Fic: Walk a Mile (Sam/Dean)
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: graphic sex, hmm... not quite sure what to include here - there's a piercing, but it doesn't happen in the story, it's just there, and facial.
Summary - Body swap porn!
Dean woke with a jerk, heart pounding, unsure what had roused him. He sank back to the bed, taking a few seconds to get his breathing under control. The sound of Sam's soft snoring relaxed him enough that he was almost back to sleep before he realized that his bladder was about to explode. He suppressed a groan and slowly hauled himself out of the warm bed, almost stumbling before he found his center of gravity. How much had he had to drink last night?
The neon motel sign sent enough blue light cascading into the bathroom that he didn't have to turn on the light and wake himself up even more to find a little relief. He flushed the toilet stumblingly - why did everything seem out of place? - and was in the process of tucking himself back in when a glint of metal caught his eye. A glint of metal on his cock.
His sleep fogged brain tried to process the completely incongruous ring in his cockhead when he realized that it wasn't just the metal that was wrong.
Long fingers slapped the light switch on and he probably could have reached it from across the room with his mile-long giant-arms. Wide hazel eyes met his gaze in the mirror from underneath sleep mussed, shaggy bangs. He was going to kill Sam.
"You fucked it up!" he was shouting in Sammy's booming voice before he was even out of the bathroom. The figure in the bed by the door - Dean's bed - groaned and squirmed under the covers. And in a lifetime of bizarre and fucked up moments, jerking the covers away and staring down at his own body in bed while he was standing next to it officially took the cake.
"You fucked it up!" he repeated, pulling at his own - Sam's - shoulder. Green eyes hazily opened, one big hand moving up to scrub at them.
"What are you-"
Sam froze mid-move, visible eye shooting back up to Dean and opening wide. The hand pulled away from his face and Sam stared at it for a second before sweeping his gaze down Dean's body.
"You and your fucking spell. Couldn't just salt and burn the damn spirit." That annoying, bitch-ass tone that Sammy used on him all the time was a lot more fun on the giving end.
Sam practically fell out of the bed, scrambling on Dean's legs to the bathroom like he wasn't going to believe what was happening until he saw it himself.
"Fuck." Sam's curse rasped out in Dean's voice. Did he really sound like that?
"This is why we don't mess with magic shit, Sam." Dean was vaguely aware as he watched his own body lean back against the bathroom doorframe, that he had never actually bothered to pull the waistband of Sam's boxers back up and the elastic digging in under Sam's sac was getting kind of uncomfortable. But fuck it, Sammy had gotten them into this mess, his body could take a little punishment.
"There was an innocent girl trapped in that body too Dean, we had to get the spirit out," the answer came flat and automatic like Sam was thinking about a couple of dozen other things instead.
"Yeah well, worked like a charm didn't it?"
Sam didn't answer, just went back to staring at Dean's dirty nails as if he could make them switch back by the sheer force of his gaze.
"Can you fix it?" Dean asked snappily, digging into the words as sudden panic flooded him with adrenaline. Stupid overresponsive body.
Sam's eyes flicked back up to him and skated numbly over his exposed form.
"I... Yeah. Yeah! All we should have to do is repeat the spell - make sure to be really specific about the targets this time - and..." Sam trailed off, face falling.
Dean's guts churned like he'd swallowed a bucket full of cold marbles.
"What?"
"We used up a lot of our emergency supplies on that last one. Some of the herbs are hard to find. We'll have to get Bobby on it." Sam sighed.
Dean flopped down on the bed by the door - right body or not, it was his spot - and cradled Sam's massive head in his hands. After an eternal minute he heard Sam moving around the room, sighing intermittently, and then his side of the phone conversation with Bobby, explaining what was going on.
The sheets on the bed across from his rustled and Dean finally looked up to see Sam staring back at him with his own eyes.
"He says it might take a day or two to get everything we need," his brother explained and Dean couldn't repress a groan.
Silence settled over them as they both slowly tried make peace with the fact that they would be living inside of the wrong body for the next few days. Dean was staring down at Sammy's still exposed lap, suddenly trying hard not to think any of the really filthy things that kept cropping up in his mind when finally the question that had been nagging at the back of his mind all this time broke through.
