Day 17 - Getting Your Money's Worth, Supernatural, NC-17
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3119
Prompt: Someone's getting auctioned off!
Summary: Christmas Eve charity auction. Sam is up for bid. The only question is, who is going to win?
A/Ns and Warnings: Wincest, possible abuse of a Speedo, definate abuse of a Santa hat...and ribbon. Also, thanks to shotofjack for the quick beta...and I messed around with it after she sent it back...so any mistakes are mine. Oh, and for the record...these boys aren't mine. More's the pity.
This was ridiculous.
He wasn’t going out there.
Not like this. No way.
He didn’t care what kind of charity it was for or how sweet the guy was who asked them that morning to help out because the poltergeist they had finally put down had injured so many involved in the event.
Sam had volunteered them to help, figuring they’d be moving boxes, helping to set up or tear down. He didn’t know that when Jerry Fields said “auction” he’d meant auction, or that he meant one of them would be an item up for bid.
They’d fought, Sam had tried to convince Dean he’d raise more money for the silly thing…Dean had told him it was his fault for volunteering them…in the end, they’d tossed a coin.
Sam lost.
Therefore Sam was standing in the dressing room in some small local theater, in nothing more than a red Speedo, with a highly suggestive and completely embarrassing felt Christmas tree stitched to the front.
He closed his borrowed robe and shook his head turning away from the mirror. “Not one word,” he said to Dean, who looked like he was going to laugh until next Christmas over this.
“It’s Christmas Eve, Sammy. Where’s your spirit?” Dean said, parroting his own words back to him.
“In the back pocket of my jeans,” Sam hissed, pushing past him.
At least this was one of those events where the aspiring purchasers were not likely to expect anything more out of him than dinner and such…he hoped.
It was, after all, Christmas Eve…more associated with family than wild sex…he hoped.
It was a small town, with friendly people and the charity was for kids…the auction raised money for…well, he wasn’t sure, but it had something to do with kids…he was fairly certain.
Sam paced and considered bolting. This was not his sort of gig. This was more something he expected out of Dean. But seeing the sparkle in Dean’s eyes when he’d seen the Speedo…Sam shook his head and put his brother out of his mind. No. Dean was completely not touching him for a week.
A week. Apt punishment for making Sam look like a fool.
“You’re on.” The stage hand grabbed the back of his robe and shoved him toward that stage and Sam stumbled a little as he cleared the curtain.
“Next, we have a strapping young man, all the way from…well, we’re not sure where he’s from, but really ladies…who cares? He’s six foot four has dreamy green eyes, and who wouldn’t want to run their fingers through that mop of hair? Turn around Sam, let the ladies feast their eyes on what they’re bidding for.”
Sam glared at the perky announcer, but turned around slowly, holding his arms out to the side. “He’s so hot we had to put him in swimwear, girls…he kept melting the clothes we gave him to wear.
Sam’s eyes caught sight of Dean in the back of the room, smirking at his distress. Fucker. Two weeks.
“Okay, who’s going to start the bidding? Remember this is for a good cause, and a date with Sam. Do I hear $100?”
Sam knew his face had to be red…it burned with embarrassment as he watched the women of the room bid on him in increments of 5 and 10 dollars. He didn’t look at Dean, and after a few minutes stopped watching the women, looking anywhere else instead.
The banter of the auctioneer washed over and around him until he heard the gavel and “Sold, to Mrs. O’Malley for $985!”
His head came up and he saw Dean pointing and laughing at the woman who rose up out of her seat and came forward to claim him. She had to be 80 years old, in a loudly printed dress and big fluffy hair with a hat that seemed to defy the laws of gravity. Sam groaned before he put on a smile and stepped off the stage.
Mrs. O’Malley paid for him, giggling like a school girl and pulled him out into the hall. “Heh…I told that Molly Barrol I would beat her for the prettiest boy on the block.”
Sam chuckled and crossed his arms over his chest, still feeling very exposed. “Now, here’s my address. I live near the center of town, right next to the church. You get yourself dressed and come on out. You dress warm now, there’s a storm a coming.”
