The Apocolypse Is Upon Us (better write some pr0n)

Title: Like Watching Bad Porn (NC17 most likely)
Author: brynwulf

It wasn’t an easing of consciousness, like slipping into a dream. It was abrupt – like getting slung off a merry-go-round going the speed of light. It left Sam gasping and slightly nauseous – with a hardon.

He’d been wanting to bone up on his sex magic research and, of course, the library didn’t have much more than Better Loving through Magic which was just a respectable term for Tantric masturbation. Right, whatever. So, Sam’d had to order what he needed from an esoteric bookseller in the Bronx that he used sometimes for the hard-to-find stuff.

While Sam read and highlighted and made notes in the margins, Dean lay on the other bed, flipping through American Muscle Car, his feet crossed at the ankle, swinging back and forth to whatever was playing in his Shuffle.

The non-rhythmic flickering movement of Dean’s feet ghosting in his peripheral vision didn’t even bother Sam, he’d become so engrossed in the current chapter.

Gaining Additional Power through Same Sex Rituals. Huh. He’d never heard of that.

According to the author, specific ceremonial requests of certain powers held more weight if performed with a same-sex partner. He reread the introduction five times, just to make sure he’d gotten that part right.

As he continued, falling deeper and farther under the spell of the author’s words, Sam began to lose himself in a way he should have recognized as trouble in the making. The Rite of St. Sabastian was offered as an example with VERY detailed wording and actions. While the text began with two males of indeterminate age and appearance, before Sam had finished calling the quarters, he’d replaced them with Dean and himself.

If questioned, he might have come up with something like “it made it easier to follow the ritual if I could picture the men in detail.” And Dean would say, “Whatever gets you through the night, Sammy.”

By the time he’d invoked the saint, Sam found himself laying prone inside an upright pentagram, the same one illustrated inside the book. He’d never heard of being pulled inside a book like this, but he could see them, he and Dean, buck naked, performing the rite. While at the same time, he felt himself existing in the moment, in the ceremony, saying the words and …. performing the actions. So yeah, a little nausea might be expected.

Sam turns to face Dean. He looks like a god, Sam thinks. Slathered in oil, his muscles rippling even in stillness as the lamps hanging on the walls surrounding them flicker and bounce their flames across the room. And amidst all the shadows there is his erection. Large, proud, almost reaching out to Sam. Oh yes, it’s time to touch.

“It’s okay, Sam,” Dean said, taking a step forward. “It’s for the ritual. It doesn’t count.”

Sam raises his arms, invoking the power, drawing it into him even while he feels it coursing through his veins like molten lava, making him ache with longing for his brother. When he lowers his arms and his eyes, Dean is right there against him.

Their erections brush against each other and it’s like a spark is lit. The outline of the pentagram begins to glow and Dean is pulling Sam’s head down into a kiss of unsurpassed sweetness.

The power flows between them now. Sam happily shares this gift with Dean while his fingers scrabble for purchase on oil-slicked skin. He’s not able to get close enough. Skin to skin is not enough because Sam wants to crawl inside his brother.

Dean’s fingers are clamped into the muscles of Sam’s ass and Sam shifts his legs apart instinctively. He feels Dean’s fingers walking their way down and toward his center. The tip of one brushes his hole with a teasing touch.

Sam completes the circuit by wrapping his fingers around Dean’s hard cock. It’s so full and red, he wonders how Dean doesn’t just explode when he touches him. He begins a lazy jack using his wrist while lightly shoving Dean back to the fur rug centered on the crossing lines of the pentagram.

When he kneels, Dean is forced to go down with him and when he’s got Dean on his back, the dark fur framing his pale torso, Sam swoops down with a fierce desire to possess this god in human form. He kisses Dean deeply, drinking from his mouth with tongue and teeth and sucking lips. Sam sweeps a hand across Dean’s face, nudges it into profile so he can sample the vanilla flavored oil that’s pooled in the creases of his neck. He tugs on Dean’s earlobe with his teeth before moving down to lightly chew at his shoulder.

Still he’s not close enough. “Need inside you. Have to be in you.” Sam recognizes the guttural harshness in his voice and attributes it to the power of the saint they’ve invoked.

Sam got jarred into awareness when Dean shoved at his shoulder, nearly toppling him off the bed.

