NEW SPN CRACKFIC!!!
Firecrotch (or, that time when the Winchester boys banged Lindsay Lohan)
By: dramaphile
Rated: NC-17. No kiddies, plzkthx!
Paring: Sam/Dean/Lindsay Lohan. No really.
Warnings: Threesome sex of several varieties, Wincest. RPS. Crackiness.
Summary: See title.
Spoilers: Mild for Hollywood Babylon and a line from Croatoan
Disclaimer: Somehow I doubt this was how Kripke imagined it.... No money made, no permission given.
Notes: Thankies to everyone who egged me on while writing this crack porn fic of DOOM (you know who you are!!) ad to cmere, who did a wonderful job betaing this and feeding my ego.:)
We could go to T.J. or Hollywood, see if we could bang Lindsay Lohan
-Dean, "Croatoan"
No matter what those tabloid fuckers say, Lindsay Lohan is not a whore. Really. She's more of a serial monogamist really, because she's had a lot of boyfriends, and she's almost always got one, but she just doesn't do one night stands, no matter what fucking Paris Hilton says. Because that bitch needs to shut her mouth if she wants to keep her perfect white teeth in her skinny ass collagen-pumped mouth.
And don't even get her started about that rat bastard Brandon Davis. Last time she gives a hummer to an ugly rich heir just for the fuck of it, that's for sure.
At least she's clean now, sober for 90 days and counting (with a couple of slip-ups, okay, because she can't resist those funky pink martinis they serve at Pure, and burying the hatchet with Hilary seriously deserved a couple of shots of tequila to celebrate the end of that bullshit. But mostly, she's been good. Really.), and the diet Red Bull she's been sipping has her buzzed, but clear-headed. Well, mostly.
Les Deux is one of her favorite hang outs, and not just because Paris sometimes stops by and they get a chance to renew their old bitch fight. Because that's some fun shit and hey, Lindsay knows that no publicity is bad publicity. She likes it here because the bouncers only let the really pretty people in, at least if they're not celebs as well, and they're really good at picking out smoking hot men to stock the dance floor with. Like the two guys who are making their way across the club, looking about as un-Hollywood as possible in scuffed boots and button-down shirts with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow and jeans that reveal all that Lindsay wants to know. Yeah, she's definitely digging the menu tonight.
This place is a hell of a lot nicer than the usual dive bars they frequent, and Sam actually feels a bit awkward after nearly two years of smoky pool halls, cheap beer and cheaper women. He's been to LA before, took a trip down for a week once when he was on Spring Break, and he and Jess spent the whole time tanning on the beach and drinking fancy cocktails at slick clubs like this and strolling the Venice Beach Boardwalk and the Santa Monica Pier just to enjoy the atmosphere. Now? He can think of a hundred places he would rather be, but Dean picked this place, said it was hopping with slutty celebrity chicks just waiting for a real man. So yeah, not Sam's first choice, but he's here now, isn't he?
He's not sure whether to feel lucky or cursed by the way the bouncer just unhooked that velvet rope when Dean gave him this look like he was going to fuck him six ways to Sunday just with his eyes and then winked in a really obscene way. It's not jealousy that stabs in Sam's gut at the look the bouncer gives him back, like he'd take anything Dean wanted to give, but it might be something close to it.
They don't serve beer here, because it's too pedestrian for the Hollywood royalty, so the Winchester boys settle on tequila shots, downing three each after handing over another of Dean's fake credit cards. It's just barely a buzz, but Sam's feeling more mellow already. The music is only marginally good - some slow-beat techno mash-up - but it's sort of a welcome change from the down-home country and tired mullet rock they usually encounter in drinking establishments on the road.
It takes Dean all of five minutes to spot her, and Sam can't help but laugh at the irony of it. We could go to T.J. or Hollywood, see if we could bang Lindsay Lohan. Dean had said, almost like it was a joke, but the glint in his eye now is the sort he gets when he's found his prey.
"Think what the tabloids say is true?" Dean says just loud enough to be heard over the bass, nudging Sam with his elbow.
"Must be a grain of truth to it," is the reply, because if there's anything you learn from hunting, it's that rumors and stories usually end up being at least half-true. She's sitting in this hideous pink booth, slouching in a clingy top and short skirt and boots that go almost all the way to the hem.
Sam wants to ask, "Her? Really?" because there's a dozen prettier girls in this place, maybe even two dozen, but Dean's got that smirk forming and Sam knows that it's all or nothing. And he thinks Dean meant it when he said, "We." It wouldn't be the first time they've had a girl together, and they've done it with two girls in the same room a few times. Sam knows if he plays his cards right, there'll be practically nothing between him and Dean's naked, aroused body. He'd tried once when it was just the two of them, when Sam was less drunk than he acted, and pinned Dean against the hideous motel wallpaper, brushing his mouth over his brother's lips, not nearly as sloppy as it should have been. Dean had pushed him off in two seconds flat, declaring that Sam was drunk off his ass as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. So this, Lindsay fucking Lohan, is as close as Sam gets to what he wants.
Dean's smooth and self-assured in his approach, and Sam knows this game, how he has to give Dean a couple of minutes to talk her up and ply her with smiles and touches. And Sam just needs to stand at the bar looking nonchalant before her eyes travel toward him. Dean looks over, too, raising an eyebrow, and that's the cue.
She's not so perfect-looking up close, but she is beautiful in that Hollywood sort of way. Her eyes are bright green under the heavy black eye-makeup, and her shoulders are dusted with freckles. Dean's eyes keep darting across her bared skin and Sam just knows that Dean's thinking about playing connect-the-dots with his tongue until she's squirming and begging. Yeah, that would be pretty hot.
"Sam, this is- it's Lizzie, right?"
