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The Spirit of Franklin Porter

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Summary: He died on a full moon on All Hallow’s Eve. And since then, every few years when the moon and date were just right, he came back and tortured the frat brothers until the moon disappeared.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Supernatural > Non-BtVS/AtS Stories(Moderator)DemonaFR2115,517025217 Nov 077 Nov 07Yes

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TITLE: The Spirit of Franklin Porter
AUTHOR: Demona
FANDOM: Supernatural
WORD COUNT: ~5,420
WARNINGS: Wincest (slash), minor character death
SUMMARY: He died on a full moon on All Hallow’s Eve. And since then, every few years when the moon and date were just right, he came back and tortured the frat brothers until the moon disappeared.
DISCLAIMER: The characters of Supernatural belong to Eric Kripke, the CW, etc. The ideas and concepts in this story are mine entirely. Please do not copy or take this story without my permission.
A/N: Written for the Spookathon’s Halloween Ficathon.
It appears that the person I was supposed to write for backed out, but this is what they wanted:
Wanted: humor, first time, smut, anything really, as long as it’s light on the angst.
Request 1: Supernatural – Sam/Dean – Undercover at a costume party, hunting down…something.

Thanks to Kayla Shay for the beta. You rock my socks, sweetie *beams*

“Why the hell did I let you talk me into this? “ Dean grumbled as he reached up under his skirt and yanked on his women’s bikini underwear that were riding up uncomfortably.

“It’s the only way we can get into this party. We need to try to figure out what is going on in this frat house and why the salt and burn didn’t work,” Sam reminded him. Sam teetered slightly as they made their way up the block. He reached out and grabbed Dean’s shoulder to balance himself.

“Why, when you’re already a giant, do you need to wear four inch stiletto heels?” Dean snapped and shoved Sam away from him. Luckily Sam was able to keep his feet underneath him.

“It was all they had in my size that fit and matched the outfit.”

“Oh, right!” Dean got out as he made a show of checking out Sam. “You did do an awfully good job of putting that outfit together, Samantha!” He didn’t wait for Sam’s response, just continued to awkwardly stomp his way towards the party in full swing.

They stood in a small line to get into the frat house. Everyone else was dressed very similar. Perspective pledges were tortured even before they were chosen to pledge.

“Hi, we’re Dean and Sam. We’re looking to pledge Kappa Alpha,” Dean spoke to the normally dressed guy at the door.

The guy took his time looking them over before nodding. “Well for tonight you’re Deanna and Samantha – introduce yourself accordingly, and make sure the brothers are well taken care of,” the frat guy instructed them and let them enter.

Sam was clearly a man, ripped and bulging, but in his mini – bordering on indecent – skirt and heels his legs seemed to go on forever. He turned quite a few heads as they moved through the foyer and into the living room. And Dean suddenly felt a little embarrassed at his bow-legged walk, plain black skirt and flat shoes.

He shook his head at the thought. He shouldn’t be worried about how he looked while he was dressed up like a girl. They needed to figure out what was going on at this frat house before another kid ended up in the hospital with the worst case of blue balls and matching hard-on anyone had seen. There had been three so far this week. Each case was getting worse as they went on, and the only link that they could put together was the fraternity. The latest had happened earlier that day, hours after Dean and Sam had dug up and burned the body of Franklin Porter.

They thought they had done their homework correctly when they determined the angry spirit of Franklin Porter was enacting revenge on the fraternity that was responsible for his death. Not that the frat was responsible directly, but they had teased, taunted and tortured him during his pledge week after they found out he was gay. His roommate found him dead – hanging from the ceiling by his belt – the room destroyed and fag scrawled on the wall above his bed.

He died on a full moon on All Hallow’s Eve. And since then, every few years when the moon and date were just right, he came back and tortured the frat brothers until the moon disappeared.

Dean felt the air shift a moment before the lights flickered and the doors slammed shut. Sam’s gaze met his across the room, the same ‘what the hell’ question in his eyes.

The frat brothers closest to the doors started pulling on the doorknobs, yanking backwards with all their strength as they tried to get free.

