Boys & Their Toys, Part Two, NC-17
Title: Boys and their Toys, Part Two
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Authors: amara_m and plutogirl10
Rating: Sooo NC-17, it's not funny ppl.
Summary: Once upon a time there was Boys and their Toys Now there's more. With bondange and spankings and buzzing toys...oh my!
A/N: plutogirl10: Amara is my porn buddy. MINE. Hands off, no touching. But u can read our fic if you want to, kay?
A/N: amara_m: *points to plutogirl10* She's not kidding peoples...possessive little lovely, isn't she?
It’s strange, the way his entire body is slack and numb, but stretched out and pulled taut at the same time.
It wouldn’t take much now, to break. He has no idea how long it’s been, the boxed numbers glowing at him from the nightstand started swimming in the dark, liquid-rippling under the trails of sweat dripping into his eyes. Arms stretched above his head, toes digging into the sheets, and the constant buzzing of the plug. His muscles are aching yet numb, loose and on fire.
He’s hard; feels his cock lying heavy on his stomach, throbbing and pulsing, sore and tender.
The plastic slips and Sam panics, thighs tensing and ass clenching to hold it inside him. He tries to reach down, but can’t. Rough rope burns the thin skin of his wrists.
This stopped being a game when they’d gotten to the room. When Dean made him strip. When Dean held him down and tied him up. When Dean left him.
The door opens, and Sam stops breathing. He’s in some kind of zen state, half aware of his surrounding, and feels fingers trace up this thigh and tap on the toy.
“You kept it in.”
Sam clenches, and every muscle that was numb just a second ago is now vibrating in time with the plastic. “Dean god, please…”
It’s humiliating, his whimpering and the way he spreads his legs apart. The way his whole body trembles as Dean’s finger brush against the plastic, against the red-raw circle of him. He wants it. He needs it.
“I know.” Dean smiles, slow and heated. Fingers brush over his wrists, work the binds loose and Dean’s rubbing the sore muscles back into feeling, bends to drop a kiss on the inside of his elbow. He tongues the sensitive skin there, sucks it between his teeth to bruise him and Sam squirms helplessly.
“Dean.” His voice is hoarse and shredded, as if he’s been screaming himself raw. But there’s only been silence, and the silence echoes loud now, broken by Dean’s voice almost gun-shot loud in the room.
“I’ve got you, Sam. Just relax.”
The buzzing stops and Sam takes what feels like his first deep breath, and begs. “Dean, please Dean, I need-”
“What, Sam? Tell me.” Dean’s body is a warm weight pressed along his side, spreading him wider, stroking numb flesh back to life. Deft fingers skirt past Sam’s cock, and press underneath. Press against the toy and eases it deeper into him and making him whine.
“God I want . . .” It’s about surrender, about being Dean’s baby brother. About giving up his control. About childhood memories of Dean reprimanding him and wanting Dean to make him fall apart with rough hands and a hard voice.
Dean fucks the toy into him again, and Sam arches up off the bed, gasping. “Fuck, Dean. Please . . . just stop.”
Dean lets go and the plastic slips out of him, and falls loose.
It’s all been playing up until now, the same damn one-upmanship that drove them through most of their teenage years. But it changes. Just as if Sam had spoken the words that shifted everything into that space, only this time, the roles are reversed.
It’s stopped being a game when Dean tied him down.
Sam can’t look at his brother, almost can’t breathe. Dean’s lying beside him, still dressed, his clothes cool from the world outside the door, and Sam swallows, makes himself ease back onto the bed.
Dean’s finger on his lip hushes him and his hand around Sam’s cock is almost painful. “Let’s get you there.” Dean whispers and his hand moves, making Sam jump, and he’s panting and coming in less than a minute, his body on fire, shaking. He yells and bucks and tries to get away from the too much sensation on oversensitive skin.
He’s still half hard, when it’s over.
