dean moaned it when they started making out, making it sound intimate and familiar even though Sam knew that Dean couldn't have known her for more than four hours.
Notes: First SPN fic! First of four short stories (can be read separately). Thank you so much to
shay_renoylds and mad_server for beta.Clarissa
It started with Clarissa.
In '97, John dragged Sam and Dean out of school to go on a hunt for a poltergeist in Vermont. He took them 600 miles north, only to decide that the hunt was too dangerous for them to come along and leave both of them at the motel to go hunting during the night.
Dean grumbled about being left behind, but he never complained openly to their father; not like Sam had when he'd been told that they were going on a hunt in the week of his history project - and in the week where he had a date with Josie who, two days ago, had let him slide his hand under her t-shirt to touch her soft, warm stomach.
Sam now lay on the fold-out bed in the far corner from the queen beds that Dean and their dad had laid claim to. He'd grown too tall for the motel fold-outs, lately. His shins were resting uncomfortably on the metal frame and the thin mattress was sagging in the middle, swallowing him up like a hammock. He was awake, he hadn't been able to sleep yet, although he'd pretended to so that Dean would sneak out and leave him alone.
Six hours earlier Dean had been hunched beside him on the steps of the motel stairs, shoulder to shoulder, staring out at the road the Impala had disappeared down, waiting out Sam's rage in silence. Sam knew that most of the time Dean didn't get why he was angry with their father, because Dean never pretended to, but he was always there just the same.
Sometimes though, he just needed for Dean not to try to make it better.
Sam was still awake, watching headlights trail across the walls as cars passed by on the road and listening to the hum of the neon sign outside their window, when Dean returned with Clarissa. Dean had never brought anyone home before.
Sam only learned Clarissa’s name because Dean moaned it when they started making out, making it sound intimate and familiar even though Sam knew that Dean couldn't have known her for more than four hours. Dean held her head between his hands, resting his forehead against hers while they carried out a whispered conversation in the doorway before coming into the room and closing the door behind them. The smell of cigarettes and beer wafted thickly across the room as they moved inside, still tangled up in each other.
Sam burrowed further into the mattress and pulled the blanket up around his face. He didn't know what else to do. He could feel his face burning; surprise had washed the anger straight out of him.
Dean didn't turn on the lights, and Sam fervently hoped that the neon-fused half-dark would leave him unnoticed. He didn't have anywhere else to go.
Clarissa moved away from Dean and walked to his bed. She pulled her panties off underneath her skirt without preamble, shifting her weight to get them out from under her feet. She pushed herself onto the bed as Dean walked up to her, toeing off his boots and undoing his jeans.
Dean walked with a limp because he had sprained a muscle in his thigh aiming a high kick at their dad's throat in a sparring session. The inside of his left underarm was mottled with purple bruises from archery practice.
Those bruises had gotten Sam pulled into their principal's office. "Is everything okay at home Sam? Are you and your brother doing okay?" Dean was eighteen and dressed in torn jeans and a leather jacket. He skipped classes and drank beer and knew how to hold his own in a fight. Sam knew that the principal was asking him because all the teachers believed his brother to be beyond reach. Sam also knew that every pretty, rebellious high school girl wanted to sleep with Dean.
Clarissa was straining up towards Dean to reach his mouth as he crawled onto the bed on top of her, his jeans bunched losely around his waist, sliding down the low of his back as he moved. Sam had to close his eyes for a minute. This was nothing like Sam's own experiences; nothing like Josie and the small, downy hairs on her stomach; her shy, sweet-tasting tongue. The way her breathing had quickened against his lips, her pulse strong and fast against the skin of his palm.
He opened his eyes again when Clarissa moaned.
Clarissa was taller than Dean. Her long legs were spread and bent wide on each side of his and still her white socks were being pushed down her ankles by his dirty brown feet. She had sleek blond hair that fanned out around her head, and she was wearing a a short skirt that rode up to reveal her hipbone, the smooth muscle of her buttock. Dean's ass was flexing tightly as he thrust into her and she was moaning, sounding surprised somehow, maybe faking it a little bit.
