Supernatural FIC: Opportunistic Lover
Title: Opportunistic Lover
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Girl!Sam
Rating: 18+
Warnings: Wincest. Totally shameless genderbending smut, because I felt that Girl!Sam needed to represent!
Date: Dec 2005
Summary: Sam wakes up a girl. Dean notices.
Notes: See, this really isn't my fault, because lyra_wing wrote Man, I Feel Like a Woman, and then scribblinlenore wrote That Old Slippery Slope, and I got all inspired. Then, I may have casually mentioned it to stone_princess, who bribed me by promising to finish writing the best angsty porn ever in exchange for me writing this, and well, can you blame a girl?
I didn't think so.
Much thanks to my lovely betas, stone_princess, scribblinlenore, and ethrosdemon for their fantastic feedback. All remaining mistakes are mine.
Disclaimers: Don’t own them. How terribly sad for me.
Opportunistic Lover
***
"You want to tell me what the hell happened back there, Sam?" Dean asked angrily.
Sam frowned. "One of my earplugs fell out. It's not like I did it intentionally."
"Right, well, you knew we were hunting a siren. You should have made sure it was in better." Dean ran his fingers through his hair, frustrated that the bitch had gotten away.
"She just--" Sam stopped, a concerned look on his face. "She just kissed me. I mean, that's not bad, right?"
Dean studied Sam for a moment and shrugged. There had been nothing in Dad's journal about a siren's kiss being poisonous, and Sam seemed okay, if a little dazed. "I guess we'll see, won't we?"
***
"Dean."
"Go 'way," Dean mumbled. Someone was poking his arm, which was irritating in and of itself, but coupled with the pornographic dream he was being dragged away from, it was just downright mean.
"Dean. Wake up!"
"What?" Dean cracked an eyelid to see a pretty brunette hovering over him. "Hey, baby. You still here?" he asked before he remembered that he hadn't gone home with anyone last night.
The girl rolled her eyes. "You're such a pig."
Dean sat up then. He closed his eyes and rubbed his hands over his face before opening them again. The girl was still standing there with an all-too-familiar irritated look on her face.
"Sammy?"
"I'm a girl, Dean!" Sam sounded a little hysterical.
Dean nodded as he took in the situation. Sam was still wearing his T-shirt and boxer shorts, but the outfit looked totally different on girl-Sam. The boxers now hung dangerously low on the curves of his hips, and the T-shirt clung to the swell of Sam's breasts, his nipples clearly visible through the thin cotton.
"Yeah. Yeah, Sam. I can see that."
"Are you checking me out?" Sam crossed his arms over his chest, forcing Dean to look up at his face. "You're such a pig!"
"You already mentioned that," Dean said, his eyes trailing down Sam's body again.
"Oh my god!" Sam slapped the side of Dean's head.
"Well, Jesus, Sam! Your legs go up to your neck! What the hell do you expect?"
"Oh, I don't know. For you to maybe act like my brother?" Sam stopped and shook his head. "Wait, what am I saying? You're acting exactly like my brother."
Dean grinned.
"Look, could we just--"
"You have tits."
San blinked at him. "What?"
Dean leaned forward. "Have you felt them yet?"
"What?
"Well? Have you? I mean, come on! That's like the first thing I would do!" He tilted his head and rubbed the back of his neck. "Can I touch them?" They were really nice tits.
Sam looked like he wanted to slap him again.
Dean stood up, grinning. "Come on, Sammy. We're brothers! Buds! I would let you touch my boobies if I turned into a girl!" He reached out, only half-joking.
"Fuck off!" Sam slapped his hand away. "In case you hadn't noticed, I'm kind of freaking out here."
"I noticed." Dean took a deep breath and put on his serious face. "Okay, well, we need to find this siren again and find out how to reverse whatever she did to you."
"Yeah. Okay." Sam nodded, looking a little calmer.
"But we can't do that on an empty stomach. Get dressed and we'll go get some breakfast." He patted Sam on the cheek as he walked towards the bathroom and tried not to notice that Sam's skin was girly-soft. Because that would be weird.
***
Dean was going to stab somebody. He was going to stab many somebodies, but he was going to start with the guy in the green trucker hat who had been leaving dirty-old-man eyeprints all over Sam since the moment they'd walked into the diner.
Sam wasn't doing much to help, either, just sitting there eating his breakfast like there wasn't anything out of the ordinary. He'd taken a shower and his hair had dried curling around his now feminine features, all cute and pixieish. His normally loose jeans hugged his hips provocatively, and he had knotted the T-shirt he was wearing because it was "too big and long otherwise". And now he sat there eating, except that girl Sam eating bacon and then licking the grease off his fingers was totally different from boy Sam doing it, and people were definitely noticing.
"Sam!" Dean finally said in a harsh whisper.
Sam looked up as he sucked on his thumb, his eyes sparkling prettily. He made a wet slurping sound as he pulled his thumb out of his mouth and smiled. "You're right, I feel a lot better. Thank you."
"Yeah, whatever." Dean shot trucker-hat guy another dirty look. "Just stop smiling like that."
"What?" Sam pushed his plate away, then crossed his arms and leaned forward like he was trying to put his tits on display for every guy in there to ogle.
Dean resisted the urge to throw his jacket around Sam's shoulders to cover him up. "Maybe we should get you a few girl clothes." Like a bra. "Just in case we don't figure this thing out right away."
Sam nodded. "I need shoes, at least. I had to put on three pairs of socks and stuff another pair in the toes for these to work," he said, holding up his foot so that Dean could see his ratty old sneaker.
"Right." Dean nodded and manfully refrained from making a stuffing comment. "So we'll hit the mall first, then."
"Really? You're seriously going to take me shopping?" Sam's face lit up, trucker guy shifted in his seat, and Dean fingered the very large knife he had in his pocket.
"Check please."
***
"Oh my god." Sam's voice was low and breathy, and at least three guys turned their heads when he spoke. "Look at these boots."
Dean eyed the black, knee-high lace-up boots suspiciously as Sam fondled them. "Don't you think we should maybe look at something more practical?"
But Sam was already asking the salesgirl if he could try them on in his size, and Dean gave up.
Sam sat down in one of the chairs and started to roll up the legs of his jeans. He removed all but one pair of socks. Dean pulled his gaze away from the curve of Sam's calves to watch the other women in the department as they licked their lips and cooed over the various shoes and boots that were on display.
Girls were so weird.
"Well? What do you think?"
Dean turned back to see the lower half of Sam's legs encased in black leather, sexy like they should be obscene, except that they weren't. Not really. They were just shoes. "They're..." He shifted in his seat and tried to think of the right thing to say. He bent over and picked up the box. "They're two hundred dollars!"
Sam shrugged and studied his legs in the mirror. "But they're hot! And they're comfortable and they don't have much of a heel."
"Two hundred dollars, Sammy."
Sam leaned forward, and they really needed to stop at a bra store next. "It's not like you're actually paying for them, Mister..." Sam grabbed Dean's wallet from his jacket pocket and looked at the credit card he was carrying. "Connor MacManus."
Which was true, but totally beside the point.
"Come on, Dean," Sam pleaded in a voice that sounded suspiciously sex-kittenish. "Just this once."
"Fine," Dean said as he stood up. "But just because we can't spend all day here."
***
Dean's mood brightened considerably as they walked into Victoria's Secret.
"We could have just gotten some at Macy's," Sam said as he picked up a pair of lace panties.
"Come on, Sam. We must take advantage of the situation. Most of the time girls look at me like I'm a pervert when I come in here." He grinned. "But if I'm here with my girlfriend..."
"Wait." Sam set down the panties and looked at Dean. "You come in here alone?"
