Note: The full disclaimer can be found at the end of the story because it gives too much away.
Hands gripping crisp white sheets; head pressed back into soft pillows, eyes opened wide and staring at the ceiling; lips dry and parted, breath coming out in puffs of moist air and desperate whimpers.
Cool hands on his skin, tracing his ribs one by one, so achingly slow it feels like dying.
"Look at me."
His hips jerk, cock hot and hard against his belly, desperate for attention, for release.
Sam's tongue darts out, wetting his lips. "Please."
"What do you want, Sammy? Tell me."
Sam's eyes fall shut. There are words in his head, words on his tongue, but he can't get them out, afraid to hear them out loud. He shakes his head.
"Can't. Please." The need, so clear in his voice, makes his cheeks burn.
The hands travel down his side, over one sharp hipbone. Sam sucks in a shuddering breath when they pause there, then disappear, and finally settle on his thigh.
"This? Do you want this?"
One gentle touch and Sam's thighs fall apart. The finger circling his hole is slick, and the fire in his cheeks spreads until his whole face feels like it's burning.
"Ask for it."
He shakes his head from side to side, dizzy with need and denial. "Please."
"No." The voice isn't hard, but it's resolute.
Sam swallows. "Please," he tries again.
The fingers circle and push but never far, never enough, and he can't take it anymore. He needs more, needs it now.
"Dad. Please, Dad, plea--"
His reward is teeth on his nipple, and he arches up into the bite, then pushes down with a mewl when two fingers finally push inside. It burns hotter than his face, sharper, but he's ready; he's been ready for so long.
"More," Sam gasps as his hands twist the sheets, and John complies, adds another finger, fucks Sam slow and deep. Sam thrashes with every brush of John's fingertips over his prostrate, his eyes open but unseeing, clouded with lust.
John can't wait any longer.
Sam lets out a sob of relief when John sinks inside. John knows Sam is close already, but so is John, and he wastes no time, starts fucking Sam in long, deep strokes. When Sam wraps his hand around his cock, John bites his lip in concentration; he needs to wait, needs to hold on until Sam has found release.
"Dad. Dad. Dad," Sam gasps in perfect timing with the slap-slap-slap of John's balls against Sam's ass.
When Sam comes, his whole body tenses; his face contorts into something that looks like pain but isn't, and the exhalation of breath from Sam's lips startles John out of his rhythm.
John's eyes snap to Sam's face, and then he pulls out with a growl.
"Son of a--." He grabs Sam's hips and flips him over, moves him into position, and Sam goes without resistance, his body spent and pliant.
John is done waiting. He sinks back inside Sam's welcoming body and starts pounding into him, the bed rocking with the force of it.
"Fuck." He comes hard and fast and rides it out, his thrusts slowing, and when he loosens his death-grip on Sam's hips, there are ten perfect, white fingerprints there that John knows will soon turn blue and purple.
Jeff rolls off of Jared's back and drops down next to him on the messy sheets.
"You sick fuck." Jeff's laughter, deep and soft and rumbling, fills the room.
Jared's lips curl into a lazy smile. "I win."
"The hell you do."
"Made you break character. I win."
"Fuck off," Jeff mutters, and reaches over Jared's head for his package of cigarettes. He lights one, inhales deeply, and lies back with a grunt, one arm under his head.
Jared watches the smoke curl from Jeff's lips until his eyes drift shut. Next time, he thinks, maybe he'll ask Jensen to join them.
Harder to Breathe
Fandom(s): SPN FPS & RPS
Pairing(s): Sam/John, Jared/Jeff
Notes: Thanks to virtualinsomnia for the beta. ♥!