"Dude, when did you get pierced?"
And Dean was absolutely certain that his body had never ever blushed like that before.
***
Sam sauntered into the diner - apparently saunter was the only setting Dean's body had for forward motion - on legs that felt way too short. Of course, it was definitely worth it to walk around in Dean's tiny elf body just to have gotten to watch Dean trying to situate Sam's legs behind the steering wheel that morning - his older brother cursing a blue streak when his knees kept hitting the dash. Maybe that would teach Dean not to make fun of the way he squirmed after hours in a car clearly made for people half a foot shorter than him.
He slid into the booth facing the wall - if he didn't actually have to see every eye in the place on him he might not feel quite so self-conscious. He wondered if Dean was getting a complex from the lack of attention.
It was still early, not even 7 AM yet, but since neither of them had been able to go back to sleep after the stunning revelation of their body swap - and since Sam would have given up every happy moment he'd ever had to keep Dean from asking any more questions about his 'experimental' phase in college - they had decided to go get something to eat while waiting vainly in for Bobby to show up.
Their waitress came up to the table just as Dean joined him in the booth - grumbling about needing a bigger seat - and immediately started making eyes at Sam.
"What can I get for you boys?" she fluttered her eyelashes in what she clearly thought was an alluring way to make sure they knew that she would happily be one of the menu offerings. How did Dean keep from laughing in people's faces all the time?
"Short stack, scrambled eggs and sausage, sweetheart," Dean leered in an expression that Sam hoped he had never ever worn. It looked positively obscene on his face. But there were bigger issues.
"Like hell," Sam fired at his brother; both he and the waitress looking startled by the reaction.
"What?" Dean asked innocently - God, is that what the puppy dog face looked like? That worked on people?
"You are not putting that crap in m- ... in your body."
"It's not like one little meal is going to kill you, dude."
"I said no."
"And since you cleverly pointed out that it's MY body, your vote doesn't count for shit."
If it hadn't been Sam's own personal face at stake, he would have punched Dean.
"Fine," he clipped out, turning back to the confused looking waitress, "Yogurt and half a grapefruit, please." He smiled wickedly at Dean's scandalized expression, "Hope your body doesn't go into shock from the nutrient overload," Sam was thoroughly enjoying how easily Dean's facial muscles fell into a smirk.
"Bitch."
"Jerk."
***
"I'm just saying, dude," Dean harped as the motel door shut behind him, "you might as well have a little fun while you've got a hot piece of ass like that to work with. You've got my permission."
Dean hadn't let this particular topic go since before they had gotten their food at the diner. Apparently eating 'boring' food in Dean's body had somehow triggered the idea of Sam needing to spice things up in every area of his life which of course, had led inexorably to sex. Or maybe it was just that constantly fiddling with the ring in Sam's cock through his jeans had derailed one of the trains in Dean's - at best - two-track mind.
"Dean, I am not going to get laid in your body. Hell, just showering is going to be fucking weird, there's no way I could actually use your dick. And before you even think about it, you’re not using mine either."
"Oh come on, man!" Dean looked horrified, "This is like, a once in a lifetime opportunity!"
"God I hope so!"
"Seriously, aren't you just a little bit curious about how it feels for me?"
Sam's own mental tracks completely derailed on that thought, his borrowed dick taking immediate interest in the proceedings.
"No," he shoved the idea away viciously, "We have all the same stuff, it'll feel exactly the same."
"First of all, we do not have all the same stuff," Dean deliberately flicked a finger at the half-hard bulge inside is jeans and Sam could hear the dull noise as the nail made contact with his piercing, "Secondly, you don't KNOW for sure it would feel the same, and how can you possibly pass up an opportunity like that?"
Sam bit at a plump lower lips, then suddenly realized what he was doing and couldn't resist flicking his tongue out across it to feel the smooth flesh give. Maybe... no! No way!
"C'mon, you're the 'experimental' one in the family, right?" Dean sneered, "So how about a little experiment?"
Sam had just known that was going to bite him in the ass. And Dean wondered why he had kept his little addition a secret.
