The World's a Beast of a Burden - Chapter 2/3 - Time Goes Quicker Between the Two of Us
Wincest
NC-17
Light D/s
Top!Sam
~5000 words
The suite Richard Vance’s credit card gets them at Bellagio is light years away from their usual haunts, all muted colors and tasteful decor. The bathroom alone is bigger many of the places they’ve stayed, with a tub big enough for both of them. Tired from the whirlwind trip through Colorado and Utah, it’s the bed that pulls at them both. Dean mumbles something about the breakfast buffet but Sam ignores him, pushing down into the plush pillowtop. Dean groans. “Oh yeah. God, Sammy. I’m leaving you for this bed. I’m sorry man, you’re good. But this bed, it’s just doing things for me.” He moans again, pulling the creamy duvet up around his body. Sam shoves at his knee as he pulls Dean’s shoes and socks off. He stands up, reaches for the button of Dean’s jeans but Dean grabs his arm with a hand still wrapped in the bedcover. “Sorry, Sam. The bed’s jealous. No one gets me but her.”
Sam laughs and pushes Dean’s hand flat against the bed. He presses his mouth to the strip of skin between hit t-shirt and jeans. Nipping and biting, licking around his navel, running the flat of his tongue over the hipbones. By the time he bites the button of the jeans open and pulls the zipper down with his teeth, Dean is a moaning, writhing wreck. Sam grasps the open flaps with both hands and pauses, mouth a hair’s breadth away from Dean’s hard dick. “Still want me to leave you alone with the bed?”
Dean thrusts up faster than Sam expected and manages to shove his dick against Sam’s mouth. “No, Sam. I want you to blow me. Stop being a tease.” Third time today Dean’s called Sam a tease. There’s something he wants, something he’s not getting. But Sam’s going to take care of that, of him. Some sleep, some food and he’ll be ready.
He opens his mouth on Dean’s cock, sucking and licking the thick cotton of his favorite black briefs. They’re almost too small for Dean, and by the time Sam’s spit has soaked the cotton, Dean’s cock is pushed up hard against the tight elastic waistband. The thick band keeps his erection from pushing out, so it gets shoved sideways, a long, thick bulge under the briefs. It’s obscene, pornographic.
Dean’s hands are fisted in the blankets, trying not to grab at Sam’s head. He shouldn’t have to be trying. He still doesn’t completely trust Sam to get him there. Sam lifts up his head, bottom lip still touching Dean. He slides his fingers under the elastic, pulling it up. “This what you want, Dean?” He doesn’t wait for an answer before lifting the material up and over Dean’s erection, sliding down just enough for it to spring free. When Sam blows across the wet tip, Dean shudders. “I asked you a question. Is this what you want?”
Sam waits not-quite patiently. He really wants to get his mouth around Dean. He loves the feel of Dean’s heavy cock on his tongue, the stretch of his lips. And Dean loves it, loves seeing Sam on his knees for him. Watching Dean fall apart, it’s one of Sam’s favorite things. Dean’s answer is going to determine what happens next, set the tone for the rest of the weekend. They both want Sam to be in control, but it’s hard for Dean to give up and it’s something Sam can take. It’s a gift that has to be freely given.
Sam can smell the warm male scent of Dean, that and the heat of Dean’s cock is making Sam’s mouth water. He gives in to temptation and touches his tongue to the tip, tasting the salty sweetness there. He can’t hold back his moan. Under his hands, Dean body relaxes, sinks into the bed. He feels Dean’s hand on his head, not pushing, Dean’s just carding his fingers gently through Sam’s hair. It’s a decades old comfort and Sam leans into the touch, closing his eyes. Dean’s voice is soft , “Whatever you want, Sammy.”
Thank god. Sam slides off the bed, taking Dean’s jeans and briefs down with him. He holds out his hand and pulls Dean upright, gently taking off his shirts. Bending down, he places a gentle kiss on Dean’s lips at the same time he fists his cock, slowly but firmly. “What I want,” he whispers into Dean’s ear, “is to suck your brains out through your cock.”
Dean pulls him in for a very thorough kiss. “Always knew you were the brains of this outfit.” He pulls at Sam’s belt loops. “C’mon.”
Sam shakes his head. If he gets naked, there is no way he’s going to be able to keep from coming. It’s going to be hard enough as it is, the sounds Dean makes when Sam’s mouth is on him should be illegal. More than once, Sam has come in his pants just from listening to them. But he doesn’t want to come until later.
“Just like this,” he says, placing a hand flat on Dean’s chest. “And Dean?”
His brother looks up, eyes bright green and glassy with lust. No man should be that beautiful. It’s not fair. Sam breathes deep, fighting the urge to just strip and ravage Dean. “Enjoy it,” he says a little more breathlessly than he would like. Dean smirks the tiniest bit. He’s not unaware of his effect on Sam. Jerk. Sam chuckles darkly. “Enjoy it now. Because it’s the last time you’re going to come for a while.” Now it’s Sam’s turn to smirk at the way Dean’s eye widen, pupils expanding like an explosion as he shudders under Sam’s hand. Oh yeah. So worth Sam’s self-restraint. He pushes Dean down on the bed and rubs Dean’s cock across his lips, just feeling the soft skin. He starts slowly, little licks and kisses. A swipe of the tongue up and around the head. Dean just lays on the bed, hips rolling with feeling, soft sounds of pleasure mixing with deep groans when Sam hits those extra sensitive spots. Sam takes his time, using all his knowledge of Dean’s body to bring him right to edge and back over and over until they both are covered in sweat and trembling. Sam feels the tremors under his hands and he pulls slowly off and pushes himself up to see Dean. Dean’s skin is flushed from his head to his chest and sweat dampens the hair at his temples and on his forehead. His mouth hangs open just a bit as he pants and his eyes are dark with lust, heavy-lidded with pleasure. But his hands are relaxed on the bed, muscles loose and pliable. He’s just riding the waves of pleasure Sam is creating for him.
Sam reaches down and clamps his hand around his own dick to stop from coming at the sight. He kneels over Dean, kissing him deep, licking those perfect lips, pressing Dean to him with a hand behind his neck. “Sammy,” Dean sighs as Sam slips down his body. The hard nubs of Dean’s nipples draw his mouth and he licks and suck one while he pinches the other, then switches until Dean is writhing beneath him. His moans are desperate now and he’s rolling himself harder into Sam’s body. Sam can’t stop him now, doesn’t remotely want to, needs Dean to come soon before Sam comes just from watching Dean. Moving back down between Dean’s legs, he slides his hands under Dean’s ass and pulls him into his mouth. He swallows Dean dow as deep as he can, tongue working up and down and around, sucking and pressing. There’s no finesse now as his fingers press deep into Dean’s muscles. Dean gets thicker and heavier in his mouth, and he’s grunting with every pass of Sam’s tongue. Sam leans up and drives down on Dean’s cock until it presses against the back of his mouth. He swallows once and Dean comes hard with a long, heartfelt groan. Sam swallows as long as he can and then pulls off quickly, while Dean is still coming, pulses into the air. Sam grabs himself again, resting his head on Dean’s thighs and panting. That was so goddamn close. He was so close to coming from the feel of Dean throbbing in his mouth. Pulling himself back from the edge verges on pain, and Sam lets out a shaky, breathless laugh.