“Great,” Dean muttered as he realized they were trapped. The incidents were always worse on the fullest night of the moon. And now the angry spirit of Franklin Porter had a house full of frat boys, pledges, and Dean and Sam to torment.

Sam made his way across the room to Dean’s side. “So, the panic on that kid’s face looks too real, doesn’t it?” Sam mentioned as they watched a few of the guys try to get out.

“Yeah,” Dean replied as he shook his head and swallowed hard. “Next time let’s just let the frat boys get what’s coming to them.”

Sam just raised an eyebrow and Dean stalked off.

It had been twenty minutes and no one had been able to find a way out. The windows wouldn’t break, the doors wouldn’t budge, and no one could call for help as they had no phone service of any kind. The potential pledges were starting to get restless, not liking this addition to the evening. It was bad enough they had to dress as women, but to be trapped had them all on edge.

“We’re gonna have to figure this out before things get any further out of hand,” Sam stated when they met up in the foyer.

“You think?” Dean bit out.

“Don’t tell me you’re freaking out Dean?”

“We’re trapped in a frat house with an angry spirit that takes his revenge by delivering a severe case of blue balls and an everlasting hard-on, and then for fun he usually ends up hanging at least one person to finish off his fun. So, no, I’m not exactly freaking out but I’m certainly not enjoying myself.”

“Well there either has to be something linking Franklin Porter to this house or we burned the wrong body.”

“We’ve got the right person, Sam. He had every reason to be angry and searching for revenge. We’ll be all week burning things in this house ‘til we find the link,” Dean huffed as he looked around.

He looked back at Sam, not sure where to go from here. Sam was looking around the room, scanning the boys, and Dean noticed a bead of sweat trickling down the column of his neck. He wanted to lick it, follow it up to Sam’s hairline where it’d started. Dean licked his lips and took a step toward Sam and then another. The droplet of sweat disappeared as it soaked into Sam’s shirt. And Dean whimpered - whimpered - at the loss.

Sam turned at the sound and eyed Dean with some confusion. “Dean?” Sam asked. And when he didn’t get a response he asked again, louder and placed his hand on Dean’s shoulder.

The contact had Dean jerking backwards, gaze ripping off Sam’s neck, and a bolt of pleasure shooting through him. “Don’t,” Dean yelped as he stumbled back. He was glad he’d decided to wear flats otherwise he’d been on his ass showing off his pretty red underwear. He should have worn black. Black underwear meant the girl wanted to feel sex, wanted to take things further; Sam would have preferred black.

“What the hell?” Dean shuddered and muttered at the random thought. Never again! If any job required they dress as women, Sam would have to work it alone or better still skip it entirely. He certainly didn’t want anyone checking out Sam’s ass in that skirt. “Gah!” Dean yelled and rubbed his knuckles into his eyes, spots of light dancing behind his eyelids at the pressure.

“Dean, you are starting to freak me out,” Sam’s voice was calm, close, but he refrained from touching him.

Dean slowly removed his hands from his eyes and had to blink a few times to have Sam return to his regular appearance and less like a blurry blob. Although, he kinda wished Sam would return to the blurry blob because he didn’t feel attracted to the blob like he did Sam in focus. “That evil little shit must have cursed me for burning his bones,” Dean muttered. Sam raised an eyebrow and waited for a better explanation. “It isn’t important, I’m sure it will go away when we get rid of him for good,” Dean explained.

“Dean, please don’t tell me you are coming down with a case of blue balls and a perpetual hard-on,” Sam questioned, his laughter just barely contained.

“Um…” Dean trailed off and watched – horrified – as Sam’s gaze dropped to Dean’s crotch. Said crotch wasn’t very covered with the flimsy skirt and Dean knew Sam could see his erection forming.

“Jesus Dean. We’re supposed to be working not getting cursed,” Sam grumbled but didn’t take his eyes off Dean’s crotch.

“Could you stop staring at it? You aren’t helping the situation!”