"Lindsay," she corrects, smiling, and Sam has to hand it to Dean, he's got her practically eating from his palm already. Especially now that she thinks they're not after her just because she's famous. Even though they clearly are.
"Lindsay, this is my friend Sam." He doesn't say 'brother,' because some girls get a little skittish about that sort of thing. Although, if the tabloids are right, they've got nothing to worry about.
"Pleasure to meet you, Sam," she purrs, hungry eyes traveling over Sam's body before landing on his face as she extends a handshake that's practically a caress. Sam suddenly gets the feeling they're getting played as much as they're playing her, and he doesn't feel so uneasy anymore.
"What'cha drinkin'?" she asks, and the one named Dean says tequila, so she orders two shots and another Diet Red Bull for herself. Normally she'd order a bottle, but she doesn't need the temptation and she wants them both fully functional for what she's got in mind.
"Not drinkin'?" Dean questions as she places a shot in front of each of them.
"Nope," she says, holding up her platinum AA charm, and grabs Dean's lime and the salt before he can salt his own hand. "Allow me," she purrs, sliding the lime across her cleavage and following it with a dash of salt. Dean doesn't miss a beat- he's sure to be fun later- and leans down to lick at the salt, dipping his tongue between her breasts before licking all the way up to her neck. He's more thorough than necessary, but Lindsay's not complaining. She hears a camera snap, and licks her lips sensuously, wanting the next shot to be good. Paris Hilton can eat her fucking heart out, because Lindsay's got the covers tomorrow.
Dean slides back the shot, swallowing with a slow contraction of his throat, and leans in to suck the lime from her lips. The lime slips, on purpose, of course, and falls somewhere into her cleavage, but Lindsay doesn't give a fuck because Dean's tongue is sliding into her mouth, giving her a taste of tangy, expensive tequila and pure, unadulterated lust in a kiss that leaves her breathless. He grins when he pulls back, cocky as hell, but Lindsay thinks he's sort of entitled after that show.
"You got a place nearby?" he asks, fishing the lime out of her top, and she nods.
"What about him?" she asks, hoping she knows the answer, but even she's not expecting the strong fingers curling into her hair, turning her head as Sam seals his mouth over hers. Dean kisses like he smirks: cocky, confident, practically showing off. Like he knows exactly how good he is. But Sam- Sam kisses like he's got all the time in the world to impress her. Like he's teaching her that good things come to those who wait. By the time he pulls back, a crooked smile forming on those lips, Lindsay's ready to say 'yes' to anything they ask of her.
"Sam's my brother," comes a rough voice in her ear, "we share everything."
Brothers, huh? "Kinky," she breathes after a moment, and Sam's got one of his huge hands inching up her thigh, finding the bare skin at the top of her boot. "Let me call my driver," she says, taking out her Sidekick, but Dean licks her ear, sending tingles down her spine, and the device falls to her lap.
"I'll drive," he says, and Lindsay just nods as they lead her out to the parking lot.
"Marilyn Monroe lived here," she says like they should be impressed, and Sam looks warily at Dean. The last thing they need is some poltergeist bullshit, but nothing feels off, and Dean just shrugs, so Sam dismisses the thought and says "cool."
Although really, maybe he should have said 'hot,' because Lindsay's already half out of her clothes, top on the floor and unzipping her thigh-high boots, breasts jiggling enticingly as she carefully unzips them. They don't look like silicone, at least not that stiff, unnatural stuff Sam's seen in pornos. If her breasts are fake, they're really, really good fakes, with no scars. Sam looks over at Dean, who's also watching appreciatively, heat in his eyes.
"You two going to stare at me all night, or are we going to fuck?" Well, she certainly gets to the point quickly enough. Lindsay discards her boots and steps out of her skirt and wow, she's not wearing a damn thing underneath.
"Go on, Sammy," Dean murmurs, and Sam would tell him to stop calling him that, except Dean's voice is all rough and raw and sexy, and Sam's not sure if he's hard because of the naked woman in front of him, or because of the voice that's egging him on. Sam shucks off his shirt on his way over and leans down to kiss her again, licking his way into her mouth as his hands travel over her smooth skin. She gasps into his mouth, and he realizes that Dean's come up behind her, mouth on her neck, her ear, the backs of his hands brushing Sam's chest as he palms her breasts.
One of her hands threads through the hair at the nape of his neck, nails grazing against his scalp, pulling him closer, plunging the kiss deeper as her other hand skates down his stomach and deftly undoes his fly and then, yeah, her hand's down his pants, stroking him through his boxer-briefs without a hint of hesitation. Sam does like a woman who knows what she wants.
"Bedroom," she says between kisses, palm wriggling against his cock before she withdraws, grabbing his hand and Dean's hand and leading them through a door to a white room with white curtains and white carpet and white sheets on a bed that's as big as a playground, more than enough room for three. She climbs up onto the bed, licking her lips, and Sam kicks off his boots and undresses the rest of the way, trying not to be obvious about the way he watches Dean out of the corner of his eye as he takes off his clothes. It's just - Dean's so damn comfortable in his skin, bared to the world, muscles working beneath his skin, cock rising till it stands practically against his belly - he knows how damn good-looking he is, and he knows what he does to every girl who tries to catch his eye. Dean thinks he's God's gift to women, although Sam can't help thinking that he's got reason to think that way.
"Very nice," Lindsay murmurs approvingly and reaches for Dean, who climbs on top of her, taking her mouth in what looks like a searing kiss, pressing his body against hers. Dean's hand slips between their bodies and disappears between her legs, and she moans, arching up against him.
"You're going to ride my cock," Dean says as his wrist twists and Lindsay's toes curl. Sam climbs onto the bed next to them, never taking his eyes off of the spectacle, "and I want you to suck Sam's dick with that pretty mouth of yours." She looks at Sam now, as if she's remembering that he's even there, and her eyes widen as she takes in the sight of his erection.
