Sammy Baby, Supernatural, NC-17
Fandom: Supernatural
Title: Sammy Baby
Characters/Pairing: Dean/Sam
Word Count: 3200
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Dean dances, Sammy comes in his pants and then there’s alley sex. For ghausia who asked for: SPN, Sam/Dean, NC-17, schmoop (with a lap dance). Dean was never good at giving presents, and Sam's had enough of crappy gifts.
A/Ns & Warnings: Um...Did I mention the stripping...and the alley sex? Yeah...and there's costume warnings...but I'm not saying...you'll have to read it. So not mine it isn't even funny anymore. I need to thank shotofjack for...ummm...listening to my insanity via email and coming around to my way of thinking....eventually....this is total PWP crack, boys and girls...consider yourself warned!
Oh, and for...inspiration....http://jessikins.imeem.com/music/Chug_Sfw/santa_baby/
“I’m gonna go grab some beer, see if I can hustle a few bucks at the pool table.”
Sam looked up from the computer. “Dean, it’s Christmas Eve.”
“Yeah? So? Better pickings on holidays….lonely people with nothing to do.” Sam looks pissed, but Dean just grins at him. “Maybe I’ll bring you back a present.”
Sam looked even more pissed. “I don’t want another hooker from my brother for Christmas, Dean…and so help me, if you bring back some slut for us to share, I’ll kick you out to sleep in the Impala, and keep the slut.”
“Whatever, Dude. I’ll be back.”
Dean left Sam stewing and walked the two blocks down to the row of clubs offering all manner of adult Christmas entertainment, from the nudie bar advertising all of it’s girls were DD or bigger, to the stretch of gaudy clubs that tried to ride both sides, alternating male and female dancers, to the club that was his destination.
He didn’t plan on playing pool, but he’d likely have a shot or three before the night was over, and the likelihood of bringing home a slut of the female variety from this place was relatively slim. He’d chosen it when they first pulled into town to handle a haunting because it was slightly more upscale than the others on the strip, catered primarily to the professional gay community, which meant good tips, and better mannered clients.
And seeing he only did this for the money, those things were important. He slid in behind a couple hanging all over each other, nodding to Thomas, the bouncer and heading straight for the bar. Greg was behind the bar, so his shot was waiting for him. You gotta love a bartender who knows you after only three nights and can tell by the look on your face what it is you need.
Twinkles was on stage, gyrating to some god awful techno music and sprinkling glitter everywhere. Dean would never understand the appeal of that. The music or the flashy hooks. When he danced it was one thing, sex set to music.
“You’ve got a fan club.” Greg said over the pounding music, pointing with his bar rag at a group of college age boys at a table near the stage. “They came in asking if you were dancing tonight.”
Dean downed his shot and put it back on the bar, noticing an empty table front and center. “Some hotshot coming in?”
Greg shrugged. “Maureen just came in and put a reserved sign on it about 3 minutes ago.”
Twinkles finished and disappeared in a cloud of glitter to applause and whistles, then a loud, big band sounding rendition of “Santa Clause is Coming to Town” came on. Dean groaned. “You have got to be kidding me.”
Greg laughed. “Maureen’s dictate, everyone does a Christmas song tonight…last song of your shift.”
Dean rolled his eyes. “Fabulous. Give me another one.”
Greg filled the shot glass and handed it back. “She’s paying extra for it though, and a bonus of $250 to her favorite of the night.”
“She better be paying extra.” He tossed off the shot and thanked Greg, then headed around to the dressing room. Maureen caught him just before he ducked behind the curtain. “Greg told me.”
She smiled, and she may not be much to look at, but she had a wicked smile. “Song book’s in there. Feel free to rummage through the racks and shit for costume materials.”
Dean nodded and made to head into the back, but she caught his arm. “Oh…and that table down front…some high roller called in about ten minutes ago and reserved it. He’s coming in to see you. I expect you to make him happy.”
Dean smirked. “Yeah, I always make my audience happy.”
She shook her head. “No. He’s paying $500 for the privilege. Half of it’s yours if he’s happy when you’re done.”