“Yes ma’am.” Sam chuckled and turned to go back to the dressing room. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. She seemed nice enough…and he only had to be there for a few hours.
“Dude…you got bought by a gramma.” Dean said as Sam finished dressing and Sam didn’t even look up, just knelt to tie his shoes.
“There was a hot chick in the front row…I got her number. Maybe I’ll have me a date tonight too.”
Sam turned to glare at his brother. “Dude. Three weeks.”
Dean looked confused. “What?”
“That’s how long it’s gonna be before I let you touch me again. Go out with some whore and I’ll make it five.”
“Dude, harsh.” Dean smiled, his tongue trapped beneath his teeth. “And totally worth it to think of you with Granny. You gonna let her kiss you, Sammy?”
Sam threw a towel at him and stalked past. “Shut up.”
Sam could have asked for a ride, but he was steamed, and another minute with Dean wasn’t going to make it better. In fact, he’d probably hit him. Hard.
So, he walked. It wasn’t too cold, but the wind was biting and, as he approached the house, it started to snow. His hands were cold as he knocked and she bustled him into the house almost instantly.
“I’m so happy to finally have company,” she said as she directed him to an old fashioned sofa in front of a roaring fire and handed him a cup of tea. She took a seat on the other side of the couch. “Most of the young folk around here can’t be bothered to come visit with an old lady, and my own kids are gone. My friend Myrna died last year, and I’ve been alone…well, except for the other old bitties in this town.”
Sam sipped his tea and let her talk, figuring that was his job. “They never liked me much.”
“I’m sure that isn’t true.” Sam said dismissively.
She laughed unexpectedly, loud and raucous. “You really aren’t from around here, are you?” She drank her tea and looked at him, a sparkle in her eye. “I’m something of the town rebel, Sam. I speak my mind. I do what pleases me. It doesn’t sit well.”
Sam chuckled. “It’s a small town, Mrs. O’Malley. They tend to not like it much when someone stirs the waters.”
“Bette. Please, call me Bette. Mrs. O’Malley sounds so old…and since Fred died ten years ago, I haven’t really been a missus for a while.”
Sam was amused. He’d worried that this would be a bad thing, but truthfully he was starting to like the old lady. “This is a lovely home, Bette.”
“Don’t patronize me. It’s a sappy old woman’s home. I know it. It’s Myrna’s fault really. She was the sappy one of the two of us. Most of this crap is here because she wanted it.” She stood up and went to the mantle, pulling down a picture. “This is Myrna, back before the cancer.”
The woman in the picture she handed Sam was beautiful, with long dark hair she wore piled on her head and a smile that would melt the snow outside. “Wasn’t she a beauty?” Bette’s voice was reverent, and more than a little sad.
It hit Sam like a two by four to the gut. “You loved her.”
Bette smiled and took the picture back. “Yes, indeed Sam. I did. More than anything.”
She put the picture back on the mantle and poured more tea. “Yet another reason this town doesn’t like me. She was an outsider, like you. Came here to recover from a bad divorce. Younger than me too. Fred and I took her in, poor wounded little bird.”
She pulled another picture off a side table. “That’s Fred. He was a big man, like you.”
He had to be at least six foot, judging by his height next to the car he was standing beside. “His first car. He was so proud.”
“Myrna wanted to turn this into a bed and breakfast before the cancer.” She came back to the couch. “I just didn’t have the heart after she died. Are you hungry? I have dinner in the oven.”
Sam smiled. “I would love some dinner, Bette.”
“Come on then.”
She led him back to the kitchen and let him set the table. “I hope stuffed cabbage is okay. It was my Fred’s favorite.”
“It smells great.”
Bette O’Malley was a consummate hostess, talking his ear off about the town’s gossip and the two great loves in her life while they ate the best stuffed cabbage Sam had ever tasted and sipped on a bottle of wine that was older than Sam. He helped clear the dishes and volunteered to wash them, but she waved him away. “Sit down, sit down. I can handle a few dishes.”
