rivers_bend

Title: The Pictures of Time and Space are Rearranged
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Words: ~2000
Warnings/enticements: implied underage. See prompt.
Summary: Written for the prompt Preteen!Sam wakes up in his older body with Dean spooning/sucking on his neck/ giving him a handjob at blindfold_spn.



Sam hates his new school. He's in a third/fourth shared class so they spend a lot of time doing stuff that he's not only already learned at another school, but that he learned a whole year ago. And when your best friend is fourteen, sharing a classroom with eight year olds really sucks. They're total babies. Fortunately Sam'll probably be leaving soon. Dad just got back with the special magic statue they've been down here to find, so with luck, tomorrow will be Sam's last day having to put up with the stupid third graders.

There's pizza for dinner, and root beer for Sam and Dean, and Dad said Sam could stay up to watch the Terminator double feature, so it's a good night. The statue looks a little like a Terminator without its skin, actually. Dad left it on the bedside table, and he didn't say not to touch it, so Sam plays with it a little before he goes to sleep, pretending to rush in and save John Connor from the evil robots. He only puts it down when Dean yawns and says, "Think I'll hit the hay, too."

Sam's asleep almost as soon as Dean climbs into bed beside him.

When Sam wakes up, he doesn't know what's going on. Another little kid is in his bed, or else Dean has shrunk a lot in the night. But that's not the weirdest part. Whoever is in bed with him is kissing his neck. In a sexy way like on TV, not like Dad sometimes did when Sam was tiny, scooping him up and giving him tickly kisses with his scruff. It makes Sam jump and try to get away, but whoever it is has an arm around Sam's chest, and the other one over his hips, holding onto him.

"Mmmm, morning, Sammy," a voice says in his ear. Dean's voice. Only deeper. Which makes no sense.

Then the hand that was on Sam's stomach moves down and touches his prick. And it feels really good. Much, much better than any of the times Sam's tried touching himself the way he's seen Dean doing when Dean thought Sam was asleep.

"Oh, my god," Sam says. "Oh, my god!"

"Sam?" Dean—he hopes it's Dean—says, nuzzling Sam's neck again, licking the back of it and nibbling a little.

Only then does Sam look down at himself. He screams.

"Sam, what the hell?" Dean shouts, holding his nose where Sam elbowed it in his mad scramble to get up out of the bed.

Sam didn't mean to hit his brother, but he's giant now. Like seriously. Bigger than Dean. Bigger than Dad. His chest is all bulgy with muscles everywhere, and his dick. God, his dick is bigger than his arm is supposed to be. Though fortunately not bigger than his arm is now, because, "Oh. My. God.

"Dean, what's happening? Why are you doing that? How did I get so big?" Sam's flapping his hands up near his face in the way that Dean has told him more than once makes him look like a girl, but he doesn't even care, because he's pretty sure that he's allowed to be freaking out right now.

"Good genes?" Dean says, looking almost as confused as Sam feels. "You've been this big pretty much since puberty, if I remember," he adds.

"I haven't even had puberty yet!" Sam realizes as he says it that his voice is really deep, too.

Now Dean's staring at him like he's lost his mind.

"I'm ten!" Sam adds for clarification.

"Um. No. Dude, you're twenty-five."

Sam has to admit that he does look twenty-five. At least from what he can see from here. But he was ten when he went to sleep. He knows he was. "Dean. I'm ten. We had pizza for dinner last night and watched Terminator and Terminator Two, and Dad finally got that stupid statue we've been looking for for like three months, so I won't have to be in Mr. Bont's stupid class anymore, and last week Angelica Haas gave you a handjob in the janitor's closet at school, and why are you staring at me like that?"

"I don't know about the pizza or Terminator, and I couldn't have told you her name, but I do remember the hand job in the janitor's closet when Dad was looking for that statue. But it never did what it was supposed to, I don't think. I have no idea what ever happened to it."

"I was playing with it before I went to sleep," Sam says, suddenly very worried that he did this to himself.

"Well, I would probably remember if you disappeared when you were ten, so I'm sure it will all be okay."

Sam's glad to hear that. But now that he's calmed down a little bit he remembers that he's naked. And his brother was kissing him and touching his dick. "Dean, you were touching my dick!" Sam sits down on the bed that Dean is not in, and pulls a pillow over his lap. "Also, I'm naked."

Dean blushes. "Um, yeah. We—kinda do that."

"But you're my brother."

"That was a problem for a while. We got over it."

"Why?" Sam can't actually imagine trusting anyone who isn't Dean to touch his dick, but he knows Dean likes lots of people who aren't Sam to touch his. Lots of girl people. So he's confused.

"I don't know. We just did." Dean looks a little annoyed, like he does when Sam wants him to explain why they have to do whatever stupid thing Dad says.

"And you like it?" It seemed like Dean liked it, but Dean sometimes does things he doesn't like, just because Sam wants to. Dean thinks Sam doesn't know, but he does.