Dean shrugged. He'd only actually done it the one time, and only because he hadn't been paying attention when he followed the girl in there. Besides, pick-up lines in underwear stores didn't work, because, "Hey, you look to be about my girlfriend's size," actually said, "Hey, I have a girlfriend." So Dean had avoided that by saying, "Hey, you look to be about my sister's size..." But apparently guys didn't buy sexy underwear for their sisters.
He was saved from having to provide an explanation by the pretty blonde salesgirl that approached them.
"Can I help you?"
"Yeah." Sam shoved his hands into his pants and stood there awkwardly for a moment before saying, "I need a bra." He blushed as soon as the words were out of his mouth, and Dean was irritated at how charming he found that.
"Okay, what kind of bra?" the girl asked.
Sam gave Dean a panicked look. "There are different kinds?"
The girl's glance darted between Dean and Sam for a moment before she answered. "Do you want something practical? Lacey? Full-coverage or demi? Something that will give you a little cleavage?"
"Yes!" Dean said, momentarily forgetting that he was trying to get Sam into something less revealing. "Cleavage is good."
Sam, for his part, looked like he might cry. "I don't really know. I haven't really... I just usually get the first thing that fits," he finished lamely, which made Dean feel a little bit guilty about the cleavage comment.
The girl took pity on him and patted his shoulder. "How about I grab a few different styles, and you can try them on and see what you like?"
Sam nodded. "Thanks."
"Okay, the first thing we should do is get your measurements."
Dean started to follow them back to the dressing rooms, but stopped when Sam turned to give him a dirty look.
"What?" He looked at the salesgirl and then back at Sam. "I want to watch. Can't I watch?"
"Go wait in the food court!" Sam hissed.
"I would let you watch," Dean muttered as he turned to leave the store. Life was so unfair sometimes.
***
Sam came out an hour and a half later, with two rather sizeable bags.
"Just how long are you planning on staying like this?" Dean asked.
"I just got a few necessities," Sam said. "A couple of bras, some panties, a pair of stockings."
"Stockings?"
"Thigh-highs. Vicki said that they would look really sexy with my boots and a skirt."
Dean shut his eyes and tried to banish the thoughts that immediately leapt to his mind. "Vicki?"
"The salesgirl. She was really sweet."
"Can we just go now?" There were a couple of guys eyeing Sam with interest, and Dean didn't want to have to get into a brawl in the food court.
"Yeah." Sam looked down at his bags and then back over his shoulder. "There's a New York & Company over there."
Dean followed after his brother, wondering if that was supposed to mean something to him. "Should I even ask how you know where to shop for girl's clothes?"
Sam stopped. "Uh, yeah. Jess liked it when I went shopping with her. She liked trying stuff on for me."
That haunted look on such feminine features made Dean feel like even more of a dickhead than it usually did. He wrapped his arm around Sam's shoulders and kissed the side of his head. The weird part was that Sam let him.
***
"Sam." Dean gently hit the back of his head against the wall as he waited for Sam to come out of the dressing room.
"Okay. Hold on a sec." The door opened, and Dean was glad he was already sitting on the floor. "What do you think?"
Sam was wearing a short black skirt and a silky dark red tank top thingy that left very little to the imagination. Combined with the fuck-me boots, the stockings, and the fact that Sam still hadn't put on a bra, it was a miracle that Dean didn't have a coronary right then and there.
"No. Absolutely not." Dean shook his head.
"What?" Sam glanced down at his outfit like he had no idea what Dean found objectionable.
"There is no fucking way you are wearing that in public!" Dean said. "What if we have to fight something? It's not even a little bit practical. And why are you still not wearing a bra? I can see your nipples!"
Sam looked annoyed. "You were the one who was so excited about my breasts earlier!"
"That's when we were alone," Dean explained. "We're in public now and you look cheap."
Just then, the door of the dressing room next to them opened and a woman led her teenage daughter out, pausing to give Sam and Dean a dirty look. Dean flipped her off as she walked away before turning his attention back to Sam.
His brother was just standing there, his nipples still clearly visible through the silky material of Sam's top, begging to be touched. Licked, sucked and-- "Dammit, Sam! Put on a bra! I'm not going to tell you again!"
"Fine!" Sam pouted at him. "You don't have to be a jerk about it." But he didn't turn to go back into the dressing room.
"Well?"
"It's just..." Sam blushed and ducked his head. "Canyouhelpme?"
Dean blinked. "What?"
"There are these stupid hooks." Sam waved a small, delicate hand in the air. "I can't seem to make it all work."
"Well, I'm usually better at taking them off." Dean gave Sam a cocky half-grin, but Sam didn't look too amused. "Yeah, okay. Whatever." Dean stood up, took a deep breath and pushed Sam into the dressing room, walking in after him. He could do this.
Sam bent over and rustled around in one of the bags, the top of his stockings and a little bit of bare skin visible under the raised hem of his skirt.
Not that Dean was looking.
"Ah hah!" Sam straightened up, pulling something black and pink and lacey out of one of the bags. "Okay, now I just need to..." He turned and looked at Dean over his shoulder. "Could you turn around for a second?"
Dean sighed and turned to face the opposite wall, except that it was a dressing room, and it had a mirror on it. Dean could see the red straps of Sam's tank top as they slid down over Sam's perfectly rounded shoulders. First one, then the other.
Dean's breath hitched just as the top was about to slide off completely, and Sam's eyes darted up, meeting Dean's in the mirror's reflection.
"Dean!"
"Sorry!" Dean said, covering his eyes with his hand.
There was a rustling sound of silky girl-clothes, and then Sam said, "Okay."
The sight that greeted Dean wasn't much better than the one he'd been watching before. Sam's breasts swelled provocatively above pink and black lace, made even more obvious by the fact that Sam's hands were behind his back, fiddling with the hooks.
"Here, just..." Dean finally stepped forward and batted Sam's hands away, grabbing both tabs of the bra and pulling them tight. He fucking hated these things, and was embarrassed to find that his hands were shaking. His fingers kept brushing against Sam's soft, hot skin, and Dean could swear that he heard Sam gasp.
"Thank you," Sam said quietly when Dean finally stepped away. He looked at himself in the mirror and frowned. "So I guess I should put on underwear too, huh?"
"Jesus fucking Christ, Sammy! You're not wearing underwear?" Dean had been wrong before. He couldn't handle this. He couldn't handle his baby brother-turned-girl standing there in a frilly bra and black skirt with legs that wouldn't quit and way too much bare skin for comfort.
But Sam just shrugged and said, "Boxers didn't really work with the skirt."
"I have to get out of here." Dean opened the dressing room door and slid out.
"So, no on the skirt?" Sam called after him.
"NO! Get some jeans. And sweatshirts. Big, big sweatshirts! I'm going back to the food court."
"Dean."
"Big sweatshirts, Sam! I mean it!"
***
Sam came out wearing low-rise jeans and a little, tight red T-shirt that showed his bellybutton. He obviously had issues with following orders.
"Tell me you at least got a sweatshirt or jacket. Something," Dean said.
"Of course I did." Sam pulled out a jean jacket and slid it on, but it only came down to the middle of his back, serving to emphasize his chest that much more.
"Where's the rest of it?"
Sam gave him a disgruntled look. "This is it. It's what's in style, Dean."
It amazed Dean how much condescension Sam could pack into such a short sentence. "Okay, fine. Can we just go now?" Every guy that passed by them gave Sam a leering, smarmy look, and Dean was very, very close to coldcocking someone.
"Can we eat again?" Sam sat down next to Dean and sighed. "I'm starving."
"Here?" Dean looked around at the bustling food court and frowned. "Why don't we go to an actual restaurant?"
Sam just snorted. "Because we're not on a date?" He leaned in, batting his eyelashes at Dean, his voice dropping to a low, sultry whisper. "You're not going to get laid, no matter how much you try to impress me."
