Title: Christmas Cookies in July
Fandom: Pairing: Supernatural: Sam/Dean
Concrit: Please. If you spot a typo, please feel free to tell me in comments.
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be. No harm, no foul, no money made.
Warnings/Squicks: Candleplay, sensory deprivation (blindfold), bondage, incest.
Summary: Set in early S1, Sam's been keeping a secret from Dean.
Notes: Written for my kink_bingo card (here). (If you're going to play, please play safely.)
ETA: Thanks go to tabaqui for providing details which inspired the title and pre-reading this, as did literati. :D
Sam woke to total darkness, the overpowering and confusing scent of Christmas cookies in July - vanilla, cinnamon, apples and something spicy - and a vivid splash of panic that chilled his skin when he tried to move his arms and found he couldn't.
Five seconds later he knew that he was blindfolded, naked and exposed, and that his hands were firmly bound to the headboard of the bed but his feet were free. Slowly, he slid one foot sideways across the cheap polyester sheet, trying and failing to find the reassuring bulk of Dean sprawled out beside him.
He could hear someone - something? - breathing, slow and easy, to his left, but they - it? - didn't speak.
Sam pushed his focus out past the walls of the room, searching for and finding the familiar - the low growl of engines, the constant rumble of tires rolling by on the highway, the intermittent sounds of gravel crunching underfoot as cars and people crisscrossed the parking lot. Each sound reassured him he was almost certainly still in the motel room they'd stumbled into in the early hours of the morning after yet another graveyard bonfire. Small comfort.
"Dean? Dude, this better be you joking around because if I have to get myself out of this mess before I hunt you down and save your ass, you'll never hear the end of it. I will make you pay every damn day-"
The metallic rasp of steel wheel against flint interrupted him, chased by the pungent, chemical-sweet scent of gas and a muted whumph of ignition.
"You've been holding out on me, Sammy."
A tiny, shuddering exhalation was Sam's only outward sign of relief.
"What? Look, let me up and we can-"
"Oh, hell no. Not after I went to all this trouble. You're kinda biddable when you sleep, did you know? I'm going to have so much fun with that - some other time. Right now I want to talk about this secret you've been keeping from me."
"I… I don't know what you mean. I-"
Sam dragged a hissing breath in through suddenly clenched teeth and arched up off the bed as molten wax pooled in his navel and began to cool, to solidify. A small amount escaped to trace a fine wire of fiery arousal across the plane of his belly, down towards his left hip, and his cock twitched and stretched as if towards it.
"Jesus, Dean, what…?"
"You picked up a new kink at college, Sammy. Did you think I wouldn't notice? Or was I supposed to believe this whole hairless chest thing was just pretty boy vanity?"
A slow trickle of wax painted a white hot line from one beaded nipple to the other and Sam almost bit through his bottom lip trying not to whimper.
"Did some girlfriend come at you with her hot wax kit? Did she offer to get rid of that baby soft fuzz you were growing between your pecs? Did you figure out you liked the way it burned and pulled and left you feeling so damn sensitive when you peeled that shit off?" Each question was punctuated by a new tilt of the candle, a fresh flash of pleasurepain. "Did you-"
"I missed you."
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Sam knew he would never have spoken them aloud if he'd been able to see Dean's face. He was absurdly grateful for the blindfold, for the thin fabric layer of insulation between himself and reality.
"I missed you. I missed Dad. I missed everything, so damn much! Candles were… easy - to get hold of, to explain, to shove out of sight when the guilt got too much. They were a part of that life - this life - that I could have without people asking questions or looking at me weird. But sometimes… sometimes just having them there wasn't enough."
Sam fell silent, remembering, until Dean poured a miniature lake of fire into the hollow at the base of his throat. He groaned.
"Please, Dean, can't we just-"
"Keep talking, Sammy."
"I missed you, okay? I missed what we did together, I missed you touching me, I missed everything! And then one day Jimmy, my roommate, came back unexpectedly and found me sitting in bed holding a candle and… jumped to conclusions. He said it was impossible to get wax out of cotton sheets and nearly as impossible to get it out of body hair, so if I was thinking of developing that particular kink I should look into getting some rubber sheets and a bottle of Nair. Then he picked up the book he'd come back for and left again. And I…"
"And you couldn't resist trying it out. Of course you couldn't. Only you, Sammy, could pick up a new kink by accident."
Arousal flared anew as single drips of wax were scattered across his chest and stomach, slowly moving lower with intent.
A steady stream of wax hit the top of his thigh and rolled down into the crease of his groin, a sweet sharp slice of sheer sensation. Sam spread his legs, dug his heels in and bucked up into the flow, scattering tiny droplets into pinpoints of delight.
"Whoa there, cowboy!"
Dean's hand pressed hard and solid against his belly, forcing Sam back down onto the bed.
"I still don't understand why you kept it such a secret."
Close to Sam's left ear there was a quiet thunk which must have been the candle being set down on the bedside table. It was followed by the dip and roll of the mattress as Dean finally joined him on the bed, knees wedged up under Sam's splayed thighs, leaving him open and vulnerable. Sam didn't think he'd ever felt safer.
"Jess… She thought it was weird, didn't get the whole pain-pleasure thing. It was just easier to hide it than answer awkward questions."
That he was hiding behind the blindfold while answering equally awkward questions didn't escape him and, if the brief squeeze of his knee was anything to go by, it hadn't escaped Dean either.
Thankfully, the awkward silence this exchange engendered didn't last long before Dean made a show of popping the cap off the lube and squeezing a huge blob out onto the plug of wax that filled Sam's navel.
Moments later slick fingers were sliding back behind Sam's balls, pushing up and in, twisting and stretching muscles still unused to this renewed attention. Sam breathed through the sting and burn, eager to have Dean inside him once more.
He tugged at the bindings around his wrists, rattling the headboard against the wall in frustration when they didn't immediately come loose so he could pull Dean into him. The fingers withdrew from Sam's body as though in punishment, but before he could react they were back, slicker than before and thicker too - three, maybe four, blunt and unyielding, taxing the elasticity of his flesh to the limit.
Sam was moving now, trying to screw himself down onto the digits inside him, wanting more, wanting Dean, wanting everything he'd been missing during their years apart.
"Shhh, Sammy, I've got you."
Dean pulled his fingers free and swiftly replaced them with his cock, pushing in in one smooth roll of hips as he reached up and pried the wax cap from Sam's right nipple. With a wicked chuckle he pinched the sensitized flesh hard and Sam came apart in his arms, internal muscles fluttering and clenching as his orgasm ripped through him.
Dean rode it out in silence, hips motionless though every twitch and aftershock, until Sam was limp and limned with a heady mixture of sweat and come. And wax. Then he hitched Sam's legs high,up onto his shoulders, leaned forward until Sam was folded double and he could brace his hands on the bed either side of Sam's chest, and began to thrust, slowly and relentlessly.
"Now we've taken the edge off, maybe we can play a while."