DJ100 fic: Book Your Seat (Sam/Dean/throne, NC-17)
Title: Book Your Seat (for the Special Hell)
Author: smallcaps
Pairing: Sam/Dean/throne
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Sam and Dean have sex in Hell. Sam has a throne. That is all.
Spawned by prompt #29 for the Demon Jesus 100 flash-fanworks-a-thon.
The best part about being the brother of the Boy King of Hell was the throne. It was an awesome throne.
"Dean," Sam said, standing over him in classic bitchface blah-blah-blah mode. "Do you mind? I'm pretty sure that's my chair."
"Nah, I don't mind." Dean fed the vibrating throne another quarter and stretched luxuriously, smirking up (and up, and up) at Sam. Possession was nine-tenths of the law, and besides, Sam didn't have the proper appreciation for this thing. "This is sweet, Sammy; you should try it some time."
"You're getting...stuff on it." Sam scrunched his nose up in distaste.
Dean rolled his eyes. "Don't hear you complaining when my 'stuff' is on your dick from me riding you all night long." He braced his hands on either side of himself, sliding his ass up and down the throne's ornate phallus to illustrate his words. The vibrating filled his lower body with warmth, and he let out a happy grunt. "My ass all hot and slick on you. Little squeeze every time you hit that sweet spot, because I just can't help myself. When's the last time you used a rubber, Sam? I just climb on and ride you 'til you can't see straight."
He let his voice drop, let the vibrations carry through his body, through his words. This throne was way too fucking sweet. "Just fuck up and down on you 'til you can't take it anymore. 'Til you totally lose it. Make you come and come and fill me up inside..."
"Are you going somewhere with this?" Sam asked, low and grating, his voice cracking somewhere in the middle of the question.
Dean pushed up, held himself there long enough to give Sam a sickly sweet smile -- "Just saying," -- and slid down hard, all the way, impaling himself on the thick, vibrating dildo with a gasp. "Fuck. That when you're, you know, just gotten laid and your dick's covered in lube and shit and jizz, you don't. You don't really bitch about having 'stuff' on it."
"Sure I do," Sam said, giving a dirty smirk under his shaggy mop of hair. "I just blow your mind so hard you can't remember it, later."
"Is that what you blow?" Dean stilled on the throne. He let his thighs fall open, smiling invitingly up at his baby brother, dick hard and eager. "Wanna remind me how that goes?"
Sam stared at him in disbelief, although disbelief of what wasn't clear. Like, seriously, there was anything unusual or unexpected about Dean getting off on Sammy's throne...again. "It's my throne, Dean!"
"Come on then, Your Majesty." Dean scooped up another quarter from the stack on the dais next to the throne; held it up between two fingers. "Come for a spin on the big boy chair. Don't make me break out the sex pollen."
"There is no such thing as sex pollen," Sam said, but he was starting to smile now, couldn't resist Dean's charm and good looks for long. "You're just perpetually horny."
"I fell in when I was a baby." Dean grinned, stretching his arms over his head so his aching shoulders pressed against the throne's vibrations, passing the quarter from hand to hand. "Like Obelix, you know, but instead of superhuman strength I have...superhuman sexual prowess."
Sam's lurking smile widened, eyes sparkling. He climbed up onto the throne, on his knees between Dean's thighs, face hovering over Dean's. "So, you admit you're the sidekick?"
Damn. He'd sort of asked for that one. Dean scowled. "Dude, Obelix could kick Asterix for a field goal."
Sam's smile turned kind of constipated, like he was trying to look evil and sexy. Kid really oughta practise in the mirror 'til he nailed it. "So in this metaphor of yours, your sexual technique blows mine out of the water?"
This was so much better than a conversation about sidekicks (which, by the way, was totally Sam, an account of Dean was the oldest and got all the girls). Dean smiled up at him. "Either that or you're just really goddamn easy."
"Is that so," Sam drawled, propping his hands on the padded throne back, on either side of Dean's head. The throne quivered for a moment, then obediently stretched out, lewd la-Z-boy, still vibrating firmly through Dean's bones. "Put it to the test?"
