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Rite of Passage	By : rue37 Category: Supernatural > Slash - Male/Male Views: 3757 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Rite of Passage
- 1
Title: Rite of Passage
Author: ruefulgirl
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Words: about 1650
Warnings: underage sex
Summary: Dean teaches Sam to shave.� Sex ensues.�
Author�s Notes: So, basically this is shaving porn.� And let me tell you, if shaving my legs was
this hot I�d never leave the tub.�
Although I don�t really dig angst with my shaving, so maybe I would
leave the tub after all �� Anyhow.� Inspired by notthequiettype�s Two
Bits, which, by the way, kicks my ass when it comes to the actual shaving
stuff. ;-)� Beta�d by dysonrules.��

For the third time in a few minutes, Dean uses a hand towel
to wipe the steam from the bathroom mirror.�
It doesn�t help much, although he can make out Sam�s dark hair as he
stands next to him.� It�s early Saturday
morning and they don�t really know where Dad is -- maybe sleeping it off in the
parking lot of a bar, or chasing down some spook on his own.� He�s not due back for three days yet, and
Dean�s been entrusted with Sam�s care, like usual.� Sam insists he doesn�t need a babysitter at
17 (even though Dean damn sure intends on brothersitting for the rest of his
life) but he does want Dean to teach him to shave without� shredding his skin into bloody ribbons.� There are already enough monsters out there
that want to do that to him.
Sam�s holding the razor awkwardly, so Dean wraps his hands
around Sam�s, fingers covering fingers, as he positions Sam�s hand correctly
and guides him through the motions.
�Gentle � gentle,� Dean croons.
Sam nods.� His green
eyes are clear, his face unlined and smooth. Carefully, he slides the razor
across the scattering of facial hair on his chin.� He�s fresh from the shower, dark hair curling
on his neck, white towel twisted low across his hips.
Dean watches, affection welling up in his throat.� Sam�s as tall as Dean now, and likely to add
a few more inches on top of that.�
Growing up so fast � and Dean�s so proud of the man he�s becoming.� The kid has changed so much, leaving behind
gawky adolescence and diving headlong into adulthood, with all its personal
space and grooming requirements. It�s been a long time since they�ve stood this
close together, done anything so slow and quiet and intimate.
He can smell the soap Sam�s just used, and now he notices
the way Sam purses his full lips as he concentrates.� Dean wipes an errant streak of shaving cream
from the smooth line of Sam�s jaw, and slides the creamy silk of it between his
thumb and index finger.� It dawns on him
just how tempting Sam�s lips look up this close, something he�s really never
noticed before.� But now, he can�t help
but think about running his hands up his brother�s smooth naked chest to cup
his newly shaven jaw, lick those plump moist lips, press his hand to Sam�s
groin, feel his cock hardening under his touch, hardening because of him �
If Dean had been able to give the thought some time he�s
sure it would have automatically slipped into the same category as another of
those things Dean is never meant to have:�
a real home, a steady girlfriend, and more than $20 to his name.� Although, honestly, an incestuous
relationship with his underage brother didn�t really seem to fit in the same
category as those other things.�
This would have remained as some bizarre, random impulse,
never to be realized, except for one thing.�
Sam chooses that moment to look at him�really look�and Dean sees his own
need and longing mirrored in his brother�s shaving-cream-streaked face.
�Dean �� he murmurs on a breath, lips parted.� The sound seizes a primal part of Dean that
exists purely on instinct, jarring him into action.
Both of them move toward each other.� Lips meet lips � warm, wet, sucking, nipping
� and their hands are all over each other, feeling smooth, hot skin, hard
muscles, jutting bones � jutting erections � Dean�s senses are on overload as a
sudden hunger to taste his brother�s flesh, to make him groan and cry out in
ecstasy, overcomes him.� A sliver of sanity
remains, though.� A voice crying in the
wilderness of lust:� you can�t.
He tears his lips away, pulse hammering through the roof,
breathing harsh.� He means to say
something to Sam, to apologize or make an excuse, but words are trapped
somewhere in his higher brain functions, and all he can do is stare.� He�s only aware of Sam: his taste and smell
and feel.� So when Sam makes a needy
sound and draws Dean toward himself again, fingers digging into the pressure points
at Dean�s elbows, Dean lets himself yield.
When he�s hunting, Dean doesn�t think about each step of the
fight � the angle of his wrist as he lets fly with a knife, or the position of
