Sticky Sweet, Supernatural, NC-17, Keeper!Verse
Fandom: Supernatural
Title: Sticky Sweet
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: If only they were mine...
Word count: 2009
Summary: Set almost two years after Only for You and several months before A Chick Flick Moment. Sam is working in a bar, and Dean stops in one night. Okay...this is primarily and excuse for porn.
A/Ns & Warnings: A Very late birthday gift for shotofjack. I told you last night it was coming. I'm not entirely happy with the ending, but...as to warnings...yeah, bar!sex...and possible abuse of maraschino cherries.
It was late when Dean finally pulled into the parking lot of the bar where Sam was working as an assistant manager/fill in bartender. The parking lot was nearly empty, which he supposed was fairly normal for a Thursday night at 1am.
He’d dropped Dana off with his father before 10, but then spent forever trying to decide what to wear, which he would never, ever admit to Sam, especially not when he’d opted for the loose fitting, faded jeans with the rip just under his ass…not because they looked good, but because he liked the way Sam ran his fingers through that rip.
He parked and checked his hair in the rearview mirror, not because he was worried about it looking good, but because he’d just had it cut and he wasn’t sure yet he was satisfied with it…and that didn’t sound any better than if he’d just admitted that he was being just a little girly about the whole thing.
He got out of the car just as the last two motorcycles pulled out, leaving Sam’s car, the Impala and about three other vehicles. The summer night was warm, with a stiff breeze that carried the smell of cigarette smoke and spilled beer. Dean slipped into the darkness of the bar, letting his eyes adjust.
Sam was behind the bar, his tall form looming. He smiled as he wiped down a long section of the bar, leaning forward to reach the outer edge. A small woman, little more than a girl, really, ducked behind the bar, balancing a tray of dirty glasses. She shimmied behind Sam, far closer than the small space required.
Dean frowned and watched as Sam laughed at something she said. God he was gorgeous when he did that…when he laughed so openly and unconsciously, his head tipping back, his hair in his eyes. Dean sat and drank him in, the shirt sleeves pushed up past his elbows, the tie, slightly undone and off center…long fingers stroking over the wood of the bar.
Then she touched him. Dean frowned when Sam didn’t react. She had her little hand on his arm and Sam didn’t do anything. She leaned into his personal space and he leaned down to hear her. She was flirting. Dean wanted to move across the room and grab him by the tie, kiss him soundly and make her realize the error of her ways.
He shook his head, surprised at himself. He’d never been the jealous sort. Sam moved out from behind the bar, over to a table near the dart board where two drunk patrons were nearly asleep on the table. He could almost hear him, but he was distracted by the waitress.
She was pretty, dark hair that hung just to her shoulders, dark eyes that looked at his Sammy with a lot more than professional interest, petite, but well rounded…she was the kind of girl that once upon a time would have turned his head.
He ran a thumb over the ring…Sam’s ring. He’d worn it for almost two years now, and he’d never felt the need to look beyond his brother. Sam was helping the two drunks to the door. He would see him now. Dean stepped out of the shadows and Sam’s face lit up.
“Thought you’d changed your mind.” Sam said when he got close enough.
“Nah, just wanted you to myself.” Dean countered with a grin.
“I’m just helping Danny and Tommy out to their cab. Tell Celia to get you a drink. I’ll be right back.”
“Celia.” Dean said to himself as he crossed the room and settled onto a stool. Celia smiled at him and leaned over the bar toward him.
“What can I get you cutie?”
“Whiskey, neat.” Dean said, looking over his shoulder for Sam.
“Haven’t seen you before. I’m Celia.” She poured the drink and set it in front of him.
“Dean.” He picked up the glass and her eyes fell on the ring.
“Married?” He could hear the disappointment in her tone, and smirked behind his glass.
“In a manner of speaking.” He felt Sam approaching and sipped at the whiskey. When Sam was close enough he turned, grabbing him by the tie to pull him down for a kiss. Sam was grinning when he let him go.
“Um…yeah…Celia, I take it you’ve met my…Dean?”
Dean could see it in her face, the realization that she wasn’t going to get anywhere with either of them. “Yeah…in a manner of speaking.”
Dean’s tongue stuck out from between his teeth as he grinned up at his brother happily. Sam shook his head. “Celia, finish the tables and you can go. I already turned off the lights out front.”