"You know I'm game." Dean lowered his arms, grasping Sam's wrists loose and warm. "Gold medal Sex Olympics 2004."
"Only because you bribed the Russian judge," Sam deadpanned, leaning down to nip at the corner of his jaw.
"And she loved every minute of it." Dean still had the coin in his left hand. He tucked it under the tip of his forefingers, rubbing it up and down the back of Sam's wrist. "Quarter says I get you off twice before the whistle blows."
"The whistle." Sam chuckled, glancing pointedly down at Dean's hard-on. "That whistle? Dude, you're dreaming. You've already been butt-humping my throne for, what, half an hour."
"Just giving you a headstart, Sammy-boy. Figure you're gonna need it."
Sam's eyes glinted, and without shifting his weight he moved his right hand to Dean's throat, gripping firm enough to hurt but not to stop his air. The coin dropped, bounced off the throne and rolled away and away along the dais, out of hearing. "Talk, talk, talk. I've got better things for you to do with that mouth."
Now, see, the whole evil-sexy thing worked a damn sight better when Sammy wasn't trying.
Dean let go Sam's other wrist; he unbuckled Sam's belt, pulling it firmly free of the loops of his brother's pants. With a quick smile, flick of his eyebrows, he looped it over Sam's neck, pushing the strap through the buckle so it didn't fall off. "Aw," he said roughly, throat pressed under Sam's broad, firm palm, "it brings out your eyes."
Sammy was way overdressed.
He popped the buttons on Sam's pants, quick and clever like snapping a bra. He rubbed his knuckles at Sam's half-hard dick through briefs; there was something awesome about feeling it stiffen and grow, kneading it through the soft cotton 'til it was full and heavy and his brother was making little happy noises. The hand on his throat moved, thumb stroking the line of his jaw as Sam kissed him.
The timer on the vibrations ran out and Dean was actually kinda relieved, because the thickness in him stilled and he could think again. He pushed gently at Sam's chest, throat cramped and bruising as he murmured against his brother's mouth. "How you want to work this? I kinda want to see the Boy King on his throne while I suck him off."
"Works for me." Sam gave him a last kiss and then climbed off to undress; Dean couldn't help letting out a slight cough as his throat was released.
He got off the throne himself, careful as he pulled up off of the attached dildo, its slick curving ribs. Its absence made him achy and hollow, and he considered just climbing into Sam's lap for a decent fuck, but he had a point to prove before he let himself come.
Scooping up the lube he'd been using, Dean wet his fingers; curled himself around his half-naked brother, holding apart the cheeks of Sam's ass as he helped guide Sam down onto the slippery, artificial dick. Sam gave an open-mouthed grunt, still in a t-shirt and the impromptu belt necklace, working down on the lubed dildo all the way until the whole thing was buried.
"I warmed it up for you and everything," Dean muttered, swiping his tongue at Sam's jaw. He dropped to his knees on the dais -- and didn't he spend way too much time doing that -- and wrapped his mouth around Sam's hard-on, looking up into his brother's eyes, all fake innocence like a cliche straight out of the porn Sammy was always embarrassed to be watching. And yeah, Sam made a growly, breathy little sound and watched with slitted eyes.
Dean made an effort to relax, sucking Sam in as deep as he comfortably could. He bobbed up and down, teasing with his tongue, working it while Sam stroked his hair and murmured encouraging, cheesy things like, "yeah, just like that," and "love my cock, don't you?"
Boy King of all Hell, and Sammy was still watching the B-grade porn.
Finally Sam's eyes drifted closed; the throne reclined as Sam leaned back, relaxing in to the blowjob. Dean squeezed some more lube out, pushed a finger into Sam alongside the jutting dildo of the throne.
"Yeah, yeah," Sam breathed, hand sliding down Dean's skull to cup the back of his neck. Sam's dick was leaking now, warm and salty and Dean would never admit out loud that he liked the taste because that was just freaking gay. But. It was totally true; Sam tasted good.
He sucked a little harder, the back of his neck comfortably warm under Sam's loose grip. Press of the tongue -- flat, right up against the underbelly of Sam's dick -- a little hum, and by the time Dean was working a second finger into his brother, Sam was twisting and squirming and coming with a low moan.