his foot when pivoting around to block a blow � he just does.� He trusts his body, a
trust rewarded with fluid, effortless power and a singing kind of joy.
It�s the same now as Dean acts, sliding down Sam�s lean
form.� Unwilling to break physical
contact even for a moment, he ends up on his knees on the damp linoleum, hand
tugging Sam�s towel away.�
Sam gasps as Dean�s lips trail across the skin under his
navel, following the thin line of hair down, down, down until his lips meet
hard flesh � probably virgin flesh � because although Sam doesn�t let on how
far he and his cute little girlfriend have gone, Dean�s pretty sure she�s never
done this to him. Urged on by some rolling inevitable tide, he sucks Sam�s cock
into his mouth, sucks long, deep and hard, tongue slip-sliding along the veins
and over the smooth head, laving it with love and pride and duty all those
sentiments he can never speak out loud.
Sam�s head falls back and he makes an inarticulate noise of
bliss in the back of his throat, something halfway between a growl and a
tortured cry.� His fingers, calloused
from weapons training, cradle Dean�s head, spasming every now and again when
Dean scrapes Sam�s shaft with his teeth.�
Dean�s hands rest on Sam�s hips, his thumbs caressing the
soft unbroken skin under which Sam�s muscles tense and release.� Dean feels sweat spring up from the sudden
tidal wave of lust in Sam�s body.� Sam�s
cock grows harder, swelling from Dean�s worshipful attention, and the noises
he�s making have devolved into choked, animal-like cries.
Dean�s hands creep around Sam�s ass, gripping him tighter,
pulling him closer, all the while sucking and licking like he�ll up and die if
he can�t get his brother off right now.� Sam responds � hell, how can he not respond considering the fervor Dean
is lavishing on him? � with bucking hips and fingertips that tighten on Dean�s
scalp.� Dean urges him on, relaxing the
muscles of his throat, his thoughts a never-ending litany of Come on, Sammy, come for me, come into me �
He knows he�s succeeded when Sam goes shock-still, and lets
loose with a low exhalation, coming down Dean�s throat.� Dean continues to suck Sam through his
orgasm, choking a little as he milks Sam dry.�
�Dean,� Sam says hoarsely and tugs him upward.
Dean climbs to his feet reluctantly, placing a kiss here and
there up Sam�s long torso until they stand face to face, Dean�s erection
trapped between them.� Sam gives a lazy
little groan and slides his hand down to fist Dean�s cock and that touch is
what does it.� That touch.� It�s fire and ice and all the forbidden
things of the world.� And suddenly Dean
is staggering backwards.
He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, breath frozen
in his lungs, eyes locked on Sam�s flushed, trembling form.
God, what have I done?
�I �� he trails off, because after the enormity of the sin
he�s just committed, what can he say?
Sam just looks at him, eyes burning, lips swollen.� He�s gulping breaths like he�s just run a
relay race, and maybe he has.� He seems
at a loss.
�Sammy � I didn�t mean to hurt you.� I � what was I thinking?� I�m so sorry,� he whispers in horror,
suddenly dizzy and nauseous.
Sam blinks.�
�What?�� He seems stunned.
Shame surges up Dean�s throat.� God, no wonder the kid seems stunned � he�s
just been mauled by his big brother.� How
else should he act?� Dean makes a choked
sound and sinks down on the edge of the tub, head in his hands.�
Sam sinks down in front of him, grasping Dean�s shoulders
between his hands.� He squeezes until
Dean looks at his face, so young and earnest.�
�You don�t get to blame yourself for this, Dean.� I liked
it.� I wanted it,� he pauses,
swallowing.� �If it makes you bad and
sick, then what does it make me?��
Dean feels a stirring of anger.� �Don�t do that, Sam,� he warns.
�Then you can�t, either.�
Sam�s expression is stubborn and familiar, and Dean can�t
help but give him a grudging smile. �You�re too smart for your own good, you
know that?�
�Yeah,� Sam says.�
�Doesn�t mean I still don�t need you to teach me things.�
Dean�s starting to realize that he and Sam are okay, and the
relief leaves him weak.� He clears his
throat.� �Like shaving?�
Sam gives a bark of laughter.� �Yeah.�
Like shaving.� �Sam slips his hand
down Dean�s back suggestively, and turns his lips to Dean�s neck.� �Speaking of that lesson, we�ve got a little
more practicing to do still ��
Dean�s not entirely sure this is a good idea.� Not sure in the least.� Still.�
�Dad is always going on about how practice makes perfect,� he says
hoarsely.�
He feels Sam smiling against his neck.� �Now, that�s one thing I�m not going to argue
about.��

--end

Feedback is like candy.�
Without the tooth decay.
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Rite of Passage