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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As soon as they’re at the car, Sam grabs his brother’s shoulders, slamming his back against the driver’s side door, pressing his chest against Dean’s so hard it’s amazing either of them can breathe properly. Dean looks up at him, one eyebrow quirked in silent question but he damn-well knows what’s wrong and Sam will be damned if he admits it out-loud.
Instead of responding, Sam slams their lips together, nearly hard enough to draw blood, instantly shoving his tongue between Dean’s lips. It doesn’t take Dean long to get with the program, kissing back just as brutally, quickly taking control of the frantic slide of lips and flipping their positions; Sam’s back now pressed against the night-cooled metal.
Sam moans low in his throat, pawing at his brother’s back, his chest, his belt, anywhere he can reach. But Dean - sadistic teasing asshole that he is - pulls away and opens his door, sliding behind the wheel. Sam’s frozen for just a moment, blinking owlishly. Oh, hell no.
Circling the car and getting into his own seat, Sam instantly slides across the bench, palming Dean’s cock through the rough demin of his jeans. “Mine,” he growls, only marginally embarrassed by his own caveman attitude.
Dean chuckles, licking his lips and biting down on the bottom one, making the already kiss-bruised flesh more swollen. “Possessive much, baby boy?” he teases, tone like sin and sex personified, whiskey-rough yet silky-smooth and Sam wants.
With another growl, Sam grabs Dean’s belt, deftly undoing it and his brother’s jeans, shoving his hand down the front, curling his fingers around Dean’s stiff shaft through his tight boxer briefs. Dean moans harshly, bucking his hips up, one hand grabbing the back of Sam’s neck to pull him into another sloppy kiss.
Sam’s so hard it’s bordering on painful and there’s no fucking way he’s going to make it until they get back to the room. Flailing a little, he kicks his shoes and jeans and briefs off. Dean’s watching him with a mixture of amusement and arousal, both eyebrows raised. Sam ignores him, reaching into Dean’s open fly again to pull out his cock, tucking his jeans and shorts under the heavy swell of his balls.
Bracing one hand on the back of the bench seat, Sam throws one leg over Dean’s lap, settling on his thighs. It’s uncomfortable and they’re both definitely too freaking tall for this but Sam doesn’t even remotely care.
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Steadying Dean with one hand wrapped around the base of his cock, Sam sinks down on his brother’s blood-thick length, not stopping until Dean is buried to the hilt. The burn and the stretch is fucking amazing, they just did this right before they left for the bar so he’s still a little open and wet, and Sam’s eyes slam closed at the feeling.
Dean’s hands clamp down on his hips, fingers like brands on Sam’s skin. “Fuck, Sammy,” Dean growls.
Sam doesn’t give either of them time to adjust, instantly setting a quick, dirty rhythm, frantic rolling of his hips that he knows will get them both there quickly. Dean’s eyes are wide and dark, lust-blown and a little dazed, his spit-slick lips parted around harsh breaths, freckle-kissed cheeks flush a pretty shade of pink. He’s fucking breath-taking and that surge of possessiveness slams into Sam all over again.
“Flirtin’ with all those girls,” Sam grits out, not even aware that he opened his mouth until he hears his own voice. “Smilin’ at them, lettin’ them think they got a chance when you’re fuckin’ mine.”
Dean hips slam up, fucking into Sam almost-brutally, a broken moan torn from his throat. “Fuck, yeah,” he rasps.
There’s sweat running down his back, sticking his t-shirt to his skin uncomfortably and Dean’s not much better off; still in his leather jacket and both shirts and jeans. But it only serves to make Sam crazier for some reason; proof of the primal need to take and claim.
Dean’s fingers curl around Sam’s leaking, aching cock, stroking him in the same frantic rhythm and pace, wrist twisting under the head, gun-calloused thumb smearing over his cock-head, slicking pre-come down his shaft. “You gonna come for me, baby?” Dean purrs, his free hand curling in Sam’s hair to pull him into another soul-shattering kiss.
Sam pulls away on a gasp, his back arching as his orgasm tears through him, spilling between them warm and sticky over and over again. Dean’s rhythm goes erratic almost immediately and Sam collapses against his brother’s chest, moaning softly when he feels Dean swell and twitch a heartbeat before he feels the unmistakable sensation of his brother’s release hitting his still trembling inner muscles.
They’re both panting harshly and Sam turns his head, cheek resting on Dean’s shoulder. He can’t help but chuckle softly when he sees the windows fogged up. Dean noses into his sweat-damp hair, urging Sam to turn back around. They kiss again, slow and lazy, a complete contrast from the biting, bruising kisses from before.
Sam wrinkles his nose when Dean’s softening flesh slips out of him, the sensation of his brother’s come trickling out of him gross and uncomfortable, but he’s sleepy and sated and can’t really find it in himself to care at the moment.
They fix their clothes in silence and when Sam chances a glance at Dean, there’s mischief and playfulness in those intense hazel-green depths but also all the love and devotion that’s been there his whole life. Dean throws his arm around Sam’s shoulder, pulling him against his side, pressing a sloppy-wet kiss to his forehead. “Should make you jealous more often if this is the reaction ‘mma get,” he purrs, tone teasing and playful. Sam hides his smile against his brother’s shoulder, not willing to admit that it’s not a terrible idea - as long as Dean remembers who he belongs to.
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