She asked questions then, about Sam and where he’d come from. He talked a little about traveling, and all the places he’d seen. When she was done with the dishes, she smiled at him. “Thank you, for keeping an old lady company on Christmas Eve, Sam.”
Sam smiled. “I had a wonderful time, Bette. And…I had to make sure you got your money’s worth.”
“In that case, would you indulge me one last thing?”
“Sure.” Sam didn’t think there was anything she could ask that would be shocking or something he couldn’t do.
Her eyes were bright. “Spend the night?”
Sam nearly choked until she laughed. “I want to make sure this town has something new to talk about…and you walking out of here as Christmas morning services are starting would do that!” She smiled. “Myrna’s room, you can sleep there. I put fresh sheets on the bed this morning, and it has a private bathroom, so you can wash up if you need to.”
Sam weighed the notion. Dean would probably worry…then again, Dean deserved at least worry. “Yeah, I can do that.”
“Let me show you.” Bette took his hand and took him up the stairs. They stopped outside a closed door. “I’m a hard sleeper, and a trifle hard of hearing…so don’t worry about the noise.” She stood on tip toes and pulled his head closer to kiss his cheek, then wandered off toward another door down the hall.
“Noise?” Sam shook his head and opened the door, thinking that a hot shower would be nice…until he saw the room…the queen sized bed, and Dean, stretched out on it, naked, but for a Santa’s hat. “Dean?”
He stepped in and closed the door. “What the fuck?”
Dean grinned. “Merry Christmas Sammy.”
“Dude…how did you…what’s going on?”
“I bought me a present,” Dean said, propping himself up on his elbows.
“Mrs. O’Malley-“
“Only had four hundred dollars, Sammy.” He licked his lips. Those fucking, fuckable lips.
Sam was a little slow, partially because he was busy thinking about what was under the Santa’s hat. “What?” His eyes slowly raised up to Dean’s. “Oh.”
Dean’s grin got bigger. “Yeah. Oh is right. I made a deal with her. Told her you were my lover and I wanted to make it a surprise for you.”
“You told her what?”
“She thought it was romantic, Sammy. So…she got the first half of the evening. I get the second half.”
“Where’d you get $500?”
Dean sighed and dropped back to the bed. “Are you gonna keep asking questions…or are you going to get naked so we can get to the part where we fuck?”
Sam shook his head and pulled off his outer shirt. “Nope. I told you. Three weeks.”
Dean groaned. “That was before.”
“Before what?”
Dean stretched out and back, his hands behind his head. “Before you knew that it was me that bought you.”
“Dude? That’s the argument you’re gonna use?”
“Before I told you that I liked the Christmas Tree?”
Sam shook his head and pulled his t-shirt off. “Uh-uh. Not working.”
“Before I gave you your present?”
Sam turned and looked at him. “What present?”
Dean’s face was beaming with pleasure as he reached for the Santa hat and pulled it away, revealing Dean’s cock, hard and wound with ribbon, from balls to tip with a big red bow in the middle. Sam didn’t know whether to laugh or finish undressing. “You are one sick fuck.”
Dean pouted, and Sam cursed under his breath. He almost never could resist the pouting. It made him want to nip and bite and lick that protruding lip. “Want me to put it under your tree, Sammy?” Dean asked, thrusting his hips in Sam’s direction.
Sam rolled his eyes, and dropped his jeans, revealing the Speedos he hadn’t bothered to take off because he’d been in a hurry to get out of there. Dean’s eyes got big and his smile bigger. “Oh, and I’m the sick fuck.”
“You’re the one turned on by a Christmas tree on a bathing suit.” Sam pointed out as he kicked free of his jeans.
“You’re the one wearing it…maybe that’s what turns me on.” Dean’s eyes were starting to get that lust look…the one that came before he took matters into his own hands.
Sam crawled onto the bed and wrapped his hand around the ribbon. “You do this just for me?” he asked, his voice a husky drawl.
“I know how much you like to open presents.” Dean responded, barely more than a whisper.
Sam pulled the bow off and stroked his brother’s cock slowly. “So pretty.” He licked his lips and met Dean’s eyes…”I meant what I said though, Dean. You don’t get to touch.”