“How happy?” Dean asked, his grin turning evil. She smacked his arm.
“Don’t get me fined or arrested…everything else is up to you.”
“You just remind him no touching.” Dean said, finally ducking past her. He was up after Dusty, who was just leaving to check his music. Dean nodded hello and set about preparing for his first number. He wasn’t picky about what he danced to. The club had a good DJ and Dean only had to list off a band or three…the rest was just a surprise.
He swapped his street clothes for look alike stuff that was made to tear off easily…a worn pair of jeans and a t-shirt that wouldn’t come back to the dressing room, he left his feet bare and pulled his leather jacket back on.
It was fairly early, and while the place was jumping, it wasn’t nearly as full as it would get. There were a lot of lonely people looking for company. He played to the college kids as “Highway to Hell” made the stage vibrate beneath his feet. If nothing else, hunting kept him lithe and limber. He took their money and left them screaming for more as he left the stage.
He wasn’t surprised to find them still there when he went on again later, gyrating to Metallica. He was surprised that his high roller wasn’t at his table though. He only had one more trip to the stage…if he could ever decide what he was going to do. He took the towel Twinkles offered him as he came off stage the second time, grinning at his Christmas get up, with red thigh high stockings under a frilly white skirt and a shirt covered with more red sequins than should be legal.
He had roughly a half hour to pull something together. He grabbed the book of music and sat in one of the few chairs in the dressing room, in front of the mirror. “You have such a pretty face, Deany.” Elana said beside him, touching up his face. “You should try drag…it would be so pretty.”
“Dude, no offense to the resident drag queen here, but no.”
He pouted at Dean who turned his attention back to the music. “I’ve gotta find something here that can actually be danced to.” He flipped pages before his eyes caught on a song. He could remember his mother singing it to his father. Okay, not really a good way to pick a song to strip to…but the song itself…He looked up at the mirror. “Elana, when do you go on again?”
“After you, baby, why?”
Dean grinned, “I think I know a way to get that bonus out of Maureen.” It was an evil idea, one he wouldn’t ever consider, but that money, plus the $250 for a satisfied customer would mean he could spring for something nice to give Sam…and after years of crappy gifts and the year they’d had, Sam deserved something nice.
The club was exactly what Sam had expected. It was one of Dean’s big secrets, that he would sometimes dance…strip…to whatever mullet rock suited him, in some club filled with men after only one thing. It made Sam salivate just thinking about it. He’d seen Dean dance before, but Dean never knew. It was back before Stanford, back when they were still denying the fondling and kissing was something more than post-hunt hormones. Sam had used his fake id and hovered in the back of the club, then jacked off behind the club. This time would be different.
He’d dressed for his role as a big spender, in the one suit he’d spent real money on, freshly pressed and matched with a black fedora, to hide his identity until Dean was all but on top of him. He slipped the money into the hand of the manager, and was escorted to his table, his beer delivered as he sat down.
“Your preferred dancer will be on in just a few minutes, sir. In the meantime, if you need anything, Andy here will take care of you.”
The waiter tipped his head and Sam smiled. “Thank you. The beer will be fine for now.”
“Also, may I remind you we have a strict no touching policy.” Sam nodded, that part would be hard, but it was going to be worth it.
Sam settled back to wait, trying not to be nervous. He’d been planning this for almost a month, had managed to keep them from more than casual touching since the hunt ended a few days before. He took in the crowd, eyeing a group of men a little younger than himself off to his right. That was the reason he’d shelled out the serious money…he wanted Dean to himself, he just wanted him here, in front of all the others.
He wanted to see that Dean again…the one who lost himself, and all of the pretense, all the pain…surrendered himself into the music and movement. The guy on the stage was moving his hips to some rocked up version of “Let it Snow” and Sam shook his head. It was Christmas Eve, he got that…but stripping to Christmas music was…weird.
Sam’s eyes followed the prancing blond in the black g-string off the stage as the audience applauded, and the music faded. It was followed by something softer, jazzier and as Sam dragged his eyes back to the center of the stage, he was startled to see a dancer there, back to the audience as the opening strains of Eartha Kitt’s “Santa Baby” floated on the air.