Fingers slide easily into his fucked open hole. Sam’s eyes shut, his legs falling open even more obscenely. “More.” He whispers, even though he’s just come…even though he’s exhausted and trembling.
“You need a break, Sammy.” Dean whispers back, his face nuzzled against Sam’s neck. “Go wash up.”
“Dean, I…” He stops because he’s uncertain now. Sam chances a look at Dean, but his face his blank. Not giving an inch.
“I said go wash up, Sam. We’ve got plenty of time.” His fingers slip out of Sam and Dean draws back, pulls away. “Don’t touch yourself. Don’t even think about it.”
Sam doesn’t hesitate, moves on shaky legs to do as he’s told, running the water only lukewarm, trying to cool himself and ease the fire pounding through him. It doesn’t help, and stepping out of the shower all he can think about is the way the butt plug fell…the way he let it go. The way he stopped even trying, and he doesn’t really know what that means.
It flushes through him…the image of Dean slapping his ass, hard and rough and painful. It makes him shiver, and he bites back a moan.
He’s bent over, splashing cool water against his face when rough fingers stroke over his ass, making him clench.
“You let the plug go.” The words are barely a whisper, floating tense and taut on the quiet air.
Sam straightens and turns around, and Dean’s looking at him, gloriously naked and hard.
If it falls out, Sam . . . I’ll put you over my knee, and spank your ass until you come.
They’re both thinking it and Dean just keeps looking at him. Heavy breath speeds up and gets rough, and Sam’s cock thickens and fills. He’s frozen to the spot, heart pounding and not entirely sure what to say.
Dean, I want you to spank me. I’m getting hard thinking about it.
Dean, I want you to hurt me.
There’s nothing but silence for long, thinly stretched moments, and something in Dean’s face softens.
“Sam, forget about it. It’s okay.” Dean touches gentle fingers to Sam’s hip and he shivers, the touch sending electricity zipping along his spine.
“Don’t you want to?” Sam runs his finger up underneath Dean’s cock, feels the thick vein pulse against the pad of his thumb. Dean shudders and lightly catches his wrist, holding him still, and Sam has to make himself meet Dean’s gaze.
He has to make himself. Because they’ve never tried this with Sam before.
Dean has always made it so easy for him, giving him everything he asked for, and some things he didn’t. Always made it clear in his unashamed way that he enjoys the things Sam does to him.
Dean’s voice trembling with the push and pull of pain, excitement thrilling through them both. ‘Fuck yeah, Sam, god again’.
It’s familiar and sure and something that Sam knows. But this? This is all new.
“I want to try it. I want you to show me. Show me what it feels like.” Sam looks away because there’s no subtle way to say it, and the words come out clipped and short. “I want you to spank me.”
He can feel his face flushing hot with embarrassment, and as he clenches in anticipation. And he knows now that part of it is wanting to feel what it is Dean feels when he does this to him…but there’s another part…and it isn’t about the pain…its about this, the blush, the embarrassment, about wanting his brother to do this.
“Sam.”
He looks up and Dean’s looking at his groin, lips parted and breathing heavy, and his brother’s obvious arousal is enough to make is own dick swell and pulse.
“Sam.” Dean says again, lifting his gaze up the length of Sam’s body to look him in the eye. “It’ll hurt.”
“I trust you.” Sam’s voice is calm and steady. And that seems to mean a whole lot, because Dean’s eyes splinter into three shades of jade and his breath hitches in a way that makes Sam’s toes curl.
“Christ. Yeah . . . okay.” Dean fists his hands at his sides, voice hoarse and shaky. Sam immediately leans in, kissing Dean’s mouth messy and wet and a touch desperate.
“How do you want me?” He pants, cock pressed to Dean’s thigh, throbbing and making his stomach twist.
“Against the sink.” Dean nudges, turning him around to press against the basin.
Sam bends over, cold porcelain pressing against his blood-hot cock and he shivers, feeling ridiculously naked, back and legs and ass all bare and exposed.