Dean’s eyes went dark and Sam smiled. “If you try, I’ll stop.” He pulled his hand away for emphasis and Dean moaned. “Hands up…above your head.”
“Sammy…” It was a whine and a groan rolled into one and Sam chuckled. It had been a while since he’d had Dean this worked up.
To silence him, Sam grabbed him again, squeezing tight and stroking stiffly until Dean’s hips came off the bed. “God, Sam…It’s starting to…the ribbon…get it off…”
Dean’s cock was throbbing against the constraints of the ribbon. Sam smiled and moved so that he was straddling Dean’s legs. “Don’t worry…I’ve got you.”
Sam leaned down after finding the edge of the ribbon and grabbed it in his teeth, unwinding it slowly, dropping the ribbon each time he revealed more flesh to lick it and suck at it. Dean was cursing him as he closed his mouth over the base of his dick, humming a Christmas carol into the skin before he went back to unwrapping the ribbon.
“Fuck, Sam.” Dean gasped as it came loose and Dean’s cock started oozing. Sam smiled, because he knew all it would take was one touch in the right spot and his brother would come.
“Want it Dean?” Sam asked, his mouth poised over the head of his cock.
“Yes, Sam…please.”
Sam swallowed him completely and Dean jerked up into his mouth, coming hard and fast into his throat. Sam rode him back down to the mattress before sucking his way off. Dean reached for him, but Sam pulled away. “No touching.”
“Sam…come on.”
Sam grabbed his hands and held them up over his head, then kissed him, pushing his tongue past Dean’s lips. “No touching.” He kissed him again, then ran a tongue over his lips and down to his chin. “I promise…I’ll give you your money’s worth,” he whispered into Dean’s ear and he felt Dean’s body shiver. “Roll over.” He rose up enough to give Dean room to flip, then pulled the Speedos down and off, tossing them up by Dean’s head. “Hold those for me?”
Sam was hard and wanted nothing more than to just slam into Dean…but this was Christmas and a little foreplay was in order. Sam’s fingers stroked over Dean’s upturned ass, caressing and parting his cheeks to expose his tight hole. Dean started when Sam’s tongue touched him. “Sam?”
“Hmmm?” He lapped around the ring, then kissed above it, around it…Dean wiggled under him.
“What…what are you doing?”
“I think that should be fairly obvious.”
“Ugh.” Dean’s words failed as Sam curled his tongue and pushed it inside. Sam wiggled his tongue around before pulling it back out and licking over the hole again, making Dean squirm.
As Dean settled, Sam pushed in again, sliding one long finger in under his tongue, pressing deep against Dean to open him up. He held the finger still inside and fucked him with his tongue. Dean’s hands squeezed into the pillows, his body rocking involuntarily against Sam as he made some sort of mewling sound that Sam had never heard.
Sam got a second finger inside and Dean arched up. “Fuck…Sam…”
Sam smirked as his tongue slid out and a third finger slid in and he pushed against his brother’s prostate. “Yeah…I’m getting there baby….” He stroked a little with all three fingers, then rose up on his knees. He wasn’t going to last long as it was. If he kept teasing Dean, he’d come before he ever got inside him, and he’d never hear the end of that.
It had been a while since they’d done this…settling for blow jobs and hand jobs due to exhaustion and time constraints. It felt good. Dean was hot and already moaning as Sam worked into him. “Dean…” Sam pulled him back onto him as he thrust in and up and god but he was going to come fast. “Fuck…fuck…” Three, four thrusts and Dean squeezed around his cock and Sam was done…falling forward as he came, shaking and sweating against his brother’s skin.
“Merry Christmas.” Sam whispered, moving to lie beside his still panting brother. Dean rolled over, turning to look at Sam.
His smile was crooked and silly. “Five Hundred Dollars, Sammy…that’s a lot of pool.”
Sam frowned up at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Dean sat up, one eyebrow raised. The red ribbon he’d tied around his dick was in his hands. In one quick move, he had straddled Sam and was wrapping the ribbon around his wrists. Once he had it tied, he kissed Sam deep. “It means I haven’t begun to get my money’s worth, little brother.”
