Fic: The Back Room
Title: The Back Room
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Not even my soul. Kripke got it for that hug.
Warnings: Public!Sex, Wincest
Summary: Having sex where people could catch them is boring. Dean wants to know they're being watched. Sam ... Sam's just really sick of Mullet Rock.
Sam was a patient sort of guy. He put up with Dean when he firmly believed no one else would. He listened to music that he hated, settled down into the passenger seat with very little complaint, even put up with the outrageous flirting. It wasn't like he was a saint or anything, but out of the two of them, Dean was definitely getting the better deal. He didn't snore. Took the left side of the bed even though he'd been sleeping on the right for the last four years.
He didn't even put up a fuss when Dean started jumping him in every public bathroom they visited. Sure, he could think of sexier places to get his dick sucked, but who was he to complain?
But this? This was asking too much.
He was stripped to the waist, holding a glass of something so girlie that even his sensibilities were affronted, and constantly shaking bits of glitter out of his hair. The strobe lights were giving him a headache and the dancing boys on the dais looked like malnourished prepubescents.
“Isn't this great?” Dean sidled up to him and shouted the words in his ear, causing Sam to cringe.
“Yeah ... great.” A guy walked past them, looked Dean up and down and then threw out a smirk that was a clear invitation. Sam glared. “I didn't really think this would be your thing.”
Dean scoffed and tossed back the rest of his drink. “Dude, do you know how many times I could have been laid already? They love me here!”
“Yeah, it's your lips,” Sam muttered, not sure if he wanted to laugh or scowl.
“What?” Dean shouted.
“Your lips!” He reached out and ran a thumb over Dean's sinfully lush mouth. Leaning forward, he shouted into his brother's ear. “They want to fuck your mouth!”
“So?” He gestured toward his mouth and puckered his lips. “Can you blame them?”
Sam didn't get a chance to answer before Dean grabbed up his hand and began pulling him away. For a split second he had the time to angst over his pathetic dancing skills and then he realized that Dean was leading him toward a doorway curtained by strings of beads.
“Wait,” he whispered, knowing Dean couldn't hear him. He dug his heels in, not budging. When Dean turned around his happy grin faltered and turned into a pissed look instantly. “I don't think I can do this,” Sam confessed, leaning close to make himself heard.
“Fuck that! You promised!” His grip tightened to the point of almost pain on Sam's wrist. “I disfigured my car for you, bitch.”
“I didn't think you'd actually do it!”
“Well, I did! And you said....”
“I know what I said.” Sam ground his teeth but gave in and stalked toward the curtain.
He wanted to point out that it was a cd player, not a sun roof, but Dean was a lot like a six year old when it came to promises. If you said it, you'd better mean it because he wouldn't understand. And the worst part? Dean was right. The terms were his idea - a cd player in the Impala and two weeks of emo goodness without complaint - and fuck if his brother hadn't lived up to them ... which was unforeseen.
And now he was being dragged toward the back room of some gay club. Because sex where they could be caught wasn't risky enough anymore. Dean wanted it all. He wanted the audience. He wanted to know that people could see them fucking, and that those people were as turned on by watching as Dean was to be giving them a show.
Stepping into the long hallway thrust him into another reality. The music was pulsing all around them, almost vibrating their bodies. Strobe lights lit the area in hazy bursts of color. And all he could smell was sex. It wasn't pleasant, not in any way that could be defined, but the mixture of musk and sweat and come was overpowering and sent a harsh thrill straight to Sam's cock.
Dean walked in front of him, his strong fingers still circling Sam's wrist. The flashes of light gave him snap shots of his brother's sleek body. Bare skin and flexing muscles soon quickened Sam's reluctant steps. And when they stepped into a room broken up by walls and alcoves, occupied by the writhing bodies of men, Sam took in the sight greedily.
Men were on their knees, sucking cock like no one was watching. Other couples were fucking against walls or sprawled over couches that Sam would rather not touch if he had the choice. But the lights cast the bodies into shadows and the sounds of pleasure washed away most of his misgivings, and suddenly the promise of pleasure was uppermost in his mind.
He felt eyes scorching his body as he moved forward. Men, already hard and straining toward orgasm, were watching them. In that instant, Sam was suddenly hit by the image the two of them portrayed. He was used to Dean being the sexy one, the one people stared at and lusted after. But shirtless and here to fuck, he let his hips roll with every step and smirked at the hungry eyes following them.
