Fic: Twisted (Dean/Sam)
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Sam
Ratting: NC-17
Warnings: Gunkink, public sex, abuse of business-wear
Notes: First in the "Fun With Hunting Supplies" series (yes, somehow I ended up with a lot of series')
Summary - Sam has a thing for Dean in a suit, Dean just likes the ties - but the guns aren't bad either.
Dean shrugged out of his suit jacket, tossing it across the front seat as he got out of the Impala. His white dress shirt was already plastered to his back where the shoulder holster pressed against him - fucking Arizona summer.
Their latest case had them blinding the local PD with fake badges and cheap suits and Dean was pretty sure if they didn't nail this thing tonight he was going to die of heat exhaustion from keeping up the act. They had just gotten rid of two detectives so they could be alone and check out the house where people kept disappearing and Dean could finally get comfortable. Or, well, as comfortable as one could get walking around inside a freaking oven.
He was undoing the knot of the tie when Sam said,
"Don't."
Dean groaned. He knew Sammy liked seeing him in a suit, they almost always had some pretty earth-shattering sex when the job called for dressing up and normally that was more than enough incentive for Dean to endure the confines of businesswear, but come on!
"Sam, it's like 115 degrees out here! I know you've got a kink, man, but seriously!"
"I do not have a kink!" Sam shot back, and the red in his cheeks could have been from the heat, but Dean knew better.
"Oh yeah? So then why shouldn't I take it off?" Dean asked, sliding the knot on his tie a little looser.
"Because..." Sam stalled for a second, "The cops could come back out here and see."
"Well, then they'll get to see a G-man without a jacket and tie." Dean had the tie halfway over his head before Sam whined.
"Dean."
"Yeah?"
"Ok," Sam sighed, "Maybe I like it a little bit."
"How much of a little bit?" Dean smirked, letting the tie dangle from his finger. Sam's eyes tracked it like a cat watching a mouse.
"Huh?" Sam asked distractedly.
"Whip it out, Sammy"
Sam just stared like he didn't understand what Dean was asking. For a guy who could get a full ride to Stanford, Sammy could be a major dumbass.
"Look, if you expect me to wear the damn thing out here on the surface of the fucking sun, I expect it to be worth my time. So show me how bad you want it Sammy boy."
Sam stood frozen in the hot wind like he thought Dean was making a joke or something.
"Fine," Dean breezed, moving to throw the tie into the car with his jacket.
"Wait!" God, Sam was easy.
The taller man slowly undid the shiny black belt and then his dress pants, glancing up every few seconds to check what Dean was doing. Sam looked like he was revealing the most shameful thing in the world when he pulled the waistband down below his hips to reveal his quickly swelling cock. Sammy didn't have a thing to be ashamed of.
"Now will you just, put it back on, ok?" Sammy wouldn't even meet his eyes.
Dean grinned, enjoying the way it made Sam's dick twitch and swell even more. He twirled the tie on his finger again as he moved around behind Sam. His brother opened his mouth like he was going to say something but was stopped short when Dean grabbed the collar of his jacket and tugged it down, effectively pinning Sam's arms at his side.
"Now why would I put it back on, little brother," Dean slid the tie over Sam's now rock hard erection, "when it looks so much better on you?" He tightened the knot back up fast and tight at the base of Sam's cock, and his brother grunted at the unexpected pressure.
Dean pressed himself up close behind Sammy, wrapping the younger man's tie around his fist until it met the base of his throat. He gave it a hard tug, enough to make Sam's breathing hitch.
"You like that, Sammy? Hmm?" he gave another tug and Sam moaned deep in his throat. "Is it the suit that does it for you? Or does my little lawyer like getting jerked around by a lawman?"
Sam pushed his hips back, rubbing his ass into Dean's crotch like he was going to ride him through his pants. Dean leaned into it, forcing his hard dick against Sam's firm flesh. He nuzzled against Sam's neck, working the collar of his shirt low enough to lick at the sweat-slick skin beneath. Heat and salt and the flavor of his own personal deadly sin and if Dean could go to hell with the taste of it on his tongue he figured that was a fair trade.
This was one of the things he loved most about fucking Sammy; not a minute in and he was already hard and willing and practically begging for whatever Dean's twisted little mind could come up with. And Dean was never one to disappoint his brother.
He had the gun out of the holster before he had any real good idea what he was going to do with it, but the second he touched the body-warm metal to Sam's skin the younger man shivered like it was ice and Dean knew exactly where this was going to go.
"Kinky little bitch," he whispered into his brother's ear. Sam shook all over again.
The muzzle smoothed over Sam's exposed length, Dean taking his time to just brush it back and forth over blood-rich flesh. Then slowly, he ran it across the crown until the sight was pressed hard into the little slit. Despite the tie still gripped at Sam's base a wealth of precome oozed down the barrel and Sammy whimpered when Dean just tightened the tie a little more.
Dean's free hand was pressing sweat-soaked cotton across Sam's chest, finding a hard nipple underneath to pinch and play with. There wasn't room for a spare thought between them, heat of the day completely lost in the swelter they were producing between themselves.