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3119
Prompt: Someone's getting auctioned off!
Summary: Christmas Eve charity auction. Sam is up for bid. The only question is, who is going to win?
A/Ns and Warnings: Wincest, possible abuse of a Speedo, definate abuse of a Santa hat...and ribbon. Also, thanks to shotofjack for the quick beta...and I messed around with it after she sent it back...so any mistakes are mine. Oh, and for the record...these boys aren't mine. More's the pity.
This was ridiculous.
He wasn’t going out there.
Not like this. No way.
He didn’t care what kind of charity it was for or how sweet the guy was who asked them that morning to help out because the poltergeist they had finally put down had injured so many involved in the event.
Sam had volunteered them to help, figuring they’d be moving boxes, helping to set up or tear down. He didn’t know that when Jerry Fields said “auction” he’d meant auction, or that he meant one of them would be an item up for bid.
They’d fought, Sam had tried to convince Dean he’d raise more money for the silly thing…Dean had told him it was his fault for volunteering them…in the end, they’d tossed a coin.
Sam lost.
Therefore Sam was standing in the dressing room in some small local theater, in nothing more than a red Speedo, with a highly suggestive and completely embarrassing felt Christmas tree stitched to the front.
He closed his borrowed robe and shook his head turning away from the mirror. “Not one word,” he said to Dean, who looked like he was going to laugh until next Christmas over this.
“It’s Christmas Eve, Sammy. Where’s your spirit?” Dean said, parroting his own words back to him.
“In the back pocket of my jeans,” Sam hissed, pushing past him.
At least this was one of those events where the aspiring purchasers were not likely to expect anything more out of him than dinner and such…he hoped.
It was, after all, Christmas Eve…more associated with family than wild sex…he hoped.
It was a small town, with friendly people and the charity was for kids…the auction raised money for…well, he wasn’t sure, but it had something to do with kids…he was fairly certain.
Sam paced and considered bolting. This was not his sort of gig. This was more something he expected out of Dean. But seeing the sparkle in Dean’s eyes when he’d seen the Speedo…Sam shook his head and put his brother out of his mind. No. Dean was completely not touching him for a week.
A week. Apt punishment for making Sam look like a fool.
“You’re on.” The stage hand grabbed the back of his robe and shoved him toward that stage and Sam stumbled a little as he cleared the curtain.
“Next, we have a strapping young man, all the way from…well, we’re not sure where he’s from, but really ladies…who cares? He’s six foot four has dreamy green eyes, and who wouldn’t want to run their fingers through that mop of hair? Turn around Sam, let the ladies feast their eyes on what they’re bidding for.”
Sam glared at the perky announcer, but turned around slowly, holding his arms out to the side. “He’s so hot we had to put him in swimwear, girls…he kept melting the clothes we gave him to wear.
Sam’s eyes caught sight of Dean in the back of the room, smirking at his distress. Fucker. Two weeks.
“Okay, who’s going to start the bidding? Remember this is for a good cause, and a date with Sam. Do I hear $100?”
Sam knew his face had to be red…it burned with embarrassment as he watched the women of the room bid on him in increments of 5 and 10 dollars. He didn’t look at Dean, and after a few minutes stopped watching the women, looking anywhere else instead.
The banter of the auctioneer washed over and around him until he heard the gavel and “Sold, to Mrs. O’Malley for $985!”
His head came up and he saw Dean pointing and laughing at the woman who rose up out of her seat and came forward to claim him. She had to be 80 years old, in a loudly printed dress and big fluffy hair with a hat that seemed to defy the laws of gravity. Sam groaned before he put on a smile and stepped off the stage.
Mrs. O’Malley paid for him, giggling like a school girl and pulled him out into the hall. “Heh…I told that Molly Barrol I would beat her for the prettiest boy on the block.”
Sam chuckled and crossed his arms over his chest, still feeling very exposed. “Now, here’s my address. I live near the center of town, right next to the church. You get yourself dressed and come on out. You dress warm now, there’s a storm a coming.”