“Whasso funny?” Dean mumbles, flailing his hand in the general direction of Sam’s head. He ends up poking Sam in the eye. “Quit it,” Sam says, pushing him away.
Dean is asleep in the two minutes it takes for Sam to pull himself together and get naked. He wakes Dean up, makes him take some painkillers and arranges them both in the bed. Dean’s knee is propped up, Sam draped around him from behind. Dean nuzzles into the sleepy kisses Sam places on the top of his head. Sam half-hard cock rubs against Dean’s ass. “Sam?” he mumbles, rolling his hips sloppily. “Wanna?”
Sam runs his hand down Dean’s arm soothingly. “Just sleep. Long night coming up.”
“You say the sweetest things,” Dean mumbles before falling into a deep sleep, Sam right behind him.
As usual, Sam wakes up before Dean. He takes the time to make some arrangements for later that night. The garment bags that Dean has been looking at suspiciously hang neatly in the closet. Bathrobes weren’t the only clothes the Men of Letters left behind. Going by the wardrobe full of suits and tuxedos, the life of a Man of Letters in the fifties was much different than that of a 21st-century hunter. He’d picked out two of the tuxes, hoping that the tallest one would fit him. The hotel’s tailor is going to be up in an hour to make them look as best he can. Dean will pretend to complain but Sam knows he loves dressing up. Put Dean in a suit and even more heads turned then normal. Dean in a tux, well that was enough stop conversation dead. Sam’s cock stirs at the visual. Oh yeah, Dean needs to get up now.
“Hey,” he smacks at Dean’s feet. “Time to wake up. We’ve got a date.”
Dean burrows into the pillow, shrugging the covers higher up his body. “I‘m pretty much a sure thing, Sammy. Don’t have to buy me dinner.” He slides suggestively against the mattress, spreading his legs. “Come back to bed. I’ll show you.”
“Get up.” He smacks Dean on the ass this time. He sits on the edge of the bed, sliding his hand down Dean’s back as he pushes the duvet towards the foot of the bed. The air trapped beneath the covers is warm and smells like Dean. “Come on, Der. I want to dress you up, take you out, and watch people want you.”
Dean turns his head to Sam, eye dark, arms still crossed under the pillow. “Yeah?”
Sam’s hand slips under Dean’s boxers and he squeezes Dean’s ass, dragging his finger along the crack. He hears the hitch in his breathing. “Yeah. Now get up.”
Sharing the huge bathroom isn’t a problem and the walk-in shower easily accommodates the both of them. He owns Dean in the shower, relaxing him with hands and mouth, keeping him on edge but not pushing him over. It’s a close call for both of them when he sits Dean on the counter, steps between his spread legs, and shaves the three-day beard off him. Dean’s almost panting and his cock feels like iron when Sam brushes against it. “Sam,” he breathes out. Sam wipes the last bit of shaving cream off his face. “Not yet, Dean.”
The way Dean’s eyes light up when he sees the tuxedos earns him a heated make-out session against the mirrored doors of the closet. Sam’s hard as a rock but he just laughs when the knock at the door comes. He squeezes Dean’s equally hard dick.. “Better get that under control. It’s going to makes it awfully hard for the tailor to concentrate if your dick is in his face..”
“Fuck you,” Dean says, jumping into the bathroom while Sam goes to answer the door. “No jerking off!” Sam yells to Dean’s retreating back.
“I repeat, fuck you,” Dean shouts back.
Watching Dean getting fitted into the tuxedo is better than watching porn. Sam fixes the different stages into his mind, snapshots for the spankbank. Dean barefoot with the too-long pants hanging over his feet. Dean lounging against the dresser in the white shirt and boxers while the tailor works on the jacket. When Dean is done, Sam crowds in closely, learning how all the hidden buttons and clasps come together. He’s going to need to know how to take the tux off and put it back on.
When it’s his turn to be fitted, he puts on a show for Dean. He knows how he looks, standing there shirtless with just the trousers. When he tries on the shirt, Dean’s eyes track the muscles of his chest and arms when he yawns, stretching his shoulders against the thin white fabric. He sees the heat in Dean’s glance when he tries on the vest. A quick check in the mirror lets him see how the thin lapels of the waistcoat make his shoulders appear even broader.
Sam’s dying by the time the tailor finishes with some muttered compliments on their taste in clothing, the fitness of their bodies, and how nice it is to work on some quality tuxedos for change. He practically pushes the guy out the door while he’s saying something about rappers and their lack of fashion sense.
Time for the second part of this plan. Thank god. If he doesn’t get his hands on Dean soon, he won’t be responsible for what happens. He quickly undoes his pants. Dean is standing in front of the mirror, fully dressed, trying to hold back a pleased smiled at his reflection. He damn well should be pleased; he looks like a fucking movie star. Sam crowds right up behind him, grabs him by the shoulders and flips him around. “Strip.”
Dean’s eyes widen, as does his smirk. “Like what you see?”
Sam’s so not in the mood. After blowing Dean, sleeping next to him all night, the shower and shaving and now the goddamn tux, Sam is so hard he’s trembling. The only thing keeping him from ripping the suit off his brother is the plans he has for later in the evening. He doesn’t talk as he strips the jacket from Dean and starts on the bow tie. Dean just stands there, letting Sam work on the buttons and hooks, cursing under his breath and the complicated way the shirt, waistcoat and trousers hook together.
When the pants are free, Sam shoves them down, flips Dean back around, and pulls his hips out so Dean’s forced to brace himself on the mirror. Sam reaches out, fumbling for the pump bottle of lube he put out before along with one of Dean’s favorite toys. With no preliminaries, Sam slide two lube-slick fingers into Dean. Dean rises on his toes as he struggles to adjust to the sensation. “Jeez, Sam, warn -”
“No talking,” Sam hisses between his teeth, pushing harder, stretching Dean out. Their reflection in the mirror is almost too much, Dean’s head hanging down between his shoulders, breath fogging the mirror with each exhale. His cock is hard. Over his shoulder, Sam looks wild. Color high in cheeks, as he pumps his fingers in and out of Dean’s ass.
Dean is quiet except for the desperate pants. He whines as Sam slips his fingers out. It cuts off with a sharp inhale when Sam grabs his hair, forcing his head up so their eyes meet in the mirror. He holds Dean’s hip, rubbing his dick up and down Dean’s ass so there is no question about what’s happening next. “Don’t come,” he orders, yanking on Dean’s hair for emphasis.