Dean swallowed, and wiped his thumb across his lower lip in another one of those tacky porno moves. "Not bad, huh?" He slipped his fingers free and crawled onto the throne over Sam; it reclined further, helpfully, going flat like a bed.
"Not bad," Sam mumbled a little breathlessly; "I've had worse."
"Somebody's a smartass." Dean tipped lube on his dick; fisted himself a couple of times to spread it while he licked at Sam's neck. "You just lie there and be all blissed-out and relaxed, okay?"
"Mm-hmm," Sam agreed, but a moment later his eyes flew wide. "Oh, shit, you cannot be serious."
"Oh, I so totally am." Dean thumbed the firm ring of Sam's ass; it was plenty wet. "Take it easy, Sammy. Shh, shh, just relax. You can take this."
"Not a chance," Sam muttered, but he didn't tense up, and when Dean pushed his dick in next to the throne's fake one, Sam gave a really fucking filthy moan.
"Jesus." Dean stopped to catch his breath, blood running hot at the tightness sheathing him. This was awesomely dirty and he should have thought of it a long time ago.
Sam huffed a tiny laugh. "Wrong Christ. You're thinking Anti."
"Weak, man, weak." Dean closed his eyes and steadied himself. Carefully, he pulled halfway out; pushed back in. Set up a rhythm, fucking Sam deep, sliding along the hard, blunt ridges of the throne's dildo. "That's it, baby, take it. God, that's good."
"D.P. is one thing, Dean, but lay off the 'baby'."
Dean nipped playfully at his little brother's jaw. "What? I can totally get you off by calling you baby."
"No, you can get me off despite calling me baby." Sam smiled against him, hands coming down to tug at his hips, pull him in snug and tight. "That's not the same thing."
Dean faked a pornstar moan, loud and plastic. "Oh, baby, baby, yeah. You feel so good, baby. Gonna dirty up your diapers for me?"
Sam started to laugh; cuffed him over the head. "Dickhead."
"Baby." Dean pulled out further, thrust back in harder. It was too damn good and he wanted to last -- had to last. He'd bet Sam, cocky and sure. Get the kid off twice before he blew.
Sammy was giving little groans, hard again; that was a good start. Dean called it demon stamina, because the other option always wound up with Sam cracking jokes about Dean being old.
He shoved his hands up under Sam's tee, flicking a nipple lightly. "You should hold court like this, Sam. Sprawled out on your throne, taking it deep. Look at you. The look on your face. God, you're fuckable right now. They'd love it."
"You mean you'd love it, you massive pervert." Sam pulled at his hips, at his ass, hands warm and heavy. "You don't really wanna share. Come on, fuck me. So damn good."
"Yeah, Sammy." Dean reached down to the dais, draped over Sam's body. He snagged another quarter from the stack of coins, dropped it into the slot on the side of the throne. Fuck, and the buzzing started hard; the vibrations against his dick went right through him, setting him on fire to the bone. Sam gave a weird keening noise and started panting, moving against him in tiny little jerks.
Dean shuddered, running hot all over, under his skin. He pressed his mouth to Sam's throat, above the leather of the belt, taking a moment to adjust. Then he started thrusting again, Sam's ass tight and hot around him, the dildo vibrating steady and merciless and impossible to get away from.
"Fuck," Sam gasped, and panted some more. Little snatches of words as his baby brother trembled and jerked. "Shit, Dean. Get you. Cheater."
"Let it go." Dean struggled to keep his voice steady; Sam was quivering, squeezing at him, and he felt like he was going out of his mind. "Come on, Sam, love it, you love it. Can't get enough of my dick. Fucking you, filling you up. Deep and dirty, just how you like it."
Sam keened again, fingers digging into his hips enough to fucking hurt. Kid was gasping loud and hard, like he couldn't get enough air. Couldn't even make real words anymore.
Dean grunted, getting a little short of breath himself, slamming in to Sam hard and deep. He fumbled over the bunched cotton of his brother's t-shirt, grabbed the tail of the belt he'd left looped around Sam's neck. "Ready--"
Sam took in a deep gasp, eyes flying wide open, and Dean pulled the belt tight, stretching it out to close over Sam's throat. Sam grabbed at him wildly, fingernails scoring across his back. Tiny, needy sounds only just made it out of Sam's throat. Dean groaned, low and guttural, running out of control. So fucking good, and the hard buzzing dildo right up against his dick as he pounded into Sammy, and fuck. Fuck.