“Yes ma’am.” Sam chuckled and turned to go back to the dressing room. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. She seemed nice enough…and he only had to be there for a few hours.
“Dude…you got bought by a gramma.” Dean said as Sam finished dressing and Sam didn’t even look up, just knelt to tie his shoes.
“There was a hot chick in the front row…I got her number. Maybe I’ll have me a date tonight too.”
Sam turned to glare at his brother. “Dude. Three weeks.”
Dean looked confused. “What?”
“That’s how long it’s gonna be before I let you touch me again. Go out with some whore and I’ll make it five.”
“Dude, harsh.” Dean smiled, his tongue trapped beneath his teeth. “And totally worth it to think of you with Granny. You gonna let her kiss you, Sammy?”
Sam threw a towel at him and stalked past. “Shut up.”
Sam could have asked for a ride, but he was steamed, and another minute with Dean wasn’t going to make it better. In fact, he’d probably hit him. Hard.
So, he walked. It wasn’t too cold, but the wind was biting and, as he approached the house, it started to snow. His hands were cold as he knocked and she bustled him into the house almost instantly.
“I’m so happy to finally have company,” she said as she directed him to an old fashioned sofa in front of a roaring fire and handed him a cup of tea. She took a seat on the other side of the couch. “Most of the young folk around here can’t be bothered to come visit with an old lady, and my own kids are gone. My friend Myrna died last year, and I’ve been alone…well, except for the other old bitties in this town.”
Sam sipped his tea and let her talk, figuring that was his job. “They never liked me much.”
“I’m sure that isn’t true.” Sam said dismissively.
She laughed unexpectedly, loud and raucous. “You really aren’t from around here, are you?” She drank her tea and looked at him, a sparkle in her eye. “I’m something of the town rebel, Sam. I speak my mind. I do what pleases me. It doesn’t sit well.”
Sam chuckled. “It’s a small town, Mrs. O’Malley. They tend to not like it much when someone stirs the waters.”
“Bette. Please, call me Bette. Mrs. O’Malley sounds so old…and since Fred died ten years ago, I haven’t really been a missus for a while.”
Sam was amused. He’d worried that this would be a bad thing, but truthfully he was starting to like the old lady. “This is a lovely home, Bette.”
“Don’t patronize me. It’s a sappy old woman’s home. I know it. It’s Myrna’s fault really. She was the sappy one of the two of us. Most of this crap is here because she wanted it.” She stood up and went to the mantle, pulling down a picture. “This is Myrna, back before the cancer.”
The woman in the picture she handed Sam was beautiful, with long dark hair she wore piled on her head and a smile that would melt the snow outside. “Wasn’t she a beauty?” Bette’s voice was reverent, and more than a little sad.
It hit Sam like a two by four to the gut. “You loved her.”
Bette smiled and took the picture back. “Yes, indeed Sam. I did. More than anything.”
She put the picture back on the mantle and poured more tea. “Yet another reason this town doesn’t like me. She was an outsider, like you. Came here to recover from a bad divorce. Younger than me too. Fred and I took her in, poor wounded little bird.”
She pulled another picture off a side table. “That’s Fred. He was a big man, like you.”
He had to be at least six foot, judging by his height next to the car he was standing beside. “His first car. He was so proud.”
“Myrna wanted to turn this into a bed and breakfast before the cancer.” She came back to the couch. “I just didn’t have the heart after she died. Are you hungry? I have dinner in the oven.”
Sam smiled. “I would love some dinner, Bette.”
“Come on then.”
She led him back to the kitchen and let him set the table. “I hope stuffed cabbage is okay. It was my Fred’s favorite.”
“It smells great.”
Bette O’Malley was a consummate hostess, talking his ear off about the town’s gossip and the two great loves in her life while they ate the best stuffed cabbage Sam had ever tasted and sipped on a bottle of wine that was older than Sam. He helped clear the dishes and volunteered to wash them, but she waved him away. “Sit down, sit down. I can handle a few dishes.”
She asked questions then, about Sam and where he’d come from. He talked a little about traveling, and all the places he’d seen. When she was done with the dishes, she smiled at him. “Thank you, for keeping an old lady company on Christmas Eve, Sam.”