Familiar lips brush against his ear, settling him, and Dean murmurs from behind. “Look at me.”
Sam meets his gaze in the mirror above the sink, and chokes down a moan.
Dean’s looking at him over his shoulder, from underneath hooded eyes, lips shiny with spit and breathing harsh, and the lust he’s focusing on Sam is almost overpowering. It would be obscene if it was coming from anyone other than his brother.
As it is, Sam’s gut liquefies and seeps out through his dick in slow pearls, pressing slick against the smooth sink. His spine melts and his own breathing picks up; his entire body flushing in hot-cold shivers.
They haven’t even done anything yet.
“Keep looking at me.” Dean runs a feather-soft line down his spine, over the curve of his ass and Sam curls his fingers around the edges of the bowl, gripping hard.
“Tell me to stop, Sam. Let me know.”
Sam hasn’t even finished nodding before Dean brings his hand down, a sharp and hard slap. Sam yelps, pelvis thrusting forward to bang against the sink. The acid-sting is gone fast, leaving his ass tingling and sensitive.
“Sam. Look at me.” Strong fingers knead his ass gently, soothingly, and Sam whimpers.
He lifts startled eyes to meet Dean’s gaze. He hadn’t even realized he’d looked down. Their eyes lock and Sam’s sees the muscles in Dean’s shoulder tense and shift as he draws his hand back again.
He sees it coming, but it still hurts and Sam’s breath catches in his throat, teeth catching his lower lip and muffling his small noise of shock. The next blow lands lower, on the tender curve where his ass met his thigh, and Sam’s eyes flutter closed. “Fuck.”
It’s harder than he thought to hold himself together…to stand there against the sink, with his cock leaking and his mind on overload. His ass stings, and he imagines it must be as red as his face. “Fuck” he whispers again, voice hoarse as if he’s been screaming for hours.
“Sammy. Tell me.” Dean reaches up and cups his chin, thumb stroking gently over Sam’s mouth.
“Again.” Sam breathes against the pad of Dean’s finger, opening his eyes and making himself look at his brother in the mirror.
Dean sucks in a breath, looks as if he’s going to stop him, stop this whole thing and Sam reaches back to grip Dean’s bare hip. “Please. I’m okay.”
Dean clenches his jaw, and Sam breathes in anticipation, holding the air in his lungs, holding himself tense and tight and ready. Dean hits him in short rapid slaps, hard and unforgiving, their eyes locked one another in the mirror. His burning cock brushes against the cold porcelain in front of him, startling him into pushing back, and Dean has to hold him still.
Sam’s eyes water and he looks away, looks down. Because this is where he’s uncertain . . . this is the part he was afraid of; that he wants this.
“More.” He whispers, shaking a little. He whimpers as Dean’s fingers stroke over hot flesh, careful and gentle.
Sam doesn’t know if Dean understands, he isn’t sure it matters. This whole dynamic is thrilling and new and he feels it now, god he feels it. Cock pulsing and skin burning and Dean.
Dean pressing against him from behind, Dean holding him down and hurting him.
Sam can’t help the hot tears drip and spill, tastes the wet-salt of them in the corner of his mouth and he looks away, ashamed and trembling and turned on beyond reason.
A callused thumb traces over his cheek, brushing at the glistening-wet tracks. Dean tightens his fingers over Sam’s jaw, pulls his face back to look into the mirror. “Baby, look at me. I want to see.”
Sam’s belly quivers and his chest clenches, and he can’t hold himself anymore, he doesn’t want to. Dean’s hand comes down so fucking hard and it hurts so fucking good, Sam breath stutters and he’s crying and he’s so close to coming, he wants it so badly . . .
The sounds coming out of his mouth make no sense, he might be begging and he might be swearing, and his skin is on fire, burning from his thighs up to his lower back. His cock is swollen hot and he has to come, he needs to come, please Dean oh god.
The next painful spank has Sam sobbing, trembling, legs giving way and he collapses forward against the sink.