"No, Dean," he said firmly, "We are not leaving this room again until Bobby shows up with the stuff to fix this."
"What!? C'mon, we have to at least go get food." It was absolutely amazing that Dean could already be thinking about eating again.
"We'll order in. I don't trust you out there with my body."
Sam thought he might have actually hurt Dean's feelings, but it was hard to tell without all of the little markers he was used to looking for in his brother's expressions.
"Fine," Dean huffed, "Sure, I gave you permission to do anything you wanted with my body, but you don't even trust me to go fucking get food in yours. 'Cause, you know, it's not like I spent most of my life making sure that nothing happened to this body. Not like I protected it and took care of it since the day you were goddamn born."
Dean was up and moving across the room before Sam even had time to react.
"Dean-"
"No!" his brother shouted, and God, Sam's voice could just sound amazingly sulky, "Just forget it." The bathroom door slammed shut and Sam heard the water start up a second later. So much for showering being weird.
Sam sighed and flopped down onto his bed, covering his eyes with Dean's heavy arm. Maybe Dean was right. It was just a little spell after all and they were going to switch back in a day or two. Why should he be taking it so seriously? Maybe it would be ok if they just went out for a while, got a couple of drinks. He still wasn't sure he was ok with the idea of Dean having sex in his body - that thought brought on a whole slew of images of him and Dean together that he was just going to blame on he pervy, on-loan grey matter - but they didn't need to be captives.
He had just decided that he was going to tell Dean exactly that - minus the incestuous mental porn show that had once again stirred his brother's cock - when he heard sounds coming through the bathroom door. It sounded like groans or maybe sobs, like Dean was hurt or... or maybe not hurt at all. Sam got up and pressed his ear to the bathroom door. As foreign as the sounds were from this distance, there was no mistaking the noises as anything but Sam's body enjoying itself.
A flare of heat from mixed anger and lust flooded Sam and he had shoved the door open before he'd even told Dean's body to do it. Maybe that was why Dean was always so impulsive.
***
Dean - in a melt-in-your-mouth Sammy coating - was furiously rubbing his little brother's hard dick. He knew he was being loud, too loud, but a part of him wanted Sam to know that he was going to do whatever he wanted regardless of what Sammy thought, and the other part was too caught up in the realization that THIS was what Sam sounded like during sex to even consider stopping.
Until the door banged open and Sammy was standing there, looking murderously out of Dean's green eyes.
He expected Sam's yells to start reverberating off of the tiles, he expected Sam to stomp over and yank his hand off of his dick, he expected Sam to never ever let him live this down. So suffice to say he was surprised when all Sammy did was walk over cover the hand Dean was using with Dean's own, and adjust the grip. He didn't look any less pissed off as he slowly started stroking with Dean but it didn't appear to be any kind of tricky, college boy murder plot either.
"If you're going to do it, do it right," Sam said heatedly, leaning back against the sink to just fucking watch.
Dean's slow stroking faltered, his eyes locked on the Sam behind his own blown pupils, and after a conference with his three remaining brain cells he heard Sammy's voice moan out,
"Show me how it's done?"
The shower was shut off fast and in what had to be three seconds flat, Dean had Sammy's long limbs sprawled out, still dripping wet, on one of the beds. Sam was half on top of him instantly, mouth at the base of Dean's throat - dearsweetjesus, that felt good - jean-clad cock grinding into Dean's thigh.
Sam moved lower, trailing lips and tongue over collarbones, stopping to give soft kitten-licks to one - holymotherfucker! - nipple. Dean groaned again in Sammy's voice and somehow that just made it better. And maybe that was ok since technically he was just doing this with his own body which basically made it masturbation and that was a good set up for some rocking denial later so he didn't even need to think about it anymore.
One thick, wet finger pressed at his hole and his - Sam's - body just gave way, opened right up like that was exactly what it needed. Dean reached down to wrap his hands around the dick throbbing in time to his heartbeat but Sam grabbed his wrist.
"Don't," he whispered, breath ghosting across Dean's belly, making him squirm, "I can get off from this."