Sam jerked his gaze up to Dean’s face and he flushed with guilt. “Sorry, I didn’t um…” Sam trailed off and rubbed at the back of his neck and frowned. “I didn’t mean to,” he whispered.

“Well try and control yourself.” Dean retorted and Sam nodded. Yeah, he was a hypocrite, big deal. “All right, I’m going to go ask around, see if anyone knows anything about Franklin Porter. And I suggest you do the same, but now where I am,” Dean quickly bit out as he reached down and adjusted himself. His erection was trapped uncomfortably in his underwear. It would take more than the slight adjustment to make it better. Many things would make it better, but he would just have to suffer tonight. When he glanced up, Sam’s eyes were on his straining dick. “Eyes up here Sammy!” he yelled and then stormed off.

It was half an hour later when they reconvened at the base of the main staircase. Dean was aching – his dick so hard it was peaking up over the top of his underwear, leaving a wet spot whenever it brushed against his skirt. He was relieved, to a small extent, that he had chosen a black skirt because it did a better job of hiding the bulge. The others weren’t all so fortunate and Sam was one of them. The lime green mini-skirt was even shorter in the front as it tented out around Sam’s full cock. Dean swore it was so indecent he could almost see the veins and ridges of Sam’s cock as it strained against the fabric.

“Get anything?” Sam asked as the stood awkwardly near one another. Sam had taken off his heels, dangling them from one of his massive hands. And Christ, even Sam’s ugly ass feet were turning Dean on.

“Nothing. No one knows anything we can use. You?”

“Yeah, I ran into the fraternity advisor in the kitchen. Apparently he was a pledge at the same time Franklin Porter was. He said he didn’t know Porter was gay until the brothers found a note he wrote. He swears he had nothing against Porter and wasn’t responsible for his death.”

“Well great!”

“Patience grasshopper,” Sam cut him off with one of his usual obscenely wide grins. “Turns out while Porter was pledging he spent a lot of time with his Big Brother who had a room upstairs. Michael Zimmer dropped out of the frat and college shortly after Porter’s death. No one’s seen or heard from him since.”

“And?” Dean asked, not bothering to hide his confusion.

“So, if Porter and his Big Brother were involved then I would imagine something in that room is still tying him here. There are a million things that could have gone wrong between them.”

“And you expect to find the object in the room still?” Dean wasn’t just skeptical, he was starting to think that since all of Sam’s blood was headed south his upstairs brain wasn’t functioning properly.

“Best shot we’ve got, cause I remember you saying you’ve got nothing,” Sam replied with a little smirk. Dean had the sudden urge to lick that smirk of Sam’s face. He whimpered slightly as he stared at Sam’s mouth until he realized, belatedly, that those lips were forming words that he was supposed to be paying attention to, not wondering what they’d feel like around his dick.

“What?” Dean muttered as he hotly flushed.

“You wanna go upstairs and check it out?” Sam repeated taking his time to speak slow and pause between each word.

Dean reached out and punched him hard in the shoulder. Sam rocked to the side, stepping back to keep his balance, and Dean used distraction to move past him.

Michael Zimmer’s old room wasn’t anything to write home about. The kid that currently resided in it didn’t own a lot of things or hadn’t been bothered to decorate. Without any real discussion they both took the place apart. They had no idea what they were looking for but anything that may have been of value ended up in a small pile on the bed. When they were done they took a look at the items on the bed. One by one the items were discarded; the boys determined they did not belong to Porter or Zimmer, but instead the current frat brother.
Frustrated Sam sat down on the bed and let out a long sigh. The vision hit him hard and fast and was unexpected.

Mark Thompson was sobbing uncontrollably as he pulled the chair to the middle of the room, glancing up to make sure it was directly under the support beam. On shaking legs he climbed onto the chair and tossed a small rope over the beam and made a rough noose. When it was secure, he slipped the circle around his neck and slid it snug, testing it to make sure it would come undone. He was still sobbing, tears streaming down his face, his nose snotty and red, but he continued on. Once he was settled he turned to face the bed and look at the young man sitting there watching him with sad eyes.