Long, golden legs climbed up from bare feet into a short red skirt, barely covering an ass that peeked out as he moved…the white trim bouncing as his hips moved with the music. A bare back, a strong, muscular and intimately familiar back, rose up from the skirt to a wide red ribbon at the neck…and a bow tied off kilter on the side of his neck.
Sam sat up strait, his dick instantly hard. He shook his head…because this was Dean…and Dean didn’t…and yet…The college kids squealed with excitement as Eartha’s voice filled the room, and Dean just…turned, slow as the sweat down his back, first his face…a wink…a slip of hip…a roll of shoulder…
Santa baby, slip a sable under the tree, for me.
Sam swallowed, watching Dean’s slow hip movement…the way just that little move made his whole body shimmer. Dean stuck a finger in his mouth, then dragged it down over his chin and onto his chest as he licked his lips
Been an awful good girl, Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight.
Dean was mouthing the words, his lips red and pouting, a Santa hat in his hands. He pranced forward, fucking pranced toward Sam, the skirt riding up his ass as he turned and undulated, and kept coming. Sam was fairly certain he couldn’t breathe. As Dean got closer, Sam waited for him to realize…to recognize…but he was abandoned into his performance, hands sliding down over his body, lifting the skirt as he bent forward, running hands down over his legs. The slide of his hips…then a sly turn of the head…
Santa baby, a ’54 convertible too, Light blue. I’ll wait up… Dean’s body slithered, rolling up, then dropping into a crouch and spreading his knees wide right in front of Sam. His eyes closed all coy and sexy, then opened looking directly at Sam. He didn’t know what he’d expected when Dean saw him, but the intensity, the powerful, raw sex that oozed off of him was intoxicating.
…hurry down the chimney tonight…
Dean slid his hand down over his cock on “chimney” tugging once on the g-string in a tease that made the college boys squeal again. Sam licked his lips, his eyes gliding up to from Dean’s groin to his face…his face…He was wearing eyeliner and mascara…dark accents against his tan and lipstick…sinfully red lips that were blowing kisses his way.. Sam swallowed and adjusted himself.
Dean spun around and bounced up to standing, then stepped down off the stage, sitting primly on the stairs and crossing his legs. He’d have been down right feminine if not for the hot and decidedly male sex that he exuded as he rolled his shoulders.
Think of all the fun I’ve missed, think of all the fellas that I haven’t kissed
He mouthed the words directly to Sam, licking his lips as he uncrossed his legs again, showing thigh up to the string of his g-string as he spread his legs obscenely and pushed upward to move his hips in a slow roll with the music.
Next year I could be just as good, if you’ll check off my Christmas list…
Dean turned and bent forward, his ass swaying in front of Sam, hovering over his knees and when he came back up he had the Santa hat in hand.
Santa baby, I wanna yacht, and really that’s not a lot…
Dean rubbed the hat under the skirt, sliding it through his thighs before pulling it up and out.
Been an angel all year, Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight
Sam’s eyes met Dean’s as a small smile turned the corners of his mouth and then Dean knocked the fedora off Sam’s head and replaced it with the Santa hat. Dean’s hands pushed Sam’s legs together, his smile widening as he saw the effect he’d already had…then Dean was straddling him, grinding down toward his legs without actually touching them. His face was inches away from Sam’s as he sang.
Santa honey, one little thing I really need, the deed to a platinum mine…
Sam was fairly certain that groan he heard had come from him as Dean’s body hovered over his and moved with a grace that Sam only ever got to see in a fight. He wanted to grab him and pull him down into his lap, to thrust his erection up against Dean’s thigh. He gripped the chair instead, holding on as Dean stood up again and wiggled backwards.
Dean’s hand dragged down over the lapel of Sam’s coat as he danced around behind Sam…and he was leaning over to sing in Sam’s ear.
Sammy cutie, and fill my stocking with a duplex and checks…sign your X on the line, Sammie cutie, and hurry down the chimney tonight.