"Yeah, but I can't," Dean panted, fingers itching to wrap around his twitching cock, "maybe it's just you, maybe your body can't-"
Whatever he was going to say was very effectively stopped by Sam's tongue shoving into his mouth. The finger inside him crooked and it was like riding a lightning strike.
"You said you wanted to experiment, right?" Sammy smirked at Dean's gasp and started to move his finger in and out.
Sam's lips - his own - oh fuck it, who even cared, because it was Sam behind the mouth on his and it was so fucking hot the sheets should have been sizzling.
Sammy wasn't being slow or gentle, fucking his fingers - two now - deep into Dean with bruising force while his tongue mimicked the action in Dean's mouth - just the way he liked it and he didn't even have to ask. Those fingers were hitting just the right spot on every stroke and Dean was starting to wonder how totally sure they were about wanting to switch back so soon because getting fucked by someone who knew how to exploit every last secret of this body had just climbed to the very top of Dean's fantasy list.
He pawed at Sam, trying to get to skin so he could scratch his nails up his spine the way he knew would make his body shiver uncontrollably and fuck he hoped whoever invented shirts had died a horrible, painful death.
"Get naked," Dean managed to force out between the explosions of breath Sam's fingers were driving from him. He almost screamed in frustration when those blissful fingers were taken away - no fucking wonder everybody wanted a piece of him - but then Sam was stripping down and it suddenly occurred to Dean that he could do a little experimenting of his own.
The shirt hadn't hit the floor before Dean had his mouth on the sensitive spot just below his navel and he didn't even know his vocal chords could hit the note that Sam squeaked out.
"Shit!" his brother gasped, and Dean sank his teeth into the soft flesh, mounding it between them and sucking hard until Sam wasn't doing fucking anything but rolling his hips and taking big gulps of air.
Then all of a sudden, a hand was wound up in shaggy brown curls and pulling Dean's head back so hard there was nothing he could do but cry out and bare his throat. Which apparently was a move hardwired directly to Sam's cock because he was about three seconds from losing it if Sam pulled on his hair again.
On that contingency, his long fingers started scrabbling at Sam's jeans - Sammy was at least going to be pantsless for this, and besides, Dean liked those jeans, he didn't really want come all over them.
The second the slick head of his dick appeared Dean had it in his mouth - which should have felt way weirder than it did - and Sam was bent in half over him panting, hot puffs of breath over his spine. Dean stroked with his tongue, forming a soft fist around Sam's cock and turning just a little on every half-stroke. A little graze of teeth right along the ridge was all it took before the cock in his mouth was twitching and Dean pulled back just enough to take it all on Sammy's face.
"Jesus, oh fucking Jesus, Dean!"
Sam was pulling him up so that that they were kneeling in front of each other, hands uncoordinated but no less urgent than before.
Big palms held the sides of his face and Sammy took a second to just stare at Dean with fuck-glazed eyes like there was going to be a test on this and he had to get it memorized. Three fingers slid through the slick of come on Dean's face and then suddenly they were at his hole again, pressing in with no time to breathe and Sam was kissing him through the mess of it.
Dean canted his hips back, grinding himself down to meet every toe-curling, brain-melting thrust. Whatever Sammy had said before about getting off from that - and Dean was pretty sure he could now - he either didn't remember or didn't care because the fingers of with free hand were swirling non-sense patterns into the precome on the head of his dick and carefully sliding the ring through flesh so sensitive Dean wasn't sure if it was perfection or pain. Every desperate breath was fire in Dean's lungs to match the one crackling along his nerves.
At the peak of one brutal, dead-on thrust, Sam took hold of the ring and tugged hard enough to make Dean scream if he'd had any air left at all after the first pulse of come shot free.
Sam kissed him through it, fingers massaging his too sensitive prostate and milking his body for everything it had.
They didn't lay down together so much as collapsed near each other, the pieces and parts of them still touching pressing into each other desperately.
***
Sam woke up to a banging on the door. His body - Dean - was slowly rousing next to him, idly scratching at the itchy mess of dried come on his face.
"Boys! I got the stuff, open up!" Bobby's baritone shouted through the door.
Panic-stricken hazel eyes met green through the sex-stained air.
"Sam? Dean?"