His skin was tight all over. The buzzing went through to his bones, took him over from the inside out, running liquid through his blood. His fist clenched on the belt end and he sobbed as he came apart.
By the time he could breathe again, Sam had smacked the throne to stop it; had tugged the belt loose and was taking deep, gasping breaths like they'd just run a marathon. Dean moaned weakly, shifting slowly backwards, slipping free. His belly was wet; Sam had totally gotten off again. Victory.
"Dude," he mumbled, resting the side of his face on Sam's chest. Smelled like sweat and jizz. "That was fucking awesome."
"Enh," Sam replied coherently. One warm arm draped across Dean's back, limp and heavy.
They spent a while like that, just getting their breath back, then Sam's head lifted. "You totally owe me a quarter."
"What?" Dean blinked up at him blearily. "I do not. I got you off twice."
"Second one was after the whistle blew."
"Prove it. I demand video replay."
Sam snorted at that, trailing his fingertips up and down Dean's shoulderblade. "And you had to use the throne."
"Nobody ruled out sporting equipment. And like you said, massive headstart."
Sam gave a contented hum, breathing slowly evening out. Finally, the kid nodded. "Maybe we could call it a draw."
"Reeeeee-match," Dean mumbled into his brother's chest, singsong. "Also, we should send a guy to tell Jerry Falwell he was right all along. The antichrist totally endorses sodomy. Spread the love."
"I think that guy died," Sam said, stifling a yawn.
"Pat Robertson, then. Whatever. Someone will be glad to hear it." The throne was shifting around them, gentle and smooth. It softened out into a giant mattress, growing a duvet that Dean pulled over them one-handed.
"Dean?"
"Yeah?"
A couple of blunt fingers poked him in the spine. "It's still my throne."
Dean smirked against Sam's skin. "Brothers share, Sammy."
What? It was an awesome throne.
Author: smallcaps
Pairing: Sam/Dean/throne
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Sam and Dean have sex in Hell. Sam has a throne. That is all.
Spawned by prompt #29 for the Demon Jesus 100 flash-fanworks-a-thon.
The best part about being the brother of the Boy King of Hell was the throne. It was an awesome throne.
"Dean," Sam said, standing over him in classic bitchface blah-blah-blah mode. "Do you mind? I'm pretty sure that's my chair."
"Nah, I don't mind." Dean fed the vibrating throne another quarter and stretched luxuriously, smirking up (and up, and up) at Sam. Possession was nine-tenths of the law, and besides, Sam didn't have the proper appreciation for this thing. "This is sweet, Sammy; you should try it some time."
"You're getting...stuff on it." Sam scrunched his nose up in distaste.
Dean rolled his eyes. "Don't hear you complaining when my 'stuff' is on your dick from me riding you all night long." He braced his hands on either side of himself, sliding his ass up and down the throne's ornate phallus to illustrate his words. The vibrating filled his lower body with warmth, and he let out a happy grunt. "My ass all hot and slick on you. Little squeeze every time you hit that sweet spot, because I just can't help myself. When's the last time you used a rubber, Sam? I just climb on and ride you 'til you can't see straight."
He let his voice drop, let the vibrations carry through his body, through his words. This throne was way too fucking sweet. "Just fuck up and down on you 'til you can't take it anymore. 'Til you totally lose it. Make you come and come and fill me up inside..."
"Are you going somewhere with this?" Sam asked, low and grating, his voice cracking somewhere in the middle of the question.
Dean pushed up, held himself there long enough to give Sam a sickly sweet smile -- "Just saying," -- and slid down hard, all the way, impaling himself on the thick, vibrating dildo with a gasp. "Fuck. That when you're, you know, just gotten laid and your dick's covered in lube and shit and jizz, you don't. You don't really bitch about having 'stuff' on it."
"Sure I do," Sam said, giving a dirty smirk under his shaggy mop of hair. "I just blow your mind so hard you can't remember it, later."
