Author: Ithiel

Rating: NC-17, or maybe high R

Summary: The metal was warm in his mouth and tasted like gunpowder and oil...

Notes: Would you believe I had just woken up, was laying in bed a bit dazed, and this fic just popped into my head? Maybe I’d been dreaming it. Wrote this in about an hour after waking up. I wonder if I should be a little disturbed.

Warnings: Gun kink, any other warnings ruin it.

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, duh.





The metal was warm in his mouth and tasted like gunpowder and oil... and Sam. So he liked to believe anyway.

Dean had watched his brother while his brother carefully cleaned the gun. Watching how his hands, which should have looked big and clumsy while he worked were instead graceful and meticulous, moving with infinite care and precision over each and every piece. The gun was over a hundred years old, but by the time Sam was finished it gleamed like it was new. It was their one true weapon against the demon army, after all, it had to be maintained with the greatest care.

Dean moaned around the slick metal as it slid between his lips. Letting his eyes drift shut as he focused on the memory of Sam's hands. Stroking, practically fondling, this precious gun. His fingers slick with oil. His eyes intense as he concentrated on what he was doing. So intent he never noticed how Dean had watched him. Never noticed how a slight blush crept over his features or how his breathing had grown a little faster as he watched Sammy work. He was already aching hard when Sam had finally finished. Setting the colt aside with the greatest care and announcing he was going to take a shower. Dean didn't remember what he had said, maybe he grunted a little, and it was a full minute after he heard the shower running before he finally moved. Rising from his own bed slowly and picking up the colt. Holding it almost reverently in his hands before he laid down on Sam's empty bed. Closing his eyes as he pressed the barrel to his lips. Sighing as his tongue snaked out to lick a little of the oil from the tip, swirling his tongue around it as his other hand reached down to palm himself through his jeans.

It wasn’t the first time he’d done this, and probably would not be the last. Dean imagined it wasn't the gun he was holding as the metal slipped easily past his lips. Of course in his mind he knew Sam's cock would have been thicker, longer, hotter, but that didn't seem to matter as he groaned in pleasure. Letting the barrel of he gun slide deeper into his mouth. His other hand quickly unbuttoning his fly and freeing himself. Wrapping his oily fingers around his own dripping cock. He had to be quick and finish before Sam got out of his shower. It wouldn't take long. It never did.

Dean imagined Sam’s fingers wrapped around his flesh instead of his own. Sam’s hands, bigger than his own, but holding him carefully. Just as carefully as Sam had held the gun. Stroking him. Caressing him. That same intense look of concentration in his brother’s eyes as Sam gave him pleasure. He imagined how Sam’s lips would quirk into that small pleased grin of his when Dean whimpered, thrusting into his hand, eager for more. He imagined Sam leaning over him, kissing him, sucking on his tongue.

God he would taste so good... so good... he would taste like heat, and musk, and gun oil, and... Sam... just Sam...

He stroked himself fast and hard, the gun oil easing the way a little, and the slight burn when it didn't only increasing the pleasure he felt. His hips bucked off the bed as he thrust between his fingers. Moaning as he sucked on the barrel of the pistol. The hard metal scraping the roof of his mouth a little but he didn't care. He turned his face into Sam's pillow, breathing in deeply his brother's smell and that was all it took.

With an almost pained whimper Dean came hard, shooting his load all over his stomach, and it practically burned against his skin. He continued to suck and lick around the hard metal in his mouth as the aftershocks of pleasure that made his body tremble a little began to ease. But even when the pleasure began to subside, leaving a familiar growing feeling of guilt, leaving him feeling more than a little dirty, he didn't remove the pistol from his mouth. At least, not until he realized that the water in the bathroom was no longer running.

Dean ignored the slight ache in his jaw as he let the barrel finally slip from his lips. Looking almost longingly at it for a moment before he started moving. Rearranging himself quickly, and sitting up, carefully wiping down the colt with the oiled rag Sam had used, erasing all the signs of what he'd been doing.

He was just uncocking the hammer, releasing the bullet from the chamber, when the bathroom door opened.

"Dean? What are you doing?" Sam asked, standing there still dripping wet from his shower, only a towel wrapped around his hips. Dean didn't look at him.

"Just making sure you did a good job, Sammy." The lie fell easily from his lips, as he set the loaded pistol aside. Throwing down the oily rag next to it before he stood, asking, "You leave me some hot water, bitch?"

He could practically feel Sam's eye-roll before he replied with a small laugh, "Yes, jerk."

Dean still didn't look at his brother as he pushed past Sam to the bathroom. As he shut the door however his eyes caught sight of the colt once more, laying 'harmless' on the nightstand where he'd left it. A brief longing once again filling his eyes for more than one reason before the bathroom door closed and the lock clicked in place. It sounded like the cocking of a hammer.

Whew, very hot. You should write more.

Hope it's okay to comment here. If not, delete!

Wow, that was fucking awesome!

Dean is so dirty. Haha. You're an amazing writer

lmao, thanks

You're welcome. I hope we can write together someday. I would really enjoy it Plus, I know you like Dean, so it will give me a chance to brush up on my Sam

Jesus, that was amazing! Dean is such a kinky dude! Loved it