Releasing Dean’s hair, he slicks up his cock, then kicks Dean’s feet wider as he presses against the not-quite-loose-enough opening. Dean grunts and goes back up on his toes, but Sam doesn’t stop. He knows Dean likes the burn, they both do. One of the many fucked-up consequences of being a Winchester, besides incest, is a few crossed wired where pain and pleasure are concerned. He pushes until his hips are flush with Dean’s ass, until he’s in as far as he can go. The heat and the clutch is too much to bear and Sam just goes with it, not trying to hold back. Dean’s face is red and tight in the mirror with the strain of not coming. Sam wants to make Dean feel so good, so loved, that he can’t think; he doesn’t want to torture him. Taking too long here would cross the line into cruel. He grips the base of Dean’s cock just on the wrong side of tight. “Don’t come,” he rasps out. “God, Don’t come.” He pulls out and slams back in, once, twice, three times, and he’s coming, trembling and cursing, shooting long and hard, filling Dean up.
He’s still panting with the aftershocks as he reaches behind him to grab the butt plug he’d set out. Not the biggest they have, but just right for Dean to wear all night and still be able to walk almost normally. He smooths Dean’s shirt with this clean hand. “So good. So good, Dean.” He meets Dean’s eyes in the mirror. Beautiful, he thinks, but doesn’t say. Not yet.
He holds up the plug. “I want you to keep this in tonight. Keep me in. When all those people are looking at you, wanting you, I want you to remember who you belong to.” Dean’s eyes are all black and his cock twitches hard, leaking. Sam takes a breath and pulls slowly out of Dean. Not breaking eye contact, he slides the plug in. The easy way Dean opens for it makes his cock jerk as his body attempts to come again. Christ, Dean is going to be the death of him.
Showing Dean off is always a rush for Sam and he doesn’t get to do it nearly enough. He loves the way people look at Dean, loves the odd sense of pride and the rush of lust that comes from knowing that everybody wants but only Sam gets to have. But he hates that they won’t know Dean belongs to Sam. Dean’s accused him of being possessive, but he doesn’t know the half of it. Doesn’t know the hours Sam’s spent fantasizing about collars, locked bracelets, or permanent marks on Dean’s gorgeous skin.
But that’s not for tonight. Tonight he just pulls Dean up against him and pushes his head to one side, looking for the bruise he’d put there the night before. It’s fading, not good. Sam latches on to that same spot, sucking and worrying at the skin until Dean whines. He doesn’t try to pull away, though, just stands there, cock hard and aching, Sam’s come in his ass and his mark on his neck. Sam is painfully aware of the size of the gift Dean gives him every time they are together and, like every time, vows to be worthy of it.
He’s unable to speak as he gently cleans up. Dean is silent too as Sam pulls the tuxedo pants back up and buttons them and fixes Dean until not a hair is out of place. He leans in and kisses Dean gently. “Okay?” he asks, checking in, as Dean shifts, getting used to the feel of the silicone plug. Sam reaches between them, palms Dean’s half-hard cock. “Do you want the cock ring?” he asks. Dean shakes his head, eyes down, long lashes casting shadow on his cheek. Sam has to kiss him, can’t stop. Dean clutches at his arms, holding on, as he kisses Sam back desperately.
Sam smiles as he pulls back. “One last thing,” he says, stepping away and reaching behind the dresser and pulling out a silver-tipped black walking stick. Dean’s smile is genuine as he reaches for it. Turning back to the mirror, he strikes a pose with it, then straightens up and twirls it. “I don’t suppose there’s a knife in here,” he asks wryly.
Sam’s grin is positively wicked. “Of course there is. Even we couldn’t get a gun into the casino, but I’m not going to let the best hunter in the country go completely unarmed.
Dean smile threatens to split his face as he tugs at the handle of the walking stick. It gives easily and the long wicked-looking knife slides out smoothly. “Oh, Sammy.” His eyes flash as he looks at Sam. “Awesome.”
The evening is everything Sam had hoped. Dinner at the steakhouse, vintage tuxedos matching the 1930s decor. Then some high-stakes Texas Hold’em where Dean kicks ass and takes names while Sam charms a woman in her sixties and listens to her tell him how gorgeous Dean is and what a lucky man Sam is. Sam does not disagree with her, and kisses her cheek when he leaves. He kisses Dean slow and deep to a few cheers and claps from the women at the table and a few jealous glance from one or two of the men.
At a rooftop bar, it finally happens the way Sam knew it would. Dean is walking sex tonight, the slight limp and the elegant cane only drawing everyone’s eyes all the more.
He’s making his way back to Dean, fresh drinks in hand, when he sees a stunning woman in a gravity-defying evening gown flirting with Dean. Touching his arm, touching her hair, leaning over. The same thing he’s seen his whole life. Doesn’t matter if the girl is fourteen and living in a rent-by-the-week motel or thirty-something and surrounded by luxury, the moves are the same. The goal is the same. But this time Sam doesn’t have to stand by and let it happen.
He walks up to them, knowing the smile on his face is tight. Too bad, people are allowed to want Dean but not to touch. Dean’s smile is wide and happy. He takes the scotch from Sam’s hand. “Gracias, Sammy.” He clinks their glasses together and turns to the woman. “Esperanza, this is Sam.” He waves his glass between them. “Sam, Esperanza Baseñez. She’s a TV star.” The woman laughs, a lovely rippling sound.
“Nice to meet you,” Sam manages to get out. He holds up his glass in an apology. “Sorry I didn’t bring you anything. I didn’t know Dean had company.”
“It’s quite alright. Dean grabbed me some of this delicious tequila.” Her Spanish-accented English is as delightful as she is beautiful. Not just stunning, she looks intelligent and sophisticated. Sam shifts a little closer to Dean, shoulders brushing, and she gives Sam an appraising look. He rests his hand on the back of Dean’s neck, thumb brushing over the obvious bruise below his ear. Dean presses into the slightest bit and her look turns darker, heated. She give Sam an up and down look, obviously happy with what she sees.
“So, what brings you here?” Sam asks, taking a sip of his two-hundred dollar scotch bought with Dean’s poker winnings. Oh, he could get used to that.
She give a cute frown. “Work. I’m in a telenovela and we are shooting some scenes in Las Vegas.” She motions to the neon lights of the Strip below them. “There are some locations you cannot fake on a sound stage.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Dean toasts. “To Las Vegas. It’s one of a kind.” The clink glasses together.
“So, Dean tells me you are here celebrating a successful year in business.” She shift closer to Dean, resting a hand on his arm.
He looks at Dean. “Well, no one died. So I guess that’s good.”
“I’ll drink to that, too,” Dean says, taking a big sip. “Ah. Good stuff, Sammy.”
“And they say crime doesn’t pay.” They sip in silence for a moment until Esperanza takes a few steps away and Dean followers her. Sam follows Dean. Making small talk, they eventually find their way to a darker corner of the bar. Dean and Esperanza sit angled toward each other on the L-shaped couch. Sam sits on the arm, near Dean. He leans his arm heavily across Dean’s shoulder.
