SPN/CW RPF FREE-FOR-ALL DIRTY PORN MEME!
Further to my previous post: you advertise for a graphic, and you get several at once. ;) I probably shouldn't post this now, since I have to go to bed imminently, but...porn. So, without further ado, welcome to the
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Sam’s brother is a tease. Oh, Dean pretends he’s oblivious, but there’s no way a man with instincts as finely-honed as his are fails to notice someone watching him with an unwavering gaze for almost half an hour. But does he acknowledge Sam? Nope, not Dean. Doesn’t turn around from where he’s bent over the open hood of the Impala tinkering with some part Sam probably has never heard of, doesn’t ask Sam why he’s back early from the library, doesn’t even stop the tuneless humming he’s doing under his breath.
Sam has been standing there, transfixed, for long minutes now. Something about Dean working on his baby always gets to him. Watching his brother’s strong, sure hands moving with such delicacy and sureness causes heat to gather low in his belly, wanting those hands moving over him in the same way. Dean bends low to fiddle with something, his ass thrust out in a way that would be obscene in other circumstances. The little dingy white rag stuffed haphazardly into his back pocket waves like a beckoning flag and Sam presses the heel of his hand against his aching erection, barely suppressing a groan at the zing of pleasure that the pressure brings.
Finally, Dean nods slightly to himself, satisfied with whatever magic he’s accomplished, and reaches up to push the hood down, pressing sharply till it clicks closed. Taking the rag from his pocket he wipes off the fingerprints from the gleaming hood, then runs it over his sweaty brow and drops it carelessly on top of the hood. Not turning around, he holds his hand out imperiously behind him, waiting. Sam hesitates, but knows if he doesn’t come forward quickly, Dean will walk off without looking back. Sam swallows, heartbeat racing, and approaches Dean, crowding close behind him but not touching, just feeling the heat radiating off his brother’s hot and sweaty back, inhaling the smell of motor oil and leather and musk. Dean slips his fingers into the waistband of Sam’s jeans and pulls, bringing Sam forward to press his thighs against the grille of the Impala.
Slipping behind Sam, Dean presses himself full length along his brother’s taller body. Sam doesn’t move, just places his hands on top of the hood and stands pliant as Dean runs his hands up under his shirts, seeking out Sam’s tiny pointed nipples and scraping his fingernails across them in a way that makes Sam jump. One hand stays there, pinching a tortured nipple between thumb and forefinger while the other slides down Sam’s front and flicks open the button on his fly, pulls down the zipper, works both jeans and underwear down just below the curve of Sam’s ass but no further. Placing one hand square in the middle of Sam’s upper back he pushes, inexorably forcing Sam’s chest down onto the hood of the car. Sam closes his eyes and rests his cheek on the warm metal.
Even over his own harsh breathing Sam can hear the rasp of Dean’s zipper and the rustle as he pulls his cock out through the open V of his jeans. He feels Dean step up close behind him and push his erection between the cheeks of Sam’s ass, sliding easily on a mixture of Sam’s sweat and his own pre-come. Obviously Sam hasn’t been the only one thinking of this for the past half hour; Dean’s obviously just as far gone as he is. Sam feels the scrape of Dean’s zipper on the cheeks of his ass and knows that Dean didn’t even bother to take his dirty, grease-stained jeans down, and the thought of Dean fucking him like this, both of them fully clothed, makes his cock ache all the more. He tries to spread his legs to allow Dean easier access but his pants, hiked around his hips, restrict his movement too much and he can only widen them the barest amount.
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Dean pulls away slightly and when he returns, his fingertips spanning Sam’s hipbones with proprietary sureness, his cock is slicker than before and Sam thanks his lucky stars that his brother is fanatical about being prepared. He feels the press of Dean against his hole and does his best to relax, feeling the slow slick slide of his brother’s cock pushing into him until there’s no telling where one of them begins and the other ends. The restriction of his pants around his legs makes the feeling all the more intense and he has never felt so achingly full of Dean before.
Dean starts slow, drawing out his strokes so that he almost comes all the way out before pushing back in, the ridged head just catching on Sam’s rim and the long glide past Sam’s sweet spot makes him clench around Dean as if his body wants to hold onto the sensation as long as possible. Sam’s cock is pressed into the smooth metal of the hood and thought briefly crosses his mind that he’s glad he’s as tall as he is or this could be extremely uncomfortable. The thought slips away like smoke as Dean gives a particularly evil twist of his hips that makes Sam see stars.
Dean begins to quicken his pace and Sam just hangs on, taking it the way they both like it. Dean’s fingers are pressing new bruises into Sam’s hipbones, marking him in a way that only the two of them will ever see. Dean is panting now, and Sam knows his brother is close. Sam moves his hand, intending to fist his own cock but Dean’s hand is there first, gripping him in with those calloused fingers, still covered with the residue of motor oil and lube and Sam loses it, coming in pearly drops over the glossy black finish of the car. The sight of it combined with the feel of Sam clenching around him must push Dean over the edge too because he stills and groans, shuddering through his own orgasm, pumping wetly into Sam’s still-clutching body.
They rest there for a moment and then Dean pulls out slowly, and Sam feels the hot dirty trickle of his brother’s come leaking from his body. Dean uses the little white rag to clean them both up and they straighten their clothes unhurriedly before Dean walks off without looking back, but Sam definitely saw a small smile on his full lips before he turned away. Sam turns to look at the Impala, her shining black finish marred by the evidence of what had transpired here in the silence of the afternoon. He has some work ahead of him, but all things considered, it was totally worth it.
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It's all hot, but this Not turning around, he holds his hand out imperiously behind him, waiting Oh, holy hell, yes!
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Plus, Dean all smudgy from engine work will never not be good. Jacking Sam off with oil still on his hand is the hottest thing.
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