Dean pulled on the tie again, yanking Sam down to kiss again, sucking on his lower lip until Sam laughed into his mouth. “Horny?” Sam whispered, and Dean would swear he wasn’t, but now that Sam said something.
“It’s the tie.” Dean said. “It does something to me.”
“As I recall it keeps your hands out of my way while I’m sucking your cock.” Sam whispered in his ear and Dean squints at the tie, adjusting his seat on the stool because he’s starting to get hard. It was the tie Dean had given him when he got the job a month or more ago, and Sam had promptly broken it in by using it to tie Dean to the headboard of their bed.
Sam moved closer then, hands tilting Dean’s face for him to kiss again, his tongue demanding over Dean’s lips. “I gotta finish cleaning up.” Sam finally breathed as Dean’s hands grabbed his hips to steady him.
“Yeah…okay.” Dean let go and turned back to his drink, but not before he caught the look from Celia. He smiled at her and held up his drink. Sam slipped behind the bar and Celia came back, pulling off her apron.
“I’m done Sam. See you tomorrow?”
“I’m off tomorrow. Saturday. Lock the door on your way out.”
“Okay. Nice to meet you, Dean.”
“I’m sure it was.” Dean muttered when she was well out of earshot.
“What?” Sam asked, watching to be sure that Celia locked the door.
“She was hitting on you, dude.”
Sam looked at him like he was crazy. “No she wasn’t.”
“Dude, the way she rubbed her chest on your back when she went behind you…she had a good 12 inches behind her.”
“You’re crazy.”
“You’re blind.” Dean stood up to pull Sam toward him and kissed him. “And you’re mine.”
“Jealous?” Sam asked, grinning against Dean’s mouth.
“Have you seen you in those jeans?” Dean responded, letting him go. As Sam stood, he knocked down a plastic container and a plume of red spilled over his white shirt.
“Shit!” He righted the container. “Fucking cherries. This shit won’t come out.” He pulled off the tie and grabbed a bar towel to rub at the stain.
“You’re going to have to soak it.” Dean said. “Take it off. Put it in the sink with a little bleach. It’ll be fine.”
Sam pulled off the shirt and tossed it in the sink, running water over it. The muscles of Sam’s back rippled with his movement and Dean’s dick jumped. He turned away, trying to calm down. He didn’t understand why he was so worked up. He ran his hand over the smooth wood of the bar. “Hey, this is a nice bar.” He had an image of Sam bending him over it and shook his head.
Sam came around the end of the bar, his hand skimming over the surface as he came closer. “It’s an antique. Hand carved. Years of buffing…rubbing…been here for a hundred years.”
Dean swallowed and watched him come. It shouldn’t be that hot, talking about a long plane of wood, then Sam hitched his hip up, jumping just a little…and he was sitting there, on the antique bar, beckoning Dean.
Dean downed his drink, and put the glass out of the way, then used the stool to boost himself up. Sam turned, one long leg dangling off the bar, the other stretched out like a landing strip to guide Dean in.
He crawled down the bar toward Sam…loving the dark, lust filled look he got, the way, Sam’s arms reached for him. Dean licked his lips. “Fuck you’re pretty.” Dean whispered, just to get that blush on Sam’s cheeks that matched the red cherry juice that stained his shirt.
Sam's naked chest gleamed in the light spilling blue and green from the jukebox as Dean pressed him down to the bar, moving to straddle over him, pressing his groin down against Sam's, grinding into him as their cocks both stirred with the friction. Dean's hands slid down over the exposed skin, then back up, following by his lips, kissing a path from his waistband up to his neck.
His hands found the open container and pulled up one bright red cherry, still on it's stem, all sticky and candied and dripping sweet red juice. Sam's eyes followed it as Dean teased him, dangling it over his mouth...but as Sam reached for it, Dean moved, dragging it down, over Sam's neck...leaving a trail of juice as he dragged it over one nipple, then the other, then down, nestling it into Sam's navel.
Sam's eyes rolled closed as Dean's tongue lapped at the sticky mess, as teeth and tongue and lips worked his nipples hard and made him squirm...then that tongue was under the cherry, deep, then curling up and Sam felt lips on his, lips and sweetness as Dean bit into the fruit and let the juice slide into Sam's mouth. Dean's tongue followed and the gently mashed up cherry slid into Sam's mouth. He swallowed reflexively and Dean groaned into him.
