sam/dean, "what i want"
Title: What I Want
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: R
Words: 601
Summary: In which Sam is a sneaky bastard and likes to tease.
Note: For my precious big_heart_june , who isn’t feeling well and needs cuddles. <3 Also written for the body: thighs square of my kissbingo card.
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Dean stalks out of the bathroom, glaring at his brother. Sam’s sprawled comfortably across the bed, arms folded behind his head, and a smirk on his face. Dean’s skin prickles, partially from the air conditioning kicking in, and mostly from Sam raking a positively filthy gaze over him from head to toe. But he has goosebumps, and he’s fucking cold, dammit.
“Sam.”
“Hmm?” Sam’s face is the picture of innocence.
“Where are the towels?”
“You don’t need one.”
“I’m dripping wet!”
Sam licks his lips entirely unsubtly. “Yes.”
It’s really hard to be indignant when Sam’s staring at him like he wants to eat Dean alive.
“Come here, Dean.”
“I’m not your bitch,” Dean growls, and Sam’s up and off the bed in a flash, hands gripping Dean’s shoulders and dragging him towards the bed.
“I’m going to fuck you,” Sam informs him, low and dangerous, and Dean shivers again, reluctantly allowing Sam to push him back.
“Oh yeah?” He snarks feebly, letting his legs fall apart and bracing himself on his elbows.
Sam nods. “Mhmm. But first…” He trails off, kneeling at the end of the bed and sliding his huge hands up the length of Dean’s legs. “God, I love your legs.”
Dean arches an eyebrow at him. “What, wrapped around your waist maybe,” he growls, only half-serious, and grins when Sam’s eyes darken intently. “You like that, Sammy?”
“Damn straight I do,” Sam mutters. Fuck, his hands are huge, warm and spread all across Dean’s skin. They’re a perfect mix of work-rough and elegant-smooth. Dean could easily spend hours daydreaming about the awesome shit Sam can do with his fingers, and that - that gets his cock even more interested, twitching and hardening without a touch.
Sam’s lips curve up at the corners, eyes half-hidden by the hair falling into his face. He ducks his head down and mouths at the inside of Dean’s thigh, fingernails scratching, lips brushing the skin, and Dean’s hips jerk up instinctively.
“Sam.”
“Nuh uh,” Sam says smoothly, tonguing his way up to where Dean’s thigh meets his hip, nipping and sucking as he goes.
Dean’s muscles are sparking all over, god, Sam’s mouth, but Sam just holds him down when Dean tries to shift and says, “Hold still,” and shit, okay, fine, but it doesn’t stop Dean from lolling his head to one side and shooting out comments.
“Seriously, Sammy?”
“Love your legs,” Sam mutters, and then sucks at one spot and Dean groans and fists his hands in the mattress. “Love seeing you spread out for me, all desperate for it.”
Sam’s tongue is hot and rough against his skin; it feels so damn good Dean could almost lay here and let him for hours. Sam seems insistent on worshipping every inch of his skin - his thighs at least, sucking up every last drop of water and kissing his way closer and closer to Dean’s cock and then backing off.
Never mind, forget hours, Dean wants Sam’s dick in him right the fuck now, and he tells Sam so.
Sam just laughs at him, the fucker, and Dean reaches down to tug roughly at his hair. “Sam…”
Seconds later, he feels one of Sam’s fingers dragging back, pressing lightly at his hole, rubbing over it teasingly. “Motherfucker, if you don’t get your-” He’s cut off abruptly by Sam moving to cover him completely and shutting him up with a kiss that’s all urgency and need, long, demanding sweeps of his tongue that leave Dean squirming underneath.
“Dean, Dean,” Sam pants against his skin, all amusement and dark promise. “I’m just getting started.”
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