He could fucking hear the pout in Dean’s voice as he sang into Sam’s ear and wiggled behind him, giving everyone a good view of his ass, Sam was sure. He adjusted himself again. Holy fuck he was hard. Dean’s hands scraped up Sam’s chest, then he kicked a leg up over Sam’s shoulder and it was all Sam could do not to reach up and cup his hand to his cock and balls.
Come and trim my Christmas tree, with some decorations bought at Tiffany’s.
Dean’s body slithered around Sam, and he was dizzy with want and the smell of Dean and the way everyone in the place was staring at them, but he didn’t care. “I’m gonna make you come, Sammy.” Dean growled in his ear as he moved back over Sam’s legs, his hands moving over Sam’s thighs as Sam fought coming just from the tone in his voice.
Sammy baby, forgot to mention one little thing, a ring, I don’t mean on the phone…
God! Dean’s cock scraped over Sam’s, hard and hot and heavy, hidden by only the tiny fabric of the g-string, and the sensation was barely dulled by the layers of fabric. “Dean.”
Sammy baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight…
Dean thrust forward, that barely there contact and the look on his face and the heat and Sam tossed his head back, unable to control the way his cock twitched and flooded come into his boxers, even when he saw the cocky look on Dean’s face that said he knew.
Dean ran a hand down over Sam’s face, his middle finger dipping into Sam’s mouth. He fucked it in and out as the last strains of the song faded, then Dean put the fedora onto his head and turned his back to Sam, ignoring the rest of the room and strutting…fucking strutting off stage.
It took Sam a few minutes to pull himself together enough to move, and the next dancer was in full swing as he reached a shaky hand for his beer…grateful that the club was dark and his suit was black and the motel was only a few blocks away.
He wasn’t a block away though when a hand closed on his wrist and he was being dragged into an alley between two all girl revues, pulled and pushed into the dirty wall, his head held between two hands as lips captured his and he tasted sweat and lipstick. “Fuck Sammy…just…fuck.” Dean was pulling at him, cupping the wet spot on the front of his pants. “Fuck,” he said again. “Want you now…want you…”
Sam was shaking as Dean pushed him down to his knees and he fumbled with trying to get his jeans open. Dean hissed as the cold winter air kissed the hot flesh of his cock…and Sam rushed to open his mouth to warm him again. “Fuck…” Dean’s hand was in his hair, knocking the Santa hat off his head. “Never like that…got so hard for you baby…”
Sam could feel his cock stirring at the dirty of it all, of kneeling in an alley between strip clubs, of the grimy wall at his back, the naked need in his brother’s husky voice, of all that and his brother’s cock fucking his mouth hard and fast. “Fuck, Sammy baby…that’s it…god…” He wasn’t really driving, but he swallowed and worked his tongue and Dean’s hand smacked the wall behind him and his rhythm stuttered, then he was coming, hot and salty into Sam’s throat.
He swallowed and licked until Dean had to pull his over stimulated cock out and tuck it gently back into his jeans…then he was hauling Sam up and pushed him against the wall, kissing him almost violently.
“Damn.” Dean finally said as he pulled back. “Holy fuck, Sam. How did you know?”
Sam smiled a sheepish sort of smile. “I’ve known…for a long time, Dean.”
Dean frowned. “You have?”
Sam chuckled. “Yeah.”
“Then why haven’t you ever…come…before?”
Sam raised an eyebrow and Dean blushed…actually blushed. “I wanted it to be special.”
“So you pick the night I wear a skirt and make-up. Great.”
Sam leaned in and kissed him. “Hottest fucking thing I ever saw.”
Dean turned and pointed to the street, then stopped. “Dude, you paid $500 for that.”
“Worth every penny.”
“I made $500 tonight. It was supposed to be for your Christmas present.”
Sam chuckled, putting an arm around him and pulling him close. “It was, Dean…best damn Christmas present you ever gave me.” He leaned down a bit, so he could whisper in Dean’s ear. “Now…let’s get back to the motel, so I can give you yours.”