“Fuck, Sam. Okay, baby. You’re okay.”
He’s being turned around, gentle hands pushing him back against the sink and Dean’s dropped to his knees in front him.
“Dean, wait.” His ass is raw and burning hot, pressing against the cool porcelain. He cards his fingers through the bristle of Dean’s hair, tugging weakly, because this wasn’t how it’s meant to go. He can see Dean’s erection, dark and thick, and he has to . . . “Dean, please-”
“Not fucking you, kid. Christ, I should never have . . .”
“You didn’t-” But Sam looses the train of thought as Dean’s mouth closes over him, warm and wet and suckling. He stops breathing, grips the sink behind him to keep upright as his knees give way and his eyes fall shut.
Dean’s tongue plays over, then under his cock, lapping at pre-come before sucking him all the way in again. Callused hands slide up his hips, strong fingers pressing into the heated skin at the top of his ass and Sam bucks forward, pushes deep into Dean’s throat. His fingers dig into Dean’s skull as his brother’s throat opens…just fucking opens and Sam’s cock just slides right in.
“Oh my god…” And he’s finally coming…uncontrollably spurting thread after thread of come so deep down his brother’s throat, Dean has no choice but to swallow. Dean slows down to long, tight sucks on the oversensitive skin and then he’s pulling off, peering up at Sam’s face.
Sam loosens his death grip on Dean’s head, panting breath slowing down, his entire body tingly-tight and buzzing from too much too fast.
“I wanted it.” He lets his knees buckle, dropping onto cold tiles in front of Dean. “I asked for it, okay?”
Dean gives him a look, hand coming up to cup his jaw, and Sam knows it’s not going to be enough. But it’ll do for now.
He grins weakly, tired and spent. “So. That’s what it feels like, huh?”
Warmth flushes through him when Dean gives him a shaky smile in return. He eases closer and Dean leans forward immediately, their mouths meeting in a wet, messy kiss.
“Yeah, Sam.” Dean mumbles against his lips. “That’s what it feels like.”
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Authors: amara_m and plutogirl10
Rating: Sooo NC-17, it's not funny ppl.
Summary: Once upon a time there was Boys and their Toys Now there's more. With bondange and spankings and buzzing toys...oh my!
A/N: plutogirl10: Amara is my porn buddy. MINE. Hands off, no touching. But u can read our fic if you want to, kay?
A/N: amara_m: *points to plutogirl10* She's not kidding peoples...possessive little lovely, isn't she?
It’s strange, the way his entire body is slack and numb, but stretched out and pulled taut at the same time.
It wouldn’t take much now, to break. He has no idea how long it’s been, the boxed numbers glowing at him from the nightstand started swimming in the dark, liquid-rippling under the trails of sweat dripping into his eyes. Arms stretched above his head, toes digging into the sheets, and the constant buzzing of the plug. His muscles are aching yet numb, loose and on fire.
He’s hard; feels his cock lying heavy on his stomach, throbbing and pulsing, sore and tender.
The plastic slips and Sam panics, thighs tensing and ass clenching to hold it inside him. He tries to reach down, but can’t. Rough rope burns the thin skin of his wrists.
This stopped being a game when they’d gotten to the room. When Dean made him strip. When Dean held him down and tied him up. When Dean left him.
The door opens, and Sam stops breathing. He’s in some kind of zen state, half aware of his surrounding, and feels fingers trace up this thigh and tap on the toy.
“You kept it in.”
Sam clenches, and every muscle that was numb just a second ago is now vibrating in time with the plastic. “Dean god, please…”
It’s humiliating, his whimpering and the way he spreads his legs apart. The way his whole body trembles as Dean’s finger brush against the plastic, against the red-raw circle of him. He wants it. He needs it.
“I know.” Dean smiles, slow and heated. Fingers brush over his wrists, work the binds loose and Dean’s rubbing the sore muscles back into feeling, bends to drop a kiss on the inside of his elbow. He tongues the sensitive skin there, sucks it between his teeth to bruise him and Sam squirms helplessly.