Dean turned and caught his eye, his expression eager but full of question.
"You good?" he asked simply, their bodies brushing together a mere foot from the wall Sam guessed they'd be fucking against.
"Yeah." He took that final step and leaned back against the wall. Eyes leveled aggressively at his brother, he ran a hand down his chest and began unbuttoning his jeans. "Let's see what that mouth can do."
Dean beamed at him, his expression nearly orgasmic and full of pride. "That's my boy!"
Sam threw back his head and laughed, the sound cut off drastically as Dean sank to his knees in one smooth motion. Strangely, they had more eyes on them now. His uninhibited, infectious laugh was the novelty here, and he had just enough time to blush before Dean jerked the zipper down and pulled out his cock. Soft lips slid over his length hurriedly, as if Dean couldn't wait to taste him, and then the steady suction of his brother's mouth wiped away all thought.
"Jesus, Dean!" He groaned and bit into his lip when Dean actually increased the suction of his mouth. His big brother knew how to suck him off like no one else. Sometimes he did it with finesse, and sometimes he tormented Sammy until he begged, but this frantic suction was new. It made his cock swell and throb and promised that this would all be over way too soon.
He reached for Dean's head, not sure if he was going to push him away or drag him closer, but the gentle scrape of teeth over the head of his cock had Sam's fingers grasping for purchase in Dean's short hair. His hips twitched forward. Small, sharp thrusts that took the control from Dean and allowed him to do nothing more than hollow his cheeks and feather his tongue against Sam.
"Fuck," Sam bit out, trying desperately to ignore the people watching them. Standing not five foot away, a man leaned against a wall and studied them without apology, his hand sliding over a sizable dick as evidence of his interest. "This what you wanted?" He gasped, his breathing harsh and shallow. "Wanted to show off those cock sucking lips?" Dean moaned and the vibrations raced over Sam's cock, forcing his body to tighten almost painfully. "Wanted to...."
He broke off, his body beginning to shake and it wasn't worth the effort to get words out. His hips were slamming home with more force, straining toward an orgasm that was so close he could almost feel it. And then Dean was ducking out of his grip and standing, a taunting smirk on his profanely swollen lips.
"Dean!" The word was somewhere between a rebuke and a plea, and all the eyes in the room couldn't have stopped the whimper that trembled from his lips.
"Relax." Dean leaned forward and caught Sam's lips up in a brutal kiss. "Don't I always take care of you?"
Sam nodded dumbly but his fingers went to work on Dean's belt buckle. His body was pounding painfully, demanding release, and it took every bit of restraint he possessed not to reach for his own dick. Glancing over Dean's shoulder, he caught the eye of the man watching them again. His leer was heavy and aggressive. It made the fact that Sam was standing in a room full of people, his pants around his ankles and grappling with his brother's belt, vividly real.
"Hurry," Dean urged, hands clenching into fists every time Sam's knuckles slid against his hard length.
Sam pulled him free of his pants and gripped tightly. Long, forceful strokes demanded Dean's reaction. Sam wanted him just as desperate for this as he felt. He wanted it hard and fast, and he wanted it now.
"Fuck me," he snapped.
"Oh, don't worry," Dean growled, moving close to whisper in his ear. "I'm going to fuck you until you beg like a bitch in front of all of these people."
Sam snarled and gave a harsh squeeze before releasing him. Smirking, Dean moved behind his brother, making eye contact with several of the people casting them covert glances for the first time. The pounding music covered the sound of the lube flipping open, so the cold press of slippery fingers was a surprise. Sam shuddered, the sensation going straight to his cock in a way that had him panting again. A second finger intruded and then they were scissoring roughly, barely doing a passable job of stretching him out but doing enough to make him whimper.
"Just do it!" He urged, and then whimpered a second time when he realized Dean couldn't hear him now that they weren't face to face. He arched backwards in desperation, impaling himself deeper onto the fingers.
An instant later the fingers were gone altogether and he bit his lip, feeling empty without them but anticipating something more. Dean thrust forward, burying himself to the hilt without preamble. A soft keening noise escaped unbidden and Sam was thankful that the music rendered it silent.
