Kings of the Night (Part Two)
part two
The bar was loud and smoke-filled, Zeppelin playing from the speakers and the occasional smack of pool balls bouncing off one another ringing through the air. People were clustered together around tables, dancing close together in the thin strip of cleared-away space that was serving as a dance floor. Behind the beer-sticky wood of the counter, three bartenders bustled backwards and forwards, navigating one another with a practiced ease.
Sam Winchester surveyed the people closest to him with fox-slanted eyes, taking a long drag from his beer bottle as his eyes located his brother, tucked away in the corner by the pool table.
Dean met his eyes with a wink, resting a hip against the corner of the table as he inclined his head in clear invitation. The youngest Winchester’s eyes flitted briefly to his father - leaning casually against the bar, making small talk with one of the locals - before he pushed off from the wall and began to weave his way across the room, effortlessly stepping out of the way of the bar’s drunker patrons.
Halfway there, he was stopped by a hand on his arm.
It was clammy and cold, despite the claustrophobic heat of too many bodies pressed together, and big enough that fingers touched thumb as it closed around his wrist. Sam turned his attention from his brother, breathing in deep as he registered an odd edge to the stranger’s scent - something sharp and tangy. It reminded him oddly of lemon vodka, heady and strong, and his eyes flew around to take in the clean-shaven face of a handsome stranger.
“Buy you a drink?” He asked with a grin, voice husky and low. There was an invitation there, and Sam felt his grin widen a little as the guy’s hand slipped to his own, tangling their fingers together.
“Beer.” Sam nodded, flashing a quick grin. The guy shifted past him, and Sam grinned a little at the dark scowl he glimpsed on his brother’s face as he followed the older man to the bar. Dean watched unrepentantly, green eyes catching the dim light of the bar and reflecting it back, making them look eerily bright and piercing. The stranger didn’t seem to notice. “The name’s Sam.”
“Justin,” The brunette grinned, slipping his hand to the small of the hunter’s back and guiding him to a bar stool. Three seats down, John finished the last of his beer and slipped seamlessly into the crowd as if he’d never been there. “So what brings you to town, Sam?”
The teenager shrugged his shoulders, tilting his head and fluttering his eyelashes coyly. He shifted slightly in his seat, pressing his side more firmly against Justin’s. The strange scent hit him again, leaving him feeling almost lightheaded - his limbs felt loose and relaxed, and it made Sam’s spine stiffen a little. “Family business. We’re only here for a couple of days.”
“Now that,” Justin grinned, leaning forward until Sam could feel the older man’s breath fanning across his own lips. “Is a damn shame.”
Sam’s tongue darted out to wet his lips on instinct alone, and his hazel eyes observed the sharp breath that the older man sucked in, eyes focused on the small movement. Dean had always called him a tease, and Sam played that to his full advantage, slowly and deliberately bringing his beer to his lips and draining half of it in one long pull.
Sure that he had the stranger’s attention, he grinned slow and deliberate. His hand stretched out, rested lightly on top of Justin’s, and he knocked their knees together. “Just means that I’ll have to make the most of what little time I have left...”
“Fuck,” Justin breathed, looking almost surprised as the word spilled from his lips. He nodded eagerly, nearly knocking his beer bottle off the bar’s counter as he slipped from his seat, eyes quickly locating the green neon sign pointing towards the exit. He tugged Sam towards the door by his hand, and the werewolf felt a familiar curl of excitement in the pit of his stomach.
Justin’s body posture seemed to shift as they walked - no longer nervous or anxious, but collected and very much in control, hand tightening around the werewolf’s. For his part, Sam felt a familiar thrum of energy through his veins - the same feeling that washed over him with every change, a familiar adrenaline that came coupled with the urge to chase and hunt and fight.
He stepped lightly over the small bucket that was propping the fire escape open, allowing Justin to lead him further into the darkness of the narrow alleyway beside the bar. They skirted around a dumpster, a just a few feet from the door, Justin tugged him into the shadows and crowded him up against the wall.