Sam smiled. “I had a wonderful time, Bette. And…I had to make sure you got your money’s worth.”
“In that case, would you indulge me one last thing?”
“Sure.” Sam didn’t think there was anything she could ask that would be shocking or something he couldn’t do.
Her eyes were bright. “Spend the night?”
Sam nearly choked until she laughed. “I want to make sure this town has something new to talk about…and you walking out of here as Christmas morning services are starting would do that!” She smiled. “Myrna’s room, you can sleep there. I put fresh sheets on the bed this morning, and it has a private bathroom, so you can wash up if you need to.”
Sam weighed the notion. Dean would probably worry…then again, Dean deserved at least worry. “Yeah, I can do that.”
“Let me show you.” Bette took his hand and took him up the stairs. They stopped outside a closed door. “I’m a hard sleeper, and a trifle hard of hearing…so don’t worry about the noise.” She stood on tip toes and pulled his head closer to kiss his cheek, then wandered off toward another door down the hall.
“Noise?” Sam shook his head and opened the door, thinking that a hot shower would be nice…until he saw the room…the queen sized bed, and Dean, stretched out on it, naked, but for a Santa’s hat. “Dean?”
He stepped in and closed the door. “What the fuck?”
Dean grinned. “Merry Christmas Sammy.”
“Dude…how did you…what’s going on?”
“I bought me a present,” Dean said, propping himself up on his elbows.
“Mrs. O’Malley-“
“Only had four hundred dollars, Sammy.” He licked his lips. Those fucking, fuckable lips.
Sam was a little slow, partially because he was busy thinking about what was under the Santa’s hat. “What?” His eyes slowly raised up to Dean’s. “Oh.”
Dean’s grin got bigger. “Yeah. Oh is right. I made a deal with her. Told her you were my lover and I wanted to make it a surprise for you.”
“You told her what?”
“She thought it was romantic, Sammy. So…she got the first half of the evening. I get the second half.”
“Where’d you get $500?”
Dean sighed and dropped back to the bed. “Are you gonna keep asking questions…or are you going to get naked so we can get to the part where we fuck?”
Sam shook his head and pulled off his outer shirt. “Nope. I told you. Three weeks.”
Dean groaned. “That was before.”
“Before what?”
Dean stretched out and back, his hands behind his head. “Before you knew that it was me that bought you.”
“Dude? That’s the argument you’re gonna use?”
“Before I told you that I liked the Christmas Tree?”
Sam shook his head and pulled his t-shirt off. “Uh-uh. Not working.”
“Before I gave you your present?”
Sam turned and looked at him. “What present?”
Dean’s face was beaming with pleasure as he reached for the Santa hat and pulled it away, revealing Dean’s cock, hard and wound with ribbon, from balls to tip with a big red bow in the middle. Sam didn’t know whether to laugh or finish undressing. “You are one sick fuck.”
Dean pouted, and Sam cursed under his breath. He almost never could resist the pouting. It made him want to nip and bite and lick that protruding lip. “Want me to put it under your tree, Sammy?” Dean asked, thrusting his hips in Sam’s direction.
Sam rolled his eyes, and dropped his jeans, revealing the Speedos he hadn’t bothered to take off because he’d been in a hurry to get out of there. Dean’s eyes got big and his smile bigger. “Oh, and I’m the sick fuck.”
“You’re the one turned on by a Christmas tree on a bathing suit.” Sam pointed out as he kicked free of his jeans.
“You’re the one wearing it…maybe that’s what turns me on.” Dean’s eyes were starting to get that lust look…the one that came before he took matters into his own hands.
Sam crawled onto the bed and wrapped his hand around the ribbon. “You do this just for me?” he asked, his voice a husky drawl.
“I know how much you like to open presents.” Dean responded, barely more than a whisper.
Sam pulled the bow off and stroked his brother’s cock slowly. “So pretty.” He licked his lips and met Dean’s eyes…”I meant what I said though, Dean. You don’t get to touch.”