“Dean.” His voice is hoarse and shredded, as if he’s been screaming himself raw. But there’s only been silence, and the silence echoes loud now, broken by Dean’s voice almost gun-shot loud in the room.
“I’ve got you, Sam. Just relax.”
The buzzing stops and Sam takes what feels like his first deep breath, and begs. “Dean, please Dean, I need-”
“What, Sam? Tell me.” Dean’s body is a warm weight pressed along his side, spreading him wider, stroking numb flesh back to life. Deft fingers skirt past Sam’s cock, and press underneath. Press against the toy and eases it deeper into him and making him whine.
“God I want . . .” It’s about surrender, about being Dean’s baby brother. About giving up his control. About childhood memories of Dean reprimanding him and wanting Dean to make him fall apart with rough hands and a hard voice.
Dean fucks the toy into him again, and Sam arches up off the bed, gasping. “Fuck, Dean. Please . . . just stop.”
Dean lets go and the plastic slips out of him, and falls loose.
It’s all been playing up until now, the same damn one-upmanship that drove them through most of their teenage years. But it changes. Just as if Sam had spoken the words that shifted everything into that space, only this time, the roles are reversed.
It’s stopped being a game when Dean tied him down.
Sam can’t look at his brother, almost can’t breathe. Dean’s lying beside him, still dressed, his clothes cool from the world outside the door, and Sam swallows, makes himself ease back onto the bed.
Dean’s finger on his lip hushes him and his hand around Sam’s cock is almost painful. “Let’s get you there.” Dean whispers and his hand moves, making Sam jump, and he’s panting and coming in less than a minute, his body on fire, shaking. He yells and bucks and tries to get away from the too much sensation on oversensitive skin.
He’s still half hard, when it’s over.
Fingers slide easily into his fucked open hole. Sam’s eyes shut, his legs falling open even more obscenely. “More.” He whispers, even though he’s just come…even though he’s exhausted and trembling.
“You need a break, Sammy.” Dean whispers back, his face nuzzled against Sam’s neck. “Go wash up.”
“Dean, I…” He stops because he’s uncertain now. Sam chances a look at Dean, but his face his blank. Not giving an inch.
“I said go wash up, Sam. We’ve got plenty of time.” His fingers slip out of Sam and Dean draws back, pulls away. “Don’t touch yourself. Don’t even think about it.”
Sam doesn’t hesitate, moves on shaky legs to do as he’s told, running the water only lukewarm, trying to cool himself and ease the fire pounding through him. It doesn’t help, and stepping out of the shower all he can think about is the way the butt plug fell…the way he let it go. The way he stopped even trying, and he doesn’t really know what that means.
It flushes through him…the image of Dean slapping his ass, hard and rough and painful. It makes him shiver, and he bites back a moan.
He’s bent over, splashing cool water against his face when rough fingers stroke over his ass, making him clench.
“You let the plug go.” The words are barely a whisper, floating tense and taut on the quiet air.
Sam straightens and turns around, and Dean’s looking at him, gloriously naked and hard.
If it falls out, Sam . . . I’ll put you over my knee, and spank your ass until you come.
They’re both thinking it and Dean just keeps looking at him. Heavy breath speeds up and gets rough, and Sam’s cock thickens and fills. He’s frozen to the spot, heart pounding and not entirely sure what to say.
Dean, I want you to spank me. I’m getting hard thinking about it.
Dean, I want you to hurt me.
There’s nothing but silence for long, thinly stretched moments, and something in Dean’s face softens.
“Sam, forget about it. It’s okay.” Dean touches gentle fingers to Sam’s hip and he shivers, the touch sending electricity zipping along his spine.
“Don’t you want to?” Sam runs his finger up underneath Dean’s cock, feels the thick vein pulse against the pad of his thumb. Dean shudders and lightly catches his wrist, holding him still, and Sam has to make himself meet Dean’s gaze.