The man’s body pressed against his in a long line of heat, hands reaching down for the buckle of his belt even as he dipped his head towards Sam’s neck. Before he could make contact, he was jerked backwards by the collar of his jacket, and Sam grinned into the darkness as the familiar scent of his brother washed over him.
Justin whirled around, eyes suddenly glowing a superhuman blue, and was greeted with the sight of one very pissed off Dean Winchester. His face darkened, the edges of his mouth edging up into a snarl and eyes narrowing.
“What the hell is going on here?” He snarled, wisely choosing not to advance on the elder of the Winchester brothers. It seemed that he’d finally clued into the fact that there was something amiss here - that he’d been tricked, and had unknowingly headed blindly for the exact place that Sam was trying to herd him towards.
“You do realize that you were only supposed to lead him into the alley, don’t you?” Dean asked instead of arguing, eyes locked on Sam rather than the now cornered Incubus. “Not actually let him fuck you against the wall like a simpering little barfly.”
“Why don’t we concentrate on killing him for the moment, Dean?” Their father’s voice asked. The Incubus twisted around, panic crossing his features briefly as he realized for the first time that he was completely surrounded. There was no chance of him getting away, and he knew it.
His eyes flew to Sam, and then darted across to Dean. “You’re not even human, are you? What do you want with me?”
Dean shrugged. “To see you dead? It’s really not that hard to figure out.”
“Am I on your territory or something? I can skip town - I know how territorial you shifters get.”
John growled, low in his throat. “Werewolves, actually. As for this being our territory… no. But we don’t appreciate people hunting down and killing humans - the more often it happens, the more likely they are to find out about us and start killing back. You’ve met other hunters, surely? Things like you are the reason that they even exist.”
The Incubus’ eyes narrowed. “So what, you’ve switched teams? Working for the hunters like little housepets? How noble of you.”
Dean growled low in his throat at the insinuation, and John moved before the Incubus even saw it coming - hand shifting even as he swung it towards the creature’s throat, growing claws sharp enough to tear through skin and muscle. For a long moment, the Incubus remained standing, face frozen into an expression of shock, and then his knees gave out from underneath him and he fell to the floor with a thud.
Sam sighed. “That was anticlimactic. I was hoping for some kind of fight.”
“If you want a fight, baby brother,” Dean growled, crossing the distance between them slowly, backing Sam towards the wall for the second time that evening. “Just say the word.”
“I can think of better things to do,” The younger Winchester replied breathily, surging forwards to kiss his brother. Dean’s hands came up instinctively, one tangling in his hair and the other gripping his hip, holding him still as he angled his head to explore deeper into the younger man’s mouth.
John sighed. “Seriously, boys? Can you just wait ten minutes? Help me shift this body to the truck and I’ll take it out to burn it. You two don’t even have to come with me, how does that sound?”
The two young werewolves reluctantly pulled apart, Dean nodded his head even as he ducked down to nip sharply on his brother’s collarbone. Sam shivered at the sensation, tipping his head back and pulling Dean just a little bit closer.
“Now, boys.”
Dean made a grumbling, feral noise deep in his throat as he pulled away, shooting a dark glare at his father. John grinned and otherwise appeared completely unfazed, reaching down to grab the dead Incubus’ arms; the elder of the two Winchester brothers tossed Sam his keys, and reluctantly bent down to grab the creature’s feet.
Between the three of them, it was less than a minute later that they had the Incubus’ body wrapped in a tarp and secured in the bed of John’s truck.
John eyed the two of them for a long moment. “I’ll be gone for a few hours. Try not to trash the motel room, okay? I don’t want any repeats of last time.”
Dean grinned wickedly, pressing a hand on his brother’s back and nudging him towards the passenger side car door. Sam didn’t need to be told twice.
**
The car ride back to the motel room was made in silence.
There was an almost tangible tension buzzing underneath the surface, and every subtle shift of Sam’s hips had Dean’s hands tightening around the steering wheel until his knuckles were white. The younger man was clearly well aware of what he was doing, eyes glittering darkly with every streetlight that they passed, and a feral grin tugging at the edge of his mouth.