"Yeah, I- yeah," she pants, words disappearing with a tiny moan as Dean leans down to suckle one of her nipples.
"Condoms," Sam says, because someone's got to be the responsible one, and Lindsay just says, "Right drawer," and Sam crawls over and finds a half-empty box, taking out a few and pressing one into Dean's hand as he bends down to kiss her again.
He wants to watch as Dean covers his cock and Lindsay sinks down, taking him inside her, but she kisses him back like she wants to fuck his mouth, sucking hard on his tongue, and she moans, stuttered and gasping, into his mouth as she begins to ride Dean.
"God, Sam, you should-," Dean groans, "feels so good, so tight, Jesus fuck!"
"He'll get his turn," Lindsay says, nipping at Sam's lower lip and reaching down to stroke his cock with clever fingers. She bends forward, and holy fuck-
Sam's cock is big. It's not bragging, it's just fact. He's six foot four and big everywhere, hands and feet and shoulders as well as the contents of his boxer-briefs. Girls haven't complained, exactly, but he knows his isn't the easiest cock to swallow. But Lindsay- Lindsay just takes it all, sucking him down until her chin bumps against his balls and her nose is pressed against his pubic bone, and fuck if that doesn't feel fantastic. He probably couldn't get a better blow if he was paying top dollar for it.
He feels, rather than sees Dean begin to move because Lindsay moans around his cock, sending sparks shooting up his spine from the vibration of her throat. Sam bites his lips because he's not going to last when she's moaning like that and Dean has this expression on his face of pure bliss as he fucks up into her. She pulls back, clever tongue sliding over the head, laving up and down his length before taking him deep again, and Sam wants to say, How does he feel inside you, fucking you like that, because it looks fucking amazing, but all he can do is groan and hold on for dear life because she's moaning and working her tongue against the underside of his cock. He's embarrassingly close already: balls tightening, that pleasurable ache beginning at the base of his spine.
"I want-" he starts, tugging gently at her hair, "I want to taste you," and she looks up at him quizzically as she releases his cock with an audible pop. Sam leans down and kisses her, swallowing another moan, before working his way down her neck, licking and nipping her collarbone, nuzzling between her breasts.
"God," she gasps as he sucks her nipples in turn, then blows cool air across her damp areolas. His lips brush down her abdomen, urging her to lean back, and then he licks the crease where her hip and thigh meet as he watches Dean's cock go in and out of her cunt. This is it, then.
She's completely bare- waxed or shaved or something, and Sam licks his way down her bare mound before flicking his tongue against her clit. His chin brushes against Dean's cock, and he hears Dean say "Fuck, Sam," raw as an open wound, and Sam licks again, catching the bead of her clit against the tip of his tongue. Lindsay moans, high and breathless and fuck, she's wet, spreading thick like honey across his tongue as Dean fucks up into her. He's never done this, not with Dean, not while the girl he's going down on is getting thoroughly fucked by his brother, but it feels so, so good that he has to wrap a hand around his cock to ease the ache.
His tongue slips further down experimentally, and he tastes Dean's cock, soft skin over steel, tasting her on Dean, and something else that's more male than anything.
"Sam, Jesus fucking Christ!" Dean groans brokenly as Sam licks from the base of his cock up to Lindsay's swollen little clit. He takes her between his lips and sucks like she's hard candy on his tongue until she's moaning and writhing and Sam can feel her muscles twitching under his hands. A hand fists in his hair and it takes a moment to realize that both of Lindsay's hands are busy clutching the bedcovers, and Dean's the one tugging Sam's hair, urging him closer until he can barely fucking breathe.
"Make her come," Dean orders, panting, "I wanna feel her come on my cock," and Sam can't deny his brother anything, especially not this. So he goes down in earnest, tongue making tight circles, licking where Dean's cock disappears into her, sucking her clit lightly, then harder, until she's shaking against him, strangled moans caught in her throat. He can feel her convulse against his tongue, around Dean's cock, coming apart with a moan that could rival a porn star. Dean just keeps saying, "fuck, fuck, fuck," over and over again and Sam curls his tongue against her clit, sparking aftershocks in her, making her cunt flutter around Dean.
"Shi-it," she says, finally, voice cracking as Sam eases off and sits up to kiss her, letting her taste herself on his tongue. She stops him with a finger to his lips. "I want you to kiss him," she says, pure sex burning in her blown pupils, but even if- Sam isn't even sure if he can. He looks to his brother, expecting shock, or narrowed eyes, or even just plain 'No way in Hell,' but he just sees Dean looking back at him, utterly fucked-out, still thrusting shallowly into Lindsay's soaked cunt, meeting Sam's eyes with this look that goes straight to Sam's cock, and just nods. Fuck.
Sam can't breathe, can't move, can't think, because he's wanted this for too long, but Dean does the work for him, pulling him down, Lindsay sandwiched between them, and kisses Sam. There's these few seconds where Dean's almost hesitant, gentle even, and then something snaps and Dean devours him, all lips and teeth and tongue, licking the taste of her out of Sam's mouth and leaving only Dean Dean Dean. Sam kisses him back, hot and deep and almost frantic, reaching to cup the back of Dean's neck with one hand, holding him closer, basking in the heat of Dean's mouth. He can hear Lindsay say, "Fuck, that's hot," and feels her small hand slip between their bodies, palming Sam's cock before slipping lower to touch herself.
Sam pulls back, finally remembering himself, and just looks at Dean for a moment, watches Dean grin and say, "God, I love the taste of pussy," like he's brushing it off, but Sam knows now, and Dean can't take back the way his eyes seem a bit out of focus when he says it. Sam's hard as nails and rubbing against Lindsay's stomach, barely in control of his movements because he's so fucking turned on right now.