Strong fingertips bit into Sam's hip while Dean's other hand settled in the small of his back, positioning him for the best leverage. Before him, the man masturbating had moved closer. Sam felt his body throb in interest as he watched a drop of precome slid over the head of the stranger's erection. Behind him, Dean was snapping his hips forward, each thrust rocking Sam's body until he was writhing against his brother.
The humid air was clinging to his chest, causing beads of sweat to form. Where their skin met they were slick and slippery, adding yet another layer of sensation to his already overloaded body. And then Dean angled his hips just right and Sam went boneless, shaky knees barely keeping him standing.
He looked up just in time to see the man take another step forward. He was close now. Close enough that Sam could smell his cologne. Close enough to touch. He had a second to anticipate the stranger's touch, not sure whether he wanted it or not, and then he was being pulled roughly back into the cradle of Dean's body. The hand at the small of his back dropped to circle his erection, as if laying claim, and Sam knew the emotions that would be on Dean's face without looking: aggression, possession and lust.
That those things were for him, that this was all for him, just pushed him that much closer to the edge. He loved the way this tattooed stranger backed away, clearly intimidated and smart enough to see violence in Dean's eyes. He loved the hard lines of his brother's body and the harsh thrust of his hips. He loved too that under different circumstances he could have Dean trembling and whimpering before him. But most of all, right at that instant, he loved the way Dean was wrapped around him, turning him on and wringing him out from every direction.
The grip on his hip tightened, and Dean's thrusts came harder and quicker, each one brushing against the bundle of nerves until Sam was trembling. Small, pathetic mewling noises were echoing in his throat, and he would have gladly begged if he thought Dean could hear it.
"Oh ... fuck!" Sam opened his mouth and moaned, loud. Everything came together suddenly and the little spikes of pleasure burst forward to rush along his spine in a surge. And then he was coming, his body trembling in Dean's embrace. The trusts within him grew more erratic as he felt his body tightening, clenching around Dean's surging body.
"You're mine," Dean snarled into his ear. Blunt nails scraped over Sam's chest, marking him, and then Dean groaned, his hips snapping forward once more before he tensed. Sam rocked his hips, riding his brother through his orgasm until Dean collapsed against his back in a boneless heap.
As Sam stood there, listening to Dean pant against his ear, he decided that maybe, just this once, he'd gotten the better deal.
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Not even my soul. Kripke got it for that hug.
Warnings: Public!Sex, Wincest
Summary: Having sex where people could catch them is boring. Dean wants to know they're being watched. Sam ... Sam's just really sick of Mullet Rock.
Sam was a patient sort of guy. He put up with Dean when he firmly believed no one else would. He listened to music that he hated, settled down into the passenger seat with very little complaint, even put up with the outrageous flirting. It wasn't like he was a saint or anything, but out of the two of them, Dean was definitely getting the better deal. He didn't snore. Took the left side of the bed even though he'd been sleeping on the right for the last four years.
He didn't even put up a fuss when Dean started jumping him in every public bathroom they visited. Sure, he could think of sexier places to get his dick sucked, but who was he to complain?
But this? This was asking too much.
He was stripped to the waist, holding a glass of something so girlie that even his sensibilities were affronted, and constantly shaking bits of glitter out of his hair. The strobe lights were giving him a headache and the dancing boys on the dais looked like malnourished prepubescents.
“Isn't this great?” Dean sidled up to him and shouted the words in his ear, causing Sam to cringe.
“Yeah ... great.” A guy walked past them, looked Dean up and down and then threw out a smirk that was a clear invitation. Sam glared. “I didn't really think this would be your thing.”
Dean scoffed and tossed back the rest of his drink. “Dude, do you know how many times I could have been laid already? They love me here!”
“Yeah, it's your lips,” Sam muttered, not sure if he wanted to laugh or scowl.
“What?” Dean shouted.
“Your lips!” He reached out and ran a thumb over Dean's sinfully lush mouth. Leaning forward, he shouted into his brother's ear. “They want to fuck your mouth!”
“So?” He gestured toward his mouth and puckered his lips. “Can you blame them?”
Sam didn't get a chance to answer before Dean grabbed up his hand and began pulling him away. For a split second he had the time to angst over his pathetic dancing skills and then he realized that Dean was leading him toward a doorway curtained by strings of beads.
“Wait,” he whispered, knowing Dean couldn't hear him. He dug his heels in, not budging. When Dean turned around his happy grin faltered and turned into a pissed look instantly. “I don't think I can do this,” Sam confessed, leaning close to make himself heard.