As they talk and the tequila and scotch flows, Esperanza gets bolder, including Sam in her attentions. Sam starts leaning into Dean, hand on the back of his neck, pushing him rhythmically into the couch, knowing that the plug inside of him will be shifting with each small thrust. Sam’s hand tightens and loosens on Dean’s neck in the same rhythm. Sam’s not really paying attention to what they’re talking about, but when Esperanza takes Dean’s hand in both of hers and runs her finger down the lifeline in the middle of his palm, Sam sees Dean adjusting his pants and shifting uncomfortably. It’s time to go.
The conversation sputters to a stops as he stands. “Dean,” is all he says and Dean stands up as well. Sam turns to the now-confused Esperanza. “I’m sorry, but we have to go. We have somewhere to be,” Flustered, Esperanza stands. “Well, of course, if you must go.” She pulls herself together, gives her best smile. Really, a stunning woman. Any other time, Sam might have taken her up on her unspoken offer. A threesome wasn’t common with them but it wasn’t unknown either. And she was hard to pass up.
Sam shakes his head in what he hopes is a suitably disappointed fashion. “I”m so sorry. Really, truly sorry. But we’re only here for tonight. And we have plans.”
She raises one eyebrow and gives them both one final long look and shakes her head in defeat. “No, I am the one who is sorry. I would have loved to see you two together.”
He feels Dean inhale and before he can speak, he slide his hands down to Dean’s ass, fingers digging into the material and pushing hard against the plug. “Goodnight,” he tells her. A couple of cheek kisses and she swishes off into the night, perfume lingering in the hot night air..
Sam doesn’t let Dean say anything, just drags him by the hand into the plush bathroom, locking the door behind them. He pushes Dean against the marble counter, hands fumbling with his own pants as he pulls his cock out. Grabbing Dean by the labels, he pulls him in for a bruising kiss as he turns them, backing Dean into a low velvet bench against one wall. Dean sits heavily as his knees hit the bench, groaning as the plug is driven up into him.
Sam grabs Dean’s chin in one hand, pulling his cock out with the other. He squeezes against the hinges of Dean’s jaw. “Suck me,” he orders. “Get me nice and hard and wet so I can fuck you again.”
Dean’s eyes are half-closed as he leans forward to grasps Sam’s semi-hard cock. He licks his lips, looking up at Sam through his eyelashes as he leans forward. Sam makes a show of looking at his watch. “I’d make it good and fast if I were you, Dean. However long it take you to get me to where I want to be, that’s how long i’m going to fuck you for. And unlike me, you still don’t get to come.”
Dean’s hand tightens around Sam’s cock and his inhale is shaky, but he bends down and goes for it. His mouth is hot and wet and tight. His tongue spirals up and down Sam’s dick, pressing and flicking at all Sam’s sensitive spots. It’s an attack, an onslaught of pleasure, and the moans Dean is making around Sam’s cock are going to make Sam lose it. Dean can never get enough of Sam’s cock in his mouth. Sam’s woken up to enough blow jobs to really appreciate Dean’s oral fixation. He holds out as long as he can, jaw clenched to keep the fucks and the oh gods and please Deans from falling out, but after three minutes and a particularly wicked twist of Dean’s hand, Sam has to push Dean off. “Stop, stop,” he pants. “Fuck. Dean, fuck.” He bends over, hands on his thighs as he struggles not to come.
Dean’s lips are red and swollen, shiny with spit and Sam’s pre-come. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes are glassy and Sam just has to kiss him. He tastes like whiskey and sex and Sam is so frustrated with all the fucking fastening on Dean’s fucking pants. He’s one second away from just ripping the buttons off, when he feels Dean’s hands on his, stilling him. Not looking up, Dean moves Sam’s hands away and slowly undoes the fastenings on his pants.
“Dean,” Sam whispers, reaching out to run his hand across Dean’s jaw. When Dean’s finished, he just drops his arms to the side and leans into Sam, resting his head on Sam’s shoulder. the small tremors rolling down Sam’s body are echoed on Dean’s as he reaches down to grasp the silicone base of the plug. “Ready?” Dean nods. They both groan as the widest part breaches the ring of muscle and the plug slides out. “Fuck, Dean,” Sam whispers as his fingers slide though the come leaking from Dean. He slides up, gathering it as he goes, and pushes it back in.
Dean’s mouth is open and pressed against Sam’s neck. Sam feels the vibration of Dean’s trembling lips, feels Dean tongue tracing patterns on his skin. Sam hooks an ankle around the leg of the bench at pulls it from the wall. “Lay down. On your stomach,” he orders. He has to close his eyes as Dean does what Sam asks. He might try to convince himself that this is all for Dean, but the dark thrill that goes through him when Dean is like this, pliant, obedient, can’t be denied. Blame it on the demon blood, the pit, the year without a soul, whatever, but every time they’re at this place, Sam wants to push a little harder, go a little further. See how much Dean can take, how much he’ll let Sam do.
Tonight it looks like Dean will let Sam put him facedown on a velvet-covered bench, straddle him, and fuck him hard and fast and loud until Sam is coming deep into Dean. Dean’s hands are white-knuckled where they grip the edge of the bench, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. Sam rests his forehead between Dean’s shoulder blades, panting, trying to get his breathing and heart rate back to normal.
Dean rolls his head back and forth, like he’s stretching his neck, so Sam slides forward and gently turns so that he can kiss Dean, sweet and soft, again and again. He lifts off Dean without breaking contact with his mouth, kneeing in front of him, pressing lips together until Dean stops trembling, until his fingers unclench. He finally lets his head hang down, and Sam straightens up, fingers sliding up Dean’s face and through his hair. “Stay there,” he says, probably unnecessarily, but he doesn’t want Dean to think he’s forgetting him or leaving him.
Sam pulls himself together and grabs the plug and the opened packet of lube and walks to the sink. He washes and relubes the plug, then sits on the edge of the bench by Dean’s hip. Dean rolls his head to watch as Sam caresses him. “I’m going to put this back in, okay?” Dean nods and the way he slides his good knee up, lifting his ass off the bench, knocks the air out Sam’s lungs. To see Dean so vulnerable, so - there’s no other word for it - submissive, makes Sam’s heart clench with the fierce knowledge that this is just for him, just for them. No one else gets to even know about this side of Dean, let alone see it. And Sam will protect it with his dying breath.
He slides the plug in and Dean gives a soft breathy moan. They stay like that for a second, Sam rubbing up and down Dean’s ass and lower back gently. Then Sam stands, nudges Dean’s hip with his knee. “Come on, big brother. I’ve got one more surprise for you.” Dean groans and rolls onto his side. Sam can’t hide his smile at the red flush across Dean’s face and the affection in his eyes. “One more surprise is gonna kill me, Sam.”
“You’re a big boy. I have faith,” He holds out his hand. Dean grasps it, pulling himself up with a groan. His nose scrunches up and he shimmies a little to get used to the plug again and pull his trousers up at the same time. He exhales sharply through his nose as he yanks the pants closed, blush spreading up to his ears and Sam knows he’s clenching and unclenching his ass around the plug.
Sam pulls him close, tucking and smoothing his shirt and jacket. He stops with his hands on Dean’s lapel, looking down at Dean. Dean looks back up with a shy smile. “Beautiful,” Sam says, leaning down for a kiss.
