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Wanna See What's Under That Attitude

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Sam is making lunch when Dean approaches her from behind, so caught up in the process of meticulously cutting vegetables she doesn’t even notice he’s there until she feels him squeezing her tits. Sam flinches, her breath hitching.

“Shhh, just me, it’s okay. Pretend I’m not even here.”

Sam obeys, resuming her previous motions as Dean gropes her. He lifts her shirt and starts playing with her now exposed chest, circling his thumbs over her nipples and pinching them when they stiffen. She feels her stomach twist and pussy clench from the feeling of Dean’s hands on her, but she tries to breathe, refocusing on her work.

It’s then that Dean lifts her skirt to touch her cunt, dipping his hand into her panties and just barely touching her. Sam whines and minutely arches her back to be closer to his touch.

Dean hushes her again, “Shhh, you keep working, I’m just having a bit of fun, you don’t need to acknowledge it at all.”

She carries on cooking as Dean rubs her clit, settling his head on her shoulder. His hand travels further down so a finger can push past her opening easily, already wet enough from Dean’s teasing to form a dark patch on her underwear. His middle finger fucks in and out of her a few times before Dean puts pressure on Sam’s back so she arches it, making the heel of his hand stimulate her clit. He adds another finger and Sam keeps preparing their food, cutting a sandwich in half with shaky hands and just barely stifling a moan.

“That’s right, don’t pay attention to what I’m doin’. Such a good girl, Sammy,” he coos.

Dean adjusts his stance to shove a third finger in, curling his hand forward to send a jolt of white-hot pleasure through Sam’s gut. Sam is trembling and leaking with arousal and barely has time to process the words Dean whispered in her ear before there’s a rustling of fabric; her panties are pulled down to her knees and she suddenly feels the tip of Dean’s cock touch her pussy. He teases her hole and rubs his tip against her clit, forcing Sam to bite down on her hand to suppress the whining and begging desperate to escape her throat.

He slides in all at once, not bothering to give Sam time to get used to his size. Her eyes roll back and Dean fucks her fast and deep right away, the combination of her brother’s cock in her hole and one hand still on her tits rendering her incapable of holding back a moan.

Dean looks at the various ingredients and utensils from their would-be lunch spread across the counter, then back at Sam. “You can’t work like this, can you baby? That’s a shame, I thought you were a reliable, smart little sister.”

Sam whines pitifully, her head lolling back onto Dean’s shoulder.

“It’s not bad, dumb girls can be good, too, just not for the same things,” he says sweetly. “I’ll just have to keep you from doing things that require having a brain. Maybe I can chain you to the bed and keep you there, all to myself. Keep that pretty head of yours empty, its only purpose taking my cock and making me come. You want that, Sammy?”

Sam nods frantically, the feeling of Dean’s dick in her cunt and hands roaming her body making her mind float, her only thoughts of how good her big brother feels and how good she wants to be for him.

Dean chuckles darkly and grabs her hair, using it as leverage to fuck her harder. One hand comes to rest on her belly, and he says right in Sam’s ear, “maybe one day I won’t pull out, hm? I’ll knock you up, make sure you can’t leave me. You’d never leave me, would you, Sammy?”

Sam shakes her head, panting and flushed.

“Yeah, that’s a good little slut,” Dean grits out between thrusts. “You’ve got everything you need right here. It’s my job, I’ll always take care of you, s’long as you’re good for your big brother.”

His pace quickens, and with it the hand he has on Sam’s clit. She whimpers, all baby-sister pathetic, her mind on a repeated loop of being a good girl for Dean, a good little sister. “Dean, please, Dean– wanna, Dean ,” she whines and tightens around his cock.

Dean groans, also dangerously close to coming. “Tell me, Sammy,” he says. His hand comes to rest on her throat, not quite tight enough to cut off her air, but gripping hard enough that she can feel it, hard enough that she gets dizzy as he presses on her arteries. “Tell me what you want. Be a big girl and use your words.”

“God, Dean– wanna come, please– please lemme come, Dee,” she whines, practically on the verge of tears.