Dean could feel his face getting red, and he swore that as soon as Sam had his regular body back, he was going to punch him. Hard. For the moment, though, all he could say was, "Watch your mouth."
"Whatever. Give me some money. I want food." Sam held out his hand expectantly, and Dean had handed over twenty dollars before he even realized what he was doing.
"Where are you going?" Dean asked as Sam started to walk off.
"I'm just going over to Edo to get some food, Dad. Jeeze." Sam stalked off, his hips swaying, completely oblivious to the admirers he was collecting as he walked.
"Fine," Dean muttered to himself as he stood up to get something for himself. "Get molested. See if I care."
Sam hadn't returned to the table by the time Dean got his food. Dean looked around and finally spotted his brother, surrounded by guys, laughing and talking like he had obviously lost his mind.
Dean stalked over to the disgusting scene, arriving just in time to hear one of the idiots say, "Sam, huh? That's sort of a masculine name for a pretty little thing like you. You here alone?"
"It's short for Samantha," Dean said as he wrapped his arm around Sam's waist. "And no, she's not alone."
"Dean--" Sam looked over at him, and Dean vaguely wondered what his expression looked like, because Sam immediately turned back to the guys and said, "I have to go."
"Can you believe those guys?" Dean asked as they walked away, his arm still around Sam's waist, his fingers touching bare skin where Sam's shirt and pants gapped. "'Pretty little thing like you.' How skeezy!"
Sam laughed. "You're kidding me, right?"
"What?"
"Dean, you're the skeeziest guy I know. You're like the King of the Skeezeballs."
Dean frowned and pulled Sam's chair for him. "That's different."
"How?"
"I don't know, it just is," Dean said, exasperated. "Quit asking me stupid questions. The sooner we're done eating, the sooner we can get out of here."
"And where are we going from here?" Sam asked around a mouthful of rice.
"We're going back to that fucking club to find the She-bitch that did this to you and make her turn you back."
Sam raised one perfectly arched eyebrow at Dean and said, "One of us is seriously PMSing, and it's not me."
Dean opened his mouth to respond that PMS was the least of his problems, but shifted in his chair and thought better of it.
***
"Sam!" Dean shouted. "How are you not ready yet?"
"I'll be out in a second!" Sam called through the bathroom door.
"We're going hunting, not clubbing."
"Oh my god you are the biggest nag ever," Sam said as he walked out of the bathroom.
Those boots were really going to be the death of him, Dean thought as his eyes traveled up Sam's legs. "I thought I told you not to get that," he said.
"What? You said not to get the skirt." Sam looked down at his outfit. "This is a dress."
"It's obscene is what it is," Dean said, eyeing the clingy black material like it was a new sort of demon, sent to Earth for the sole purpose of driving Dean out of his fucking mind.
Sam walked over to Dean and threw his arms around Dean's neck, giving him a coy smile. "Well, we want to fit in, don't we?"
"Sam." Dean's voice sounded strangled, even in his own ears, and he grabbed Sam's hips, unsure of whether it was to push him away or pull him closer.
"Chill out, Dean." Sam stepped back, making Dean's decision for him. "I'm a big boy. I can take care of myself."
"You think so, huh?"
"I could still whip your ass."
Sam's voice was filled with such dark promise that Dean was sure Sam was fucking with him, except that the next moment Sam's expression was completely neutral.
"So are we going or what?"
***
Dean had lost track of Sam in the press of bodies almost immediately after they entered the club, and part of him was relieved for it. If Sam thought he could take care of himself like that, let him. Dean was done with it.
He searched the club for the siren they'd seen last night, but when he finally found the knot of men that usually indicated a siren's presence, it was Sam he found it the middle, and that worried Dean. Sam had been getting a lot of attention all day, and sure, he was hot, but Dean was beginning to suspect that there might be some siren mojo at work there as well.
"Oh, fuck this," Dean said as he pressed his way through to get to his brother.
Sam was dancing, a shot glass in one hand, the other wrapped around some random guy's neck.
"We're going," Dean said, pulling at Sam's wrist.
The guy that Sam was dancing with frowned, and moved his hand down to cup Sam's ass. He was probably going to say something stupid, like, "I think the lady is fine where she is," but he didn't get the chance. Dean hauled back and punched him, knocking him away from Sam's body.
"Oh, shit," Sam said, sounding so resigned that it probably would have been amusing had Dean not been busy ducking the guy's responding swing.
"Hey!"
Dean turned to seen some other guy pawing at Sam. He moved to do something about it, but Sam beat him to it with a kick-punch combo that made Dean's heart swell with pride. Then all hell broke loose, Dean and Sam against at least twenty guys, and Dean wished he had a second to turn to Sam and say, "This is why you should have worn pants!"
Somehow in the madness, they managed to make it outside. Dean grabbed Sam's hand, and they began to run in the direction of the motel. Sam stumbled a few times, but Dean kept pulling him along, wanting to put as much distance as possible between them and the angry mob.
The sounds from the club had completely faded by the time Sam stopped, jerking Dean back into an empty alley.
"I need-- Fuck." Sam leaned back against the wall, panting and shivering a little in the cool night's breeze.
Dean took off his jacket and wrapped it around Sam's shoulders. "That's what I was talking about, Sam."
"Yeah, yeah." Sam waved Dean's comment away, nice enough to refrain from pointing out that Dean was actually the one who had started it. "I still kicked ass."
"I know." Dean wiped the corner of his mouth, frowning at the blood that it left on his thumb. "I especially liked that roundhouse Buffy kick thing you did."
"Yeah?"
Dean nodded. "Totally hot," he said without thinking. It wasn't until he saw Sam's cat-like grin that he realized his mistake.
"You think I'm hot?" Sam asked quietly.
"The move," Dean clarified. "The move was hot."
"Oh." Sam swayed towards Dean a little, and then slumped back against the wall. "So it was just the move, then?"
"Yeah." Dean leaned forward. "You move...good."
Sam laughed at that, and Dean could smell the alcohol on his breath.
"How much did you have to drink?"
"Not that much. A lot." Sam's face brightened. "Guys kept buying me drinks. Being a girl rocks!"
Dean wasn't sure when he'd grabbed Sam's waist, but there his hands were, moving over the smooth fabric of Sam's dress, around to the small of his back, then lower.
"Are you still trying to cop a feel?" Sam asked with a breath of giddy laughter.
"Fucking hell, Sammy. I've been walking around half hard all day," Dean whispered, unable to stop himself.
"Why didn't you say something?" Sam wrapped his arms around Dean's neck. "I mean, we ought to do something about it, right?" And siren song or no, there was absolutely no way that Dean could walk away from that.
Sam tasted sweet, like the girly drinks Dean never ordered. Sweet and hot and so fucking willing that Dean's knees almost buckled. He moved his hands down over Sam's ass, under the hem of the skirt and up his thighs, running his fingers over the edges of Sam's stockings before moving further up.
"Holy shit," Dean said against Sam's mouth when he encountered nothing but bare skin. "I thought you put on underwear."
"I did." Sam bit at Dean's lip, and Dean could taste the metallic tang of his blood. "I took them off again. You're not the only one who was turned-on all day. Which, actually, is much more pleasant as a-- Oh my god. Do that again!" he said as Dean stroked between his thighs.
"Fuck, Sammy. Who knew you were such a tease?" Dean pressed his forehead against Sam's neck as he rubbed Sam's clit. "You're so fucking wet."
"Yeah." Sam panted in Dean's ear. "It's kind of weird. But, Dean?"
"Hmmm?"
"I'm only a tease if I don't let you fuck me." Sam licked Dean's ear and whispered, "And I really plan on letting you fuck me."