Sequel: All or Nothing
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: graphic sex, hmm... not quite sure what to include here - there's a piercing, but it doesn't happen in the story, it's just there, and facial.
Summary - Body swap porn!
Dean woke with a jerk, heart pounding, unsure what had roused him. He sank back to the bed, taking a few seconds to get his breathing under control. The sound of Sam's soft snoring relaxed him enough that he was almost back to sleep before he realized that his bladder was about to explode. He suppressed a groan and slowly hauled himself out of the warm bed, almost stumbling before he found his center of gravity. How much had he had to drink last night?
The neon motel sign sent enough blue light cascading into the bathroom that he didn't have to turn on the light and wake himself up even more to find a little relief. He flushed the toilet stumblingly - why did everything seem out of place? - and was in the process of tucking himself back in when a glint of metal caught his eye. A glint of metal on his cock.
His sleep fogged brain tried to process the completely incongruous ring in his cockhead when he realized that it wasn't just the metal that was wrong.
Long fingers slapped the light switch on and he probably could have reached it from across the room with his mile-long giant-arms. Wide hazel eyes met his gaze in the mirror from underneath sleep mussed, shaggy bangs. He was going to kill Sam.
"You fucked it up!" he was shouting in Sammy's booming voice before he was even out of the bathroom. The figure in the bed by the door - Dean's bed - groaned and squirmed under the covers. And in a lifetime of bizarre and fucked up moments, jerking the covers away and staring down at his own body in bed while he was standing next to it officially took the cake.
"You fucked it up!" he repeated, pulling at his own - Sam's - shoulder. Green eyes hazily opened, one big hand moving up to scrub at them.
"What are you-"
Sam froze mid-move, visible eye shooting back up to Dean and opening wide. The hand pulled away from his face and Sam stared at it for a second before sweeping his gaze down Dean's body.
"You and your fucking spell. Couldn't just salt and burn the damn spirit." That annoying, bitch-ass tone that Sammy used on him all the time was a lot more fun on the giving end.
Sam practically fell out of the bed, scrambling on Dean's legs to the bathroom like he wasn't going to believe what was happening until he saw it himself.
"Fuck." Sam's curse rasped out in Dean's voice. Did he really sound like that?
"This is why we don't mess with magic shit, Sam." Dean was vaguely aware as he watched his own body lean back against the bathroom doorframe, that he had never actually bothered to pull the waistband of Sam's boxers back up and the elastic digging in under Sam's sac was getting kind of uncomfortable. But fuck it, Sammy had gotten them into this mess, his body could take a little punishment.
"There was an innocent girl trapped in that body too Dean, we had to get the spirit out," the answer came flat and automatic like Sam was thinking about a couple of dozen other things instead.
"Yeah well, worked like a charm didn't it?"
Sam didn't answer, just went back to staring at Dean's dirty nails as if he could make them switch back by the sheer force of his gaze.
"Can you fix it?" Dean asked snappily, digging into the words as sudden panic flooded him with adrenaline. Stupid overresponsive body.
Sam's eyes flicked back up to him and skated numbly over his exposed form.
"I... Yeah. Yeah! All we should have to do is repeat the spell - make sure to be really specific about the targets this time - and..." Sam trailed off, face falling.
Dean's guts churned like he'd swallowed a bucket full of cold marbles.
"What?"
"We used up a lot of our emergency supplies on that last one. Some of the herbs are hard to find. We'll have to get Bobby on it." Sam sighed.
Dean flopped down on the bed by the door - right body or not, it was his spot - and cradled Sam's massive head in his hands. After an eternal minute he heard Sam moving around the room, sighing intermittently, and then his side of the phone conversation with Bobby, explaining what was going on.
The sheets on the bed across from his rustled and Dean finally looked up to see Sam staring back at him with his own eyes.
"He says it might take a day or two to get everything we need," his brother explained and Dean couldn't repress a groan.
Silence settled over them as they both slowly tried make peace with the fact that they would be living inside of the wrong body for the next few days. Dean was staring down at Sammy's still exposed lap, suddenly trying hard not to think any of the really filthy things that kept cropping up in his mind when finally the question that had been nagging at the back of his mind all this time broke through.