"I want you both at once," she says, shifting her hips so Dean groans. Sam wastes no time in sheathing his cock, and strokes himself slowly as she collects her wetness on her fingers and then reaches back, leaning forward to finger her ass open.
This is probably the kinkiest thing Lindsay's done since she let Britney watch her suck off Nick Carter at that People's Choice afterparty. Or maybe that time she let Nick watch her suck his little brother's cock, and swallowed Aaron's come as Nick thrust his thick length into her pussy. Yeah, maybe that time.
She lifts off Dean's cock, moaning at the empty feeling he leaves behind, and then guides him into hr ass, sinking slowly down, pulling Sam back for a kiss as she breathes through the stretch and burn. She's done this before, but it always takes a bit of getting used to, that little smudge of pain before it starts feeling really good. He strokes her hair with his long fingers and rubs his cock against her abs as she adjusts, and the burn is replaced with pleasure.
"Fuck, Sam, she's," Dean babbles, "so fucking tight, Jesus." She pulls up till she feels the stretch of his flared head and squeezes around him as she sinks down further to take him all in.
Lindsay opens her eyes to find Sam still in front of her, holding his cock and looking like he's forgotten what comes next. He keeps glancing down, watching his brother's cock disappear into her ass. Lindsay's pussy pulses, empty, because her throat feels raw from swallowing his formidable size, and she wants to feel that inside her, filled completely.
"I won't break," she says, flashing him her best bedroom eyes and licking her lips and he moves, finally, cockhead rubbing against her clit, and she moans, "just fuck me already," trying to sound in control and not as desperate as she feels.
"Do it, Sam," comes Dean's voice, inches from her ear, and damn if that's not hot as hell, the way Sam just obeys without blinking, pushing into her with one long stroke. Someone moans brokenly, and Lindsay doesn't give a fuck if it's her or one of them because this feels fucking incredible. She's stretched to the limit, sandwiched between them, dwarfed by Sam's long frame and wide shoulders and Dean cradling her from behind and they're both inside her and huge. Lindsay wants to say 'more, goddamnit,' or maybe 'fuck,' but she can't breathe, let alone speak like this.
Luckily, Sam seems to be a mind-reader because he pulls out, just a little and pushes back in, and Lindsay gasps in air, overwhelmed because it almost hurts, but it's so damned good that it eclipses any discomfort. Dean mouths her neck as Sam starts a rhythm - push, pull, slowly at first , and he says, "God, I can feel you," and Dean starts moving in counterpoint.
She's so consumed by the whole thing that her orgasm takes her by surprise, ripping a cry from her throat as her limbs jerks, arms stuttering where they're wrapped around Sam's wide back.
Lindsay feels weak after, legs shaking from the effort of holding herself up, but they hold her between them, secure in the strength of their arms and bodies. Each thrust makes her gasp, breaths hitching, and she feels Dean speed up: faster, harder as Sam stills and just holds her in those long arms of his, grounding her while her body feels like it's flying.
"C'mon Dean," Sam groans, voice like honey over gravel, and the noise that comes from Dean is barely human, no discernible words as Dean stiffens beneath her, hips juddering as he comes.
"Goddamn fuck," he breathes into her ear shakily, and carefully pulls out of her while Sam holds her steady. Dean holds her against him then, bringing his knees up to cradle her hips, hands toying with her breasts, her stomach, her clit, and Sam moves again, finally, pumping into her with delicious friction, and she can't come again, God, she's exhausted, but the ache is there anyway as he practically bends her in half and fucks her with slow, hard strokes.
"Fuck her good, Sam," Dean murmurs almost like he's talking to himself, but Sam kisses her then and gives her more, like he's obeying an order. He's got to be close, the way he's gasping into her mouth, and Dean's fingers wander down to rub her clit, gently like he knows she's sensitive after two orgasms, and then she feels him reach down further, fingers slipping around his brother's cock where it's pounding into her, and fuck if that's not one of the hottest things ever. Although really, after tonight, she's got quite a few things to add to that list. She feels it building again, coiling like a spring with every stroke, thrust, rub of fingers and cock, and Sam breaks from her mouth to lean over her shoulder and kiss his brother again, this time without being told to, just as Dean slips in a finger alongside Sam's cock, and that's all it takes for it to crash over her in heavy waves, again and again and vaguely, she can feel Sam's cock jerk inside her, can feel him arch like a bow over her body, and when it's over, they all just lie there for a moment.
Lindsay imagines she feels like what a well-fucked panini might feel like, all soft and warm in between two very nice pieces of bread, enveloped in damp, warm skin over strong muscles. They're still kissing, she realizes, mouths moving lazily together, and Lindsay cranes her neck to watch for a moment, wondering if they even remember she's there.
Dean finally pulls back, grinning under half-lidded eyes, and says, "Grand Canyon next?" in a sort of conspiratorial tone.
"Yeah, okay," Sam replies cryptically, and Lindsay moans weakly as he pulls out of her and discards the condom and they all shift so that Lindsay's lying between them, cradled in their warmth. It's not long before they're both asleep, snoring softly next to her.
Lindsay grins at the blinking light on the bookshelf, almost wishing that she wasn't so damn comfortable, because she wants to take the tape out and watch it over and over again, because she knows she must look really hot between these two bodies. And hey, if the tabloids ever get bored with her, it's always good to have a sex tape lying around. Especially one with a vaguely incestuous pair of brothers. Definitely more sensational that Paris's boring-ass sex video that got her so much fame. I mean really, what person in their right mind would answer their fucking cell phone right in the middle? That's totally why Paris isn't an actor and Lindsay is. Because Lindsay knows that cell phones can totally ruin a performance.
But, the tape can wait till morning, because Lindsay's all warm and languid and being snuggled from both sides, and there's nothing more she wants than to get some beauty sleep.