“Dude! What the fuck are you doing?” Dean looks half irritated, half amused.

Before Sam can open his mouth to protest his innocence of whatever it is Dean thinks he’s done, he looked down to see his dick, waving in the breeze through the opening in his jeans. An opening only he could have made by unzipping and pulling little Sammy out by hand.

“Uh.”

“I knew that sex magic shit was going to fuck with your head. You should have let me do the research. It’s been too damn long since you’ve gotten any. I can’t even believe we’re related.”

Sam was still in semi-shock when he felt the weight of the book leave his lap and watched Dean take it over to his bed, flopping down with a huff. When Sam didn’t move, Dean turned to him, his look expectant.

“What? I’ll figure it out. You go in the bathroom and…. “ Dean flitted his hand in the air and buried his nose back in the book.

Sam glared at Dean, tucked himself back in and rolled to his feet. “I’d like to see you stand up to that Sabastian martyr. He knows some pretty good shit.”

Dean raised his hand, waving a single middle finger at Sam, but didn’t stop reading. Before Sam had made it to the bathroom door, he heard a moan from Dean’s bed.

The flame of the circle surrounding the pentagram blazes just a few feet from Dean’s head, but he isn’t too warm. Sam’s large frame drapes over him, grinding their cocks together while Sam makes a buffet out of his neck and shoulders, but it feels like heaven.

“Inside me.” Dean chants the two words over and over until Sam pulls off and rolls back onto his knees, letting his butt rest against his bare feet.

“Then, open yourself for me.” The muscles in Sam’s forearms flex when he pushes himself up.

While Dean pulls his knees in, cups the back of his thighs to offer himself to Sam, Sam strokes his own dick, lightly playing and teasing it until Dean licks his lips at the sight of clear liquid dribbling down Sam’s length and into his hand.

“The oil on your body and the fluid of my arousal is all we’ll need.” Dean feels a shiver of anticipation as Sam tells him what to do. Shows him how to hold his legs apart so Sam can look and touch and taste him open.

Dean can hardly stand to watch Sam’s dark head hovering between his legs and clenches his eyes shut when he feels Sam’s tongue darting through the tight ring of muscles he’s trying to relax.

It’s beyond bliss, bordering on unbearable, but when Sam raises his head, his mouth and cheeks glistening with his own saliva and the oil from Dean’s body, Dean already misses the invasion of his body.

“Fuck me, Sam. Inside me. Now.”

Sam frowns slightly at Dean’s demanding tone, but gets over it when Dean brings his own hands down between his legs and runs two fingers over his stimulated flesh. Sam catches his breath, grips the base of his cock with one hand and supports himself with the other.

When Sam’s lined up, head of his cock kissing against Dean’s hole, it’s like the worst and best kind of torture. Dean can feel the pressure building, minutely, as Sam breeches him in increments. He almost sighs with relief when the crown slips in, but Sam doesn’t give him the chance. What was easy and excruciating a moment before is swift and sure and deep, now.

When Dean looks up, Sam is grinning down at him, or at least showing his teeth, and he’s buried balls deep in Dean’s ass. Deeper than Dean thought was possible. And just by laying there, still atop his brother, it seems Sam’s cock is right there whispering over his prostate, promising pleasures just out of Dean’s reach.

“Move,” Dean says threw gritted teeth.

Sam’s grin turns truly feral and Dean knows the power they raise will be truly magnificent.

“Ow, you son of a bitch!” Dean threw the book off the bed and clamped a hand over the throbbing spot on his shoulder where Sam… just bit him?

“It’s for the ritual Dean. It doesn’t count.” Sam’s predatory look had returned and he’d pinned Dean to the mattress.

“Huumph!”

Sam’s mouth swallowed Dean’s protest, then he pulled back and grinned down at him. Just like Ritual!Sam had. “Seriously, Dean. We both apparently have deep-seated erotic desire for each other. We might as well just go with it, ritual or no.”

Dean seemed to be pondering Sam’s logic. In the meantime, Sam’s hands did wonderful and marvelous things with his dick.

“Besides. If you expect me to just stand here and watch you get to watch US in that book by yourself, well…”

Dean’s last clear thought was just how ready they were going to be if they ever DID have to perform the ritual. Yeah, they were good.