And together we make a holy monster

[estei]

Subject line shamelessly stolen from the gorgeous poem rei-c posted earlier, Filthy Radiance Go and read it. I have kept it open in a browser all day so I can go back and read it again and again

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[estei]

“Sam,” the guy says, reaching out to touch Sam’s elbow and it takes every ounce of self-control not to blow his story and lay the guy out on the floor. He settles for glaring menacingly, standing behind Sam’s shoulder. “Maybe I could give you my number, for later,”

“Sorry Andrew,” Sam says, “We really do have to get going,”

Dean smirks at the guy, almost feels bad for the poor schmuck, after all, he does get to go home with Sam, but then he remembers all the touching, all the leaning, and his knuckles get itchy.

“Oh man, I told you not to eat that chili,” Sam says as they push out the front door. Dean doesn’t say anything, just concentrates on looking pathetic and a little bit sheepish until they round the corner to the back parking lot. Sam is surveying the lot, picks out the Impala immediately from the rows of sedans and SUVs, so he doesn’t see Dean coming until his back slams against the brick wall.

Dean doesn’t give him a chance to speak, what’s to say? He’s been aching to get his hands on Sam’s skin all night, to cover Sam’s mouth with his; he’s not going to waste a perfectly good opportunity by allowing discussion. Sam moans and parts his lips for Dean’s tongue, slides his own hands under Dean’s Henley top.

“Christ, took you long enough,” Sam says when Dean nips at his jaw. Dean’s pretty far gone, the haze of lust and want a need clouding everything, but it still gets through.

“You little shit,” he says, biting down on Sam’s earlobe. “You played me.”

“Maybe,” Sam is smirking, eyes bright and Dean has never seen anything so damn sexy in all his life.

“Just wait till I get you back to the motel,” he says, grinding his hips against Sam’s. “I’m gonna make you pay for that one.”