By: dramaphile
Rated: NC-17. No kiddies, plzkthx!
Paring: Sam/Dean/Lindsay Lohan. No really.
Warnings: Threesome sex of several varieties, Wincest. RPS. Crackiness.
Summary: See title.
Spoilers: Mild for Hollywood Babylon and a line from Croatoan
Disclaimer: Somehow I doubt this was how Kripke imagined it.... No money made, no permission given.
Notes: Thankies to everyone who egged me on while writing this crack porn fic of DOOM (you know who you are!!) ad to cmere, who did a wonderful job betaing this and feeding my ego.:)
We could go to T.J. or Hollywood, see if we could bang Lindsay Lohan
-Dean, "Croatoan"
No matter what those tabloid fuckers say, Lindsay Lohan is not a whore. Really. She's more of a serial monogamist really, because she's had a lot of boyfriends, and she's almost always got one, but she just doesn't do one night stands, no matter what fucking Paris Hilton says. Because that bitch needs to shut her mouth if she wants to keep her perfect white teeth in her skinny ass collagen-pumped mouth.
And don't even get her started about that rat bastard Brandon Davis. Last time she gives a hummer to an ugly rich heir just for the fuck of it, that's for sure.
At least she's clean now, sober for 90 days and counting (with a couple of slip-ups, okay, because she can't resist those funky pink martinis they serve at Pure, and burying the hatchet with Hilary seriously deserved a couple of shots of tequila to celebrate the end of that bullshit. But mostly, she's been good. Really.), and the diet Red Bull she's been sipping has her buzzed, but clear-headed. Well, mostly.
Les Deux is one of her favorite hang outs, and not just because Paris sometimes stops by and they get a chance to renew their old bitch fight. Because that's some fun shit and hey, Lindsay knows that no publicity is bad publicity. She likes it here because the bouncers only let the really pretty people in, at least if they're not celebs as well, and they're really good at picking out smoking hot men to stock the dance floor with. Like the two guys who are making their way across the club, looking about as un-Hollywood as possible in scuffed boots and button-down shirts with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow and jeans that reveal all that Lindsay wants to know. Yeah, she's definitely digging the menu tonight.
This place is a hell of a lot nicer than the usual dive bars they frequent, and Sam actually feels a bit awkward after nearly two years of smoky pool halls, cheap beer and cheaper women. He's been to LA before, took a trip down for a week once when he was on Spring Break, and he and Jess spent the whole time tanning on the beach and drinking fancy cocktails at slick clubs like this and strolling the Venice Beach Boardwalk and the Santa Monica Pier just to enjoy the atmosphere. Now? He can think of a hundred places he would rather be, but Dean picked this place, said it was hopping with slutty celebrity chicks just waiting for a real man. So yeah, not Sam's first choice, but he's here now, isn't he?
He's not sure whether to feel lucky or cursed by the way the bouncer just unhooked that velvet rope when Dean gave him this look like he was going to fuck him six ways to Sunday just with his eyes and then winked in a really obscene way. It's not jealousy that stabs in Sam's gut at the look the bouncer gives him back, like he'd take anything Dean wanted to give, but it might be something close to it.
They don't serve beer here, because it's too pedestrian for the Hollywood royalty, so the Winchester boys settle on tequila shots, downing three each after handing over another of Dean's fake credit cards. It's just barely a buzz, but Sam's feeling more mellow already. The music is only marginally good - some slow-beat techno mash-up - but it's sort of a welcome change from the down-home country and tired mullet rock they usually encounter in drinking establishments on the road.
It takes Dean all of five minutes to spot her, and Sam can't help but laugh at the irony of it. We could go to T.J. or Hollywood, see if we could bang Lindsay Lohan. Dean had said, almost like it was a joke, but the glint in his eye now is the sort he gets when he's found his prey.
"Think what the tabloids say is true?" Dean says just loud enough to be heard over the bass, nudging Sam with his elbow.
"Must be a grain of truth to it," is the reply, because if there's anything you learn from hunting, it's that rumors and stories usually end up being at least half-true. She's sitting in this hideous pink booth, slouching in a clingy top and short skirt and boots that go almost all the way to the hem.
Sam wants to ask, "Her? Really?" because there's a dozen prettier girls in this place, maybe even two dozen, but Dean's got that smirk forming and Sam knows that it's all or nothing. And he thinks Dean meant it when he said, "We." It wouldn't be the first time they've had a girl together, and they've done it with two girls in the same room a few times. Sam knows if he plays his cards right, there'll be practically nothing between him and Dean's naked, aroused body. He'd tried once when it was just the two of them, when Sam was less drunk than he acted, and pinned Dean against the hideous motel wallpaper, brushing his mouth over his brother's lips, not nearly as sloppy as it should have been. Dean had pushed him off in two seconds flat, declaring that Sam was drunk off his ass as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. So this, Lindsay fucking Lohan, is as close as Sam gets to what he wants.
Dean's smooth and self-assured in his approach, and Sam knows this game, how he has to give Dean a couple of minutes to talk her up and ply her with smiles and touches. And Sam just needs to stand at the bar looking nonchalant before her eyes travel toward him. Dean looks over, too, raising an eyebrow, and that's the cue.
She's not so perfect-looking up close, but she is beautiful in that Hollywood sort of way. Her eyes are bright green under the heavy black eye-makeup, and her shoulders are dusted with freckles. Dean's eyes keep darting across her bared skin and Sam just knows that Dean's thinking about playing connect-the-dots with his tongue until she's squirming and begging. Yeah, that would be pretty hot.
"Sam, this is- it's Lizzie, right?"
"Lindsay," she corrects, smiling, and Sam has to hand it to Dean, he's got her practically eating from his palm already. Especially now that she thinks they're not after her just because she's famous. Even though they clearly are.