NC-17
Light D/s
Top!Sam
~5000 words
The suite Richard Vance’s credit card gets them at Bellagio is light years away from their usual haunts, all muted colors and tasteful decor. The bathroom alone is bigger many of the places they’ve stayed, with a tub big enough for both of them. Tired from the whirlwind trip through Colorado and Utah, it’s the bed that pulls at them both. Dean mumbles something about the breakfast buffet but Sam ignores him, pushing down into the plush pillowtop. Dean groans. “Oh yeah. God, Sammy. I’m leaving you for this bed. I’m sorry man, you’re good. But this bed, it’s just doing things for me.” He moans again, pulling the creamy duvet up around his body. Sam shoves at his knee as he pulls Dean’s shoes and socks off. He stands up, reaches for the button of Dean’s jeans but Dean grabs his arm with a hand still wrapped in the bedcover. “Sorry, Sam. The bed’s jealous. No one gets me but her.”
Sam laughs and pushes Dean’s hand flat against the bed. He presses his mouth to the strip of skin between hit t-shirt and jeans. Nipping and biting, licking around his navel, running the flat of his tongue over the hipbones. By the time he bites the button of the jeans open and pulls the zipper down with his teeth, Dean is a moaning, writhing wreck. Sam grasps the open flaps with both hands and pauses, mouth a hair’s breadth away from Dean’s hard dick. “Still want me to leave you alone with the bed?”
Dean thrusts up faster than Sam expected and manages to shove his dick against Sam’s mouth. “No, Sam. I want you to blow me. Stop being a tease.” Third time today Dean’s called Sam a tease. There’s something he wants, something he’s not getting. But Sam’s going to take care of that, of him. Some sleep, some food and he’ll be ready.
He opens his mouth on Dean’s cock, sucking and licking the thick cotton of his favorite black briefs. They’re almost too small for Dean, and by the time Sam’s spit has soaked the cotton, Dean’s cock is pushed up hard against the tight elastic waistband. The thick band keeps his erection from pushing out, so it gets shoved sideways, a long, thick bulge under the briefs. It’s obscene, pornographic.
Dean’s hands are fisted in the blankets, trying not to grab at Sam’s head. He shouldn’t have to be trying. He still doesn’t completely trust Sam to get him there. Sam lifts up his head, bottom lip still touching Dean. He slides his fingers under the elastic, pulling it up. “This what you want, Dean?” He doesn’t wait for an answer before lifting the material up and over Dean’s erection, sliding down just enough for it to spring free. When Sam blows across the wet tip, Dean shudders. “I asked you a question. Is this what you want?”
Sam waits not-quite patiently. He really wants to get his mouth around Dean. He loves the feel of Dean’s heavy cock on his tongue, the stretch of his lips. And Dean loves it, loves seeing Sam on his knees for him. Watching Dean fall apart, it’s one of Sam’s favorite things. Dean’s answer is going to determine what happens next, set the tone for the rest of the weekend. They both want Sam to be in control, but it’s hard for Dean to give up and it’s something Sam can take. It’s a gift that has to be freely given.
Sam can smell the warm male scent of Dean, that and the heat of Dean’s cock is making Sam’s mouth water. He gives in to temptation and touches his tongue to the tip, tasting the salty sweetness there. He can’t hold back his moan. Under his hands, Dean body relaxes, sinks into the bed. He feels Dean’s hand on his head, not pushing, Dean’s just carding his fingers gently through Sam’s hair. It’s a decades old comfort and Sam leans into the touch, closing his eyes. Dean’s voice is soft , “Whatever you want, Sammy.”
Thank god. Sam slides off the bed, taking Dean’s jeans and briefs down with him. He holds out his hand and pulls Dean upright, gently taking off his shirts. Bending down, he places a gentle kiss on Dean’s lips at the same time he fists his cock, slowly but firmly. “What I want,” he whispers into Dean’s ear, “is to suck your brains out through your cock.”
Dean pulls him in for a very thorough kiss. “Always knew you were the brains of this outfit.” He pulls at Sam’s belt loops. “C’mon.”
Sam shakes his head. If he gets naked, there is no way he’s going to be able to keep from coming. It’s going to be hard enough as it is, the sounds Dean makes when Sam’s mouth is on him should be illegal. More than once, Sam has come in his pants just from listening to them. But he doesn’t want to come until later.
“Just like this,” he says, placing a hand flat on Dean’s chest. “And Dean?”
His brother looks up, eyes bright green and glassy with lust. No man should be that beautiful. It’s not fair. Sam breathes deep, fighting the urge to just strip and ravage Dean. “Enjoy it,” he says a little more breathlessly than he would like. Dean smirks the tiniest bit. He’s not unaware of his effect on Sam. Jerk. Sam chuckles darkly. “Enjoy it now. Because it’s the last time you’re going to come for a while.” Now it’s Sam’s turn to smirk at the way Dean’s eye widen, pupils expanding like an explosion as he shudders under Sam’s hand. Oh yeah. So worth Sam’s self-restraint. He pushes Dean down on the bed and rubs Dean’s cock across his lips, just feeling the soft skin. He starts slowly, little licks and kisses. A swipe of the tongue up and around the head. Dean just lays on the bed, hips rolling with feeling, soft sounds of pleasure mixing with deep groans when Sam hits those extra sensitive spots. Sam takes his time, using all his knowledge of Dean’s body to bring him right to edge and back over and over until they both are covered in sweat and trembling. Sam feels the tremors under his hands and he pulls slowly off and pushes himself up to see Dean. Dean’s skin is flushed from his head to his chest and sweat dampens the hair at his temples and on his forehead. His mouth hangs open just a bit as he pants and his eyes are dark with lust, heavy-lidded with pleasure. But his hands are relaxed on the bed, muscles loose and pliable. He’s just riding the waves of pleasure Sam is creating for him.
Sam reaches down and clamps his hand around his own dick to stop from coming at the sight. He kneels over Dean, kissing him deep, licking those perfect lips, pressing Dean to him with a hand behind his neck. “Sammy,” Dean sighs as Sam slips down his body. The hard nubs of Dean’s nipples draw his mouth and he licks and suck one while he pinches the other, then switches until Dean is writhing beneath him. His moans are desperate now and he’s rolling himself harder into Sam’s body. Sam can’t stop him now, doesn’t remotely want to, needs Dean to come soon before Sam comes just from watching Dean. Moving back down between Dean’s legs, he slides his hands under Dean’s ass and pulls him into his mouth. He swallows Dean dow as deep as he can, tongue working up and down and around, sucking and pressing. There’s no finesse now as his fingers press deep into Dean’s muscles. Dean gets thicker and heavier in his mouth, and he’s grunting with every pass of Sam’s tongue. Sam leans up and drives down on Dean’s cock until it presses against the back of his mouth. He swallows once and Dean comes hard with a long, heartfelt groan. Sam swallows as long as he can and then pulls off quickly, while Dean is still coming, pulses into the air. Sam grabs himself again, resting his head on Dean’s thighs and panting. That was so goddamn close. He was so close to coming from the feel of Dean throbbing in his mouth. Pulling himself back from the edge verges on pain, and Sam lets out a shaky, breathless laugh.