"Is that what you blow?" Dean stilled on the throne. He let his thighs fall open, smiling invitingly up at his baby brother, dick hard and eager. "Wanna remind me how that goes?"
Sam stared at him in disbelief, although disbelief of what wasn't clear. Like, seriously, there was anything unusual or unexpected about Dean getting off on Sammy's throne...again. "It's my throne, Dean!"
"Come on then, Your Majesty." Dean scooped up another quarter from the stack on the dais next to the throne; held it up between two fingers. "Come for a spin on the big boy chair. Don't make me break out the sex pollen."
"There is no such thing as sex pollen," Sam said, but he was starting to smile now, couldn't resist Dean's charm and good looks for long. "You're just perpetually horny."
"I fell in when I was a baby." Dean grinned, stretching his arms over his head so his aching shoulders pressed against the throne's vibrations, passing the quarter from hand to hand. "Like Obelix, you know, but instead of superhuman strength I have...superhuman sexual prowess."
Sam's lurking smile widened, eyes sparkling. He climbed up onto the throne, on his knees between Dean's thighs, face hovering over Dean's. "So, you admit you're the sidekick?"
Damn. He'd sort of asked for that one. Dean scowled. "Dude, Obelix could kick Asterix for a field goal."
Sam's smile turned kind of constipated, like he was trying to look evil and sexy. Kid really oughta practise in the mirror 'til he nailed it. "So in this metaphor of yours, your sexual technique blows mine out of the water?"
This was so much better than a conversation about sidekicks (which, by the way, was totally Sam, an account of Dean was the oldest and got all the girls). Dean smiled up at him. "Either that or you're just really goddamn easy."
"Is that so," Sam drawled, propping his hands on the padded throne back, on either side of Dean's head. The throne quivered for a moment, then obediently stretched out, lewd la-Z-boy, still vibrating firmly through Dean's bones. "Put it to the test?"
"You know I'm game." Dean lowered his arms, grasping Sam's wrists loose and warm. "Gold medal Sex Olympics 2004."
"Only because you bribed the Russian judge," Sam deadpanned, leaning down to nip at the corner of his jaw.
"And she loved every minute of it." Dean still had the coin in his left hand. He tucked it under the tip of his forefingers, rubbing it up and down the back of Sam's wrist. "Quarter says I get you off twice before the whistle blows."
"The whistle." Sam chuckled, glancing pointedly down at Dean's hard-on. "That whistle? Dude, you're dreaming. You've already been butt-humping my throne for, what, half an hour."
"Just giving you a headstart, Sammy-boy. Figure you're gonna need it."
Sam's eyes glinted, and without shifting his weight he moved his right hand to Dean's throat, gripping firm enough to hurt but not to stop his air. The coin dropped, bounced off the throne and rolled away and away along the dais, out of hearing. "Talk, talk, talk. I've got better things for you to do with that mouth."
Now, see, the whole evil-sexy thing worked a damn sight better when Sammy wasn't trying.
Dean let go Sam's other wrist; he unbuckled Sam's belt, pulling it firmly free of the loops of his brother's pants. With a quick smile, flick of his eyebrows, he looped it over Sam's neck, pushing the strap through the buckle so it didn't fall off. "Aw," he said roughly, throat pressed under Sam's broad, firm palm, "it brings out your eyes."
Sammy was way overdressed.
He popped the buttons on Sam's pants, quick and clever like snapping a bra. He rubbed his knuckles at Sam's half-hard dick through briefs; there was something awesome about feeling it stiffen and grow, kneading it through the soft cotton 'til it was full and heavy and his brother was making little happy noises. The hand on his throat moved, thumb stroking the line of his jaw as Sam kissed him.
The timer on the vibrations ran out and Dean was actually kinda relieved, because the thickness in him stilled and he could think again. He pushed gently at Sam's chest, throat cramped and bruising as he murmured against his brother's mouth. "How you want to work this? I kinda want to see the Boy King on his throne while I suck him off."
"Works for me." Sam gave him a last kiss and then climbed off to undress; Dean couldn't help letting out a slight cough as his throat was released.