“Fuck that! You promised!” His grip tightened to the point of almost pain on Sam's wrist. “I disfigured my car for you, bitch.”
“I didn't think you'd actually do it!”
“Well, I did! And you said....”
“I know what I said.” Sam ground his teeth but gave in and stalked toward the curtain.
He wanted to point out that it was a cd player, not a sun roof, but Dean was a lot like a six year old when it came to promises. If you said it, you'd better mean it because he wouldn't understand. And the worst part? Dean was right. The terms were his idea - a cd player in the Impala and two weeks of emo goodness without complaint - and fuck if his brother hadn't lived up to them ... which was unforeseen.
And now he was being dragged toward the back room of some gay club. Because sex where they could be caught wasn't risky enough anymore. Dean wanted it all. He wanted the audience. He wanted to know that people could see them fucking, and that those people were as turned on by watching as Dean was to be giving them a show.
Stepping into the long hallway thrust him into another reality. The music was pulsing all around them, almost vibrating their bodies. Strobe lights lit the area in hazy bursts of color. And all he could smell was sex. It wasn't pleasant, not in any way that could be defined, but the mixture of musk and sweat and come was overpowering and sent a harsh thrill straight to Sam's cock.
Dean walked in front of him, his strong fingers still circling Sam's wrist. The flashes of light gave him snap shots of his brother's sleek body. Bare skin and flexing muscles soon quickened Sam's reluctant steps. And when they stepped into a room broken up by walls and alcoves, occupied by the writhing bodies of men, Sam took in the sight greedily.
Men were on their knees, sucking cock like no one was watching. Other couples were fucking against walls or sprawled over couches that Sam would rather not touch if he had the choice. But the lights cast the bodies into shadows and the sounds of pleasure washed away most of his misgivings, and suddenly the promise of pleasure was uppermost in his mind.
He felt eyes scorching his body as he moved forward. Men, already hard and straining toward orgasm, were watching them. In that instant, Sam was suddenly hit by the image the two of them portrayed. He was used to Dean being the sexy one, the one people stared at and lusted after. But shirtless and here to fuck, he let his hips roll with every step and smirked at the hungry eyes following them.
Dean turned and caught his eye, his expression eager but full of question.
"You good?" he asked simply, their bodies brushing together a mere foot from the wall Sam guessed they'd be fucking against.
"Yeah." He took that final step and leaned back against the wall. Eyes leveled aggressively at his brother, he ran a hand down his chest and began unbuttoning his jeans. "Let's see what that mouth can do."
Dean beamed at him, his expression nearly orgasmic and full of pride. "That's my boy!"
Sam threw back his head and laughed, the sound cut off drastically as Dean sank to his knees in one smooth motion. Strangely, they had more eyes on them now. His uninhibited, infectious laugh was the novelty here, and he had just enough time to blush before Dean jerked the zipper down and pulled out his cock. Soft lips slid over his length hurriedly, as if Dean couldn't wait to taste him, and then the steady suction of his brother's mouth wiped away all thought.
"Jesus, Dean!" He groaned and bit into his lip when Dean actually increased the suction of his mouth. His big brother knew how to suck him off like no one else. Sometimes he did it with finesse, and sometimes he tormented Sammy until he begged, but this frantic suction was new. It made his cock swell and throb and promised that this would all be over way too soon.
He reached for Dean's head, not sure if he was going to push him away or drag him closer, but the gentle scrape of teeth over the head of his cock had Sam's fingers grasping for purchase in Dean's short hair. His hips twitched forward. Small, sharp thrusts that took the control from Dean and allowed him to do nothing more than hollow his cheeks and feather his tongue against Sam.
"Fuck," Sam bit out, trying desperately to ignore the people watching them. Standing not five foot away, a man leaned against a wall and studied them without apology, his hand sliding over a sizable dick as evidence of his interest. "This what you wanted?" He gasped, his breathing harsh and shallow. "Wanted to show off those cock sucking lips?" Dean moaned and the vibrations raced over Sam's cock, forcing his body to tighten almost painfully. "Wanted to...."
He broke off, his body beginning to shake and it wasn't worth the effort to get words out. His hips were slamming home with more force, straining toward an orgasm that was so close he could almost feel it. And then Dean was ducking out of his grip and standing, a taunting smirk on his profanely swollen lips.