"Jesus." Dean squeezed his eyes shut and tried to calm down. "I don't think I can wait until we get back to the motel."
"I don't want you to."
Dean could clearly see the siren's evil plan now, because this was definitely going to kill him. "My wallet."
"What?" Sam sounded confused.
"There should be a condom in my wallet. Get it. I would, but…" Dean rubbed his thumb against Sam's clit again to illustrate that his hands were otherwise occupied.
"Fuck. Yeah, okay. Just keep-- Keep doing that." Sam fished around in Dean's pockets until he found what he was looking for. He pulled the little foil square out and smiled. "How very opportunistic of you."
Dean shrugged as he bent down to kiss Sam's neck. "Hey, you never know, right?"
"Right." Sam fumbled with the zipper of Dean's jeans a little before finally getting them open. He shoved Dean's boxers down just far enough to get the condom on, and Dean groaned as Sam's small, delicate hand wrapped around his cock.
"Sam--" Dean stopped before he could say anything else. What was there to say? That this wasn't how it should be, quick and hard in a dirty alley? That's how it was going to be, and the 'shoulds' didn't matter because Dean's body was way ahead of his mind, his hands already under Sam's thighs, holding them open as Sam braced himself on Dean's shoulders, sliding down onto his cock in one fluid movement. "Fuck!"
As Dean pressed Sam against the wall, it occurred to him that maybe he should be a little gentler, except that Sam was beyond control, scratching at his neck with short, blunt nails, and saying his name over and over like it was the only word he knew.
It hit Dean very suddenly that despite the package, it was Sam in his arms. That there hadn't been a moment when Dean had imagined someone else, because Sam said his name like nobody else did. Dean, like it held so much more meaning than anyone else would ever know, and Dean wondered if the want that was so obvious now had always been wrapped up in there somewhere.
Dean tried to take it slow, to make it good, make it last, but Sam's legs were wrapped around him so perfectly, and Dean was exactly where he had wanted to be all day-- hot, wet, tight and all-consuming. He kissed all the skin available to him, whispering things that he couldn't keep track of.
"Dean." Sam's breath hitched, and when Dean looked up, Sam's expression was almost one of pain. "I need-- I need. Dean."
It took a moment for what Sam was asking to sink in, and then Dean nodded, shifting Sam's weight in his arms so that he could rub Sam's clit again. "Don't worry, Sammy," he whispered hotly against Sam's neck. "I'll get you there."
The world started spinning around them, and Dean knew he wasn't going to last too much longer. He bent his head and licked at Sam's breast through the thin material of his dress, noting in some ironic corner of his mind that Sam was once again braless. Dean gently sucked and then bit down on Sam's nipple, too aroused to know or quite care if he was being too rough.
"Fuck!" Sam threw his head back, hitting it against the wall hard enough to make Dean wince.
Then he was shaking in Dean's arms as his orgasm ripped through him, and Dean couldn't hold on to what little control he had left any longer. He slammed into Sam, once, twice more and he was coming, shaking and babbling things he hoped he wouldn't regret later.
Sam's fingers threaded through Dean's hair as Dean lowered him to the ground, and Dean took that as a request. He leaned in and kissed Sam gently, long and slow to make up for their previous violence.
"Do you think we can go back to the motel now?" Sam asked after they finally broke apart.
Dean nodded. "I think that's doable." He could feel Sam watching him as he cleaned himself up as best he could, but had no idea what Sam might be thinking.
"Sam?"
"Yeah?" Sam tilted his head and stood silently.
But Dean had no idea what he wanted, what he was supposed to say. He ended up with, "You really are hot, you know."
Sam grinned. "Yeah, I know."
They walked in a comfortable silence back to the motel. Then things got awkward as they stood there in the room, next to the double beds, both unsure of what to do. Sam finally bent down to untie his boots, but Dean took a chance and stopped him.
"Leave them on."
Sam wrinkled his brow in confusion. "Why? Where are we going?"
"Nowhere." Dean pushed the strap of Sam's dress down over his shoulder and kissed the exposed skin. "I just really like those boots."
***
Dean could tell the difference as soon as he woke up. Hard lines where curves used to be, and perhaps the most disturbing part was that Dean didn't find the body pressed against his any less arousing for it.
Sam murmured something in his sleep, but didn't seem upset, which was unusual. They'd slept the entire night without Sam's nightmares waking him.
Still, Dean was worried at the turn of events. He didn't have enough information about what had happened to know whether Sam's transformation back to his male self was a good or bad thing. When Sam woke up, though, Dean couldn't deny his relief at the sleepy smile that crossed Sam's familiar features.
"Hey," Sam sat up, his smile fading a little as he looked around and took in the fact that they were both still in the same bed. Naked. "So, that actually happened, huh?"
Dean nodded, unsure of what to say. For all the years that they'd spent together with each other as their only company, Sam was still something of a mystery to him. Dean had now idea how Sam was going to react to things in the stark light of the day. Hell, he wasn't even sure how he felt about it.
"Weird." Sam scratched his neck and frowned. "Why? What was the point? I mean, why change me into a woman for a day?"
"You know what I think happened," Dean said casually, like they hadn't spent the night having rather kinky sex, and he idly wondered if they made men's boots like that.
Sam smirked. "Okay, I can't wait to hear this."
"Do you remember that episode of Buffy, where Xander cast that love spell, and he and Cordelia almost got torn apart by all of those women who wanted him?"
"Yeah," Sam said slowly.
"Well." Dean shrugged his shoulders. "I think it was something like that. She changes you into a woman, puts a siren whammy on you, and then lets the sex-crazed men finish the job." Even as he said it, Dean could feel his stomach drop at that, the thought of what could have happened to Sam. What he had led Sam into when he'd taken him back to that club.
"Hey, I'm fine." Sam sat up a little. "I'm not saying it's not a good theory and all, but that was just a bar brawl. The women on Buffy were way more violent."
"Well obviously, Sam." Dean rolled his eyes. "That was a TV show. We're talking about real life here."
"Right," Sam said dryly. "What was I thinking?"
Dean shrugged.
"Look." Sam rubbed the back of his neck, and Dean noticed that while his body may have changed, the marks that Dean had left were still there. "If-- If you want to chalk what happened last night up to some siren's song..."
He trailed off, leaving it up to Dean.
"Um... so the thing about that," Dean stammered. "I don't know that I do." He was actually pretty sure that he didn't. It may have been the whammy that set things in motion, but the feelings Dean had for Sam were all his own.
"I don't know that I do either," Sam whispered, and it was enough.
Dean kneeled up and straddled Sam's lap, taking Sam's face between his hands. "Why don't we see if we can come to some sort of consensus, then?" Sam nodded and his eyes slid shut as Dean leaned in to kiss him.
It was exactly the same but completely different. Different textures and angles and tastes, but the same consuming hunger, and Dean was sure that no spell or enchantment could make him feel that. Only Sam. It had always been Sam. How had Dean never known?
When Sam growled and rolled them over until he had Dean on his back, pinned down to the bed, Dean was fairly certain they'd reached a consensus that would benefit everyone involved.
"Sam?"
"Hmmm?"
"Yesterday, when, y'know..."
Sam smiled. "When I was a girl?"
"Yeah." Dean propped himself up on his elbows and looked up at Sam. "Were you... Was all that stuff intentional? I mean, were you trying to drive me crazy?"
Sam looked offended for about two seconds before he started laughing. "Maybe a little."
"You little shit!"
"Hey!" Sam leaned down and licked at Dean's lips. "You're not the only one in the family who knows how to take advantage of a situation."
Dean grinned into the kiss and pressed up against Sam, trying to get as much contact as possible. They were quite possibly the most dysfunctional family ever, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He fucking loved a happy ending.
