kathierif_fic: (fandom: supernatural)
[personal profile] kathierif_fic
Title: Please The Gods
Author: Kathie
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam Winchester/Dean Winchester
Rating: FRAO
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be and never were.
Warnings: Incest
Word Count: 1,357 words
Summary: Burning the incense, the witch had said, would eliminate the supernatural presence. She did not say that it was also an aphrodisiac…
Author’s Notes: For [livejournal.com profile] kink_bingo, prompt: Drugs. Many thanks to [livejournal.com profile] nerfgunqueen and [livejournal.com profile] a2h for the support. Without you, I would never have finished it.

~*+*~

“Are you sure this works?”

Sam looked down at Dean with a frown. They were currently in the basement of an old, almost abandoned house, in the middle of the night, working.

“The witch said so,” Dean replied with a shrug and shifted another brick into place. “And Bobby said she’s okay, so.”

“Yeah, but…a witch?” Sam asked, doubt filling his voice and causing his forehead to crinkle into a deeper frown.

“Dude,” Dean replied and looked up finally. “We hunt demons for a living. Why not a witch?”

Sam only stared at him for a moment longer, but he didn’t say anything else.

They had agreed to clean the house from its supernatural influence as a favor for one of John’s old friends, and so far, nothing they had tried had worked.

Short of burning down the entire building, this was the last thing they could do.

And Sam knew it.

Sighing, he drew the last symbol with chalk on the floor, following the instructions the witch had given them to the letter. Dean was kneeling in the center of the room, putting the finishing touches to the little altar he’d built.

“What now?” he asked and sat back on his heels.

“Burn the incense, the witch said,” Sam replied and tossed the little linen bag to his brother. “To drive away the demon and please the gods. It should get rid of every ghost activity in the house.”

Dean raised both eyebrows, but he refrained from commenting as he put the little bundle on top of the bricks and started to lit the candles they’d placed around the room. After a brief moment of hesitation, Sam moved to help him.

Dean looked as if he wanted to say something, but he bit his lip as he lit the last candle and then kneeled down to set the little bag on fire, just as the witch had instructed them. Smoke and an intense smell filled the room, making it hard to see anything.

Sam coughed as he collapsed next to Dean. “Man, this is bad,” he wheezed. “How long do we have to stay here?”

“Until it’s gone,” Dean replied and waved a hand in front of his face. “We want to finish this one off, Sammy.”

Sam rolled his eyes, but if Dean even saw it, he ignored it. They sat silently, their shoulders touching, eyes watering and burning while the smell of sandalwood, vanilla and something else neither of them could quite identify filled their nostrils.

Finally, Dean shifted, brushing accidentally against Sam and rousing him from the quiet, almost meditative state he was in. Sam turned to look at Dean, and they stared at each other for a long moment.

“Sammy…” Dean licked his lips nervously.

“Dean,” Sam replied, his voice rough and cracking. His hand reached out, to grip Dean’s shoulder, but for some reason he couldn’t quite understand, he ended up with his hand wrapped around the nape of Dean’s neck, feeling the soft, short hair tickle his palm, and then he pulled Dean close to him and their lips met in a feverish kiss.

Dean made a sound of protest deep in his throat, but it was soon muffled by Sam’s tongue, pushing along the raspy surface of his own and curling against it while their teeth clacked together. Sam’s fingers were running down his chest and over his sides, tugging insistently at the shirt he was wearing, slipping the buttons out of their holes with unsteady, impatient fingers. He pushed it off Dean’s shoulders and pushed the t-shirt he wore underneath up, to reach the hot skin underneath.

“Damn,” Dean rasped as he finally managed to tear away from the kiss.

“What?” Sam murmured, his nose pressed to Dean’s jaw while he was sucking and biting along his throat. “Dean?”

“That damn witch didn’t mention that this incense is some sort of aphrodisiac,” Dean moaned and pressed himself against Sam’s palms.

“You mean,” Sam asked in between bites along his collarbone, “She drugged us? On purpose?”

“Yeah,” Dean moaned, only belatedly realizing that his hands were tracing random patterns on Sam’s well-muscled stomach. He tried to pull away and only succeeded in ripping Sam’s shirt.

“Dude!” Sam groaned. “My shirt!”

“That bitch,” Dean panted, his head falling back and giving Sam more access to his throat. “We should’ve asked her which gods she wanted us to please!”

“Too late now,” Sam replied with another bite to his throat. Stubble rasped against stubble as he moved to kiss Dean again. “We should leave.”

“Yeah,” Dean replied. One of his hands was squeezing Sam’s ass, and he pulled his brother down on top of himself. Sam went willingly, his hands busy to unbutton and unzip Dean’s pants and pushing them down to mid-thigh.

“Dude, you’re heavy,” Dean groaned, pushing himself against Sam and rubbing against him.

“Dean,” Sam moaned brokenly, rolling them around until they were on their sides. He impatiently shoved at his own pants, barely stopping long enough to unbuckle his belt and pushing the button of his jeans through its hole.

Dean’s fingers were getting in his way, yanking down his zipper and reaching inside, to rub his fingertips over the front of Sam’s boxer briefs. Sam’s hips flexed, and he moaned into Dean’s shoulder while wrapping one arm around Dean and pulling him tight against his chest. Dean thanked him by biting at his pec, the sensation adding to the arousal already running through Sam’s bloodstream.

He reached down and pushed his underwear out of the way. The sudden freedom from the constrictive piece of clothing almost made him sob in relief, and he wrapped his hand around his hard and leaking dick and stroked himself firmly, spreading the slick pre-come down his shaft.

“Sammy,” Dean moaned, squirming and pressing himself more firmly against Sam’s body. “Sam…”

“I got you,” Sam promised and wrapped his hand around Dean’s erection, stroking both of them slowly. “I take care of you, Dean.”

Dean laughed sharply and arched into the contact. “My job,” he murmured breathlessly. “Not yours.”

“Tough,” Sam grunted, his strokes speeding up and his free hand reaching down to fondle Dean’s balls and roll them around in his palm. “Come on, Dean. Dean…”

Dean hissed and bit down again, sucking on Sam’s chest until a dark red bruise blossomed under his lips and teeth, and Sam’s hips snapped forward, into his own hand, once, twice, three times, and he came with a soft whimper that, he immediately knew, would make Dean make fun of him for a long time to come.

“Sammy,” Dean moaned again, pressing himself into his brother’s by now slick hand again, his hips flexing and thrusting until he came with a drawn-out groan, coating both their stomachs with a second layer of come.

They stayed like this, curled around each other, Sam stroking them gently through the aftershocks, until their breathing had evened out.

“Dude,” Dean finally said and sat up. He looked around the basement and snatched Sam’s ruined shirt to wipe himself off before handing it to Sam.

“That was my shirt,” Sam complained, but he took it and ran it over his stomach and hand, to get rid of the stickiness clinging to his skin.

“It’s ruined anyways,” Dean pointed out, his equilibrium quickly returning. He stood and pulled his pants up again, before he slipped out of his outer shirt and handed it to Sam without further comment.

“Yeah, thanks to you,” Sam said, but he took Dean’s shirt and slipped into it. If he saw things right, it had been his shirt before Dean had borrowed it anyways.

“Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, but neither of them said anything. Finally, Sam shrugged slightly, his hands still busy with his belt, and opened his mouth. “Dean…”

Dean shook his head slightly. “Let’s go find that witch,” he said, interrupting him. “And find out which gods we just pleased here. And got drugged for.”

Sam hesitated again, but finally he nodded.

They had a job to do.

Their embarrassing conversation could wait until afterwards.

~End.
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