Title: Sammy Baby
Characters/Pairing: Dean/Sam
Word Count: 3200
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Dean dances, Sammy comes in his pants and then there’s alley sex. For ghausia who asked for: SPN, Sam/Dean, NC-17, schmoop (with a lap dance). Dean was never good at giving presents, and Sam's had enough of crappy gifts.
A/Ns & Warnings: Um...Did I mention the stripping...and the alley sex? Yeah...and there's costume warnings...but I'm not saying...you'll have to read it. So not mine it isn't even funny anymore. I need to thank shotofjack for...ummm...listening to my insanity via email and coming around to my way of thinking....eventually....this is total PWP crack, boys and girls...consider yourself warned!
Oh, and for...inspiration....http://jessikins.imeem.com/music/Chug_Sfw/santa_baby/
“I’m gonna go grab some beer, see if I can hustle a few bucks at the pool table.”
Sam looked up from the computer. “Dean, it’s Christmas Eve.”
“Yeah? So? Better pickings on holidays….lonely people with nothing to do.” Sam looks pissed, but Dean just grins at him. “Maybe I’ll bring you back a present.”
Sam looked even more pissed. “I don’t want another hooker from my brother for Christmas, Dean…and so help me, if you bring back some slut for us to share, I’ll kick you out to sleep in the Impala, and keep the slut.”
“Whatever, Dude. I’ll be back.”
Dean left Sam stewing and walked the two blocks down to the row of clubs offering all manner of adult Christmas entertainment, from the nudie bar advertising all of it’s girls were DD or bigger, to the stretch of gaudy clubs that tried to ride both sides, alternating male and female dancers, to the club that was his destination.
He didn’t plan on playing pool, but he’d likely have a shot or three before the night was over, and the likelihood of bringing home a slut of the female variety from this place was relatively slim. He’d chosen it when they first pulled into town to handle a haunting because it was slightly more upscale than the others on the strip, catered primarily to the professional gay community, which meant good tips, and better mannered clients.
And seeing he only did this for the money, those things were important. He slid in behind a couple hanging all over each other, nodding to Thomas, the bouncer and heading straight for the bar. Greg was behind the bar, so his shot was waiting for him. You gotta love a bartender who knows you after only three nights and can tell by the look on your face what it is you need.
Twinkles was on stage, gyrating to some god awful techno music and sprinkling glitter everywhere. Dean would never understand the appeal of that. The music or the flashy hooks. When he danced it was one thing, sex set to music.
“You’ve got a fan club.” Greg said over the pounding music, pointing with his bar rag at a group of college age boys at a table near the stage. “They came in asking if you were dancing tonight.”
Dean downed his shot and put it back on the bar, noticing an empty table front and center. “Some hotshot coming in?”
Greg shrugged. “Maureen just came in and put a reserved sign on it about 3 minutes ago.”
Twinkles finished and disappeared in a cloud of glitter to applause and whistles, then a loud, big band sounding rendition of “Santa Clause is Coming to Town” came on. Dean groaned. “You have got to be kidding me.”
Greg laughed. “Maureen’s dictate, everyone does a Christmas song tonight…last song of your shift.”
Dean rolled his eyes. “Fabulous. Give me another one.”
Greg filled the shot glass and handed it back. “She’s paying extra for it though, and a bonus of $250 to her favorite of the night.”
“She better be paying extra.” He tossed off the shot and thanked Greg, then headed around to the dressing room. Maureen caught him just before he ducked behind the curtain. “Greg told me.”
She smiled, and she may not be much to look at, but she had a wicked smile. “Song book’s in there. Feel free to rummage through the racks and shit for costume materials.”
Dean nodded and made to head into the back, but she caught his arm. “Oh…and that table down front…some high roller called in about ten minutes ago and reserved it. He’s coming in to see you. I expect you to make him happy.”
Dean smirked. “Yeah, I always make my audience happy.”
She shook her head. “No. He’s paying $500 for the privilege. Half of it’s yours if he’s happy when you’re done.”