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Girl!Sam
Rating: 18+
Warnings: Wincest. Totally shameless genderbending smut, because I felt that Girl!Sam needed to represent!
Date: Dec 2005
Summary: Sam wakes up a girl. Dean notices.
Notes: See, this really isn't my fault, because lyra_wing wrote Man, I Feel Like a Woman, and then scribblinlenore wrote That Old Slippery Slope, and I got all inspired. Then, I may have casually mentioned it to stone_princess, who bribed me by promising to finish writing the best angsty porn ever in exchange for me writing this, and well, can you blame a girl?
I didn't think so.
Much thanks to my lovely betas, stone_princess, scribblinlenore, and ethrosdemon for their fantastic feedback. All remaining mistakes are mine.
Disclaimers: Don’t own them. How terribly sad for me.
Opportunistic Lover
***
"You want to tell me what the hell happened back there, Sam?" Dean asked angrily.
Sam frowned. "One of my earplugs fell out. It's not like I did it intentionally."
"Right, well, you knew we were hunting a siren. You should have made sure it was in better." Dean ran his fingers through his hair, frustrated that the bitch had gotten away.
"She just--" Sam stopped, a concerned look on his face. "She just kissed me. I mean, that's not bad, right?"
Dean studied Sam for a moment and shrugged. There had been nothing in Dad's journal about a siren's kiss being poisonous, and Sam seemed okay, if a little dazed. "I guess we'll see, won't we?"
***
"Dean."
"Go 'way," Dean mumbled. Someone was poking his arm, which was irritating in and of itself, but coupled with the pornographic dream he was being dragged away from, it was just downright mean.
"Dean. Wake up!"
"What?" Dean cracked an eyelid to see a pretty brunette hovering over him. "Hey, baby. You still here?" he asked before he remembered that he hadn't gone home with anyone last night.
The girl rolled her eyes. "You're such a pig."
Dean sat up then. He closed his eyes and rubbed his hands over his face before opening them again. The girl was still standing there with an all-too-familiar irritated look on her face.
"Sammy?"
"I'm a girl, Dean!" Sam sounded a little hysterical.
Dean nodded as he took in the situation. Sam was still wearing his T-shirt and boxer shorts, but the outfit looked totally different on girl-Sam. The boxers now hung dangerously low on the curves of his hips, and the T-shirt clung to the swell of Sam's breasts, his nipples clearly visible through the thin cotton.
"Yeah. Yeah, Sam. I can see that."
"Are you checking me out?" Sam crossed his arms over his chest, forcing Dean to look up at his face. "You're such a pig!"
"You already mentioned that," Dean said, his eyes trailing down Sam's body again.
"Oh my god!" Sam slapped the side of Dean's head.
"Well, Jesus, Sam! Your legs go up to your neck! What the hell do you expect?"
"Oh, I don't know. For you to maybe act like my brother?" Sam stopped and shook his head. "Wait, what am I saying? You're acting exactly like my brother."
Dean grinned.
"Look, could we just--"
"You have tits."
San blinked at him. "What?"
Dean leaned forward. "Have you felt them yet?"
"What?
"Well? Have you? I mean, come on! That's like the first thing I would do!" He tilted his head and rubbed the back of his neck. "Can I touch them?" They were really nice tits.
Sam looked like he wanted to slap him again.
Dean stood up, grinning. "Come on, Sammy. We're brothers! Buds! I would let you touch my boobies if I turned into a girl!" He reached out, only half-joking.
"Fuck off!" Sam slapped his hand away. "In case you hadn't noticed, I'm kind of freaking out here."
"I noticed." Dean took a deep breath and put on his serious face. "Okay, well, we need to find this siren again and find out how to reverse whatever she did to you."
"Yeah. Okay." Sam nodded, looking a little calmer.
"But we can't do that on an empty stomach. Get dressed and we'll go get some breakfast." He patted Sam on the cheek as he walked towards the bathroom and tried not to notice that Sam's skin was girly-soft. Because that would be weird.
***
Dean was going to stab somebody. He was going to stab many somebodies, but he was going to start with the guy in the green trucker hat who had been leaving dirty-old-man eyeprints all over Sam since the moment they'd walked into the diner.
Sam wasn't doing much to help, either, just sitting there eating his breakfast like there wasn't anything out of the ordinary. He'd taken a shower and his hair had dried curling around his now feminine features, all cute and pixieish. His normally loose jeans hugged his hips provocatively, and he had knotted the T-shirt he was wearing because it was "too big and long otherwise". And now he sat there eating, except that girl Sam eating bacon and then licking the grease off his fingers was totally different from boy Sam doing it, and people were definitely noticing.
"Sam!" Dean finally said in a harsh whisper.
Sam looked up as he sucked on his thumb, his eyes sparkling prettily. He made a wet slurping sound as he pulled his thumb out of his mouth and smiled. "You're right, I feel a lot better. Thank you."
"Yeah, whatever." Dean shot trucker-hat guy another dirty look. "Just stop smiling like that."
"What?" Sam pushed his plate away, then crossed his arms and leaned forward like he was trying to put his tits on display for every guy in there to ogle.
Dean resisted the urge to throw his jacket around Sam's shoulders to cover him up. "Maybe we should get you a few girl clothes." Like a bra. "Just in case we don't figure this thing out right away."
Sam nodded. "I need shoes, at least. I had to put on three pairs of socks and stuff another pair in the toes for these to work," he said, holding up his foot so that Dean could see his ratty old sneaker.
"Right." Dean nodded and manfully refrained from making a stuffing comment. "So we'll hit the mall first, then."
"Really? You're seriously going to take me shopping?" Sam's face lit up, trucker guy shifted in his seat, and Dean fingered the very large knife he had in his pocket.
"Check please."
***
"Oh my god." Sam's voice was low and breathy, and at least three guys turned their heads when he spoke. "Look at these boots."
Dean eyed the black, knee-high lace-up boots suspiciously as Sam fondled them. "Don't you think we should maybe look at something more practical?"
But Sam was already asking the salesgirl if he could try them on in his size, and Dean gave up.
Sam sat down in one of the chairs and started to roll up the legs of his jeans. He removed all but one pair of socks. Dean pulled his gaze away from the curve of Sam's calves to watch the other women in the department as they licked their lips and cooed over the various shoes and boots that were on display.
Girls were so weird.
"Well? What do you think?"
Dean turned back to see the lower half of Sam's legs encased in black leather, sexy like they should be obscene, except that they weren't. Not really. They were just shoes. "They're..." He shifted in his seat and tried to think of the right thing to say. He bent over and picked up the box. "They're two hundred dollars!"
Sam shrugged and studied his legs in the mirror. "But they're hot! And they're comfortable and they don't have much of a heel."
"Two hundred dollars, Sammy."
Sam leaned forward, and they really needed to stop at a bra store next. "It's not like you're actually paying for them, Mister..." Sam grabbed Dean's wallet from his jacket pocket and looked at the credit card he was carrying. "Connor MacManus."
Which was true, but totally beside the point.
"Come on, Dean," Sam pleaded in a voice that sounded suspiciously sex-kittenish. "Just this once."
"Fine," Dean said as he stood up. "But just because we can't spend all day here."
***
Dean's mood brightened considerably as they walked into Victoria's Secret.
"We could have just gotten some at Macy's," Sam said as he picked up a pair of lace panties.
"Come on, Sam. We must take advantage of the situation. Most of the time girls look at me like I'm a pervert when I come in here." He grinned. "But if I'm here with my girlfriend..."
"Wait." Sam set down the panties and looked at Dean. "You come in here alone?"