"Lindsay, this is my friend Sam." He doesn't say 'brother,' because some girls get a little skittish about that sort of thing. Although, if the tabloids are right, they've got nothing to worry about.
"Pleasure to meet you, Sam," she purrs, hungry eyes traveling over Sam's body before landing on his face as she extends a handshake that's practically a caress. Sam suddenly gets the feeling they're getting played as much as they're playing her, and he doesn't feel so uneasy anymore.
"What'cha drinkin'?" she asks, and the one named Dean says tequila, so she orders two shots and another Diet Red Bull for herself. Normally she'd order a bottle, but she doesn't need the temptation and she wants them both fully functional for what she's got in mind.
"Not drinkin'?" Dean questions as she places a shot in front of each of them.
"Nope," she says, holding up her platinum AA charm, and grabs Dean's lime and the salt before he can salt his own hand. "Allow me," she purrs, sliding the lime across her cleavage and following it with a dash of salt. Dean doesn't miss a beat- he's sure to be fun later- and leans down to lick at the salt, dipping his tongue between her breasts before licking all the way up to her neck. He's more thorough than necessary, but Lindsay's not complaining. She hears a camera snap, and licks her lips sensuously, wanting the next shot to be good. Paris Hilton can eat her fucking heart out, because Lindsay's got the covers tomorrow.
Dean slides back the shot, swallowing with a slow contraction of his throat, and leans in to suck the lime from her lips. The lime slips, on purpose, of course, and falls somewhere into her cleavage, but Lindsay doesn't give a fuck because Dean's tongue is sliding into her mouth, giving her a taste of tangy, expensive tequila and pure, unadulterated lust in a kiss that leaves her breathless. He grins when he pulls back, cocky as hell, but Lindsay thinks he's sort of entitled after that show.
"You got a place nearby?" he asks, fishing the lime out of her top, and she nods.
"What about him?" she asks, hoping she knows the answer, but even she's not expecting the strong fingers curling into her hair, turning her head as Sam seals his mouth over hers. Dean kisses like he smirks: cocky, confident, practically showing off. Like he knows exactly how good he is. But Sam- Sam kisses like he's got all the time in the world to impress her. Like he's teaching her that good things come to those who wait. By the time he pulls back, a crooked smile forming on those lips, Lindsay's ready to say 'yes' to anything they ask of her.
"Sam's my brother," comes a rough voice in her ear, "we share everything."
Brothers, huh? "Kinky," she breathes after a moment, and Sam's got one of his huge hands inching up her thigh, finding the bare skin at the top of her boot. "Let me call my driver," she says, taking out her Sidekick, but Dean licks her ear, sending tingles down her spine, and the device falls to her lap.
"I'll drive," he says, and Lindsay just nods as they lead her out to the parking lot.
"Marilyn Monroe lived here," she says like they should be impressed, and Sam looks warily at Dean. The last thing they need is some poltergeist bullshit, but nothing feels off, and Dean just shrugs, so Sam dismisses the thought and says "cool."
Although really, maybe he should have said 'hot,' because Lindsay's already half out of her clothes, top on the floor and unzipping her thigh-high boots, breasts jiggling enticingly as she carefully unzips them. They don't look like silicone, at least not that stiff, unnatural stuff Sam's seen in pornos. If her breasts are fake, they're really, really good fakes, with no scars. Sam looks over at Dean, who's also watching appreciatively, heat in his eyes.
"You two going to stare at me all night, or are we going to fuck?" Well, she certainly gets to the point quickly enough. Lindsay discards her boots and steps out of her skirt and wow, she's not wearing a damn thing underneath.
"Go on, Sammy," Dean murmurs, and Sam would tell him to stop calling him that, except Dean's voice is all rough and raw and sexy, and Sam's not sure if he's hard because of the naked woman in front of him, or because of the voice that's egging him on. Sam shucks off his shirt on his way over and leans down to kiss her again, licking his way into her mouth as his hands travel over her smooth skin. She gasps into his mouth, and he realizes that Dean's come up behind her, mouth on her neck, her ear, the backs of his hands brushing Sam's chest as he palms her breasts.
One of her hands threads through the hair at the nape of his neck, nails grazing against his scalp, pulling him closer, plunging the kiss deeper as her other hand skates down his stomach and deftly undoes his fly and then, yeah, her hand's down his pants, stroking him through his boxer-briefs without a hint of hesitation. Sam does like a woman who knows what she wants.
"Bedroom," she says between kisses, palm wriggling against his cock before she withdraws, grabbing his hand and Dean's hand and leading them through a door to a white room with white curtains and white carpet and white sheets on a bed that's as big as a playground, more than enough room for three. She climbs up onto the bed, licking her lips, and Sam kicks off his boots and undresses the rest of the way, trying not to be obvious about the way he watches Dean out of the corner of his eye as he takes off his clothes. It's just - Dean's so damn comfortable in his skin, bared to the world, muscles working beneath his skin, cock rising till it stands practically against his belly - he knows how damn good-looking he is, and he knows what he does to every girl who tries to catch his eye. Dean thinks he's God's gift to women, although Sam can't help thinking that he's got reason to think that way.
"Very nice," Lindsay murmurs approvingly and reaches for Dean, who climbs on top of her, taking her mouth in what looks like a searing kiss, pressing his body against hers. Dean's hand slips between their bodies and disappears between her legs, and she moans, arching up against him.
"You're going to ride my cock," Dean says as his wrist twists and Lindsay's toes curl. Sam climbs onto the bed next to them, never taking his eyes off of the spectacle, "and I want you to suck Sam's dick with that pretty mouth of yours." She looks at Sam now, as if she's remembering that he's even there, and her eyes widen as she takes in the sight of his erection.