"Dude, when did you get pierced?"
And Dean was absolutely certain that his body had never ever blushed like that before.
***
Sam sauntered into the diner - apparently saunter was the only setting Dean's body had for forward motion - on legs that felt way too short. Of course, it was definitely worth it to walk around in Dean's tiny elf body just to have gotten to watch Dean trying to situate Sam's legs behind the steering wheel that morning - his older brother cursing a blue streak when his knees kept hitting the dash. Maybe that would teach Dean not to make fun of the way he squirmed after hours in a car clearly made for people half a foot shorter than him.
He slid into the booth facing the wall - if he didn't actually have to see every eye in the place on him he might not feel quite so self-conscious. He wondered if Dean was getting a complex from the lack of attention.
It was still early, not even 7 AM yet, but since neither of them had been able to go back to sleep after the stunning revelation of their body swap - and since Sam would have given up every happy moment he'd ever had to keep Dean from asking any more questions about his 'experimental' phase in college - they had decided to go get something to eat while waiting vainly in for Bobby to show up.
Their waitress came up to the table just as Dean joined him in the booth - grumbling about needing a bigger seat - and immediately started making eyes at Sam.
"What can I get for you boys?" she fluttered her eyelashes in what she clearly thought was an alluring way to make sure they knew that she would happily be one of the menu offerings. How did Dean keep from laughing in people's faces all the time?
"Short stack, scrambled eggs and sausage, sweetheart," Dean leered in an expression that Sam hoped he had never ever worn. It looked positively obscene on his face. But there were bigger issues.
"Like hell," Sam fired at his brother; both he and the waitress looking startled by the reaction.
"What?" Dean asked innocently - God, is that what the puppy dog face looked like? That worked on people?
"You are not putting that crap in m- ... in your body."
"It's not like one little meal is going to kill you, dude."
"I said no."
"And since you cleverly pointed out that it's MY body, your vote doesn't count for shit."
If it hadn't been Sam's own personal face at stake, he would have punched Dean.
"Fine," he clipped out, turning back to the confused looking waitress, "Yogurt and half a grapefruit, please." He smiled wickedly at Dean's scandalized expression, "Hope your body doesn't go into shock from the nutrient overload," Sam was thoroughly enjoying how easily Dean's facial muscles fell into a smirk.
"Bitch."
"Jerk."
***
"I'm just saying, dude," Dean harped as the motel door shut behind him, "you might as well have a little fun while you've got a hot piece of ass like that to work with. You've got my permission."
Dean hadn't let this particular topic go since before they had gotten their food at the diner. Apparently eating 'boring' food in Dean's body had somehow triggered the idea of Sam needing to spice things up in every area of his life which of course, had led inexorably to sex. Or maybe it was just that constantly fiddling with the ring in Sam's cock through his jeans had derailed one of the trains in Dean's - at best - two-track mind.
"Dean, I am not going to get laid in your body. Hell, just showering is going to be fucking weird, there's no way I could actually use your dick. And before you even think about it, you’re not using mine either."
"Oh come on, man!" Dean looked horrified, "This is like, a once in a lifetime opportunity!"
"God I hope so!"
"Seriously, aren't you just a little bit curious about how it feels for me?"
Sam's own mental tracks completely derailed on that thought, his borrowed dick taking immediate interest in the proceedings.
"No," he shoved the idea away viciously, "We have all the same stuff, it'll feel exactly the same."
"First of all, we do not have all the same stuff," Dean deliberately flicked a finger at the half-hard bulge inside is jeans and Sam could hear the dull noise as the nail made contact with his piercing, "Secondly, you don't KNOW for sure it would feel the same, and how can you possibly pass up an opportunity like that?"
Sam bit at a plump lower lips, then suddenly realized what he was doing and couldn't resist flicking his tongue out across it to feel the smooth flesh give. Maybe... no! No way!
"C'mon, you're the 'experimental' one in the family, right?" Dean sneered, "So how about a little experiment?"
Sam had just known that was going to bite him in the ass. And Dean wondered why he had kept his little addition a secret.