"Want you Sammy...want you right here."
Sam leveraged himself up on his elbows, looking into the dark green of his brother's eyes. "Not that kind of bar, Dean." Sam said, his voice husky with his own need. Dean's fingers hooked into Sam's pockets and pulled him closer, then bent his head to unbutton him with his teeth.
"Want." Dean insisted.
Sam bucked up toward the warmth of Dean's breath over his hard cock, despite the voice in his head saying this was a bad idea. "You're gonna get me fired." He groaned as Dean's fingers in his pockets yanked his jeans down, exposing his cock to his lips and tongue.
Then there was another cherry, it’s sticky surface circling the head of his cock, Dean’s tongue following behind it and Sam couldn’t breathe. “Dean.”
Dean grinned up at him, the hand with the cherry sliding up over Sam’s abs, up to Sam’s mouth. “Sticky.” Dean murmured, his tongue sliding over the length of Sam’s cock before closing his mouth over it. His hands pressed Sam’s hips to the bar as he hollowed out his cheeks and sucked and fuck it was like Sam’s brain simply checked out. The cherry was sweet in his mouth, glazed lightly with salty pre-cum and Sam chewed it lightly, the juice filling his mouth.
Dean swallowed with the tip of Sam’s cock in his throat and Sam growled. His hand found the container and pulled up three more cherries, looking up at Sam as he fed them into his mouth. Light teeth at the base of his cock, then tongue over the slit and sucking…sucking deep and hard and Sam bucked up, coming on Dean’s tongue, even as he bit into the cherries. Dean crawled over him and kissed him, sharing the taste of cherries and come and when they’d both swallowed Sam was still hard he was so turned on by his brother’s jealousy.
“Sticky.” Dean said again, touching the stickiness of Sam’s chest.
“Sweet.” Sam countered, pulling him back down for a long, lingering kiss.
“Home.” Dean whispered. “Want to fuck you on the living room floor.”
Sam’s cock twitched. “Parking lot,” he countered. “Want to fuck you in the back seat of the Impala.”
Title: Sticky Sweet
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: If only they were mine...
Word count: 2009
Summary: Set almost two years after Only for You and several months before A Chick Flick Moment. Sam is working in a bar, and Dean stops in one night. Okay...this is primarily and excuse for porn.
A/Ns & Warnings: A Very late birthday gift for shotofjack. I told you last night it was coming. I'm not entirely happy with the ending, but...as to warnings...yeah, bar!sex...and possible abuse of maraschino cherries.
It was late when Dean finally pulled into the parking lot of the bar where Sam was working as an assistant manager/fill in bartender. The parking lot was nearly empty, which he supposed was fairly normal for a Thursday night at 1am.
He’d dropped Dana off with his father before 10, but then spent forever trying to decide what to wear, which he would never, ever admit to Sam, especially not when he’d opted for the loose fitting, faded jeans with the rip just under his ass…not because they looked good, but because he liked the way Sam ran his fingers through that rip.
He parked and checked his hair in the rearview mirror, not because he was worried about it looking good, but because he’d just had it cut and he wasn’t sure yet he was satisfied with it…and that didn’t sound any better than if he’d just admitted that he was being just a little girly about the whole thing.
He got out of the car just as the last two motorcycles pulled out, leaving Sam’s car, the Impala and about three other vehicles. The summer night was warm, with a stiff breeze that carried the smell of cigarette smoke and spilled beer. Dean slipped into the darkness of the bar, letting his eyes adjust.
Sam was behind the bar, his tall form looming. He smiled as he wiped down a long section of the bar, leaning forward to reach the outer edge. A small woman, little more than a girl, really, ducked behind the bar, balancing a tray of dirty glasses. She shimmied behind Sam, far closer than the small space required.
Dean frowned and watched as Sam laughed at something she said. God he was gorgeous when he did that…when he laughed so openly and unconsciously, his head tipping back, his hair in his eyes. Dean sat and drank him in, the shirt sleeves pushed up past his elbows, the tie, slightly undone and off center…long fingers stroking over the wood of the bar.