"Yeah, I- yeah," she pants, words disappearing with a tiny moan as Dean leans down to suckle one of her nipples.
"Condoms," Sam says, because someone's got to be the responsible one, and Lindsay just says, "Right drawer," and Sam crawls over and finds a half-empty box, taking out a few and pressing one into Dean's hand as he bends down to kiss her again.
He wants to watch as Dean covers his cock and Lindsay sinks down, taking him inside her, but she kisses him back like she wants to fuck his mouth, sucking hard on his tongue, and she moans, stuttered and gasping, into his mouth as she begins to ride Dean.
"God, Sam, you should-," Dean groans, "feels so good, so tight, Jesus fuck!"
"He'll get his turn," Lindsay says, nipping at Sam's lower lip and reaching down to stroke his cock with clever fingers. She bends forward, and holy fuck-
Sam's cock is big. It's not bragging, it's just fact. He's six foot four and big everywhere, hands and feet and shoulders as well as the contents of his boxer-briefs. Girls haven't complained, exactly, but he knows his isn't the easiest cock to swallow. But Lindsay- Lindsay just takes it all, sucking him down until her chin bumps against his balls and her nose is pressed against his pubic bone, and fuck if that doesn't feel fantastic. He probably couldn't get a better blow if he was paying top dollar for it.
He feels, rather than sees Dean begin to move because Lindsay moans around his cock, sending sparks shooting up his spine from the vibration of her throat. Sam bites his lips because he's not going to last when she's moaning like that and Dean has this expression on his face of pure bliss as he fucks up into her. She pulls back, clever tongue sliding over the head, laving up and down his length before taking him deep again, and Sam wants to say, How does he feel inside you, fucking you like that, because it looks fucking amazing, but all he can do is groan and hold on for dear life because she's moaning and working her tongue against the underside of his cock. He's embarrassingly close already: balls tightening, that pleasurable ache beginning at the base of his spine.
"I want-" he starts, tugging gently at her hair, "I want to taste you," and she looks up at him quizzically as she releases his cock with an audible pop. Sam leans down and kisses her, swallowing another moan, before working his way down her neck, licking and nipping her collarbone, nuzzling between her breasts.
"God," she gasps as he sucks her nipples in turn, then blows cool air across her damp areolas. His lips brush down her abdomen, urging her to lean back, and then he licks the crease where her hip and thigh meet as he watches Dean's cock go in and out of her cunt. This is it, then.
She's completely bare- waxed or shaved or something, and Sam licks his way down her bare mound before flicking his tongue against her clit. His chin brushes against Dean's cock, and he hears Dean say "Fuck, Sam," raw as an open wound, and Sam licks again, catching the bead of her clit against the tip of his tongue. Lindsay moans, high and breathless and fuck, she's wet, spreading thick like honey across his tongue as Dean fucks up into her. He's never done this, not with Dean, not while the girl he's going down on is getting thoroughly fucked by his brother, but it feels so, so good that he has to wrap a hand around his cock to ease the ache.
His tongue slips further down experimentally, and he tastes Dean's cock, soft skin over steel, tasting her on Dean, and something else that's more male than anything.
"Sam, Jesus fucking Christ!" Dean groans brokenly as Sam licks from the base of his cock up to Lindsay's swollen little clit. He takes her between his lips and sucks like she's hard candy on his tongue until she's moaning and writhing and Sam can feel her muscles twitching under his hands. A hand fists in his hair and it takes a moment to realize that both of Lindsay's hands are busy clutching the bedcovers, and Dean's the one tugging Sam's hair, urging him closer until he can barely fucking breathe.
"Make her come," Dean orders, panting, "I wanna feel her come on my cock," and Sam can't deny his brother anything, especially not this. So he goes down in earnest, tongue making tight circles, licking where Dean's cock disappears into her, sucking her clit lightly, then harder, until she's shaking against him, strangled moans caught in her throat. He can feel her convulse against his tongue, around Dean's cock, coming apart with a moan that could rival a porn star. Dean just keeps saying, "fuck, fuck, fuck," over and over again and Sam curls his tongue against her clit, sparking aftershocks in her, making her cunt flutter around Dean.
"Shi-it," she says, finally, voice cracking as Sam eases off and sits up to kiss her, letting her taste herself on his tongue. She stops him with a finger to his lips. "I want you to kiss him," she says, pure sex burning in her blown pupils, but even if- Sam isn't even sure if he can. He looks to his brother, expecting shock, or narrowed eyes, or even just plain 'No way in Hell,' but he just sees Dean looking back at him, utterly fucked-out, still thrusting shallowly into Lindsay's soaked cunt, meeting Sam's eyes with this look that goes straight to Sam's cock, and just nods. Fuck.
Sam can't breathe, can't move, can't think, because he's wanted this for too long, but Dean does the work for him, pulling him down, Lindsay sandwiched between them, and kisses Sam. There's these few seconds where Dean's almost hesitant, gentle even, and then something snaps and Dean devours him, all lips and teeth and tongue, licking the taste of her out of Sam's mouth and leaving only Dean Dean Dean. Sam kisses him back, hot and deep and almost frantic, reaching to cup the back of Dean's neck with one hand, holding him closer, basking in the heat of Dean's mouth. He can hear Lindsay say, "Fuck, that's hot," and feels her small hand slip between their bodies, palming Sam's cock before slipping lower to touch herself.
Sam pulls back, finally remembering himself, and just looks at Dean for a moment, watches Dean grin and say, "God, I love the taste of pussy," like he's brushing it off, but Sam knows now, and Dean can't take back the way his eyes seem a bit out of focus when he says it. Sam's hard as nails and rubbing against Lindsay's stomach, barely in control of his movements because he's so fucking turned on right now.