It wasn’t until the motel finally appeared in sight that his long, piano-players fingers slid their way over the bench seat to lightly squeeze his brother’s thigh. Dean swore loudly, clumsily parking the Impala in the bay outside of their motel room with a loud screech of breaks.
At any other moment, he might have taken the time to straighten her up, make sure that she was neatly tucked between the lines in order to avoid some vindictive sonofabitch damaging her… and avoid Dean committing murder, as would likely be the result of that particular situation. As it was, it was all he could do to remember to lock her as he fumbled in his pocket for the motel door key.
Sam pressed up close behind him, fingers slipping under his older brother’s shirt and trailing patterns over the smooth skin of his hip.
Finally, the door swung open and the two of them fell through. Dean tossed the key in the general direction of the rickety motel table without paying even a little attention as to where it landed, and had whirled on his brother before Sam even finished closing the door, pinning the younger wolf between the cold wood and his own body.
Sam shuddered, hands reaching up to tangle in his brother’s hair as their mouths met in a vicious kiss. Dean’s nails bit into the skin on his hips, threatening to break the skin and draw blood, and Sam ground them up with a bitten-off whimper as Dean pulled away, turning his attention to the younger man’s neck.
“Not so quick, Sammy,” he growled out, sharply biting down on the junction where neck met shoulder when Sam bucked his hips once more. “I’m gonna make you beg for it, baby.”
Sam’s head tipped back, banging off the door with a hollow thud as Dean’s hands slowly slipped down his shirt, tugging lightly on the end before bringing it up and over the younger wolf’s head in a smooth movement.
Sam’s hands reached out to return the favour, but Dean batted them away, stepping back a few feet and slowly removing his own shirt. Sam seemed to get with the program as the elder hunter reached for the buckle on his belt, quickly shedding himself of his own shoes and jeans.
“On the bed,” Dean panted, lightly shoving the younger man towards the object in question. Sam scowled, resisting for a long moment before he allowed himself to be tipped backwards.
“Not some little bitch,” he sniped, propping himself up on his elbows to glare at his brother. Dean was perturbed in the slightest, slowly climbing onto the bed and crawling over his brother, letting his body weight pin the young wolf’s slight frame to the mattress.
When he spoke, his voice was a deep rumble in his chest that Sam felt as much as heard. “Sure you are. You’re my little bitch.”
Sam wanted to deny it. He wanted to flip their positions and pin his brother to the mattress, show him that just because he was the youngest and the smallest, it didn’t mean that he was some weak little omega that needed to be taken care of. Unfortunately for his pride, his brother chose that moment to deliberately align their crotches and grind down, and all thoughts of protest fled from Sam’s brain in that very instant.
“Jesus,” He groaned, back arching as his brother ground down again, rubbing their cocks together through the thin material of their boxer shorts and providing just enough friction to have arousal shooting through every inch of Sam’s being. “Fuck, Dean. Just get on with it already.”
The elder Winchester grinned, ducking his head for another kiss as he stretched out a hand and fumbled blindly on the nightstand for the bottle of lube that they always kept there. Sam smiled into the kiss, hand reaching out and snatching the lube with no effort, pressing it into his brother’s hand.
Dean pulled away to scowl at him. “Show off.”
Sam shrugged his shoulders as best as he could with his brother’s weight resting on him, shifting and shimmying his hips a little in order to slip his boxers free. They got as far as his knees before Dean rolled his eyes and reached behind him to tug them off, flicking the cap off the small bottle with his other hand.
He squirted a generous amount of the gel on his hand, slowly slipping his hand down to give Sam’s cock a few hard tugs. The seventeen-year-old’s back arched, pressing closer to his brother as he gasped harshly; in the dim, fluorescent light peeking through the gap in the motel room curtains, Dean’s wicked smile stood out vividly from the darkness around him.