He got off the throne himself, careful as he pulled up off of the attached dildo, its slick curving ribs. Its absence made him achy and hollow, and he considered just climbing into Sam's lap for a decent fuck, but he had a point to prove before he let himself come.
Scooping up the lube he'd been using, Dean wet his fingers; curled himself around his half-naked brother, holding apart the cheeks of Sam's ass as he helped guide Sam down onto the slippery, artificial dick. Sam gave an open-mouthed grunt, still in a t-shirt and the impromptu belt necklace, working down on the lubed dildo all the way until the whole thing was buried.
"I warmed it up for you and everything," Dean muttered, swiping his tongue at Sam's jaw. He dropped to his knees on the dais -- and didn't he spend way too much time doing that -- and wrapped his mouth around Sam's hard-on, looking up into his brother's eyes, all fake innocence like a cliche straight out of the porn Sammy was always embarrassed to be watching. And yeah, Sam made a growly, breathy little sound and watched with slitted eyes.
Dean made an effort to relax, sucking Sam in as deep as he comfortably could. He bobbed up and down, teasing with his tongue, working it while Sam stroked his hair and murmured encouraging, cheesy things like, "yeah, just like that," and "love my cock, don't you?"
Boy King of all Hell, and Sammy was still watching the B-grade porn.
Finally Sam's eyes drifted closed; the throne reclined as Sam leaned back, relaxing in to the blowjob. Dean squeezed some more lube out, pushed a finger into Sam alongside the jutting dildo of the throne.
"Yeah, yeah," Sam breathed, hand sliding down Dean's skull to cup the back of his neck. Sam's dick was leaking now, warm and salty and Dean would never admit out loud that he liked the taste because that was just freaking gay. But. It was totally true; Sam tasted good.
He sucked a little harder, the back of his neck comfortably warm under Sam's loose grip. Press of the tongue -- flat, right up against the underbelly of Sam's dick -- a little hum, and by the time Dean was working a second finger into his brother, Sam was twisting and squirming and coming with a low moan.
Dean swallowed, and wiped his thumb across his lower lip in another one of those tacky porno moves. "Not bad, huh?" He slipped his fingers free and crawled onto the throne over Sam; it reclined further, helpfully, going flat like a bed.
"Not bad," Sam mumbled a little breathlessly; "I've had worse."
"Somebody's a smartass." Dean tipped lube on his dick; fisted himself a couple of times to spread it while he licked at Sam's neck. "You just lie there and be all blissed-out and relaxed, okay?"
"Mm-hmm," Sam agreed, but a moment later his eyes flew wide. "Oh, shit, you cannot be serious."
"Oh, I so totally am." Dean thumbed the firm ring of Sam's ass; it was plenty wet. "Take it easy, Sammy. Shh, shh, just relax. You can take this."
"Not a chance," Sam muttered, but he didn't tense up, and when Dean pushed his dick in next to the throne's fake one, Sam gave a really fucking filthy moan.
"Jesus." Dean stopped to catch his breath, blood running hot at the tightness sheathing him. This was awesomely dirty and he should have thought of it a long time ago.
Sam huffed a tiny laugh. "Wrong Christ. You're thinking Anti."
"Weak, man, weak." Dean closed his eyes and steadied himself. Carefully, he pulled halfway out; pushed back in. Set up a rhythm, fucking Sam deep, sliding along the hard, blunt ridges of the throne's dildo. "That's it, baby, take it. God, that's good."
"D.P. is one thing, Dean, but lay off the 'baby'."
Dean nipped playfully at his little brother's jaw. "What? I can totally get you off by calling you baby."
"No, you can get me off despite calling me baby." Sam smiled against him, hands coming down to tug at his hips, pull him in snug and tight. "That's not the same thing."
Dean faked a pornstar moan, loud and plastic. "Oh, baby, baby, yeah. You feel so good, baby. Gonna dirty up your diapers for me?"
Sam started to laugh; cuffed him over the head. "Dickhead."
"Baby." Dean pulled out further, thrust back in harder. It was too damn good and he wanted to last -- had to last. He'd bet Sam, cocky and sure. Get the kid off twice before he blew.