“Whasso funny?” Dean mumbles, flailing his hand in the general direction of Sam’s head. He ends up poking Sam in the eye. “Quit it,” Sam says, pushing him away.
Dean is asleep in the two minutes it takes for Sam to pull himself together and get naked. He wakes Dean up, makes him take some painkillers and arranges them both in the bed. Dean’s knee is propped up, Sam draped around him from behind. Dean nuzzles into the sleepy kisses Sam places on the top of his head. Sam half-hard cock rubs against Dean’s ass. “Sam?” he mumbles, rolling his hips sloppily. “Wanna?”
Sam runs his hand down Dean’s arm soothingly. “Just sleep. Long night coming up.”
“You say the sweetest things,” Dean mumbles before falling into a deep sleep, Sam right behind him.
As usual, Sam wakes up before Dean. He takes the time to make some arrangements for later that night. The garment bags that Dean has been looking at suspiciously hang neatly in the closet. Bathrobes weren’t the only clothes the Men of Letters left behind. Going by the wardrobe full of suits and tuxedos, the life of a Man of Letters in the fifties was much different than that of a 21st-century hunter. He’d picked out two of the tuxes, hoping that the tallest one would fit him. The hotel’s tailor is going to be up in an hour to make them look as best he can. Dean will pretend to complain but Sam knows he loves dressing up. Put Dean in a suit and even more heads turned then normal. Dean in a tux, well that was enough stop conversation dead. Sam’s cock stirs at the visual. Oh yeah, Dean needs to get up now.
“Hey,” he smacks at Dean’s feet. “Time to wake up. We’ve got a date.”
Dean burrows into the pillow, shrugging the covers higher up his body. “I‘m pretty much a sure thing, Sammy. Don’t have to buy me dinner.” He slides suggestively against the mattress, spreading his legs. “Come back to bed. I’ll show you.”
“Get up.” He smacks Dean on the ass this time. He sits on the edge of the bed, sliding his hand down Dean’s back as he pushes the duvet towards the foot of the bed. The air trapped beneath the covers is warm and smells like Dean. “Come on, Der. I want to dress you up, take you out, and watch people want you.”
Dean turns his head to Sam, eye dark, arms still crossed under the pillow. “Yeah?”
Sam’s hand slips under Dean’s boxers and he squeezes Dean’s ass, dragging his finger along the crack. He hears the hitch in his breathing. “Yeah. Now get up.”
Sharing the huge bathroom isn’t a problem and the walk-in shower easily accommodates the both of them. He owns Dean in the shower, relaxing him with hands and mouth, keeping him on edge but not pushing him over. It’s a close call for both of them when he sits Dean on the counter, steps between his spread legs, and shaves the three-day beard off him. Dean’s almost panting and his cock feels like iron when Sam brushes against it. “Sam,” he breathes out. Sam wipes the last bit of shaving cream off his face. “Not yet, Dean.”
The way Dean’s eyes light up when he sees the tuxedos earns him a heated make-out session against the mirrored doors of the closet. Sam’s hard as a rock but he just laughs when the knock at the door comes. He squeezes Dean’s equally hard dick.. “Better get that under control. It’s going to makes it awfully hard for the tailor to concentrate if your dick is in his face..”
“Fuck you,” Dean says, jumping into the bathroom while Sam goes to answer the door. “No jerking off!” Sam yells to Dean’s retreating back.
“I repeat, fuck you,” Dean shouts back.
Watching Dean getting fitted into the tuxedo is better than watching porn. Sam fixes the different stages into his mind, snapshots for the spankbank. Dean barefoot with the too-long pants hanging over his feet. Dean lounging against the dresser in the white shirt and boxers while the tailor works on the jacket. When Dean is done, Sam crowds in closely, learning how all the hidden buttons and clasps come together. He’s going to need to know how to take the tux off and put it back on.
When it’s his turn to be fitted, he puts on a show for Dean. He knows how he looks, standing there shirtless with just the trousers. When he tries on the shirt, Dean’s eyes track the muscles of his chest and arms when he yawns, stretching his shoulders against the thin white fabric. He sees the heat in Dean’s glance when he tries on the vest. A quick check in the mirror lets him see how the thin lapels of the waistcoat make his shoulders appear even broader.
Sam’s dying by the time the tailor finishes with some muttered compliments on their taste in clothing, the fitness of their bodies, and how nice it is to work on some quality tuxedos for change. He practically pushes the guy out the door while he’s saying something about rappers and their lack of fashion sense.
Time for the second part of this plan. Thank god. If he doesn’t get his hands on Dean soon, he won’t be responsible for what happens. He quickly undoes his pants. Dean is standing in front of the mirror, fully dressed, trying to hold back a pleased smiled at his reflection. He damn well should be pleased; he looks like a fucking movie star. Sam crowds right up behind him, grabs him by the shoulders and flips him around. “Strip.”
Dean’s eyes widen, as does his smirk. “Like what you see?”
Sam’s so not in the mood. After blowing Dean, sleeping next to him all night, the shower and shaving and now the goddamn tux, Sam is so hard he’s trembling. The only thing keeping him from ripping the suit off his brother is the plans he has for later in the evening. He doesn’t talk as he strips the jacket from Dean and starts on the bow tie. Dean just stands there, letting Sam work on the buttons and hooks, cursing under his breath and the complicated way the shirt, waistcoat and trousers hook together.
When the pants are free, Sam shoves them down, flips Dean back around, and pulls his hips out so Dean’s forced to brace himself on the mirror. Sam reaches out, fumbling for the pump bottle of lube he put out before along with one of Dean’s favorite toys. With no preliminaries, Sam slide two lube-slick fingers into Dean. Dean rises on his toes as he struggles to adjust to the sensation. “Jeez, Sam, warn -”
“No talking,” Sam hisses between his teeth, pushing harder, stretching Dean out. Their reflection in the mirror is almost too much, Dean’s head hanging down between his shoulders, breath fogging the mirror with each exhale. His cock is hard. Over his shoulder, Sam looks wild. Color high in cheeks, as he pumps his fingers in and out of Dean’s ass.
Dean is quiet except for the desperate pants. He whines as Sam slips his fingers out. It cuts off with a sharp inhale when Sam grabs his hair, forcing his head up so their eyes meet in the mirror. He holds Dean’s hip, rubbing his dick up and down Dean’s ass so there is no question about what’s happening next. “Don’t come,” he orders, yanking on Dean’s hair for emphasis.