“Go on Mark. They must never know the truth. If they know the truth they will hurt you, torment you until your life isn’t yours anymore. It’s better this way. Easier. They’ll never be able to hurt you,” the boy spoke, voice raw and raspy.

“You’re s-sure?” Mark asked, voice trembling as he stuttered over the words.

“I promise, you’ll never feel pain again,” the young man assured him, offering him a poor attempt at a smile.

Mark forced a small smile to his face and gave a slight nod. The echo of the chair clattering to the floor seemed to stretch on forever.

Abruptly the scene shifted, the room changing to match the one Sam was currently in.
There was a chair on its side, feet dangling in the air a few feet above it. Sam forced himself to look up and follow the long, very familiar body. He jerked back when he realized he was looking into his own face. His head was resting at an odd -
broken - angle on his shoulders as the rope dug into his neck.

“Sam?” Dean’s voice called out, searching, panic and fear just under the surface. Sam watched as Dean burst through the door and stopped to stare at the hanging figure of his brother. “Sammy!” Dean screamed and moved toward the body.

The same young man sat on the bed as Dean desperately tried to get Sam down, to save his brother’s life. His deep brown eyes were filled with sorrow as they started to fill with tears. A single tear escaped and traveled down his cheek.

“It’s better this way. He’s in less pain,” the young man whispered as he reached up to rub at the angry red bruise that circled his own neck. “They’ll never be able to hurt him now.” The young man vanished as Dean’s hysterical screams drew the attention of the others in the frat house.

“No!!!!” Sam screamed as the vision ripped through him. He was cradling his throbbing head in his hands, wishing the thrumming in his head would die down.

“Sam! Sam?” Dean called out as he slid down onto the bed next to Sam. He reached out and placed his hand on Sam’s shoulder. Sam flinched slightly and then threw his arms around Dean, burying his face in Dean’s neck. Dean froze for a moment, not sure what to do, but then his hands came up around Sam’s back and he started to make soothing sweeps up and down his spine. “It’s okay Sammy, it’s okay,” Dean murmured as he tried to calm Sam down and get an explanation.

Sam pulled himself together a few minutes later. His eyes were red and swollen, tears still dropping down his face. And his nose was running and he’d probably snotted all over Dean’s girly outfit. Normally Dean would have made a wise ass comment but Sam was a wreck – sarcasm wasn’t going to help.

“What’d you see?” Dean asked in a whisper as Sam tried to get himself together.

“Franklin Porter’s spirit came back and convinced Mark Thompson to kill himself,” Sam finally whispered back.

“You saw the suicide?” Dean’s eyebrows shot up.

“Yeah, complete with audio and visual.”

“So, why did Porter talk this kid into killing himself?” Dean pressed as he continued to run his hand up and down Sam’s back. This spirit needed to go for good and perhaps Sam’s vision was the key.

“Because Mark was gay and a brother of the Kappa Alpha fraternity. Franklin didn’t want him to ever be tormented like he was. He said it would be better and he’d never feel any pain,” Sam got out and more tears rolled down his face.

Anger and rage spiked through Dean. That spirit had absolutely no right. How was he to know whether that boy would get the same treatment? “So, how do we get rid of Porter for good?” Dean hissed through clenched teeth.

“I don’t know,” Sam answered and sounded miserable.

Dean looked at him and realized Sam still hadn’t looked at him. He’d been busy looking everywhere but at Dean.

“What else did you see Sam?”

Sam opened his mouth and Dean could almost taste the lie that was about to come out. But at the last moment Sam changed his mind and rose from the bed. He paced for a few moments in the small room before facing Dean and finally meeting his eyes. The horror, fear, and pain in Sam’s eyes caused Dean’s chest to tighten and made him swallow hard.

“I hung myself. Franklin apparently talked me into it.”

Dean snorted, he couldn’t help himself. “But you’re not gay,” Dean replied and shrugged. “Maybe you replaced someone else with yourself?” Sam was silent for long enough to cause Dean to look up. “You’re not gay, right Sam?” Dean reluctantly asked and the tension in the room grew.

