Dean's Denial, SPN Ficlet, Implied Sam/Dean/Cas
Title: Dean's Denial
Author: fallingemerald
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: NC-17
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Dean, Sam, Implied Cas
Warning(s): Implied Sam/Cas/Dean, Implied Dean/Sam. PWP, Masturbation
Spoiler(s): Not much, Castiel
Word Count: 856
Beta Reader:sephirothflame First time around, reworked it so this versions unbeta-ed but I think it's okay...I hope.
Rants: Okay, so I posted this a while back on sn_slash but I reworked it cuz I wanted to post it on my journal too. I think it came out pretty well, this idea was taken from Sephie's Bad Things Verse
Summary: Dean's always been good at denial, it just maybe didn't work out this time.
Disclaimer: I do not own SPN, and if I did that would be a bad thing, trust me on this.
Dean's Denial
Dean woke up with a start. He shivered and his green eyes scanned the room. Sam was still sleeping on the other bed, and he winced as one of his dreams, or God he hoped it was a dream, resurfaced. Sam had Cas’ cock- “Oh, God I’m going to puke.” He shoved himself off the bed and ran to the restroom. He stared at the toilet bowl until the dry heaving stopped. He ignored the images that came from his so called dream and the remembered sounds, at least before the dream had changed.
When he saw Cas next he was going to give him a piece of his mind-well, no he couldn’t really blame Cas for a dream. And no way in hell was he going to believe his little brother Sammy was gay. For Christ’s sake, the boy had banged Jess, and if Dean didn’t have some assemblance of morals he would have totally tried to get her in bed with him. He frowned at the thought of having Sam’s seconds and shivered. Okay, maybe he would never have tried to get Jess after thinking of what Sam and the girl had done. And if that didn’t bring back the dream, nothing did.
Shaking his head to get rid of any unwanted thoughts, Dean stood up from leaning against the toilet, flushed, and washed his mouth out. Now that he wasn’t freaking out so much, he could already feel the remnants of last night’s alcohol. Throwing up had not helped his headache at all. He looked at his face in the mirror and winced. The shadow of stubble across his strong chin did nothing to hide the pathetic look on his face. Maybe he should quit on the beer for a day, he snorted, and shook his head. He muttered to himself, “Going cold turkey, stupid shit.” He opened the bathroom door, found his duffel bag, and a set of moderately clean clothes.
So what if in the next forty minutes he took almost all the hot water? It was Sam’s fault for his bad dreams about Cas. Really every time he thought of the angel’s pants undone his stomach twisted in a painful reminder of this morning’s episode.
-----
Dean tried to ignore Sam’s bitching for the first part of the ride. It worked, for a while, but maybe it was Sam’s voice, or the fact that Sam started playing with his lips while talking. Whatever started to jog his memory of last night, he cursed it, but took it instantly back because he might get angry at his brother once in a while but he still loved him.
“I can’t believe you took all of the hot water.” Sam bit his lip until it turned white, glared at the black road ahead of them.
Dean rolled his eyes, desperate to push the images of Cas’ fingers, fuckin fingers, pressed against Sam’s lips. Then there were the hands, and the angel’s cum on them, Dean wondered when the images became more of just not remembering and less of wanting to throw up. He ignored that too, and winced when Sam glanced at him. The emerald-eyed man knew it was damn right strange that he wasn’t telling Sam to shut up but it wasn’t his fault, fuckin fingers.
Sam stopped after that, thankfully, and the trip was silent except for the occasional shift of Dean’s legs and hips. Dean hated that Sam actually made him hate being in the Impala. It was his car, if anyone should feel awkward it should be Sam. Though, he was still in denial about what the taller man had done.
He wasn’t sure when they reached the rundown gas station but he left the car fast enough. Got Sam to fill his baby’s tank, and locked the stall tightly and grasped his aching cock through the denim. He pressed his head against the metal door and cursed softly. Go down, go down, go down. His mantra did nothing to his dick and he rubbed his cock and a moan slipped out of his lips. The images spilled back from where they had been pushed in the back of his mind. The hunter opened his jeans and leaned against the stall wall, rubbing his cock through his boxers, and pulled it out. Stroked it with a fast rhythm and thought of Sam with Cas’ cum on his fingers. He groaned; rubbed across the slit of his cock, let the pre-cum dribble across his fingers. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He gasped and trailed his left hand across his balls, caressed them, and bucked into his hand. There was a creek, and he knew the door was opening, but he just couldn’t stop now, he was so close. He rubbed his fingers under his balls, pressed a knuckle just right there.
“Dean you done in there?” Sam’s voice echoed through the small bathroom.
“Sam.” Dean groaned and came imagining Sam helping him and Cas watching. It was wrong, so wrong, but he came, his cum spurting across the bathroom stall and sliding over his closed fist. He took a deep breath. He winced when he heard the door abruptly close. Fuck.
~Fallingemearld