Work Text:
Dean’s really getting to him now.
Last week, they were at old Mrs. Cook’s house, who was more than eager to have a couple of handsome detectives (her words, not his) question her about her recently deceased husband.
They’d been sitting in her cozy little kitchen, sipping cups of hot cocoa and generally getting bored listening to her go on and on and on about stories of when she and her husband were young and so in love when Dean had made his first move.
He’d slipped his socked foot out of his boots, and quiet as a mouse, had slipped it up Sam’s jean-covered leg and rested it right on top of his crotch, no joke. Then, he proceeded to flex his foot and wriggle his toes.
He could see Dean trying very hard to keep his laughter in while the old lady was almost in tears thinking about their honeymoon to Venice, and that didn’t surprise him at all. But what did surprise him was the fact that he actually got a boner the size of Russia when that happened.
Then, yesterday, while they were at one of the countless diners that dotted America’s highways, Dean had ordered a milkshake with his burger. A vanilla milkshake, at that. Dean didn’t even like vanilla!
And he’d kept slurping throughout the entirety of Sam’s meal, wrapping his lips around the straw and moving them up and down in an imitation of what one would do when… Well, when going down on another man. He did it real messy, too, so some of it clung to his lips, white starkly contrasting with the pink of his luscious mouth. It drove Sam absolutely wild. And got him hard enough to cut diamonds.
Now, he was attempting to make Sam jealous (presumably) by grinding against this guy who was- well, gorgeous- tall, dark and handsome, everything clichés were made up of- but Sam hated him at first sight.
Because he was touching something that didn’t belong to him. Or, you know, someone. Same difference.
Yes, Sam was a possessive bastard. Jess had teased him about that umpteen times earlier, and he knew it was totally true. It’s just- he blew his fucking top when he saw Dean dirty dancing with Mr. Perfect there, and a pissed off him wasn’t something pleasant. Like, at all.
He almost went right up to them and pulled Dean off the (not so) little bastard, but then decided that if Dean could do that, then so could he.
He looked around the bar, and caught sight of a pretty redhead who sat alone at a table, looking dejected. And then, he decided to give Dean a taste of his own medicine.
Samantha was absolutely delightful. And really grateful because Sam joined her soon after her boyfriend broke up with her, leaving her to fend for herself, and that was hard, because in her words, everyone in the club was a pervert.
They were now in Samantha’s apartment, and she was on her knees showing Sam just how grateful she was, lips wrapped around his cock, sucking like a pro.
And Sam appreciated her doing that- no, really, he did, it wasn’t that often that a woman volunteered to blow him, because he was… well, he didn’t want to brag, but he was larger than average- however, he just couldn’t stop making comparisons between her and Dean. Comparisons between the painted-red too-thin chapped lips of hers, and Dean’s much fuller, pinker ones, prettier, never chapped. Comparisons between the surprisingly thin, rough texture of her hair, and Dean’s soft dark blond hair, gone flat because of the gel he used by the end of the day.
Comparisons between her pale blue eyes with their stubby eyelashes and Dean’s gorgeous jade green ones with long, thick eyelashes that only served to make him more attractive. Comparisons between the breadth of his shoulders and the frailness of her body, comparisons between her skin treated with Veet and his skin that was naturally soft.
Comparisons between her ample bosom and his flat, defined chest. Comparisons between her butt that rather lacked curve and his that was perky as an air hostess.
When he went down her, he even made comparisons between her shaved pink pussy and the coarse blond hair that would probably surround Dean’s cock, just as pretty as the rest of him. When he ate her out, he thought that the preferred the bitter-salty taste of a man’s release than the tang of a woman’s.
When he slid into her, he made comparisons between her wet heat and Dean’s, which would be velvety, clenching around him tight in an almost painful, but more pleasurable manner. God, he had it bad.
So, basically, all he got out of that hookup was the realization that he had a serious hard-on for his brother.
A few weeks later, they were at another nameless motel, and Dean had been singing all the while in the shower.
He came out with just a much-too-short towel wrapped around his waist, and while he was bent over his duffle, looking for a fresh pair of underwear, his towel fell.
And there was Dean’s bare, gorgeous ass in all its glory.
Fuck. He was screwed. And not in the fun way, either.
It had been two days since the incident of Oops! There goes my towel!, as Dean liked to call it, and Dean’s epic attempt at seduction, as Sam called it. Dean protested only mildly every time he said that, mostly laughing it off. But what Dean didn’t get was how hard it was for Sam to keep his hands off Dean when he smiled like that, looking absolutely gorgeous with his eyes all crinkly.
Things really came to a head, though, only when they were working a case in Nashville, when Dean came back to their room looking thoroughly fucked, hair in a miss and trail of hickeys down his throat, and Sam just knew that this time, it wasn’t a woman who was responsible for it.
What Sam didn’t get was why Dean had to go and whore himself out to so many people, when Sam could give him what he wanted if only he asked for it.
“What was his name?” growled Sam, furious that someone else did this to Dean, not him.