“Bi, actually,” Sam revealed and raised his head a little higher and pulled himself to his full height.

Dean’s brows crunched together on his forehead as he just stared at Sam. “Were you ever gonna tell me?” he finally spoke.

Sam shrugged and relaxed at Dean’s normal, non-hostile, tone. “It never really came up.” It wasn’t the best explanation, but sharing wasn’t the Winchester way. It seemed Sam was starting to get that.

“All right.” Dean clapped his hands down on his knees and pushed himself to his feet. “So what’d you see in your vision that will help us? Cause he’s not getting his hands on you Sam,” Dean rattled off.

“That’s it?” Sam asked in shock.

“What?” Dean stopped moving to look at him in confusion.

“I tell you I’m bi – that I sometimes like to have sex with guys and you don’t care?” Sam hugged and threw his hands up in the air.

“Would you’d rather had me freak out? It’s not gonna help either of us right now. I might lose my mind later when you are safe and out of here,” Dean retorted and glared at Sam. But then a slow smirk appeared on his face. “But that definitely explains why you’re so good at matching your girly outfit and shoes.”

Sam rolled his eyes and reached out to shove Dean. The moment they touched another vision hit Sam.

Sam was behind Dean, pressed up against him. His hips were moving, snapping hard, driving himself into Dean. He watched himself reach around Dean’s skirt-covered hip and grasp his cock.

Franklin Porter stood beside the bed watching them with interest and then he vanished.

Sam and Dean took a step apart as the quick vision ended. Dean was breathing hard. The aching hard-on he’d forgotten about came back in full force.

“Okay that was weird,” Dean breathed out.

“I’m not sure you want to know what I just saw,” Sam admitted.

“Don’t need you to tell me because I was there Sam. I’m just not sure why in the hell I was the one getting fucked,” Dean grumbled.

“Wait? You saw that?”

“Oh yeah, I may be scarred for life!” Dean rubbed at his eyes and shook his head. “Sick fucker was watching,” Dean muttered.

Sam remained quiet for a moment, trying to wrap his head around what he’d just seen. “Dean—“ Sam started but Dean cut him off.

“He vanished!” Dean excitedly stated and offered Sam a relieved smile.


“Look poof – gone,” Dean added, waiting for Sam to get it.

“What does…” Sam trailed off as the realized hit him. “No. No way Dean!”

“Well do you have a better idea?”

“It’s not real. It’s got to be a trick.” Sam quickly shook his head and backed away from Dean.

“Oh come on Sam, at least you’re not taking it up the ass. Unless you like that sorta thing and perhaps we could work something out.”

“I’m not going to fuck you Dean,” Sam ground out and Dean’s dick jumped at the thought of Sam actually fucking him.

“Well I’m not going to just let you die,” Dean yelled at him.

They stood there silently glaring at one another until Sam finally snapped. He lunged forward and tackled Dean back onto the bed. They landed in a pile on the bed. Sam’s knee dug into Dean’s thigh and Sam got an elbow to his gut, but neither of them complained when Sam pressed his lips against Dean’s.

Sam’s hands were everywhere at once. One hand reached up to cup Dean’s cheek and angle his head to Sam’s liking. The other hand Sam wormed between them and under Dean’s skirt to stroke his aching erection. Dean’s hips were rocking up, meeting Sam’s hand and steady thrusts.

“Jesus,” Dean swore when Sam pulled his mouth away and started kissing under Dean’s jaw. “Fuck that’s good,” he gasped as Sam swiped his thumb over the head, smearing around the precome. Sam sucked harder on the skin and there would a bruise in the morning when he was done. “Please Sam…need more.”

“So hot Dean. You’re so hot like this – all needy and begging,” Sam whispered in his ear as he pulled Dean’s underwear down. He managed to get them down only far enough to grasp Dean’s cock completely. His long fingers wrapped around Dean’s length and he started stroking.

“Need you so badly Sam. I can’t lose you. Need you, please,” Dean rambled as he ran his hands down Sam’s back and dipped them into the back of Sam’s skirt. He gripped Sam’s ass and tugged him against him. “Come on Sammy!” he moaned and thrust up against Sam’s trapped hand.