Releasing Dean’s hair, he slicks up his cock, then kicks Dean’s feet wider as he presses against the not-quite-loose-enough opening. Dean grunts and goes back up on his toes, but Sam doesn’t stop. He knows Dean likes the burn, they both do. One of the many fucked-up consequences of being a Winchester, besides incest, is a few crossed wired where pain and pleasure are concerned. He pushes until his hips are flush with Dean’s ass, until he’s in as far as he can go. The heat and the clutch is too much to bear and Sam just goes with it, not trying to hold back. Dean’s face is red and tight in the mirror with the strain of not coming. Sam wants to make Dean feel so good, so loved, that he can’t think; he doesn’t want to torture him. Taking too long here would cross the line into cruel. He grips the base of Dean’s cock just on the wrong side of tight. “Don’t come,” he rasps out. “God, Don’t come.” He pulls out and slams back in, once, twice, three times, and he’s coming, trembling and cursing, shooting long and hard, filling Dean up.
He’s still panting with the aftershocks as he reaches behind him to grab the butt plug he’d set out. Not the biggest they have, but just right for Dean to wear all night and still be able to walk almost normally. He smooths Dean’s shirt with this clean hand. “So good. So good, Dean.” He meets Dean’s eyes in the mirror. Beautiful, he thinks, but doesn’t say. Not yet.
He holds up the plug. “I want you to keep this in tonight. Keep me in. When all those people are looking at you, wanting you, I want you to remember who you belong to.” Dean’s eyes are all black and his cock twitches hard, leaking. Sam takes a breath and pulls slowly out of Dean. Not breaking eye contact, he slides the plug in. The easy way Dean opens for it makes his cock jerk as his body attempts to come again. Christ, Dean is going to be the death of him.
Showing Dean off is always a rush for Sam and he doesn’t get to do it nearly enough. He loves the way people look at Dean, loves the odd sense of pride and the rush of lust that comes from knowing that everybody wants but only Sam gets to have. But he hates that they won’t know Dean belongs to Sam. Dean’s accused him of being possessive, but he doesn’t know the half of it. Doesn’t know the hours Sam’s spent fantasizing about collars, locked bracelets, or permanent marks on Dean’s gorgeous skin.
But that’s not for tonight. Tonight he just pulls Dean up against him and pushes his head to one side, looking for the bruise he’d put there the night before. It’s fading, not good. Sam latches on to that same spot, sucking and worrying at the skin until Dean whines. He doesn’t try to pull away, though, just stands there, cock hard and aching, Sam’s come in his ass and his mark on his neck. Sam is painfully aware of the size of the gift Dean gives him every time they are together and, like every time, vows to be worthy of it.
He’s unable to speak as he gently cleans up. Dean is silent too as Sam pulls the tuxedo pants back up and buttons them and fixes Dean until not a hair is out of place. He leans in and kisses Dean gently. “Okay?” he asks, checking in, as Dean shifts, getting used to the feel of the silicone plug. Sam reaches between them, palms Dean’s half-hard cock. “Do you want the cock ring?” he asks. Dean shakes his head, eyes down, long lashes casting shadow on his cheek. Sam has to kiss him, can’t stop. Dean clutches at his arms, holding on, as he kisses Sam back desperately.
Sam smiles as he pulls back. “One last thing,” he says, stepping away and reaching behind the dresser and pulling out a silver-tipped black walking stick. Dean’s smile is genuine as he reaches for it. Turning back to the mirror, he strikes a pose with it, then straightens up and twirls it. “I don’t suppose there’s a knife in here,” he asks wryly.
Sam’s grin is positively wicked. “Of course there is. Even we couldn’t get a gun into the casino, but I’m not going to let the best hunter in the country go completely unarmed.
Dean smile threatens to split his face as he tugs at the handle of the walking stick. It gives easily and the long wicked-looking knife slides out smoothly. “Oh, Sammy.” His eyes flash as he looks at Sam. “Awesome.”
The evening is everything Sam had hoped. Dinner at the steakhouse, vintage tuxedos matching the 1930s decor. Then some high-stakes Texas Hold’em where Dean kicks ass and takes names while Sam charms a woman in her sixties and listens to her tell him how gorgeous Dean is and what a lucky man Sam is. Sam does not disagree with her, and kisses her cheek when he leaves. He kisses Dean slow and deep to a few cheers and claps from the women at the table and a few jealous glance from one or two of the men.
At a rooftop bar, it finally happens the way Sam knew it would. Dean is walking sex tonight, the slight limp and the elegant cane only drawing everyone’s eyes all the more.
He’s making his way back to Dean, fresh drinks in hand, when he sees a stunning woman in a gravity-defying evening gown flirting with Dean. Touching his arm, touching her hair, leaning over. The same thing he’s seen his whole life. Doesn’t matter if the girl is fourteen and living in a rent-by-the-week motel or thirty-something and surrounded by luxury, the moves are the same. The goal is the same. But this time Sam doesn’t have to stand by and let it happen.
He walks up to them, knowing the smile on his face is tight. Too bad, people are allowed to want Dean but not to touch. Dean’s smile is wide and happy. He takes the scotch from Sam’s hand. “Gracias, Sammy.” He clinks their glasses together and turns to the woman. “Esperanza, this is Sam.” He waves his glass between them. “Sam, Esperanza Baseñez. She’s a TV star.” The woman laughs, a lovely rippling sound.
“Nice to meet you,” Sam manages to get out. He holds up his glass in an apology. “Sorry I didn’t bring you anything. I didn’t know Dean had company.”
“It’s quite alright. Dean grabbed me some of this delicious tequila.” Her Spanish-accented English is as delightful as she is beautiful. Not just stunning, she looks intelligent and sophisticated. Sam shifts a little closer to Dean, shoulders brushing, and she gives Sam an appraising look. He rests his hand on the back of Dean’s neck, thumb brushing over the obvious bruise below his ear. Dean presses into the slightest bit and her look turns darker, heated. She give Sam an up and down look, obviously happy with what she sees.
“So, what brings you here?” Sam asks, taking a sip of his two-hundred dollar scotch bought with Dean’s poker winnings. Oh, he could get used to that.
She give a cute frown. “Work. I’m in a telenovela and we are shooting some scenes in Las Vegas.” She motions to the neon lights of the Strip below them. “There are some locations you cannot fake on a sound stage.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Dean toasts. “To Las Vegas. It’s one of a kind.” The clink glasses together.
“So, Dean tells me you are here celebrating a successful year in business.” She shift closer to Dean, resting a hand on his arm.
He looks at Dean. “Well, no one died. So I guess that’s good.”
“I’ll drink to that, too,” Dean says, taking a big sip. “Ah. Good stuff, Sammy.”
“And they say crime doesn’t pay.” They sip in silence for a moment until Esperanza takes a few steps away and Dean followers her. Sam follows Dean. Making small talk, they eventually find their way to a darker corner of the bar. Dean and Esperanza sit angled toward each other on the L-shaped couch. Sam sits on the arm, near Dean. He leans his arm heavily across Dean’s shoulder.
As they talk and the tequila and scotch flows, Esperanza gets bolder, including Sam in her attentions. Sam starts leaning into Dean, hand on the back of his neck, pushing him rhythmically into the couch, knowing that the plug inside of him will be shifting with each small thrust. Sam’s hand tightens and loosens on Dean’s neck in the same rhythm. Sam’s not really paying attention to what they’re talking about, but when Esperanza takes Dean’s hand in both of hers and runs her finger down the lifeline in the middle of his palm, Sam sees Dean adjusting his pants and shifting uncomfortably. It’s time to go.