“Seth,” said Dean, and even though he looked unflustered, cocky and smug as always, he knew that his breathing had sped up a little. Well, at least he was getting a reaction from him.
“What did you guys do?” asked Sam, growling when Dean replied, smirking, “I don’t kiss and tell, Sammy.”
“What did you guys do?” he repeated, running out of patience real quick. He was sick of this game they’d been playing for the last few days.
“He- he fucked me,” replied Dean, swallowing nervously. “And?” prompted Sam, “Did you like it?” “Y-yeah,” was the soft reply.
“Yeah? Tell me more about him, about it, Dean.”
“H-he was big. Tall, broad, and proportional all over. He held me hands up above my head, and finger fucked me nice and slow.” His breath hitched as Sam slid a hand down the back of his pants.
“Please, don’t stop on my account,” said Sam. “Do go on.”
“He liked holding me down and marking me up. And when he fucked me, hard and fast, I came untouched,” said Dean, a faintly dreamy look in his eyes.
As arousing as Dean’s words were, Sam wanted to be the one who made him look like that.
In his haste to get their clothes off, he ripped a few buttons off too, but that didn’t matter- all that mattered then was Dean- Dean and only Dean.
He almost purred in pleasure when all of Dean was finally bared to him, miles and miles of soft, smooth, creamy skin. He mouthed at Dean’s neck while he fisted his cock slowly, loving the desperate sounds Dean was making. He continued going lower, nipping at all the available skin, stopping to tease Dean’s nipples into stiff little nubs. By the time he traced a finger around Dean’s hole, Dean was writhing and making the most delicious sounds.
“Suck ‘em good, ‘cuz that’s all the lube you’re going to get,” said Sam, shoving two fingers into Dean’s mouth, and Dean complied immediately. When he took them out, they were shiny with Dean’s saliva, and as he thrust them into Dean’s hole, he attacked Dean’s mouth, intent on making it kiss-swollen by the time he was done with it, capturing all of Dean’s whimpers and swallowing them down.
“Please, Sammy,” pleaded Dean, unable to take any more. “Please, what, Dean?” asked Sam, wanting to drag it out as much as possible. “Just fuck me already, god!” moaned Dean finally.
“Your wish is my command,” said Sam, smirking, as he lubed up his own cock and slid into Dean’s tight heat, groaning at the feel of it. He moved slowly, bottoming out in Dean and waiting for a confirmation that Dean was okay. He got it when Dean groaned out “Just move already, you big tease!”
He slid out slow, and slammed in again fast, setting up a steady rhythm that had both of them groaning, Dean jacking himself off, whimpering and moaning breathily. With one last final thrust, Dean came all over him, pearly white spilling onto his stomach as his hole fluttered and clenched around Sam’s cock. Sam groaned, emptying his release into Dean’s hole, and slid out slowly.
Looking at Dean, well fucked and content, he couldn’t help but smile at how blissfully unaware of his surroundings he looked.
Sam slid down Dean’s body, then, pressing a soft kiss onto the pale skin of Dean’s thigh, grinning as Dean sighed happily. He kissed the head of Dean’s cock, licking up the semen still left on it, before moving lower and licking at Dean’s balls before kissed his pucker. Dean jerked forward at that, with a “Sammy, what the hell are you doing?”
“What, no one’s ever done this to you?” asked Sam, grinning wickedly before licking into Dean’s hole, tasting his come, and underneath that, the musky flavor of Dean himself. Dean moaned despite himself, and Sam kept eating him out until he was satisfied.
He slid back up Dean’s body, kissing him, sharing the taste of his come and underneath that, Dean’s unique flavor with him.
Sated and happy, he fetched a washcloth from the bathroom and proceeded to clean them up. He wrinkled his nose as he realized that that bed had a wet spot right in the middle, courtesy of them. That meant that they’d have to shift to the other bed.
Dean had realized that too, apparently, and was saying, “No, Sammy, don’t wanna move.” Sam smiled indulgently, picking Dean up bridal style and carrying him over to the other bed, lowering him onto it gently. Dean smiled sleepily and snuggled into the covers, holding one side up in a clear invitation for Sam to join him too. He did, sliding under the covers and wrapping his arms around Dean and kissing his temple, whispering “Mine,” and then “Goodnight”, watching as his eyes fluttered shut before sleep took hold of him, too.
The morning after, Sam woke up first, worried that Dean would freak out and make some kind of valiant attempt to leave Sam, blaming himself for the wonderful experience that they’d shared the previous night.
However, none of that happened- Dean woke up looking disoriented and groggy, blinking adorably, before catching sight of Sam looking at him, after which he whispered shyly, “’Morning”, all traces of self-assuredness gone, and he looked so insecure that Sam couldn’t help bending and kissing him hard, foul morning breath be damned. Dean kissed him back, then pulled away and giggled, which was such an un-Dean like thing to do that Sam was surprised.
“Your breath could knock and elephant out,” he said playfully, eyes twinkling and a grin on his beautiful lips.
Sam pretended to pout, and then said, “But you love me.”
“Yeah,” Dean whispered, “That I do.”