"No, Dean," he said firmly, "We are not leaving this room again until Bobby shows up with the stuff to fix this."
"What!? C'mon, we have to at least go get food." It was absolutely amazing that Dean could already be thinking about eating again.
"We'll order in. I don't trust you out there with my body."
Sam thought he might have actually hurt Dean's feelings, but it was hard to tell without all of the little markers he was used to looking for in his brother's expressions.
"Fine," Dean huffed, "Sure, I gave you permission to do anything you wanted with my body, but you don't even trust me to go fucking get food in yours. 'Cause, you know, it's not like I spent most of my life making sure that nothing happened to this body. Not like I protected it and took care of it since the day you were goddamn born."
Dean was up and moving across the room before Sam even had time to react.
"Dean-"
"No!" his brother shouted, and God, Sam's voice could just sound amazingly sulky, "Just forget it." The bathroom door slammed shut and Sam heard the water start up a second later. So much for showering being weird.
Sam sighed and flopped down onto his bed, covering his eyes with Dean's heavy arm. Maybe Dean was right. It was just a little spell after all and they were going to switch back in a day or two. Why should he be taking it so seriously? Maybe it would be ok if they just went out for a while, got a couple of drinks. He still wasn't sure he was ok with the idea of Dean having sex in his body - that thought brought on a whole slew of images of him and Dean together that he was just going to blame on he pervy, on-loan grey matter - but they didn't need to be captives.
He had just decided that he was going to tell Dean exactly that - minus the incestuous mental porn show that had once again stirred his brother's cock - when he heard sounds coming through the bathroom door. It sounded like groans or maybe sobs, like Dean was hurt or... or maybe not hurt at all. Sam got up and pressed his ear to the bathroom door. As foreign as the sounds were from this distance, there was no mistaking the noises as anything but Sam's body enjoying itself.
A flare of heat from mixed anger and lust flooded Sam and he had shoved the door open before he'd even told Dean's body to do it. Maybe that was why Dean was always so impulsive.
***
Dean - in a melt-in-your-mouth Sammy coating - was furiously rubbing his little brother's hard dick. He knew he was being loud, too loud, but a part of him wanted Sam to know that he was going to do whatever he wanted regardless of what Sammy thought, and the other part was too caught up in the realization that THIS was what Sam sounded like during sex to even consider stopping.
Until the door banged open and Sammy was standing there, looking murderously out of Dean's green eyes.
He expected Sam's yells to start reverberating off of the tiles, he expected Sam to stomp over and yank his hand off of his dick, he expected Sam to never ever let him live this down. So suffice to say he was surprised when all Sammy did was walk over cover the hand Dean was using with Dean's own, and adjust the grip. He didn't look any less pissed off as he slowly started stroking with Dean but it didn't appear to be any kind of tricky, college boy murder plot either.
"If you're going to do it, do it right," Sam said heatedly, leaning back against the sink to just fucking watch.
Dean's slow stroking faltered, his eyes locked on the Sam behind his own blown pupils, and after a conference with his three remaining brain cells he heard Sammy's voice moan out,
"Show me how it's done?"
The shower was shut off fast and in what had to be three seconds flat, Dean had Sammy's long limbs sprawled out, still dripping wet, on one of the beds. Sam was half on top of him instantly, mouth at the base of Dean's throat - dearsweetjesus, that felt good - jean-clad cock grinding into Dean's thigh.
Sam moved lower, trailing lips and tongue over collarbones, stopping to give soft kitten-licks to one - holymotherfucker! - nipple. Dean groaned again in Sammy's voice and somehow that just made it better. And maybe that was ok since technically he was just doing this with his own body which basically made it masturbation and that was a good set up for some rocking denial later so he didn't even need to think about it anymore.
One thick, wet finger pressed at his hole and his - Sam's - body just gave way, opened right up like that was exactly what it needed. Dean reached down to wrap his hands around the dick throbbing in time to his heartbeat but Sam grabbed his wrist.
"Don't," he whispered, breath ghosting across Dean's belly, making him squirm, "I can get off from this."