Then she touched him. Dean frowned when Sam didn’t react. She had her little hand on his arm and Sam didn’t do anything. She leaned into his personal space and he leaned down to hear her. She was flirting. Dean wanted to move across the room and grab him by the tie, kiss him soundly and make her realize the error of her ways.
He shook his head, surprised at himself. He’d never been the jealous sort. Sam moved out from behind the bar, over to a table near the dart board where two drunk patrons were nearly asleep on the table. He could almost hear him, but he was distracted by the waitress.
She was pretty, dark hair that hung just to her shoulders, dark eyes that looked at his Sammy with a lot more than professional interest, petite, but well rounded…she was the kind of girl that once upon a time would have turned his head.
He ran a thumb over the ring…Sam’s ring. He’d worn it for almost two years now, and he’d never felt the need to look beyond his brother. Sam was helping the two drunks to the door. He would see him now. Dean stepped out of the shadows and Sam’s face lit up.
“Thought you’d changed your mind.” Sam said when he got close enough.
“Nah, just wanted you to myself.” Dean countered with a grin.
“I’m just helping Danny and Tommy out to their cab. Tell Celia to get you a drink. I’ll be right back.”
“Celia.” Dean said to himself as he crossed the room and settled onto a stool. Celia smiled at him and leaned over the bar toward him.
“What can I get you cutie?”
“Whiskey, neat.” Dean said, looking over his shoulder for Sam.
“Haven’t seen you before. I’m Celia.” She poured the drink and set it in front of him.
“Dean.” He picked up the glass and her eyes fell on the ring.
“Married?” He could hear the disappointment in her tone, and smirked behind his glass.
“In a manner of speaking.” He felt Sam approaching and sipped at the whiskey. When Sam was close enough he turned, grabbing him by the tie to pull him down for a kiss. Sam was grinning when he let him go.
“Um…yeah…Celia, I take it you’ve met my…Dean?”
Dean could see it in her face, the realization that she wasn’t going to get anywhere with either of them. “Yeah…in a manner of speaking.”
Dean’s tongue stuck out from between his teeth as he grinned up at his brother happily. Sam shook his head. “Celia, finish the tables and you can go. I already turned off the lights out front.”
Dean pulled on the tie again, yanking Sam down to kiss again, sucking on his lower lip until Sam laughed into his mouth. “Horny?” Sam whispered, and Dean would swear he wasn’t, but now that Sam said something.
“It’s the tie.” Dean said. “It does something to me.”
“As I recall it keeps your hands out of my way while I’m sucking your cock.” Sam whispered in his ear and Dean squints at the tie, adjusting his seat on the stool because he’s starting to get hard. It was the tie Dean had given him when he got the job a month or more ago, and Sam had promptly broken it in by using it to tie Dean to the headboard of their bed.
Sam moved closer then, hands tilting Dean’s face for him to kiss again, his tongue demanding over Dean’s lips. “I gotta finish cleaning up.” Sam finally breathed as Dean’s hands grabbed his hips to steady him.
“Yeah…okay.” Dean let go and turned back to his drink, but not before he caught the look from Celia. He smiled at her and held up his drink. Sam slipped behind the bar and Celia came back, pulling off her apron.
“I’m done Sam. See you tomorrow?”
“I’m off tomorrow. Saturday. Lock the door on your way out.”
“Okay. Nice to meet you, Dean.”
“I’m sure it was.” Dean muttered when she was well out of earshot.
“What?” Sam asked, watching to be sure that Celia locked the door.
“She was hitting on you, dude.”
Sam looked at him like he was crazy. “No she wasn’t.”
“Dude, the way she rubbed her chest on your back when she went behind you…she had a good 12 inches behind her.”
“You’re crazy.”
“You’re blind.” Dean stood up to pull Sam toward him and kissed him. “And you’re mine.”
“Jealous?” Sam asked, grinning against Dean’s mouth.
“Have you seen you in those jeans?” Dean responded, letting him go. As Sam stood, he knocked down a plastic container and a plume of red spilled over his white shirt.
“Shit!” He righted the container. “Fucking cherries. This shit won’t come out.” He pulled off the tie and grabbed a bar towel to rub at the stain.
“You’re going to have to soak it.” Dean said. “Take it off. Put it in the sink with a little bleach. It’ll be fine.”