“How happy?” Dean asked, his grin turning evil. She smacked his arm.
“Don’t get me fined or arrested…everything else is up to you.”
“You just remind him no touching.” Dean said, finally ducking past her. He was up after Dusty, who was just leaving to check his music. Dean nodded hello and set about preparing for his first number. He wasn’t picky about what he danced to. The club had a good DJ and Dean only had to list off a band or three…the rest was just a surprise.
He swapped his street clothes for look alike stuff that was made to tear off easily…a worn pair of jeans and a t-shirt that wouldn’t come back to the dressing room, he left his feet bare and pulled his leather jacket back on.
It was fairly early, and while the place was jumping, it wasn’t nearly as full as it would get. There were a lot of lonely people looking for company. He played to the college kids as “Highway to Hell” made the stage vibrate beneath his feet. If nothing else, hunting kept him lithe and limber. He took their money and left them screaming for more as he left the stage.
He wasn’t surprised to find them still there when he went on again later, gyrating to Metallica. He was surprised that his high roller wasn’t at his table though. He only had one more trip to the stage…if he could ever decide what he was going to do. He took the towel Twinkles offered him as he came off stage the second time, grinning at his Christmas get up, with red thigh high stockings under a frilly white skirt and a shirt covered with more red sequins than should be legal.
He had roughly a half hour to pull something together. He grabbed the book of music and sat in one of the few chairs in the dressing room, in front of the mirror. “You have such a pretty face, Deany.” Elana said beside him, touching up his face. “You should try drag…it would be so pretty.”
“Dude, no offense to the resident drag queen here, but no.”
He pouted at Dean who turned his attention back to the music. “I’ve gotta find something here that can actually be danced to.” He flipped pages before his eyes caught on a song. He could remember his mother singing it to his father. Okay, not really a good way to pick a song to strip to…but the song itself…He looked up at the mirror. “Elana, when do you go on again?”
“After you, baby, why?”
Dean grinned, “I think I know a way to get that bonus out of Maureen.” It was an evil idea, one he wouldn’t ever consider, but that money, plus the $250 for a satisfied customer would mean he could spring for something nice to give Sam…and after years of crappy gifts and the year they’d had, Sam deserved something nice.
The club was exactly what Sam had expected. It was one of Dean’s big secrets, that he would sometimes dance…strip…to whatever mullet rock suited him, in some club filled with men after only one thing. It made Sam salivate just thinking about it. He’d seen Dean dance before, but Dean never knew. It was back before Stanford, back when they were still denying the fondling and kissing was something more than post-hunt hormones. Sam had used his fake id and hovered in the back of the club, then jacked off behind the club. This time would be different.
He’d dressed for his role as a big spender, in the one suit he’d spent real money on, freshly pressed and matched with a black fedora, to hide his identity until Dean was all but on top of him. He slipped the money into the hand of the manager, and was escorted to his table, his beer delivered as he sat down.
“Your preferred dancer will be on in just a few minutes, sir. In the meantime, if you need anything, Andy here will take care of you.”
The waiter tipped his head and Sam smiled. “Thank you. The beer will be fine for now.”
“Also, may I remind you we have a strict no touching policy.” Sam nodded, that part would be hard, but it was going to be worth it.
Sam settled back to wait, trying not to be nervous. He’d been planning this for almost a month, had managed to keep them from more than casual touching since the hunt ended a few days before. He took in the crowd, eyeing a group of men a little younger than himself off to his right. That was the reason he’d shelled out the serious money…he wanted Dean to himself, he just wanted him here, in front of all the others.
He wanted to see that Dean again…the one who lost himself, and all of the pretense, all the pain…surrendered himself into the music and movement. The guy on the stage was moving his hips to some rocked up version of “Let it Snow” and Sam shook his head. It was Christmas Eve, he got that…but stripping to Christmas music was…weird.
Sam’s eyes followed the prancing blond in the black g-string off the stage as the audience applauded, and the music faded. It was followed by something softer, jazzier and as Sam dragged his eyes back to the center of the stage, he was startled to see a dancer there, back to the audience as the opening strains of Eartha Kitt’s “Santa Baby” floated on the air.