The conversation sputters to a stops as he stands. “Dean,” is all he says and Dean stands up as well. Sam turns to the now-confused Esperanza. “I’m sorry, but we have to go. We have somewhere to be,” Flustered, Esperanza stands. “Well, of course, if you must go.” She pulls herself together, gives her best smile. Really, a stunning woman. Any other time, Sam might have taken her up on her unspoken offer. A threesome wasn’t common with them but it wasn’t unknown either. And she was hard to pass up.
Sam shakes his head in what he hopes is a suitably disappointed fashion. “I”m so sorry. Really, truly sorry. But we’re only here for tonight. And we have plans.”
She raises one eyebrow and gives them both one final long look and shakes her head in defeat. “No, I am the one who is sorry. I would have loved to see you two together.”
He feels Dean inhale and before he can speak, he slide his hands down to Dean’s ass, fingers digging into the material and pushing hard against the plug. “Goodnight,” he tells her. A couple of cheek kisses and she swishes off into the night, perfume lingering in the hot night air..
Sam doesn’t let Dean say anything, just drags him by the hand into the plush bathroom, locking the door behind them. He pushes Dean against the marble counter, hands fumbling with his own pants as he pulls his cock out. Grabbing Dean by the labels, he pulls him in for a bruising kiss as he turns them, backing Dean into a low velvet bench against one wall. Dean sits heavily as his knees hit the bench, groaning as the plug is driven up into him.
Sam grabs Dean’s chin in one hand, pulling his cock out with the other. He squeezes against the hinges of Dean’s jaw. “Suck me,” he orders. “Get me nice and hard and wet so I can fuck you again.”
Dean’s eyes are half-closed as he leans forward to grasps Sam’s semi-hard cock. He licks his lips, looking up at Sam through his eyelashes as he leans forward. Sam makes a show of looking at his watch. “I’d make it good and fast if I were you, Dean. However long it take you to get me to where I want to be, that’s how long i’m going to fuck you for. And unlike me, you still don’t get to come.”
Dean’s hand tightens around Sam’s cock and his inhale is shaky, but he bends down and goes for it. His mouth is hot and wet and tight. His tongue spirals up and down Sam’s dick, pressing and flicking at all Sam’s sensitive spots. It’s an attack, an onslaught of pleasure, and the moans Dean is making around Sam’s cock are going to make Sam lose it. Dean can never get enough of Sam’s cock in his mouth. Sam’s woken up to enough blow jobs to really appreciate Dean’s oral fixation. He holds out as long as he can, jaw clenched to keep the fucks and the oh gods and please Deans from falling out, but after three minutes and a particularly wicked twist of Dean’s hand, Sam has to push Dean off. “Stop, stop,” he pants. “Fuck. Dean, fuck.” He bends over, hands on his thighs as he struggles not to come.
Dean’s lips are red and swollen, shiny with spit and Sam’s pre-come. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes are glassy and Sam just has to kiss him. He tastes like whiskey and sex and Sam is so frustrated with all the fucking fastening on Dean’s fucking pants. He’s one second away from just ripping the buttons off, when he feels Dean’s hands on his, stilling him. Not looking up, Dean moves Sam’s hands away and slowly undoes the fastenings on his pants.
“Dean,” Sam whispers, reaching out to run his hand across Dean’s jaw. When Dean’s finished, he just drops his arms to the side and leans into Sam, resting his head on Sam’s shoulder. the small tremors rolling down Sam’s body are echoed on Dean’s as he reaches down to grasp the silicone base of the plug. “Ready?” Dean nods. They both groan as the widest part breaches the ring of muscle and the plug slides out. “Fuck, Dean,” Sam whispers as his fingers slide though the come leaking from Dean. He slides up, gathering it as he goes, and pushes it back in.
Dean’s mouth is open and pressed against Sam’s neck. Sam feels the vibration of Dean’s trembling lips, feels Dean tongue tracing patterns on his skin. Sam hooks an ankle around the leg of the bench at pulls it from the wall. “Lay down. On your stomach,” he orders. He has to close his eyes as Dean does what Sam asks. He might try to convince himself that this is all for Dean, but the dark thrill that goes through him when Dean is like this, pliant, obedient, can’t be denied. Blame it on the demon blood, the pit, the year without a soul, whatever, but every time they’re at this place, Sam wants to push a little harder, go a little further. See how much Dean can take, how much he’ll let Sam do.
Tonight it looks like Dean will let Sam put him facedown on a velvet-covered bench, straddle him, and fuck him hard and fast and loud until Sam is coming deep into Dean. Dean’s hands are white-knuckled where they grip the edge of the bench, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. Sam rests his forehead between Dean’s shoulder blades, panting, trying to get his breathing and heart rate back to normal.
Dean rolls his head back and forth, like he’s stretching his neck, so Sam slides forward and gently turns so that he can kiss Dean, sweet and soft, again and again. He lifts off Dean without breaking contact with his mouth, kneeing in front of him, pressing lips together until Dean stops trembling, until his fingers unclench. He finally lets his head hang down, and Sam straightens up, fingers sliding up Dean’s face and through his hair. “Stay there,” he says, probably unnecessarily, but he doesn’t want Dean to think he’s forgetting him or leaving him.
Sam pulls himself together and grabs the plug and the opened packet of lube and walks to the sink. He washes and relubes the plug, then sits on the edge of the bench by Dean’s hip. Dean rolls his head to watch as Sam caresses him. “I’m going to put this back in, okay?” Dean nods and the way he slides his good knee up, lifting his ass off the bench, knocks the air out Sam’s lungs. To see Dean so vulnerable, so - there’s no other word for it - submissive, makes Sam’s heart clench with the fierce knowledge that this is just for him, just for them. No one else gets to even know about this side of Dean, let alone see it. And Sam will protect it with his dying breath.
He slides the plug in and Dean gives a soft breathy moan. They stay like that for a second, Sam rubbing up and down Dean’s ass and lower back gently. Then Sam stands, nudges Dean’s hip with his knee. “Come on, big brother. I’ve got one more surprise for you.” Dean groans and rolls onto his side. Sam can’t hide his smile at the red flush across Dean’s face and the affection in his eyes. “One more surprise is gonna kill me, Sam.”
“You’re a big boy. I have faith,” He holds out his hand. Dean grasps it, pulling himself up with a groan. His nose scrunches up and he shimmies a little to get used to the plug again and pull his trousers up at the same time. He exhales sharply through his nose as he yanks the pants closed, blush spreading up to his ears and Sam knows he’s clenching and unclenching his ass around the plug.
Sam pulls him close, tucking and smoothing his shirt and jacket. He stops with his hands on Dean’s lapel, looking down at Dean. Dean looks back up with a shy smile. “Beautiful,” Sam says, leaning down for a kiss.