He has to make himself. Because they’ve never tried this with Sam before.
Dean has always made it so easy for him, giving him everything he asked for, and some things he didn’t. Always made it clear in his unashamed way that he enjoys the things Sam does to him.
Dean’s voice trembling with the push and pull of pain, excitement thrilling through them both. ‘Fuck yeah, Sam, god again’.
It’s familiar and sure and something that Sam knows. But this? This is all new.
“I want to try it. I want you to show me. Show me what it feels like.” Sam looks away because there’s no subtle way to say it, and the words come out clipped and short. “I want you to spank me.”
He can feel his face flushing hot with embarrassment, and as he clenches in anticipation. And he knows now that part of it is wanting to feel what it is Dean feels when he does this to him…but there’s another part…and it isn’t about the pain…its about this, the blush, the embarrassment, about wanting his brother to do this.
“Sam.”
He looks up and Dean’s looking at his groin, lips parted and breathing heavy, and his brother’s obvious arousal is enough to make is own dick swell and pulse.
“Sam.” Dean says again, lifting his gaze up the length of Sam’s body to look him in the eye. “It’ll hurt.”
“I trust you.” Sam’s voice is calm and steady. And that seems to mean a whole lot, because Dean’s eyes splinter into three shades of jade and his breath hitches in a way that makes Sam’s toes curl.
“Christ. Yeah . . . okay.” Dean fists his hands at his sides, voice hoarse and shaky. Sam immediately leans in, kissing Dean’s mouth messy and wet and a touch desperate.
“How do you want me?” He pants, cock pressed to Dean’s thigh, throbbing and making his stomach twist.
“Against the sink.” Dean nudges, turning him around to press against the basin.
Sam bends over, cold porcelain pressing against his blood-hot cock and he shivers, feeling ridiculously naked, back and legs and ass all bare and exposed.
Familiar lips brush against his ear, settling him, and Dean murmurs from behind. “Look at me.”
Sam meets his gaze in the mirror above the sink, and chokes down a moan.
Dean’s looking at him over his shoulder, from underneath hooded eyes, lips shiny with spit and breathing harsh, and the lust he’s focusing on Sam is almost overpowering. It would be obscene if it was coming from anyone other than his brother.
As it is, Sam’s gut liquefies and seeps out through his dick in slow pearls, pressing slick against the smooth sink. His spine melts and his own breathing picks up; his entire body flushing in hot-cold shivers.
They haven’t even done anything yet.
“Keep looking at me.” Dean runs a feather-soft line down his spine, over the curve of his ass and Sam curls his fingers around the edges of the bowl, gripping hard.
“Tell me to stop, Sam. Let me know.”
Sam hasn’t even finished nodding before Dean brings his hand down, a sharp and hard slap. Sam yelps, pelvis thrusting forward to bang against the sink. The acid-sting is gone fast, leaving his ass tingling and sensitive.
“Sam. Look at me.” Strong fingers knead his ass gently, soothingly, and Sam whimpers.
He lifts startled eyes to meet Dean’s gaze. He hadn’t even realized he’d looked down. Their eyes lock and Sam’s sees the muscles in Dean’s shoulder tense and shift as he draws his hand back again.
He sees it coming, but it still hurts and Sam’s breath catches in his throat, teeth catching his lower lip and muffling his small noise of shock. The next blow lands lower, on the tender curve where his ass met his thigh, and Sam’s eyes flutter closed. “Fuck.”
It’s harder than he thought to hold himself together…to stand there against the sink, with his cock leaking and his mind on overload. His ass stings, and he imagines it must be as red as his face. “Fuck” he whispers again, voice hoarse as if he’s been screaming for hours.
“Sammy. Tell me.” Dean reaches up and cups his chin, thumb stroking gently over Sam’s mouth.
“Again.” Sam breathes against the pad of Dean’s finger, opening his eyes and making himself look at his brother in the mirror.