Dean shrugged. He'd only actually done it the one time, and only because he hadn't been paying attention when he followed the girl in there. Besides, pick-up lines in underwear stores didn't work, because, "Hey, you look to be about my girlfriend's size," actually said, "Hey, I have a girlfriend." So Dean had avoided that by saying, "Hey, you look to be about my sister's size..." But apparently guys didn't buy sexy underwear for their sisters.
He was saved from having to provide an explanation by the pretty blonde salesgirl that approached them.
"Can I help you?"
"Yeah." Sam shoved his hands into his pants and stood there awkwardly for a moment before saying, "I need a bra." He blushed as soon as the words were out of his mouth, and Dean was irritated at how charming he found that.
"Okay, what kind of bra?" the girl asked.
Sam gave Dean a panicked look. "There are different kinds?"
The girl's glance darted between Dean and Sam for a moment before she answered. "Do you want something practical? Lacey? Full-coverage or demi? Something that will give you a little cleavage?"
"Yes!" Dean said, momentarily forgetting that he was trying to get Sam into something less revealing. "Cleavage is good."
Sam, for his part, looked like he might cry. "I don't really know. I haven't really... I just usually get the first thing that fits," he finished lamely, which made Dean feel a little bit guilty about the cleavage comment.
The girl took pity on him and patted his shoulder. "How about I grab a few different styles, and you can try them on and see what you like?"
Sam nodded. "Thanks."
"Okay, the first thing we should do is get your measurements."
Dean started to follow them back to the dressing rooms, but stopped when Sam turned to give him a dirty look.
"What?" He looked at the salesgirl and then back at Sam. "I want to watch. Can't I watch?"
"Go wait in the food court!" Sam hissed.
"I would let you watch," Dean muttered as he turned to leave the store. Life was so unfair sometimes.
***
Sam came out an hour and a half later, with two rather sizeable bags.
"Just how long are you planning on staying like this?" Dean asked.
"I just got a few necessities," Sam said. "A couple of bras, some panties, a pair of stockings."
"Stockings?"
"Thigh-highs. Vicki said that they would look really sexy with my boots and a skirt."
Dean shut his eyes and tried to banish the thoughts that immediately leapt to his mind. "Vicki?"
"The salesgirl. She was really sweet."
"Can we just go now?" There were a couple of guys eyeing Sam with interest, and Dean didn't want to have to get into a brawl in the food court.
"Yeah." Sam looked down at his bags and then back over his shoulder. "There's a New York & Company over there."
Dean followed after his brother, wondering if that was supposed to mean something to him. "Should I even ask how you know where to shop for girl's clothes?"
Sam stopped. "Uh, yeah. Jess liked it when I went shopping with her. She liked trying stuff on for me."
That haunted look on such feminine features made Dean feel like even more of a dickhead than it usually did. He wrapped his arm around Sam's shoulders and kissed the side of his head. The weird part was that Sam let him.
***
"Sam." Dean gently hit the back of his head against the wall as he waited for Sam to come out of the dressing room.
"Okay. Hold on a sec." The door opened, and Dean was glad he was already sitting on the floor. "What do you think?"
Sam was wearing a short black skirt and a silky dark red tank top thingy that left very little to the imagination. Combined with the fuck-me boots, the stockings, and the fact that Sam still hadn't put on a bra, it was a miracle that Dean didn't have a coronary right then and there.
"No. Absolutely not." Dean shook his head.
"What?" Sam glanced down at his outfit like he had no idea what Dean found objectionable.
"There is no fucking way you are wearing that in public!" Dean said. "What if we have to fight something? It's not even a little bit practical. And why are you still not wearing a bra? I can see your nipples!"
Sam looked annoyed. "You were the one who was so excited about my breasts earlier!"
"That's when we were alone," Dean explained. "We're in public now and you look cheap."
Just then, the door of the dressing room next to them opened and a woman led her teenage daughter out, pausing to give Sam and Dean a dirty look. Dean flipped her off as she walked away before turning his attention back to Sam.
His brother was just standing there, his nipples still clearly visible through the silky material of Sam's top, begging to be touched. Licked, sucked and-- "Dammit, Sam! Put on a bra! I'm not going to tell you again!"
"Fine!" Sam pouted at him. "You don't have to be a jerk about it." But he didn't turn to go back into the dressing room.
"Well?"
"It's just..." Sam blushed and ducked his head. "Canyouhelpme?"
Dean blinked. "What?"
"There are these stupid hooks." Sam waved a small, delicate hand in the air. "I can't seem to make it all work."
"Well, I'm usually better at taking them off." Dean gave Sam a cocky half-grin, but Sam didn't look too amused. "Yeah, okay. Whatever." Dean stood up, took a deep breath and pushed Sam into the dressing room, walking in after him. He could do this.
Sam bent over and rustled around in one of the bags, the top of his stockings and a little bit of bare skin visible under the raised hem of his skirt.
Not that Dean was looking.
"Ah hah!" Sam straightened up, pulling something black and pink and lacey out of one of the bags. "Okay, now I just need to..." He turned and looked at Dean over his shoulder. "Could you turn around for a second?"
Dean sighed and turned to face the opposite wall, except that it was a dressing room, and it had a mirror on it. Dean could see the red straps of Sam's tank top as they slid down over Sam's perfectly rounded shoulders. First one, then the other.
Dean's breath hitched just as the top was about to slide off completely, and Sam's eyes darted up, meeting Dean's in the mirror's reflection.
"Dean!"
"Sorry!" Dean said, covering his eyes with his hand.
There was a rustling sound of silky girl-clothes, and then Sam said, "Okay."
The sight that greeted Dean wasn't much better than the one he'd been watching before. Sam's breasts swelled provocatively above pink and black lace, made even more obvious by the fact that Sam's hands were behind his back, fiddling with the hooks.
"Here, just..." Dean finally stepped forward and batted Sam's hands away, grabbing both tabs of the bra and pulling them tight. He fucking hated these things, and was embarrassed to find that his hands were shaking. His fingers kept brushing against Sam's soft, hot skin, and Dean could swear that he heard Sam gasp.
"Thank you," Sam said quietly when Dean finally stepped away. He looked at himself in the mirror and frowned. "So I guess I should put on underwear too, huh?"
"Jesus fucking Christ, Sammy! You're not wearing underwear?" Dean had been wrong before. He couldn't handle this. He couldn't handle his baby brother-turned-girl standing there in a frilly bra and black skirt with legs that wouldn't quit and way too much bare skin for comfort.
But Sam just shrugged and said, "Boxers didn't really work with the skirt."
"I have to get out of here." Dean opened the dressing room door and slid out.
"So, no on the skirt?" Sam called after him.
"NO! Get some jeans. And sweatshirts. Big, big sweatshirts! I'm going back to the food court."
"Dean."
"Big sweatshirts, Sam! I mean it!"
***
Sam came out wearing low-rise jeans and a little, tight red T-shirt that showed his bellybutton. He obviously had issues with following orders.
"Tell me you at least got a sweatshirt or jacket. Something," Dean said.
"Of course I did." Sam pulled out a jean jacket and slid it on, but it only came down to the middle of his back, serving to emphasize his chest that much more.
"Where's the rest of it?"
Sam gave him a disgruntled look. "This is it. It's what's in style, Dean."
It amazed Dean how much condescension Sam could pack into such a short sentence. "Okay, fine. Can we just go now?" Every guy that passed by them gave Sam a leering, smarmy look, and Dean was very, very close to coldcocking someone.
"Can we eat again?" Sam sat down next to Dean and sighed. "I'm starving."
"Here?" Dean looked around at the bustling food court and frowned. "Why don't we go to an actual restaurant?"
Sam just snorted. "Because we're not on a date?" He leaned in, batting his eyelashes at Dean, his voice dropping to a low, sultry whisper. "You're not going to get laid, no matter how much you try to impress me."