Long, golden legs climbed up from bare feet into a short red skirt, barely covering an ass that peeked out as he moved…the white trim bouncing as his hips moved with the music. A bare back, a strong, muscular and intimately familiar back, rose up from the skirt to a wide red ribbon at the neck…and a bow tied off kilter on the side of his neck.
Sam sat up strait, his dick instantly hard. He shook his head…because this was Dean…and Dean didn’t…and yet…The college kids squealed with excitement as Eartha’s voice filled the room, and Dean just…turned, slow as the sweat down his back, first his face…a wink…a slip of hip…a roll of shoulder…
Santa baby, slip a sable under the tree, for me.
Sam swallowed, watching Dean’s slow hip movement…the way just that little move made his whole body shimmer. Dean stuck a finger in his mouth, then dragged it down over his chin and onto his chest as he licked his lips
Been an awful good girl, Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight.
Dean was mouthing the words, his lips red and pouting, a Santa hat in his hands. He pranced forward, fucking pranced toward Sam, the skirt riding up his ass as he turned and undulated, and kept coming. Sam was fairly certain he couldn’t breathe. As Dean got closer, Sam waited for him to realize…to recognize…but he was abandoned into his performance, hands sliding down over his body, lifting the skirt as he bent forward, running hands down over his legs. The slide of his hips…then a sly turn of the head…
Santa baby, a ’54 convertible too, Light blue. I’ll wait up… Dean’s body slithered, rolling up, then dropping into a crouch and spreading his knees wide right in front of Sam. His eyes closed all coy and sexy, then opened looking directly at Sam. He didn’t know what he’d expected when Dean saw him, but the intensity, the powerful, raw sex that oozed off of him was intoxicating.
…hurry down the chimney tonight…
Dean slid his hand down over his cock on “chimney” tugging once on the g-string in a tease that made the college boys squeal again. Sam licked his lips, his eyes gliding up to from Dean’s groin to his face…his face…He was wearing eyeliner and mascara…dark accents against his tan and lipstick…sinfully red lips that were blowing kisses his way.. Sam swallowed and adjusted himself.
Dean spun around and bounced up to standing, then stepped down off the stage, sitting primly on the stairs and crossing his legs. He’d have been down right feminine if not for the hot and decidedly male sex that he exuded as he rolled his shoulders.
Think of all the fun I’ve missed, think of all the fellas that I haven’t kissed
He mouthed the words directly to Sam, licking his lips as he uncrossed his legs again, showing thigh up to the string of his g-string as he spread his legs obscenely and pushed upward to move his hips in a slow roll with the music.
Next year I could be just as good, if you’ll check off my Christmas list…
Dean turned and bent forward, his ass swaying in front of Sam, hovering over his knees and when he came back up he had the Santa hat in hand.
Santa baby, I wanna yacht, and really that’s not a lot…
Dean rubbed the hat under the skirt, sliding it through his thighs before pulling it up and out.
Been an angel all year, Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight
Sam’s eyes met Dean’s as a small smile turned the corners of his mouth and then Dean knocked the fedora off Sam’s head and replaced it with the Santa hat. Dean’s hands pushed Sam’s legs together, his smile widening as he saw the effect he’d already had…then Dean was straddling him, grinding down toward his legs without actually touching them. His face was inches away from Sam’s as he sang.
Santa honey, one little thing I really need, the deed to a platinum mine…
Sam was fairly certain that groan he heard had come from him as Dean’s body hovered over his and moved with a grace that Sam only ever got to see in a fight. He wanted to grab him and pull him down into his lap, to thrust his erection up against Dean’s thigh. He gripped the chair instead, holding on as Dean stood up again and wiggled backwards.
Dean’s hand dragged down over the lapel of Sam’s coat as he danced around behind Sam…and he was leaning over to sing in Sam’s ear.
Sammy cutie, and fill my stocking with a duplex and checks…sign your X on the line, Sammie cutie, and hurry down the chimney tonight.