“Right now?” Sam asked, voice raw and husky.

Dean’s thumbs hooked under the underwear Sam was wearing, pulling it away from his body, and then letting it snap back. “Yes, now Sam!” he demanded as he turned his head, nudging at Sam’s face until he kissed him. Dean’s hands slid back up to Sam’s head, slipping into his shaggy brown hair, grabbing it and holding him still.

Sam finally pulled away, “Okay, okay,” he relented and took a quick glance around the room. “You wouldn’t happen to have anything on you, would you?” Sam asked Dean and blushed. Dean felt his own face flush too at the question.

“Sorry, I left my purse in the car,” Dean answering with a smirk and a whack at Sam’s shoulder.

Sam laughed as he forced himself out of the bed. “Let’s see what the frat boy has lying around,” Sam muttered as he pulled out the nightstand drawer. “Jackpot!” he happily exclaimed.

Dean couldn’t help but wrap his hand around his cock and start to jerk himself. His underwear was around his thighs and his skirt was hiked up and he was sure he looked absolutely wrecked.

“Either this kid gets more ass then a toilet seat or he wishes he did,” Sam announced as he turned back to the bed with condoms and lube in hand. The sight of Dean brought him up short and his eyes darkened further with lust. His tongue darted out to lick his dry lips as he watched the shiny, wet tip of Dean’s dick disappear with every upstroke.

“If you don’t get your ass over here mine will be unavailable,” Dean threatened him.

“Pushy bitch,” Sam teased as he crawled back into the bed with Dean. He leaned down and kissed him again, shoving his tongue into Dean’s mouth and dumping the lube and condoms on the bed.

His hand circled around Dean’s squeezing slightly and stopped the rapid movement. Dean whimpered at the loss of his hand but Sam shushed him, “You are going to come from fucking yourself on my cock. No hands – just my cock,” Sam explained.

Dean shuddered and squeezed down hard at the base of his cock so he wouldn’t come from Sam’s words alone. “Hurry Sam. Please hurry. Need you. It hurts,” Dean begged as he nipped at Sam’s lips and chin.

“Turn over, hands and knees, okay?” Sam instructed him as he pushed on his hip to move him.

“Yeah okay,” Dean agreed and struggled to roll over onto his hands and knees. Sam moved in behind him, pressing up against him, letting Dean feel his erection. He moved his hips a few times, gently thrusting against him.

“Gonna make this good for you Dean,” Sam whispered against Dean’s ear and then bit the lobe and gave it a tug. Dean moaned and twitched. Sam pulled on Dean’s skirt, glad for the cheap elastic waistband, as it slid down over his ass and joined his underwear around his bent knees.

Dean’s breathing sped up as the cool air hit his ass. Sam’s hand slid over one of his butt cheeks before moving to the other.

“Ready?” Sam asked as he gripped both cheeks.

“Please,” Dean whined and thrust his ass back against Sam.

Sam reached down and grabbed the small bottle of lube next to his knee. He popped the cap and drizzled some into the palm of his hand. Sam knocked Dean’s knees as far apart as they would go with the underwear and skirt wrapped around his knees.

Sam slicked up two fingers and pressed his middle finger against Dean’s hole, rubbing it. Dean pushed back and the tip slid in.

“More,” Dean demanded. “Need you now Sam,” he added.

Sam slowly pushed his finger in the rest of the way and then started working it in and out, getting Dean ready. When the one finger moved easily he inserted a second taking the time his time to stretch Dean open. Dean jumped and moaned when Sam rubbed against his prostate.

“Jesus what was that?” Dean asked, panting as his fingers clenched the sheet.

“Shoulda paid more attention in school, Dean. That was your prostate,” Sam teasingly replied and rubbed it again, making sure to hit it with every thrust.

Dean was moaning, rocking his hips back on Sam’s fingers, driving him in deeper. “If you…” Dean started but couldn’t quite get the thought out. “I’m gonna come…” Dean babbled, but didn’t stop rocking. “Stop!” Dean finally got out.