The spring mattress was creaking, the wood frame groaning, and Sam was straining to hear what his brother was whispering in between their noisy, breathless kissing. He felt too hot beneath his comforter; his dick was getting hard, his own breathing was loud in his ears in the cocoon of his blanket.
He watched Dean's hand caressing Clarissa's baby smooth skin stretched out over a grown up body; sliding underneath her top, then down her stomach and down between her legs.
Sam knew the touch of that hand ruffling his hair, patting his shoulder like he was still twelve years old.
The last couple of years it seemed like the age gap between them had grown, and Dean had become someone slightly different. He thought about Dean dusty and sweaty, smelling like candy or grease. Coming home from hunts bleeding and bruised. Lately, coming home from bars smelling like beer and smoke, and sometimes sweet and strong and alien.
Dad was bringing Dean on hunts now, he was letting him drive, he pretended not to know about Dean sneaking out at night and coming home in the early morning. Sometimes Sam was sick with envy, most of the time he was desperate to be Dean, or to just get back Dean's attention. He had this vague sense of a world just outside his reach which Dean inhabited.
Sam turned around on his bed, careful not to make a sound, carefully ignoring his stupid, hard dick. He stared into the wall and tried not to listen; something hot and shameful building up inside him.
It used to be there wasn't anything he didn't know about his brother.
He stared determinedly at the moss green wallpaper, almost black in the sparse lighting; one hand clenching his pillow, the other in a fist by his side. Trying not to listen.
When he gave in and turned back around, he saw Clarissa slipping her panties on and kissing Dean deeply before heading for the door. Dean stayed sitting, watching her leave before pushing himself off the bed and shrugging out of his shirt, pushing his jeans down and stepping out of them.
He stretched with his hands on the small of his back, pushing his hips forward. His hipbones stood out clearly under the tight skin, his dick was red and huge looking, still half hard.
Sam had never seen him like this. Naked, Dean looked small and compact; way too muscled for an eighteen-year-old, no fat on his body. It was probably the reason he had turned out shorter than Sam and their dad: too much training, too young; Dean had always been too eager, pushing to prove himself able to come hunting.
He walked to the window, limbs loose, running a casual hand down his stomach and brushing through his pubic hair, scratching idly with a lack of modesty that convinced Sam that he was sure he was unwatched. In the neon light he could see a slight sheen of sweat dewing on his shoulders.
Sam could tell the moment Dean became aware of him in the room- his back tensing up - so he had his eyes screwed tightly shut before Dean was finished turning towards him.
"Sam?"
Sam could hear the alcohol in his slurred, drawn out voice. He knew that Dean probably couldn't see him clearly in the shadows, but he still had a childish urge to hide beneath his blanket.
"Sammy, you awake?"
He could hear Dean shifting his weight on his feet, the floorboards creaking. He stood there for what seemed to Sam like a long time, and then he turned away.
Dean went to the bathroom, and when Sam heard the shower turning on he put his hand in his damp boxers and jerked off quietly and quickly into the tight circle of his thumb and forefinger, with his eyes carefully trained on the bathroom door.
He got this feeling, this sense of possibilities, then. Nothing really clear, just the sense of something. Watching Dean the next day, listening to him hum under his breath in the passenger seat in front of him. Watching the stretch of his leg with his foot resting on the dashboard, his fingers tapping out a rhythm on his knee; feeling like he was seeing someone new.
Part 2: Marianne
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2008-03-11 10:37 am (UTC)MORE?????
keep up the good work:)
lots of hugz
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Date: 2008-03-11 03:22 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-03-11 10:14 pm (UTC)Looking forward to more,
Lynsey
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Date: 2008-03-11 11:53 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-05-02 07:57 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-05-02 10:08 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-05-03 01:46 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-05-03 04:14 pm (UTC)