Sam pulled off the shirt and tossed it in the sink, running water over it. The muscles of Sam’s back rippled with his movement and Dean’s dick jumped. He turned away, trying to calm down. He didn’t understand why he was so worked up. He ran his hand over the smooth wood of the bar. “Hey, this is a nice bar.” He had an image of Sam bending him over it and shook his head.
Sam came around the end of the bar, his hand skimming over the surface as he came closer. “It’s an antique. Hand carved. Years of buffing…rubbing…been here for a hundred years.”
Dean swallowed and watched him come. It shouldn’t be that hot, talking about a long plane of wood, then Sam hitched his hip up, jumping just a little…and he was sitting there, on the antique bar, beckoning Dean.
Dean downed his drink, and put the glass out of the way, then used the stool to boost himself up. Sam turned, one long leg dangling off the bar, the other stretched out like a landing strip to guide Dean in.
He crawled down the bar toward Sam…loving the dark, lust filled look he got, the way, Sam’s arms reached for him. Dean licked his lips. “Fuck you’re pretty.” Dean whispered, just to get that blush on Sam’s cheeks that matched the red cherry juice that stained his shirt.
Sam's naked chest gleamed in the light spilling blue and green from the jukebox as Dean pressed him down to the bar, moving to straddle over him, pressing his groin down against Sam's, grinding into him as their cocks both stirred with the friction. Dean's hands slid down over the exposed skin, then back up, following by his lips, kissing a path from his waistband up to his neck.
His hands found the open container and pulled up one bright red cherry, still on it's stem, all sticky and candied and dripping sweet red juice. Sam's eyes followed it as Dean teased him, dangling it over his mouth...but as Sam reached for it, Dean moved, dragging it down, over Sam's neck...leaving a trail of juice as he dragged it over one nipple, then the other, then down, nestling it into Sam's navel.
Sam's eyes rolled closed as Dean's tongue lapped at the sticky mess, as teeth and tongue and lips worked his nipples hard and made him squirm...then that tongue was under the cherry, deep, then curling up and Sam felt lips on his, lips and sweetness as Dean bit into the fruit and let the juice slide into Sam's mouth. Dean's tongue followed and the gently mashed up cherry slid into Sam's mouth. He swallowed reflexively and Dean groaned into him.
"Want you Sammy...want you right here."
Sam leveraged himself up on his elbows, looking into the dark green of his brother's eyes. "Not that kind of bar, Dean." Sam said, his voice husky with his own need. Dean's fingers hooked into Sam's pockets and pulled him closer, then bent his head to unbutton him with his teeth.
"Want." Dean insisted.
Sam bucked up toward the warmth of Dean's breath over his hard cock, despite the voice in his head saying this was a bad idea. "You're gonna get me fired." He groaned as Dean's fingers in his pockets yanked his jeans down, exposing his cock to his lips and tongue.
Then there was another cherry, it’s sticky surface circling the head of his cock, Dean’s tongue following behind it and Sam couldn’t breathe. “Dean.”
Dean grinned up at him, the hand with the cherry sliding up over Sam’s abs, up to Sam’s mouth. “Sticky.” Dean murmured, his tongue sliding over the length of Sam’s cock before closing his mouth over it. His hands pressed Sam’s hips to the bar as he hollowed out his cheeks and sucked and fuck it was like Sam’s brain simply checked out. The cherry was sweet in his mouth, glazed lightly with salty pre-cum and Sam chewed it lightly, the juice filling his mouth.
Dean swallowed with the tip of Sam’s cock in his throat and Sam growled. His hand found the container and pulled up three more cherries, looking up at Sam as he fed them into his mouth. Light teeth at the base of his cock, then tongue over the slit and sucking…sucking deep and hard and Sam bucked up, coming on Dean’s tongue, even as he bit into the cherries. Dean crawled over him and kissed him, sharing the taste of cherries and come and when they’d both swallowed Sam was still hard he was so turned on by his brother’s jealousy.
“Sticky.” Dean said again, touching the stickiness of Sam’s chest.
“Sweet.” Sam countered, pulling him back down for a long, lingering kiss.
“Home.” Dean whispered. “Want to fuck you on the living room floor.”
Sam’s cock twitched. “Parking lot,” he countered. “Want to fuck you in the back seat of the Impala.”