Sam abruptly stopped moving and a frown appeared on his face. “Dean, I –“ Sam started to apologize and pull his hand out of his brother’s ass.

Dean looked over his shoulder, his eyes wide and face flushed. “Thought you said I’d be coming on your dick,” Dean reminded him and Sam stilled.

“I thought…” he trailed off.

“Stop thinking and start fucking!” Dean practically yelled at him.

Sam pulled his hand out and started fumbling with the condom. He finally got it open and rolled on and then added more lube. He jerked himself a few times to slick himself.

“You’re going to give me a private show when we get out of here. God, you shouldn’t look so hot when you touch yourself,” Dean muttered and turned back around to face the wall.

Sam positioned the head of his cock at Dean’s entrance and pushed in. He hadn’t done a good job of getting Dean ready and he was still tight.

“Damn,” Dean cursed and tensed up.

“You’ve gotta relax, Dean,” Sam told him, gently rubbing his back under his shirt.

“Fuck, you are huge.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Sam replied and pushed in a little further.

By the time Sam was balls deep in Dean he was shaking with the effort of not moving and not coming. He wanted to make it good for Dean and needed Dean to come first.

“Let me know when I can move. Need to,” Sam babbled as his hands clenched Dean’s hips.

“Jesus, how do people like this?” Dean muttered. He’d dropped his head down to rest on the bed as he took deep breaths.

“It’ll get better,” Sam replied.

“I hope so,” Dean commented and lifted his head back up. “Come on Sammy, show your big brother what you’ve got.”

Sam slowly pulled back out, watching as his dick was released inch by inch from Dean’s tight ass. It wouldn’t take long; he was going to come embarrassingly fast.

The first few thrusts were slow, steady and easy. When Dean started panting again and pushing himself back on Sam’s cock, Sam let go and started to really move. His hips snapped forward, shoving his dick into Dean as he held his hips steady. Sam changed the angle of his thrusts, trying to rub against Dean’s prostate.

The first press of Sam’s dick against Dean’s prostate set off Dean’s climax. He ground himself back against Sam’s dick and came, calling out Sam’s name. The muscles of Dean’s ass began to spasm and clenched around Sam’s cock as he kept fucking him through it. Sam came, rubbing himself against Dean, pushing in as far as he could get and filled the condom.
Neither of them said anything for a few moments. The sound of their harsh breathing filled the room.

“You’re gonna do that again, right?” Dean finally asked and laughed. His ass muscles tightened around Sam’s dick still inside him.

Sam groaned at the contact to his over-sensitive dick. “Yeah, I can,” he replied and reached down to hold the condom on as he pulled out.

Dean sighed at the loss and forced himself to move away from the wet spot on the bed. Sam had made good on his work by fucking Dean and making him come from his cock alone. Sam deposited the used condom in the kid’s trashcan near the bed.

He turned to look back at Dean and was hit with another vision.

Franklin and Michael were on the bed fucking. Sam watched as Michael leaned over Franklin’s back, twisting his head to the side to kiss him as he steadily fucked Franklin.
Franklin came all over the mattress as he gasped into Michael’s mouth.

“Sam?” Dean’s voice was concerned as Sam came back to himself.

Sam couldn’t help but laugh when he looked at Dean. “Franklin came on that mattress. We’ve gotta burn it to end this,” Sam explained as he rubbed at his temples.

Dean’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “That was like twenty years ago!”

“And this is a frat house. These boys can’t afford to care what they sleep or fuck on,” Sam pointed out.

Dean carefully made his way off the bed. He pulled his underwear and skirt back up, taking a little more time then normal. “Well let’s get started. I’ll haul this disgusting piece of furniture into the bathroom shower. And you go find us salt and burn materials.” Dean divided up the responsibilities, serious once again about the hunt.

Sam nodded and offered him a small smile. “Sure thing,” he said and started to leave the room.

“Oh and Sam,” Dean called out, stopping him. Sam looked back over his shoulder at him. “Your ass is mine next time.”

The End

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