"Dean!" The word was somewhere between a rebuke and a plea, and all the eyes in the room couldn't have stopped the whimper that trembled from his lips.
"Relax." Dean leaned forward and caught Sam's lips up in a brutal kiss. "Don't I always take care of you?"
Sam nodded dumbly but his fingers went to work on Dean's belt buckle. His body was pounding painfully, demanding release, and it took every bit of restraint he possessed not to reach for his own dick. Glancing over Dean's shoulder, he caught the eye of the man watching them again. His leer was heavy and aggressive. It made the fact that Sam was standing in a room full of people, his pants around his ankles and grappling with his brother's belt, vividly real.
"Hurry," Dean urged, hands clenching into fists every time Sam's knuckles slid against his hard length.
Sam pulled him free of his pants and gripped tightly. Long, forceful strokes demanded Dean's reaction. Sam wanted him just as desperate for this as he felt. He wanted it hard and fast, and he wanted it now.
"Fuck me," he snapped.
"Oh, don't worry," Dean growled, moving close to whisper in his ear. "I'm going to fuck you until you beg like a bitch in front of all of these people."
Sam snarled and gave a harsh squeeze before releasing him. Smirking, Dean moved behind his brother, making eye contact with several of the people casting them covert glances for the first time. The pounding music covered the sound of the lube flipping open, so the cold press of slippery fingers was a surprise. Sam shuddered, the sensation going straight to his cock in a way that had him panting again. A second finger intruded and then they were scissoring roughly, barely doing a passable job of stretching him out but doing enough to make him whimper.
"Just do it!" He urged, and then whimpered a second time when he realized Dean couldn't hear him now that they weren't face to face. He arched backwards in desperation, impaling himself deeper onto the fingers.
An instant later the fingers were gone altogether and he bit his lip, feeling empty without them but anticipating something more. Dean thrust forward, burying himself to the hilt without preamble. A soft keening noise escaped unbidden and Sam was thankful that the music rendered it silent.
Strong fingertips bit into Sam's hip while Dean's other hand settled in the small of his back, positioning him for the best leverage. Before him, the man masturbating had moved closer. Sam felt his body throb in interest as he watched a drop of precome slid over the head of the stranger's erection. Behind him, Dean was snapping his hips forward, each thrust rocking Sam's body until he was writhing against his brother.
The humid air was clinging to his chest, causing beads of sweat to form. Where their skin met they were slick and slippery, adding yet another layer of sensation to his already overloaded body. And then Dean angled his hips just right and Sam went boneless, shaky knees barely keeping him standing.
He looked up just in time to see the man take another step forward. He was close now. Close enough that Sam could smell his cologne. Close enough to touch. He had a second to anticipate the stranger's touch, not sure whether he wanted it or not, and then he was being pulled roughly back into the cradle of Dean's body. The hand at the small of his back dropped to circle his erection, as if laying claim, and Sam knew the emotions that would be on Dean's face without looking: aggression, possession and lust.
That those things were for him, that this was all for him, just pushed him that much closer to the edge. He loved the way this tattooed stranger backed away, clearly intimidated and smart enough to see violence in Dean's eyes. He loved the hard lines of his brother's body and the harsh thrust of his hips. He loved too that under different circumstances he could have Dean trembling and whimpering before him. But most of all, right at that instant, he loved the way Dean was wrapped around him, turning him on and wringing him out from every direction.
The grip on his hip tightened, and Dean's thrusts came harder and quicker, each one brushing against the bundle of nerves until Sam was trembling. Small, pathetic mewling noises were echoing in his throat, and he would have gladly begged if he thought Dean could hear it.
"Oh ... fuck!" Sam opened his mouth and moaned, loud. Everything came together suddenly and the little spikes of pleasure burst forward to rush along his spine in a surge. And then he was coming, his body trembling in Dean's embrace. The trusts within him grew more erratic as he felt his body tightening, clenching around Dean's surging body.
"You're mine," Dean snarled into his ear. Blunt nails scraped over Sam's chest, marking him, and then Dean groaned, his hips snapping forward once more before he tensed. Sam rocked his hips, riding his brother through his orgasm until Dean collapsed against his back in a boneless heap.
As Sam stood there, listening to Dean pant against his ear, he decided that maybe, just this once, he'd gotten the better deal.