Dean sucks in a breath, looks as if he’s going to stop him, stop this whole thing and Sam reaches back to grip Dean’s bare hip. “Please. I’m okay.”
Dean clenches his jaw, and Sam breathes in anticipation, holding the air in his lungs, holding himself tense and tight and ready. Dean hits him in short rapid slaps, hard and unforgiving, their eyes locked one another in the mirror. His burning cock brushes against the cold porcelain in front of him, startling him into pushing back, and Dean has to hold him still.
Sam’s eyes water and he looks away, looks down. Because this is where he’s uncertain . . . this is the part he was afraid of; that he wants this.
“More.” He whispers, shaking a little. He whimpers as Dean’s fingers stroke over hot flesh, careful and gentle.
Sam doesn’t know if Dean understands, he isn’t sure it matters. This whole dynamic is thrilling and new and he feels it now, god he feels it. Cock pulsing and skin burning and Dean.
Dean pressing against him from behind, Dean holding him down and hurting him.
Sam can’t help the hot tears drip and spill, tastes the wet-salt of them in the corner of his mouth and he looks away, ashamed and trembling and turned on beyond reason.
A callused thumb traces over his cheek, brushing at the glistening-wet tracks. Dean tightens his fingers over Sam’s jaw, pulls his face back to look into the mirror. “Baby, look at me. I want to see.”
Sam’s belly quivers and his chest clenches, and he can’t hold himself anymore, he doesn’t want to. Dean’s hand comes down so fucking hard and it hurts so fucking good, Sam breath stutters and he’s crying and he’s so close to coming, he wants it so badly . . .
The sounds coming out of his mouth make no sense, he might be begging and he might be swearing, and his skin is on fire, burning from his thighs up to his lower back. His cock is swollen hot and he has to come, he needs to come, please Dean oh god.
The next painful spank has Sam sobbing, trembling, legs giving way and he collapses forward against the sink.
“Fuck, Sam. Okay, baby. You’re okay.”
He’s being turned around, gentle hands pushing him back against the sink and Dean’s dropped to his knees in front him.
“Dean, wait.” His ass is raw and burning hot, pressing against the cool porcelain. He cards his fingers through the bristle of Dean’s hair, tugging weakly, because this wasn’t how it’s meant to go. He can see Dean’s erection, dark and thick, and he has to . . . “Dean, please-”
“Not fucking you, kid. Christ, I should never have . . .”
“You didn’t-” But Sam looses the train of thought as Dean’s mouth closes over him, warm and wet and suckling. He stops breathing, grips the sink behind him to keep upright as his knees give way and his eyes fall shut.
Dean’s tongue plays over, then under his cock, lapping at pre-come before sucking him all the way in again. Callused hands slide up his hips, strong fingers pressing into the heated skin at the top of his ass and Sam bucks forward, pushes deep into Dean’s throat. His fingers dig into Dean’s skull as his brother’s throat opens…just fucking opens and Sam’s cock just slides right in.
“Oh my god…” And he’s finally coming…uncontrollably spurting thread after thread of come so deep down his brother’s throat, Dean has no choice but to swallow. Dean slows down to long, tight sucks on the oversensitive skin and then he’s pulling off, peering up at Sam’s face.
Sam loosens his death grip on Dean’s head, panting breath slowing down, his entire body tingly-tight and buzzing from too much too fast.
“I wanted it.” He lets his knees buckle, dropping onto cold tiles in front of Dean. “I asked for it, okay?”
Dean gives him a look, hand coming up to cup his jaw, and Sam knows it’s not going to be enough. But it’ll do for now.
He grins weakly, tired and spent. “So. That’s what it feels like, huh?”
Warmth flushes through him when Dean gives him a shaky smile in return. He eases closer and Dean leans forward immediately, their mouths meeting in a wet, messy kiss.
“Yeah, Sam.” Dean mumbles against his lips. “That’s what it feels like.”