He could fucking hear the pout in Dean’s voice as he sang into Sam’s ear and wiggled behind him, giving everyone a good view of his ass, Sam was sure. He adjusted himself again. Holy fuck he was hard. Dean’s hands scraped up Sam’s chest, then he kicked a leg up over Sam’s shoulder and it was all Sam could do not to reach up and cup his hand to his cock and balls.
Come and trim my Christmas tree, with some decorations bought at Tiffany’s.
Dean’s body slithered around Sam, and he was dizzy with want and the smell of Dean and the way everyone in the place was staring at them, but he didn’t care. “I’m gonna make you come, Sammy.” Dean growled in his ear as he moved back over Sam’s legs, his hands moving over Sam’s thighs as Sam fought coming just from the tone in his voice.
Sammy baby, forgot to mention one little thing, a ring, I don’t mean on the phone…
God! Dean’s cock scraped over Sam’s, hard and hot and heavy, hidden by only the tiny fabric of the g-string, and the sensation was barely dulled by the layers of fabric. “Dean.”
Sammy baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight…
Dean thrust forward, that barely there contact and the look on his face and the heat and Sam tossed his head back, unable to control the way his cock twitched and flooded come into his boxers, even when he saw the cocky look on Dean’s face that said he knew.
Dean ran a hand down over Sam’s face, his middle finger dipping into Sam’s mouth. He fucked it in and out as the last strains of the song faded, then Dean put the fedora onto his head and turned his back to Sam, ignoring the rest of the room and strutting…fucking strutting off stage.
It took Sam a few minutes to pull himself together enough to move, and the next dancer was in full swing as he reached a shaky hand for his beer…grateful that the club was dark and his suit was black and the motel was only a few blocks away.
He wasn’t a block away though when a hand closed on his wrist and he was being dragged into an alley between two all girl revues, pulled and pushed into the dirty wall, his head held between two hands as lips captured his and he tasted sweat and lipstick. “Fuck Sammy…just…fuck.” Dean was pulling at him, cupping the wet spot on the front of his pants. “Fuck,” he said again. “Want you now…want you…”
Sam was shaking as Dean pushed him down to his knees and he fumbled with trying to get his jeans open. Dean hissed as the cold winter air kissed the hot flesh of his cock…and Sam rushed to open his mouth to warm him again. “Fuck…” Dean’s hand was in his hair, knocking the Santa hat off his head. “Never like that…got so hard for you baby…”
Sam could feel his cock stirring at the dirty of it all, of kneeling in an alley between strip clubs, of the grimy wall at his back, the naked need in his brother’s husky voice, of all that and his brother’s cock fucking his mouth hard and fast. “Fuck, Sammy baby…that’s it…god…” He wasn’t really driving, but he swallowed and worked his tongue and Dean’s hand smacked the wall behind him and his rhythm stuttered, then he was coming, hot and salty into Sam’s throat.
He swallowed and licked until Dean had to pull his over stimulated cock out and tuck it gently back into his jeans…then he was hauling Sam up and pushed him against the wall, kissing him almost violently.
“Damn.” Dean finally said as he pulled back. “Holy fuck, Sam. How did you know?”
Sam smiled a sheepish sort of smile. “I’ve known…for a long time, Dean.”
Dean frowned. “You have?”
Sam chuckled. “Yeah.”
“Then why haven’t you ever…come…before?”
Sam raised an eyebrow and Dean blushed…actually blushed. “I wanted it to be special.”
“So you pick the night I wear a skirt and make-up. Great.”
Sam leaned in and kissed him. “Hottest fucking thing I ever saw.”
Dean turned and pointed to the street, then stopped. “Dude, you paid $500 for that.”
“Worth every penny.”
“I made $500 tonight. It was supposed to be for your Christmas present.”
Sam chuckled, putting an arm around him and pulling him close. “It was, Dean…best damn Christmas present you ever gave me.” He leaned down a bit, so he could whisper in Dean’s ear. “Now…let’s get back to the motel, so I can give you yours.”