Dean could feel his face getting red, and he swore that as soon as Sam had his regular body back, he was going to punch him. Hard. For the moment, though, all he could say was, "Watch your mouth."
"Whatever. Give me some money. I want food." Sam held out his hand expectantly, and Dean had handed over twenty dollars before he even realized what he was doing.
"Where are you going?" Dean asked as Sam started to walk off.
"I'm just going over to Edo to get some food, Dad. Jeeze." Sam stalked off, his hips swaying, completely oblivious to the admirers he was collecting as he walked.
"Fine," Dean muttered to himself as he stood up to get something for himself. "Get molested. See if I care."
Sam hadn't returned to the table by the time Dean got his food. Dean looked around and finally spotted his brother, surrounded by guys, laughing and talking like he had obviously lost his mind.
Dean stalked over to the disgusting scene, arriving just in time to hear one of the idiots say, "Sam, huh? That's sort of a masculine name for a pretty little thing like you. You here alone?"
"It's short for Samantha," Dean said as he wrapped his arm around Sam's waist. "And no, she's not alone."
"Dean--" Sam looked over at him, and Dean vaguely wondered what his expression looked like, because Sam immediately turned back to the guys and said, "I have to go."
"Can you believe those guys?" Dean asked as they walked away, his arm still around Sam's waist, his fingers touching bare skin where Sam's shirt and pants gapped. "'Pretty little thing like you.' How skeezy!"
Sam laughed. "You're kidding me, right?"
"What?"
"Dean, you're the skeeziest guy I know. You're like the King of the Skeezeballs."
Dean frowned and pulled Sam's chair for him. "That's different."
"How?"
"I don't know, it just is," Dean said, exasperated. "Quit asking me stupid questions. The sooner we're done eating, the sooner we can get out of here."
"And where are we going from here?" Sam asked around a mouthful of rice.
"We're going back to that fucking club to find the She-bitch that did this to you and make her turn you back."
Sam raised one perfectly arched eyebrow at Dean and said, "One of us is seriously PMSing, and it's not me."
Dean opened his mouth to respond that PMS was the least of his problems, but shifted in his chair and thought better of it.
***
"Sam!" Dean shouted. "How are you not ready yet?"
"I'll be out in a second!" Sam called through the bathroom door.
"We're going hunting, not clubbing."
"Oh my god you are the biggest nag ever," Sam said as he walked out of the bathroom.
Those boots were really going to be the death of him, Dean thought as his eyes traveled up Sam's legs. "I thought I told you not to get that," he said.
"What? You said not to get the skirt." Sam looked down at his outfit. "This is a dress."
"It's obscene is what it is," Dean said, eyeing the clingy black material like it was a new sort of demon, sent to Earth for the sole purpose of driving Dean out of his fucking mind.
Sam walked over to Dean and threw his arms around Dean's neck, giving him a coy smile. "Well, we want to fit in, don't we?"
"Sam." Dean's voice sounded strangled, even in his own ears, and he grabbed Sam's hips, unsure of whether it was to push him away or pull him closer.
"Chill out, Dean." Sam stepped back, making Dean's decision for him. "I'm a big boy. I can take care of myself."
"You think so, huh?"
"I could still whip your ass."
Sam's voice was filled with such dark promise that Dean was sure Sam was fucking with him, except that the next moment Sam's expression was completely neutral.
"So are we going or what?"
***
Dean had lost track of Sam in the press of bodies almost immediately after they entered the club, and part of him was relieved for it. If Sam thought he could take care of himself like that, let him. Dean was done with it.
He searched the club for the siren they'd seen last night, but when he finally found the knot of men that usually indicated a siren's presence, it was Sam he found it the middle, and that worried Dean. Sam had been getting a lot of attention all day, and sure, he was hot, but Dean was beginning to suspect that there might be some siren mojo at work there as well.
"Oh, fuck this," Dean said as he pressed his way through to get to his brother.
Sam was dancing, a shot glass in one hand, the other wrapped around some random guy's neck.
"We're going," Dean said, pulling at Sam's wrist.
The guy that Sam was dancing with frowned, and moved his hand down to cup Sam's ass. He was probably going to say something stupid, like, "I think the lady is fine where she is," but he didn't get the chance. Dean hauled back and punched him, knocking him away from Sam's body.
"Oh, shit," Sam said, sounding so resigned that it probably would have been amusing had Dean not been busy ducking the guy's responding swing.
"Hey!"
Dean turned to seen some other guy pawing at Sam. He moved to do something about it, but Sam beat him to it with a kick-punch combo that made Dean's heart swell with pride. Then all hell broke loose, Dean and Sam against at least twenty guys, and Dean wished he had a second to turn to Sam and say, "This is why you should have worn pants!"
Somehow in the madness, they managed to make it outside. Dean grabbed Sam's hand, and they began to run in the direction of the motel. Sam stumbled a few times, but Dean kept pulling him along, wanting to put as much distance as possible between them and the angry mob.
The sounds from the club had completely faded by the time Sam stopped, jerking Dean back into an empty alley.
"I need-- Fuck." Sam leaned back against the wall, panting and shivering a little in the cool night's breeze.
Dean took off his jacket and wrapped it around Sam's shoulders. "That's what I was talking about, Sam."
"Yeah, yeah." Sam waved Dean's comment away, nice enough to refrain from pointing out that Dean was actually the one who had started it. "I still kicked ass."
"I know." Dean wiped the corner of his mouth, frowning at the blood that it left on his thumb. "I especially liked that roundhouse Buffy kick thing you did."
"Yeah?"
Dean nodded. "Totally hot," he said without thinking. It wasn't until he saw Sam's cat-like grin that he realized his mistake.
"You think I'm hot?" Sam asked quietly.
"The move," Dean clarified. "The move was hot."
"Oh." Sam swayed towards Dean a little, and then slumped back against the wall. "So it was just the move, then?"
"Yeah." Dean leaned forward. "You move...good."
Sam laughed at that, and Dean could smell the alcohol on his breath.
"How much did you have to drink?"
"Not that much. A lot." Sam's face brightened. "Guys kept buying me drinks. Being a girl rocks!"
Dean wasn't sure when he'd grabbed Sam's waist, but there his hands were, moving over the smooth fabric of Sam's dress, around to the small of his back, then lower.
"Are you still trying to cop a feel?" Sam asked with a breath of giddy laughter.
"Fucking hell, Sammy. I've been walking around half hard all day," Dean whispered, unable to stop himself.
"Why didn't you say something?" Sam wrapped his arms around Dean's neck. "I mean, we ought to do something about it, right?" And siren song or no, there was absolutely no way that Dean could walk away from that.
Sam tasted sweet, like the girly drinks Dean never ordered. Sweet and hot and so fucking willing that Dean's knees almost buckled. He moved his hands down over Sam's ass, under the hem of the skirt and up his thighs, running his fingers over the edges of Sam's stockings before moving further up.
"Holy shit," Dean said against Sam's mouth when he encountered nothing but bare skin. "I thought you put on underwear."
"I did." Sam bit at Dean's lip, and Dean could taste the metallic tang of his blood. "I took them off again. You're not the only one who was turned-on all day. Which, actually, is much more pleasant as a-- Oh my god. Do that again!" he said as Dean stroked between his thighs.
"Fuck, Sammy. Who knew you were such a tease?" Dean pressed his forehead against Sam's neck as he rubbed Sam's clit. "You're so fucking wet."
"Yeah." Sam panted in Dean's ear. "It's kind of weird. But, Dean?"
"Hmmm?"
"I'm only a tease if I don't let you fuck me." Sam licked Dean's ear and whispered, "And I really plan on letting you fuck me."