"Yeah, but I can't," Dean panted, fingers itching to wrap around his twitching cock, "maybe it's just you, maybe your body can't-"
Whatever he was going to say was very effectively stopped by Sam's tongue shoving into his mouth. The finger inside him crooked and it was like riding a lightning strike.
"You said you wanted to experiment, right?" Sammy smirked at Dean's gasp and started to move his finger in and out.
Sam's lips - his own - oh fuck it, who even cared, because it was Sam behind the mouth on his and it was so fucking hot the sheets should have been sizzling.
Sammy wasn't being slow or gentle, fucking his fingers - two now - deep into Dean with bruising force while his tongue mimicked the action in Dean's mouth - just the way he liked it and he didn't even have to ask. Those fingers were hitting just the right spot on every stroke and Dean was starting to wonder how totally sure they were about wanting to switch back so soon because getting fucked by someone who knew how to exploit every last secret of this body had just climbed to the very top of Dean's fantasy list.
He pawed at Sam, trying to get to skin so he could scratch his nails up his spine the way he knew would make his body shiver uncontrollably and fuck he hoped whoever invented shirts had died a horrible, painful death.
"Get naked," Dean managed to force out between the explosions of breath Sam's fingers were driving from him. He almost screamed in frustration when those blissful fingers were taken away - no fucking wonder everybody wanted a piece of him - but then Sam was stripping down and it suddenly occurred to Dean that he could do a little experimenting of his own.
The shirt hadn't hit the floor before Dean had his mouth on the sensitive spot just below his navel and he didn't even know his vocal chords could hit the note that Sam squeaked out.
"Shit!" his brother gasped, and Dean sank his teeth into the soft flesh, mounding it between them and sucking hard until Sam wasn't doing fucking anything but rolling his hips and taking big gulps of air.
Then all of a sudden, a hand was wound up in shaggy brown curls and pulling Dean's head back so hard there was nothing he could do but cry out and bare his throat. Which apparently was a move hardwired directly to Sam's cock because he was about three seconds from losing it if Sam pulled on his hair again.
On that contingency, his long fingers started scrabbling at Sam's jeans - Sammy was at least going to be pantsless for this, and besides, Dean liked those jeans, he didn't really want come all over them.
The second the slick head of his dick appeared Dean had it in his mouth - which should have felt way weirder than it did - and Sam was bent in half over him panting, hot puffs of breath over his spine. Dean stroked with his tongue, forming a soft fist around Sam's cock and turning just a little on every half-stroke. A little graze of teeth right along the ridge was all it took before the cock in his mouth was twitching and Dean pulled back just enough to take it all on Sammy's face.
"Jesus, oh fucking Jesus, Dean!"
Sam was pulling him up so that that they were kneeling in front of each other, hands uncoordinated but no less urgent than before.
Big palms held the sides of his face and Sammy took a second to just stare at Dean with fuck-glazed eyes like there was going to be a test on this and he had to get it memorized. Three fingers slid through the slick of come on Dean's face and then suddenly they were at his hole again, pressing in with no time to breathe and Sam was kissing him through the mess of it.
Dean canted his hips back, grinding himself down to meet every toe-curling, brain-melting thrust. Whatever Sammy had said before about getting off from that - and Dean was pretty sure he could now - he either didn't remember or didn't care because the fingers of with free hand were swirling non-sense patterns into the precome on the head of his dick and carefully sliding the ring through flesh so sensitive Dean wasn't sure if it was perfection or pain. Every desperate breath was fire in Dean's lungs to match the one crackling along his nerves.
At the peak of one brutal, dead-on thrust, Sam took hold of the ring and tugged hard enough to make Dean scream if he'd had any air left at all after the first pulse of come shot free.
Sam kissed him through it, fingers massaging his too sensitive prostate and milking his body for everything it had.
They didn't lay down together so much as collapsed near each other, the pieces and parts of them still touching pressing into each other desperately.
***
Sam woke up to a banging on the door. His body - Dean - was slowly rousing next to him, idly scratching at the itchy mess of dried come on his face.
"Boys! I got the stuff, open up!" Bobby's baritone shouted through the door.
Panic-stricken hazel eyes met green through the sex-stained air.
"Sam? Dean?"
Sequel: All or Nothing