The grip of the gun was textured - rough almost-spikes with a rubberized coating - and when Dean pressed it to the underside of Sam's cockhead and jerked, he didn't need the whimper his brother made to tell him the skin would be raw - didn't need the buck of Sammy's hips to tell him that when he put his tongue to the spot later that Sam would twitch and moan and beg for more. So maybe Dean was twisted, he sure as hell wasn't the only one.
Sam's breathes were coming in rough, hitched pants by the time Dean got the barrel up close to Sam's face. His little brother didn't even hesitate to flick his tongue out and start licking up the fluid his dick had spilled over it.
They both knew the gun was loaded - a Winchester didn't walk around with an unloaded weapon - and even with the safety on, Dean knew that the bullet in the chamber was only working them both up more.
The was humping against Sam's ass in earnest then, watching the barrel disappear into his little brother's mouth, watching that wet pink tongue dart out to lap at ever nook of the gun to make sure he didn't miss a taste. By the time Sammy was hollowing his cheeks and just fucking his mouth with the damn thing, Dean had to get a finger in him or he just wasn't going to make it.
If it was possible, Sam was even hotter inside than out. Human shouldn't be able to survive temperatures like that, but it didn't seem to be bothering the younger man at all - he just pushed his hips back, forcing more of Dean's finger inside of him with a moan.
Dean brought the gun away from Sam's mouth and the way he craned him neck for it, curled his tongue around the tip was almost too fucking much. Dean had to pull his finger free to undo his belt and fly, but Sam had barely worked up a good whine before he had it back in place.
He pushed the gun up the back of Sam's shirt, dragging the wet metal across slick vertibrae. Every time the muzzle dipped over a ridge, the muscles around Dean's fingers - two now - tense-flexed like Sam wanted even more. He probably did, and that just got Dean to sucking a good hard mark on his brother's neck.
Sammy probably hadn't noticed all of the sweet needy sounds he was making, but they were curling up to smolder right at the base of Dean's cock and the air around them had to be shivering from the heat because Dean was burning alive with desperation.
With the tip of the barrel pressed against the base of Sam's spine, Dean worked his fingers - hitting the prostate once, hard - and pulled them free. Sammy groaned again at the loss, but Dean cut him off short.
"You want me to fuck you with it, Sammy?" he moaned into Sam's ear, not even trying to hide how turned on he was right then, "Be a bitch to clean up later, but I'll do it. Give you what you need."
One brush of metal over the puckered opening and Dean could feel Sam's knees buckle with just enough time to cushion their tumble to the ground. They were kneeling in the dust, Sam on all fours, and that was just way too much.
Dean worked up as much spit as his dry throat could manage, slicked off some of the sweat from Sam's back too and used it to get himself just wet enough to push past the resisting ring of muscle. It was going to burn like hell later but he knew Sam wouldn't care, now or then, even if he pretended too. Maybe it was the way they were raised, or maybe it was just some glitch in their systems, but whatever caused it, they both needed it like this sometimes, needed to danger and the roughness and the pain.
One hand was holding on to Sam's hip to fuck himself in and out and the other was still holding onto the gun so there was no real way for Dean to work Sam off except to pound his prostate hard and use what he knew they both needed to bring it all crashing down. He wasn't going to last much longer anyway, not with all of that tight heat milking him, so he stutteringly managed to loosen the knot around Sam's dick, not much but enough, and flicked the safety on the gun.
Every muscle Sam had tightened up at the sound of the shot Dean fired into the dirt beside them and before his brother had a chance to relax again, Dean pressed the searing heat of the muzzle to the very base of Sam's cock. Muscles contracted as the pained groan cracked midway through and Sammy was turning the dust to mud with pulse after pulse of white hot come.
Dean didn't even try to hold back after that, just let his vision white out, let the cold-hot burn sweep him clean of everything but sensation and Sam.
They came back to earth slowly and Dean had to wonder if it wouldn't be easier just to buy new suits rather than get these cleaned. Sam rolled over in the come-sticky dirt, pants still around his thighs and not fucking caring. Dean knew just how that felt.
He reached out and slid the tie completely off of Sam's spent dick before he brushed aside dark curls to look at the burn. Not bad really, not enough to blister, but the skin would be feverish and red and rough for days yet. Dean flicked a callused fingertips over it just to watch Sam twitch.
"You're a jerk," Sam gasped, pushing Dean's hand away but immediately replacing it with his own. The twitching didn't stop just because it was Sam fingering the burn now, but Sam didn't stop doing it either.
"Yeah, but I'm a jerk who made you come like a freight train," he laughed flopping down next to his brother. Seriously, fuck the suits.
"I guess we should get back to work," Sam said almost despondently after a few minutes.
"Yeah," Dean groaned, pulling himself up. It was going to be so much harder to focus on the damn house now that his body was fucked loose. "And I'm changing into my jeans."
"But-"
"Sam, I almost just fucked you with a gun out in full view of anybody who came up. Are you seriously gonna pull the 'what if the cops come back' thing again?" Dean leaned against the Impala, then remembered how dirty he was and pulled away with a jolt, checking to make sure he didn't get anything on her.
"Fine," Sam sighed, hoisting himself up slowly.
"Besides," Dean quipped, reaching into the back for his spare set of clothes, "I can always dress up for you later."