"I want you both at once," she says, shifting her hips so Dean groans. Sam wastes no time in sheathing his cock, and strokes himself slowly as she collects her wetness on her fingers and then reaches back, leaning forward to finger her ass open.
This is probably the kinkiest thing Lindsay's done since she let Britney watch her suck off Nick Carter at that People's Choice afterparty. Or maybe that time she let Nick watch her suck his little brother's cock, and swallowed Aaron's come as Nick thrust his thick length into her pussy. Yeah, maybe that time.
She lifts off Dean's cock, moaning at the empty feeling he leaves behind, and then guides him into hr ass, sinking slowly down, pulling Sam back for a kiss as she breathes through the stretch and burn. She's done this before, but it always takes a bit of getting used to, that little smudge of pain before it starts feeling really good. He strokes her hair with his long fingers and rubs his cock against her abs as she adjusts, and the burn is replaced with pleasure.
"Fuck, Sam, she's," Dean babbles, "so fucking tight, Jesus." She pulls up till she feels the stretch of his flared head and squeezes around him as she sinks down further to take him all in.
Lindsay opens her eyes to find Sam still in front of her, holding his cock and looking like he's forgotten what comes next. He keeps glancing down, watching his brother's cock disappear into her ass. Lindsay's pussy pulses, empty, because her throat feels raw from swallowing his formidable size, and she wants to feel that inside her, filled completely.
"I won't break," she says, flashing him her best bedroom eyes and licking her lips and he moves, finally, cockhead rubbing against her clit, and she moans, "just fuck me already," trying to sound in control and not as desperate as she feels.
"Do it, Sam," comes Dean's voice, inches from her ear, and damn if that's not hot as hell, the way Sam just obeys without blinking, pushing into her with one long stroke. Someone moans brokenly, and Lindsay doesn't give a fuck if it's her or one of them because this feels fucking incredible. She's stretched to the limit, sandwiched between them, dwarfed by Sam's long frame and wide shoulders and Dean cradling her from behind and they're both inside her and huge. Lindsay wants to say 'more, goddamnit,' or maybe 'fuck,' but she can't breathe, let alone speak like this.
Luckily, Sam seems to be a mind-reader because he pulls out, just a little and pushes back in, and Lindsay gasps in air, overwhelmed because it almost hurts, but it's so damned good that it eclipses any discomfort. Dean mouths her neck as Sam starts a rhythm - push, pull, slowly at first , and he says, "God, I can feel you," and Dean starts moving in counterpoint.
She's so consumed by the whole thing that her orgasm takes her by surprise, ripping a cry from her throat as her limbs jerks, arms stuttering where they're wrapped around Sam's wide back.
Lindsay feels weak after, legs shaking from the effort of holding herself up, but they hold her between them, secure in the strength of their arms and bodies. Each thrust makes her gasp, breaths hitching, and she feels Dean speed up: faster, harder as Sam stills and just holds her in those long arms of his, grounding her while her body feels like it's flying.
"C'mon Dean," Sam groans, voice like honey over gravel, and the noise that comes from Dean is barely human, no discernible words as Dean stiffens beneath her, hips juddering as he comes.
"Goddamn fuck," he breathes into her ear shakily, and carefully pulls out of her while Sam holds her steady. Dean holds her against him then, bringing his knees up to cradle her hips, hands toying with her breasts, her stomach, her clit, and Sam moves again, finally, pumping into her with delicious friction, and she can't come again, God, she's exhausted, but the ache is there anyway as he practically bends her in half and fucks her with slow, hard strokes.
"Fuck her good, Sam," Dean murmurs almost like he's talking to himself, but Sam kisses her then and gives her more, like he's obeying an order. He's got to be close, the way he's gasping into her mouth, and Dean's fingers wander down to rub her clit, gently like he knows she's sensitive after two orgasms, and then she feels him reach down further, fingers slipping around his brother's cock where it's pounding into her, and fuck if that's not one of the hottest things ever. Although really, after tonight, she's got quite a few things to add to that list. She feels it building again, coiling like a spring with every stroke, thrust, rub of fingers and cock, and Sam breaks from her mouth to lean over her shoulder and kiss his brother again, this time without being told to, just as Dean slips in a finger alongside Sam's cock, and that's all it takes for it to crash over her in heavy waves, again and again and vaguely, she can feel Sam's cock jerk inside her, can feel him arch like a bow over her body, and when it's over, they all just lie there for a moment.
Lindsay imagines she feels like what a well-fucked panini might feel like, all soft and warm in between two very nice pieces of bread, enveloped in damp, warm skin over strong muscles. They're still kissing, she realizes, mouths moving lazily together, and Lindsay cranes her neck to watch for a moment, wondering if they even remember she's there.
Dean finally pulls back, grinning under half-lidded eyes, and says, "Grand Canyon next?" in a sort of conspiratorial tone.
"Yeah, okay," Sam replies cryptically, and Lindsay moans weakly as he pulls out of her and discards the condom and they all shift so that Lindsay's lying between them, cradled in their warmth. It's not long before they're both asleep, snoring softly next to her.
Lindsay grins at the blinking light on the bookshelf, almost wishing that she wasn't so damn comfortable, because she wants to take the tape out and watch it over and over again, because she knows she must look really hot between these two bodies. And hey, if the tabloids ever get bored with her, it's always good to have a sex tape lying around. Especially one with a vaguely incestuous pair of brothers. Definitely more sensational that Paris's boring-ass sex video that got her so much fame. I mean really, what person in their right mind would answer their fucking cell phone right in the middle? That's totally why Paris isn't an actor and Lindsay is. Because Lindsay knows that cell phones can totally ruin a performance.
But, the tape can wait till morning, because Lindsay's all warm and languid and being snuggled from both sides, and there's nothing more she wants than to get some beauty sleep.