"Yeah," Dean says, blushing again. "We both like it."

Sam still thinks that's a little weird, but his twenty-five-year-old dick agrees with Dean, and he kinda wants to try it. "Can we—will you touch it more? Now?"

"You just got finished telling me you're ten, Sam."

"My thing—my dick I mean—doesn't feel ten, though. It feels like it wants you to touch it."

"Sammy, I don't think—"

But Sam figures if he's going to somehow go forward in time, he might as well take advantage of it, so he crawls back in bed with his brother. "Please?" he says.

"Sam—"

"Please. You were doing it before, and I liked it. I promise. I just didn't know what was happening. But now I do." Sam cuddles closer to his brother while he's talking, though it's harder to fit now that Dean's so much smaller than he is.

"Sam—"

Sam can feel Dean's dick against his leg. It's not like it used to be when Sam rolled over in his sleep and Dean was having a sex dream. Now he wants to touch it. Like a lot. "Dean—" he says.

"Oh, fuck," Dean moans, and puts a hand on the back of Sam's neck, pulling him down like he's going to kiss him.

Sam really wants Dean to kiss him.

"Can I—" Dean asks, looking up at him.

Sam just nods, too scared to speak.

It's not like it looks on TV. It feels like Dean is sucking on his lips, which is kind of weird but makes Sam feel like his stomach is going to melt. He makes a noise, worries for a second that it will make Dean stop, but it makes Dean moan and grab him, kiss him harder, stick his tongue in Sam's mouth.

That makes Sam feel like everything is melting.

He needs to get closer, and ends up rolling Dean over onto his back, falling on top of him, which squishes his dick against Dean's hip. It hurts a little and makes him need to press harder at the same time, which seems wrong, but he doesn’t care. He's grabbing at Dean's shoulders and his head, and grinding his dick against Dean anywhere he can reach, making even more noise now, and he still feels like it's not enough. He can't get close enough.

"Jesus, Sammy, jesus. Calm down a minute." Dean's patting Sam's hair, running soothing hands down his back.

"Dean, I need, I need—" Sam has no idea what he needs.

"Wanna fuck me?" Dean ducks his head against Sam's neck as soon as he says it, mumbles, "God, I did not just say that."

Sam doesn't even know how that would work, but there is only one answer. "Yes. Please. Dean."

"Do you even—" Dean's shaking his head, eyes closed. "How bout I give you a blowjob?"

That sounds good too, but not instead of the fucking. "Can't we do both?"

"This is not happening." Dean says that, but he is pushing Sam onto his back and reaching for Sam's dick, so Sam's pretty sure he doesn't really mean it.

"Unghhhhh," Sam says, because, wow, Dean's hand when Sam's all melty from kissing is like twenty billion times better than rubbing up against Dean's hip, and also better than Dean's hand when Sam's just woken up in the future and doesn't know what's going on.

Then Dean pushes the blankets off and goes and kisses Sam's stomach and then—oh god, oh god—puts. Sam's. dick. inhismouth. Which is like. Sam doesn't even know what, but he thinks he might faint. "I might faint," he says, except it comes out more like, "I-yyyyyyyyyyyyyyyaaaaaaaaah," which is probably good, because Dean might stop doing it if he thought Sam was going to faint, and Dean cannot stop doing it, or Sam might die.

Then he stops anyway, because Sam's dick explodes. Which Sam knows is called coming, but it feels like exploding, so he doesn't really care what it's called.

Sam starts crying as soon as he can breathe again.

"Oh, god. Fuck, Sam, I'm so sorry." Dean practically flies up the bed, wraps his hands around Sam's face, peering at him worriedly. "Did I hurt you? Shit! Don't cry."

Sam shakes his head, because he's totally not crying because it hurt. It just—he has no idea why he's crying, actually. Because that was the most amazing thing that ever happened to him. Ever. "Good," he manages to say. "So good."

"You're trying to give me a heart attack, aren't you?"

"Good," Sam says again, and pulls at Dean until he's close enough to kiss.

When their lips touch Sam closes his eyes and feels a tug in his belly. Like the melting, but much more intense. Dean makes a muffled sound of surprise, and shoves at Sam's shoulders.

"What?" Sam murmurs. His voice is high and light. His eyes fly open. Fourteen-year-old Dean is staring at him, shocked look widening his eyes impossibly.

"What do you mean, 'What'?" Dean hisses. "You just stuck your tongue in my mouth!"

Sam can see Dad over Dean's shoulder, sleeping in the other bed. Now is probably not the time to explain to Dean about how it doesn't really matter if they're brothers, it feels really good when Dean touches Sam's dick. He should do more of it. And Sam wants to touch Dean's too, because he was sent back before he got a chance which is just mean of the statue or whatever it was that sent him into the future. He and Dean'll have to talk about it later. When Dad's not around.

"Sorry," Sam says. "Guess I was dreaming."