Sammy was giving little groans, hard again; that was a good start. Dean called it demon stamina, because the other option always wound up with Sam cracking jokes about Dean being old.
He shoved his hands up under Sam's tee, flicking a nipple lightly. "You should hold court like this, Sam. Sprawled out on your throne, taking it deep. Look at you. The look on your face. God, you're fuckable right now. They'd love it."
"You mean you'd love it, you massive pervert." Sam pulled at his hips, at his ass, hands warm and heavy. "You don't really wanna share. Come on, fuck me. So damn good."
"Yeah, Sammy." Dean reached down to the dais, draped over Sam's body. He snagged another quarter from the stack of coins, dropped it into the slot on the side of the throne. Fuck, and the buzzing started hard; the vibrations against his dick went right through him, setting him on fire to the bone. Sam gave a weird keening noise and started panting, moving against him in tiny little jerks.
Dean shuddered, running hot all over, under his skin. He pressed his mouth to Sam's throat, above the leather of the belt, taking a moment to adjust. Then he started thrusting again, Sam's ass tight and hot around him, the dildo vibrating steady and merciless and impossible to get away from.
"Fuck," Sam gasped, and panted some more. Little snatches of words as his baby brother trembled and jerked. "Shit, Dean. Get you. Cheater."
"Let it go." Dean struggled to keep his voice steady; Sam was quivering, squeezing at him, and he felt like he was going out of his mind. "Come on, Sam, love it, you love it. Can't get enough of my dick. Fucking you, filling you up. Deep and dirty, just how you like it."
Sam keened again, fingers digging into his hips enough to fucking hurt. Kid was gasping loud and hard, like he couldn't get enough air. Couldn't even make real words anymore.
Dean grunted, getting a little short of breath himself, slamming in to Sam hard and deep. He fumbled over the bunched cotton of his brother's t-shirt, grabbed the tail of the belt he'd left looped around Sam's neck. "Ready--"
Sam took in a deep gasp, eyes flying wide open, and Dean pulled the belt tight, stretching it out to close over Sam's throat. Sam grabbed at him wildly, fingernails scoring across his back. Tiny, needy sounds only just made it out of Sam's throat. Dean groaned, low and guttural, running out of control. So fucking good, and the hard buzzing dildo right up against his dick as he pounded into Sammy, and fuck. Fuck.
His skin was tight all over. The buzzing went through to his bones, took him over from the inside out, running liquid through his blood. His fist clenched on the belt end and he sobbed as he came apart.
By the time he could breathe again, Sam had smacked the throne to stop it; had tugged the belt loose and was taking deep, gasping breaths like they'd just run a marathon. Dean moaned weakly, shifting slowly backwards, slipping free. His belly was wet; Sam had totally gotten off again. Victory.
"Dude," he mumbled, resting the side of his face on Sam's chest. Smelled like sweat and jizz. "That was fucking awesome."
"Enh," Sam replied coherently. One warm arm draped across Dean's back, limp and heavy.
They spent a while like that, just getting their breath back, then Sam's head lifted. "You totally owe me a quarter."
"What?" Dean blinked up at him blearily. "I do not. I got you off twice."
"Second one was after the whistle blew."
"Prove it. I demand video replay."
Sam snorted at that, trailing his fingertips up and down Dean's shoulderblade. "And you had to use the throne."
"Nobody ruled out sporting equipment. And like you said, massive headstart."
Sam gave a contented hum, breathing slowly evening out. Finally, the kid nodded. "Maybe we could call it a draw."
"Reeeeee-match," Dean mumbled into his brother's chest, singsong. "Also, we should send a guy to tell Jerry Falwell he was right all along. The antichrist totally endorses sodomy. Spread the love."
"I think that guy died," Sam said, stifling a yawn.
"Pat Robertson, then. Whatever. Someone will be glad to hear it." The throne was shifting around them, gentle and smooth. It softened out into a giant mattress, growing a duvet that Dean pulled over them one-handed.
"Dean?"
"Yeah?"
A couple of blunt fingers poked him in the spine. "It's still my throne."
Dean smirked against Sam's skin. "Brothers share, Sammy."
What? It was an awesome throne.