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Title: Flashpoint
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Warnings: Wincest, piercing, mild pain kink

Summary: Dean's nipples are extra sensitive. Sam can work with that.
Written for a Masquerade prompt requesting nipple play, but I didn't keep the whole thing.

A/N: do not try this at home. Like many things in fic, this is probably a very bad idea to test out on yourself or a loved one.

"Sam, come on, come on," Dean whines, even as he's fucking back onto Sam's fingers. He arches his back as Sam smacks his ass hard, shudder running through him. Sam leans forward over his back, lips just brushing Dean's ear.

"Gotta get you nice and open, big brother," he breathes, nipping the tender skin. "Need to be able to slip right in when I'm ready, because you're going to love your birthday present."

"Such a fucking tease," Dean mutters, but the only heat in his voice is from Sam's hands on his body. He loves what Sam is doing to him, can't get enough, but Sam knows what he needs more than anything else.

"Don't worry, baby, I've got what you need," Sam coos, and Dean tries for a scowl but misses by a mile, mouth dropping open on a moan as the hand not buried to the third knuckle in Dean's ass snakes around to tease his nipple. Sam torments the tender nub, pinches and pulls and rolls it while Dean moans and gasps and begs for more when he can pull enough air into his lungs to form words.

"Please, Sam, Sammy, please, oh fuck, please," Dean begs, and Sam can't wait any longer. He pulls his hand out of Dean's body and flips him over onto his back, latching onto his right nipple and sucking hard. Dean’s entire body bows upward, wordless shout of pleasure ripped out of him as he buries his hands in Sam’s hair. Sam works the nub between his lips, then his teeth, mounding the flesh with both hands until he can leave teeth marks in a perfect circle around the abused flesh. Tears are running down Dean’s face but he doesn’t pull Sam away, just writhes against the thigh Sam has pushed between Dean’s legs, seeking whatever friction he can get on his hard and leaking cock.

Finally Sam lifts his head. His lips are swollen and nearly as red as Dean’s chest, pupils blown until his eyes are more black than hazel. He sets his fingers to Dean’s nipple tugging and pulling as he attacks Dean’s mouth, tongue fucking in and out until they’re both dizzy and panting.

“More,” Dean orders, gasping. “More”. Sam complies eagerly, digging his teeth into Dean’s neglected left nipple, sucking on the tip like a straw. Dean can’t hold back a strangled cry, body all but seizing underneath his brother as Sam rocks against him, sucking and pulling on both sides of Dean’s chest in rhythm.

“Sam. Sam. Sammy,” Dean pants. “I’m gonna… I’m gonna, I need to—“

Sam raises his head long enough to growl “Do it, Dean, come for me,” and Dean explodes underneath him, jets of pearly warmth coating both their bellies as Sam works Dean through his orgasm.

“Fuuuuck,” Dean groans when he can speak again. Sam is lying next to him, still hard, licking over the purpling bruises on his chest.
“Don’t get too comfortable,” Sam says, eyes gleaming wickedly. “I haven’t even gotten to the best part yet.” He sits up and throws a leg over Dean’s thighs, holding him down. Dean hisses in a breath at the contact on his sensitive cock.

“Don’t think I’m quite ready for that yet,” he says, tilting his hips away. Sam shifts away from the contact, then leans forward to open the drawer of the nightstand and pull out a black leather bag.

“Happy birthday, big brother,” he says, tugging on the zipper. He opens the bag to lay flat on the bed and Dean cranes his neck to see the gleam of silver in neat rows shining against the black felt interior.

“Sam…” he says doubtfully. “We kinda talked about this? And how it wouldn’t work?”

“Do you trust me?” Sam asks seriously. Dean licks his lips and nods, because it’s Sam, what else can he do?

Sam smiles and leans forward, kissing Dean gently. “Arms up,” he says, moving Dean’s hands to grasp the headboard. “Beautiful,” he murmurs, and Dean twitches in surprise when Sam pulls Dean’s legs apart and pushes in with a groan.

He keeps going, eyes locked on Dean’s, until he’s fully seated, balls pressed firmly against Dean’s ass. His eyes flutter closed briefly when Dean clenches around him, half teasing, half begging, but Sam doesn’t move after that except to lean forward and kiss Dean again, softer this time.

When Sam sits up, the first thing he reaches for is a wrapped alcohol wipe. “Gotta be clean,” he says with a ghost of a smile. His hands are shaking just a bit as he tears it open, and Dean hisses in surprise when the cold pad swipes over his left nipple. He’s already half-way to hard again, just from the feel of Sam inside him, and he shudders, anticipation rolling through him.

Sam chooses an odd shaped needle, sharply pointed on one end and with some kind of attachment on the other. Dean’s breath speeds up as Sam gives it a quick swipe then gently grips his nipple and tugs.

“Ready?” Sam asks. He sounds as breathless as Dean feels, and his cock twitches inside Dean’s body as he sets the needle against Dean’s skin. He doesn’t wait for an answer, just begins the slow push through the tender flesh.

Dean’s breath leaves him in a rush as he tries desperately not to arch into Sam’s hand. Sam’s hips move, his cock hitting that sweet spot inside Dean just as the tip of the needle breaks through the other side. “Fuck,” Dean gasps. “Sammy, God, fuck, fuck--“

Dean can’t hold back the full body shiver that wracks his body as Sam begins to fuck his nipple with the needle in the same rhythm that his cock is fucking Dean’s ass. Sam’s panting above him, lip caught in his teeth as his eyes flick back and forth between Dean’s chest and his face as he works both the needle and his cock faster and faster. Dean’s hips buck uncontrollably as he grips the headboard, struggling not to let go, pleasure surging through him faster, harder than he can process. It rips through him, rolling his eyes back in his head and dragging a shout from his throat as his body locks down, spasming and clenching tight as he comes harder than he can ever remember. He feels Sam grind against him, locked tight into his body as he’s flooded with warmth, and the sensation drags him under again, pain and pleasure merging into one exquisite, overwhelming point.

When Dean opens his eyes again, Sam’s cleaning him up. The black bag is out of sight and Sam is tugging a pair of boxers over Dean’s hips.

“Hey,” Sam says, smiling tentatively. “You alright?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been better, Sammy,” Dean tells him. He wants to say more, to tell him what a fucking amazing little brother he is, but his eyes are already slipping closed again on Sam’s now blinding smile. Dean’s whole body aches in the best possible way, and once he’s finished sleeping for a week he plans to show Sam exactly how grateful he is for his birthday present.

For now, though, he’s content to relax into Sam’s warmth and love.