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Title: A Little Rain Must Fall
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Words: 511
Rating: Adult
Summary: Dean takes a break to enjoy the rain and his brother.
A/N: schmoopy fic for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rejeneration
Dean is sick of the sunshine. Every day, pounding down, turning the roads to dust, baking him and Sam in the front seat like potatoes in foil. Arizona, New Mexico, Texas, Oklahoma, Arkansas. Hot and dry. Then they hit Mississippi, and the rain comes.
It's half-way to dark, sun setting at their backs, and the heavens open up. Middle of nowhere, forty-five minutes or more since they've seen a car, not that Dean would care either way if there were people around to see. He stops where they are, barely even pulling over to the shoulder, and tumbles out into the water falling from the sky.
It's a summer shower, true meaning of the words, just cool enough to wash away everything making him want to crawl out of his skin.
"Sam Winchester, get your ass out here," he says, when he turns and sees his brother still sitting in the car.
Sam grins through the smeary windshield and shakes his head, but opens up the door and steps out. In seconds it looks like he just stepped out of a lake. Dean needs to taste the water dripping off his chin. So he does.
"You're crazy, you know that, right?" Sam laughs into Dean's ear, but he's shoving his hands through Dean's hair, and twisting Dean's head just right for a kiss.
They turn, turn again, still kissing, like they're caught in some kind of dance, but when Sam pulls Dean down in the tall grass, he realizes it was just his little brother getting them off the road.
"Good thinking."
Sam licks into his mouth, interrupting his train of thought. When he comes up for air again, Dean remembers. "Don't need gravel in my ass."
"Not gravel, no," Sam says, and starts wrestling with the soaked denim at Dean's fly.
"You gonna--" CRACK! Dean laughs when thunder eats the fuck me right here he was gonna finish with.
"Yep," Sam says, joining in his laughter.
It takes longer to shove their wet clothes aside than it usually takes to strip completely.
The water's everywhere, making skin slippery and snaggy at once, cocks rubbing past each other in the hot press between their bellies. The friction's almost perfect, nearly enough to distract from the ache of wanting to be fucked. Lube's in the trunk though, and no way Sam's gonna fuck him without.
Except he knows, like he always does, and still grinding just right, Sam sucks two fingers into his mouth and reaches down, under Dean's leg, pressing inside, giving Dean what he needs. He comes with a shout, but it's swallowed by another rumble of thunder and Sam's mouth on his.
When Sam rolls off, they lie there, rain sluicing the mess they made down their sides and into the grass, plastering their shirts to their chests and Sam's hair to his face. The air smells rich, of mud and grass and rivers, no dust anywhere. If Dean tips his head back, he can see his baby deep black behind them, and to the side, he can see Sam, his face open and washed clean.
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Words: 511
Rating: Adult
Summary: Dean takes a break to enjoy the rain and his brother.
A/N: schmoopy fic for
rejenerationDean is sick of the sunshine. Every day, pounding down, turning the roads to dust, baking him and Sam in the front seat like potatoes in foil. Arizona, New Mexico, Texas, Oklahoma, Arkansas. Hot and dry. Then they hit Mississippi, and the rain comes.
It's half-way to dark, sun setting at their backs, and the heavens open up. Middle of nowhere, forty-five minutes or more since they've seen a car, not that Dean would care either way if there were people around to see. He stops where they are, barely even pulling over to the shoulder, and tumbles out into the water falling from the sky.
It's a summer shower, true meaning of the words, just cool enough to wash away everything making him want to crawl out of his skin.
"Sam Winchester, get your ass out here," he says, when he turns and sees his brother still sitting in the car.
Sam grins through the smeary windshield and shakes his head, but opens up the door and steps out. In seconds it looks like he just stepped out of a lake. Dean needs to taste the water dripping off his chin. So he does.
"You're crazy, you know that, right?" Sam laughs into Dean's ear, but he's shoving his hands through Dean's hair, and twisting Dean's head just right for a kiss.
They turn, turn again, still kissing, like they're caught in some kind of dance, but when Sam pulls Dean down in the tall grass, he realizes it was just his little brother getting them off the road.
"Good thinking."
Sam licks into his mouth, interrupting his train of thought. When he comes up for air again, Dean remembers. "Don't need gravel in my ass."
"Not gravel, no," Sam says, and starts wrestling with the soaked denim at Dean's fly.
"You gonna--" CRACK! Dean laughs when thunder eats the fuck me right here he was gonna finish with.
"Yep," Sam says, joining in his laughter.
It takes longer to shove their wet clothes aside than it usually takes to strip completely.
The water's everywhere, making skin slippery and snaggy at once, cocks rubbing past each other in the hot press between their bellies. The friction's almost perfect, nearly enough to distract from the ache of wanting to be fucked. Lube's in the trunk though, and no way Sam's gonna fuck him without.
Except he knows, like he always does, and still grinding just right, Sam sucks two fingers into his mouth and reaches down, under Dean's leg, pressing inside, giving Dean what he needs. He comes with a shout, but it's swallowed by another rumble of thunder and Sam's mouth on his.
When Sam rolls off, they lie there, rain sluicing the mess they made down their sides and into the grass, plastering their shirts to their chests and Sam's hair to his face. The air smells rich, of mud and grass and rivers, no dust anywhere. If Dean tips his head back, he can see his baby deep black behind them, and to the side, he can see Sam, his face open and washed clean.
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