"Jesus." Dean squeezed his eyes shut and tried to calm down. "I don't think I can wait until we get back to the motel."
"I don't want you to."
Dean could clearly see the siren's evil plan now, because this was definitely going to kill him. "My wallet."
"What?" Sam sounded confused.
"There should be a condom in my wallet. Get it. I would, but…" Dean rubbed his thumb against Sam's clit again to illustrate that his hands were otherwise occupied.
"Fuck. Yeah, okay. Just keep-- Keep doing that." Sam fished around in Dean's pockets until he found what he was looking for. He pulled the little foil square out and smiled. "How very opportunistic of you."
Dean shrugged as he bent down to kiss Sam's neck. "Hey, you never know, right?"
"Right." Sam fumbled with the zipper of Dean's jeans a little before finally getting them open. He shoved Dean's boxers down just far enough to get the condom on, and Dean groaned as Sam's small, delicate hand wrapped around his cock.
"Sam--" Dean stopped before he could say anything else. What was there to say? That this wasn't how it should be, quick and hard in a dirty alley? That's how it was going to be, and the 'shoulds' didn't matter because Dean's body was way ahead of his mind, his hands already under Sam's thighs, holding them open as Sam braced himself on Dean's shoulders, sliding down onto his cock in one fluid movement. "Fuck!"
As Dean pressed Sam against the wall, it occurred to him that maybe he should be a little gentler, except that Sam was beyond control, scratching at his neck with short, blunt nails, and saying his name over and over like it was the only word he knew.
It hit Dean very suddenly that despite the package, it was Sam in his arms. That there hadn't been a moment when Dean had imagined someone else, because Sam said his name like nobody else did. Dean, like it held so much more meaning than anyone else would ever know, and Dean wondered if the want that was so obvious now had always been wrapped up in there somewhere.
Dean tried to take it slow, to make it good, make it last, but Sam's legs were wrapped around him so perfectly, and Dean was exactly where he had wanted to be all day-- hot, wet, tight and all-consuming. He kissed all the skin available to him, whispering things that he couldn't keep track of.
"Dean." Sam's breath hitched, and when Dean looked up, Sam's expression was almost one of pain. "I need-- I need. Dean."
It took a moment for what Sam was asking to sink in, and then Dean nodded, shifting Sam's weight in his arms so that he could rub Sam's clit again. "Don't worry, Sammy," he whispered hotly against Sam's neck. "I'll get you there."
The world started spinning around them, and Dean knew he wasn't going to last too much longer. He bent his head and licked at Sam's breast through the thin material of his dress, noting in some ironic corner of his mind that Sam was once again braless. Dean gently sucked and then bit down on Sam's nipple, too aroused to know or quite care if he was being too rough.
"Fuck!" Sam threw his head back, hitting it against the wall hard enough to make Dean wince.
Then he was shaking in Dean's arms as his orgasm ripped through him, and Dean couldn't hold on to what little control he had left any longer. He slammed into Sam, once, twice more and he was coming, shaking and babbling things he hoped he wouldn't regret later.
Sam's fingers threaded through Dean's hair as Dean lowered him to the ground, and Dean took that as a request. He leaned in and kissed Sam gently, long and slow to make up for their previous violence.
"Do you think we can go back to the motel now?" Sam asked after they finally broke apart.
Dean nodded. "I think that's doable." He could feel Sam watching him as he cleaned himself up as best he could, but had no idea what Sam might be thinking.
"Sam?"
"Yeah?" Sam tilted his head and stood silently.
But Dean had no idea what he wanted, what he was supposed to say. He ended up with, "You really are hot, you know."
Sam grinned. "Yeah, I know."
They walked in a comfortable silence back to the motel. Then things got awkward as they stood there in the room, next to the double beds, both unsure of what to do. Sam finally bent down to untie his boots, but Dean took a chance and stopped him.
"Leave them on."
Sam wrinkled his brow in confusion. "Why? Where are we going?"
"Nowhere." Dean pushed the strap of Sam's dress down over his shoulder and kissed the exposed skin. "I just really like those boots."
***
Dean could tell the difference as soon as he woke up. Hard lines where curves used to be, and perhaps the most disturbing part was that Dean didn't find the body pressed against his any less arousing for it.
Sam murmured something in his sleep, but didn't seem upset, which was unusual. They'd slept the entire night without Sam's nightmares waking him.
Still, Dean was worried at the turn of events. He didn't have enough information about what had happened to know whether Sam's transformation back to his male self was a good or bad thing. When Sam woke up, though, Dean couldn't deny his relief at the sleepy smile that crossed Sam's familiar features.
"Hey," Sam sat up, his smile fading a little as he looked around and took in the fact that they were both still in the same bed. Naked. "So, that actually happened, huh?"
Dean nodded, unsure of what to say. For all the years that they'd spent together with each other as their only company, Sam was still something of a mystery to him. Dean had now idea how Sam was going to react to things in the stark light of the day. Hell, he wasn't even sure how he felt about it.
"Weird." Sam scratched his neck and frowned. "Why? What was the point? I mean, why change me into a woman for a day?"
"You know what I think happened," Dean said casually, like they hadn't spent the night having rather kinky sex, and he idly wondered if they made men's boots like that.
Sam smirked. "Okay, I can't wait to hear this."
"Do you remember that episode of Buffy, where Xander cast that love spell, and he and Cordelia almost got torn apart by all of those women who wanted him?"
"Yeah," Sam said slowly.
"Well." Dean shrugged his shoulders. "I think it was something like that. She changes you into a woman, puts a siren whammy on you, and then lets the sex-crazed men finish the job." Even as he said it, Dean could feel his stomach drop at that, the thought of what could have happened to Sam. What he had led Sam into when he'd taken him back to that club.
"Hey, I'm fine." Sam sat up a little. "I'm not saying it's not a good theory and all, but that was just a bar brawl. The women on Buffy were way more violent."
"Well obviously, Sam." Dean rolled his eyes. "That was a TV show. We're talking about real life here."
"Right," Sam said dryly. "What was I thinking?"
Dean shrugged.
"Look." Sam rubbed the back of his neck, and Dean noticed that while his body may have changed, the marks that Dean had left were still there. "If-- If you want to chalk what happened last night up to some siren's song..."
He trailed off, leaving it up to Dean.
"Um... so the thing about that," Dean stammered. "I don't know that I do." He was actually pretty sure that he didn't. It may have been the whammy that set things in motion, but the feelings Dean had for Sam were all his own.
"I don't know that I do either," Sam whispered, and it was enough.
Dean kneeled up and straddled Sam's lap, taking Sam's face between his hands. "Why don't we see if we can come to some sort of consensus, then?" Sam nodded and his eyes slid shut as Dean leaned in to kiss him.
It was exactly the same but completely different. Different textures and angles and tastes, but the same consuming hunger, and Dean was sure that no spell or enchantment could make him feel that. Only Sam. It had always been Sam. How had Dean never known?
When Sam growled and rolled them over until he had Dean on his back, pinned down to the bed, Dean was fairly certain they'd reached a consensus that would benefit everyone involved.
"Sam?"
"Hmmm?"
"Yesterday, when, y'know..."
Sam smiled. "When I was a girl?"
"Yeah." Dean propped himself up on his elbows and looked up at Sam. "Were you... Was all that stuff intentional? I mean, were you trying to drive me crazy?"
Sam looked offended for about two seconds before he started laughing. "Maybe a little."
"You little shit!"
"Hey!" Sam leaned down and licked at Dean's lips. "You're not the only one in the family who knows how to take advantage of a situation."
Dean grinned into the kiss and pressed up against Sam, trying to get as much contact as possible. They were quite possibly the most dysfunctional family ever, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He fucking loved a happy ending.