Dean’s eyes went dark and Sam smiled. “If you try, I’ll stop.” He pulled his hand away for emphasis and Dean moaned. “Hands up…above your head.”
“Sammy…” It was a whine and a groan rolled into one and Sam chuckled. It had been a while since he’d had Dean this worked up.
To silence him, Sam grabbed him again, squeezing tight and stroking stiffly until Dean’s hips came off the bed. “God, Sam…It’s starting to…the ribbon…get it off…”
Dean’s cock was throbbing against the constraints of the ribbon. Sam smiled and moved so that he was straddling Dean’s legs. “Don’t worry…I’ve got you.”
Sam leaned down after finding the edge of the ribbon and grabbed it in his teeth, unwinding it slowly, dropping the ribbon each time he revealed more flesh to lick it and suck at it. Dean was cursing him as he closed his mouth over the base of his dick, humming a Christmas carol into the skin before he went back to unwrapping the ribbon.
“Fuck, Sam.” Dean gasped as it came loose and Dean’s cock started oozing. Sam smiled, because he knew all it would take was one touch in the right spot and his brother would come.
“Want it Dean?” Sam asked, his mouth poised over the head of his cock.
“Yes, Sam…please.”
Sam swallowed him completely and Dean jerked up into his mouth, coming hard and fast into his throat. Sam rode him back down to the mattress before sucking his way off. Dean reached for him, but Sam pulled away. “No touching.”
“Sam…come on.”
Sam grabbed his hands and held them up over his head, then kissed him, pushing his tongue past Dean’s lips. “No touching.” He kissed him again, then ran a tongue over his lips and down to his chin. “I promise…I’ll give you your money’s worth,” he whispered into Dean’s ear and he felt Dean’s body shiver. “Roll over.” He rose up enough to give Dean room to flip, then pulled the Speedos down and off, tossing them up by Dean’s head. “Hold those for me?”
Sam was hard and wanted nothing more than to just slam into Dean…but this was Christmas and a little foreplay was in order. Sam’s fingers stroked over Dean’s upturned ass, caressing and parting his cheeks to expose his tight hole. Dean started when Sam’s tongue touched him. “Sam?”
“Hmmm?” He lapped around the ring, then kissed above it, around it…Dean wiggled under him.
“What…what are you doing?”
“I think that should be fairly obvious.”
“Ugh.” Dean’s words failed as Sam curled his tongue and pushed it inside. Sam wiggled his tongue around before pulling it back out and licking over the hole again, making Dean squirm.
As Dean settled, Sam pushed in again, sliding one long finger in under his tongue, pressing deep against Dean to open him up. He held the finger still inside and fucked him with his tongue. Dean’s hands squeezed into the pillows, his body rocking involuntarily against Sam as he made some sort of mewling sound that Sam had never heard.
Sam got a second finger inside and Dean arched up. “Fuck…Sam…”
Sam smirked as his tongue slid out and a third finger slid in and he pushed against his brother’s prostate. “Yeah…I’m getting there baby….” He stroked a little with all three fingers, then rose up on his knees. He wasn’t going to last long as it was. If he kept teasing Dean, he’d come before he ever got inside him, and he’d never hear the end of that.
It had been a while since they’d done this…settling for blow jobs and hand jobs due to exhaustion and time constraints. It felt good. Dean was hot and already moaning as Sam worked into him. “Dean…” Sam pulled him back onto him as he thrust in and up and god but he was going to come fast. “Fuck…fuck…” Three, four thrusts and Dean squeezed around his cock and Sam was done…falling forward as he came, shaking and sweating against his brother’s skin.
“Merry Christmas.” Sam whispered, moving to lie beside his still panting brother. Dean rolled over, turning to look at Sam.
His smile was crooked and silly. “Five Hundred Dollars, Sammy…that’s a lot of pool.”
Sam frowned up at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Dean sat up, one eyebrow raised. The red ribbon he’d tied around his dick was in his hands. In one quick move, he had straddled Sam and was wrapping the ribbon around his wrists. Once he had it tied, he kissed Sam deep. “It means I haven’t begun to get my money’s worth, little brother.”