He pushes in harder still, the sound of him bottoming out over and over making obscene sounds that fill the room around them. When his thrusts grow more erratic, he pulls out and Sam whines at the loss, shaking with need. Dean grabs her chest and squeezes hard , and Sam is so sensitive the tears in her eyes spill over, staining her cheeks. “What, baby? Can’t handle not being full for a few minutes? Such a fucking cockslut, aren’t you?”

Sam doesn’t respond, only begs incoherently and tugs on Dean’s arm in a silent plea for release. Dean snakes an arm down to rub her clit again, the other still splayed across her chest to hold her up. Sam lets out a broken sob, boneless and pliant in Dean’s arms. “Go on, come for me, Sammy,” he says, looking sideways at her. Her tearstained face contorts and she cries in relief, trembling as her orgasm rushes through her.

Dean pushes back in, Sam’s hole sloppy and soaked from her orgasm, letting him slide in easily. She shudders at the overstimulation, whimpers pitifully when Dean starts rubbing her clit again. His other hand takes hold of her throat again and he asks with mock sympathy, “What’s wrong, baby? Thought you said you wanted to come. You didn’t think it was only gonna be once, did you?”

Sam pants helplessly, her face red and splotchy with tears, hair a sweaty tangled mess. Her hips move back and forth of their own volition, both trying to get closer to the overwhelming stimulation and get away from it. She lets herself go completely limp in Dean’s hold, trusting him to make the decisions for her, to know what’s best for her, to think for her when the only thing on her mind is the idea of coming on her big brother’s cock.

Dean’s hand on her cunt speeds up and the other grips her throat tighter, making Sam let out a high-pitched moan of surprise and pleasure. His thrusts grow faster, his groans louder, and Sam tightens around his cock as she comes again. Dean pulls out just in time to come all over Sam’s ass, groaning praises in her ear.

Dean pulls his pants up and tucks himself back into his boxers; but before Sam can imagine having some semblance of relief, he hugs her from behind again and produces a small vibrator from his pocket. He turns it on and presses it to her clit, making Sam jolt in his arms.

“Fuck, Dean –” she trails off into a moan when Dean turns the vibrator’s speed up a notch and adjusts its angle. She holds the arm Dean has across her chest in a vice grip, practically drooling onto his skin.

“That’s better,” he says. “Whores don’t need to think, do they? They just need to come. And you’re my little whore, aren’t you, Sammy? All mine.”

Sam’s only response is a shaky nod to which Dean lets out a satisfied hum and watches Sam fall apart in his arms. His; all his.

Sam comes for a third time, eyes rolling back as she trembles in her big brother’s hold. Dean pulls his hand away after Sam struggles against the overstimulation for a few moments and pockets the vibrator again. He runs his free hand through her hair, wiping away the parts of it that became stuck to her face with sweat and tears. Dean rests the hand on Sam’s cheek and looks sideway at her, a smug grin on his face. He lightly taps her cheek in a feeble attempt to get her attention and says, “Not much left in there, huh?”

When Sam’s only response is a tired whimper as she leans into the comfort of Dean’s hand on her face, Dean laughs fondly and moves his hand away to pull her underwear back up and straighten out her shirt. He holds her from behind as he directs her to walk over to a nearby table and sit at one of the chairs pulled up at it. “There you go, you sit down, rest your pretty little head for a minute, hm? Looks like I’m gonna have to finish making lunch since you couldn’t, could you?”

He grips her chin and wiggles it like he’s trying to talk to some dumb dog instead of his fucked-dumb little sister. Sam doesn’t respond, not really, just gazes up at Dean with all her usual admiration, expression hazy and fucked-out. Always looking to big brother for guidance even when she can barely think– especially when she can barely think; her near-mindless state makes it easier for Sam to settle into life with her brother, makes it easier for her to tell herself these are her choices.

Dean lets out a satisfied hum in response to Sam’s non-response and lets go of her face to finish making their half-done lunch across the room.

Sam lays her head on the table, cushioned by her arms, and watches as Dean plays cook for her, filled with warmth at the way he takes care of her, even after all these years. The warmth carries her mind higher and farther away, and her eyelids grow heavy at the sound of Dean humming Rocket Queen to himself.

This is good, she tells herself as she dozes off. This is what she wants, what she’s always wanted; to be with Dean.