His hand slipped lower yet, until Sam felt the tip of his finger press where he wanted it most. Whimpering deep in his throat, he bucked his hips, forcing the finger deep inside of him. Dean groaned low in his throat, gently removing the finger and replacing it slowly, working the younger man over so slowly that it felt like some kind of torture.
Beads of sweat glistened on Sam’s skin, cock hard and flushed and curving deliciously up towards his concave belly. He was whining low in his throat, an animalistic noise that only encouraged Dean to add another finger, to work them deeper and harder, ruthlessly rubbing against his brother’s prostate.
“Please, Dean,” Sam gasped eventually, hips bucking up to meet the slow glide of Dean’s fingers even as he pressed his head back into the pillow and started up at the older hunter with beseeching eyes. “Come on, fuck me already.”
Dean grinned, pausing to wipe his fingers on the bedspread next to Sam’s hip before shimmying out of his own boxers. His dick slapped against his toned stomach, leaving a trail of precome, and he once more picked up the forgotten bottle of lube, squirting some directly onto his cock. His hips jerked at the sensation, eyes fluttering shut as he closed his hand over his appendage for the first time, slowly soothing the moisture over it.
Sam made a small, desperate noise, panting as he watched his brother prepare himself.
“Dean,” He gasped again, reaching out to wrap his hand around the older man’s wrist, tugging him closer. “Please. I need you.”
The bigger wolf allowed himself to be tugged forwards, until Sam felt entirely surrounded by him - his warm, spicy scent and the familiar feel of his warm skin; hot breath on his neck, and the press of a hand on his stomach.
He didn’t bother to line himself up, just tipped his head to nip and kiss on the younger man’s neck, rutting blindly until his cock finally hit Sam’s entrance, and then he pushed. The younger wolf cried out, body arching so sharply that it looked almost painful, muscles quivering at the intense sensation of being stuffed so full.
Dean would never stop loving this. The dark, possessive part of him loved how much Sam wanted this - how he needed to get fucked deep and hard the same way he needed oxygen or water. The way his body seemed to fit so perfectly underneath Dean’s, narrow hips settled inside Dean’s own, rubbing together as the older man ground down hard.
His dick sunk impossibly deeper, and Sam panted harshly as his hips bucked at the sensation; his muscles were fluttering around his brother’s hard length, and just when he thought he might adjust to the sensation, Dean reared back and fucked down roughly.
Sam cried out, wrapping his legs around his brother’s as the older man set a brutal pace, his own cock leaking against his stomach as Dean’s length hit his prostate dead on, time after time.
He shifted his legs, changing the angle of his hips, and Dean’s next thrust had him crying out once more. His eyes rolled back into his head, cock jerking once before spilling across his stomach. Dean didn’t slow, didn’t so much as hesitate as he bit hard against the younger man’s neck, gripping the skin there as he picked up the pace even more. Sam’s muscles were contracting almost violently around his cock, leaving both of them trembling, and he could feel the sticky sensation of Sam’s come smeared between their stomachs. He came just seconds after his brother, the world whiting out almost completely as he began to shoot his release deep inside of his brother.
He fucked himself through it, hips moving shakily until the pleasure shifted more and more towards pain, his cock softening. Only then did he pull out, collapsing onto his side next to his brother, one arm draped over the younger man’s chest.
Sam’s lungs were heaving unsteadily, skin sticky with sweat, but when he turned tired eyes towards his brother, he was grinning widely.
Dean gently tugged him closer, rolling onto his side as he pulled the younger man in tight and spooned up behind him so closely that he could feel Sam’s rapid heartbeat beating next to his own. He reached blindly for the covers, gently tucking them around the two of them, and nuzzled his head into the back of Sam’s.
“Hmm,” Sam said fuzzily, sliding his arm next to Dean’s and tangling their fingers together. “We should get cleaned up.”
Dean pressed a kiss to the soft skin at the nape of his neck.
“Yeah,” He agreed, even as he could feel his eyes begin to slip shut. “In a minute.”
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