Fic: Debts To Be Paid (Dean/Sam)
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Sam
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: AU, graphic sex, public sex(ish)
Notes: Second in the Werewolf porn series (back to part 1)
Summary - Sam may be his alpha, but Dean's going to show him exactly who's in charge.
Dean didn't quite manage to keep the growl trapped in his throat, but it doesn't really matter because the bar's speakers are pumping out some electronic beat too loud for anyone to have heard anyway. Right now he wouldn't have really cared if they did.
The little brunette's hands were playing over Sammy's chest again like she thought they belonged there. He tried not to think about how easy it would be to crack the delicate little bones in those hands - and that's gotta be the wolf right? Did he always think like that?
Dean considered cutting Sam some kind of break because the little brunette bitch has forced four tequila shots with him and Sam didn't usually drink hard liquor... but you know what, fuck it, Sam didn't deserve a break. And it felt pretty damn good to be pissed at his little brother at the moment.
Sam didn't even seem to have noticed that Dean - Dean, the monster freak Sam had been so worried about going on a murderous rampage just two weeks ago - had been staring at them this whole time. Didn't even ask if Dean could handle being around people like that when the older Winchester had suggested that they hit this place looking for leads. Apparently, if it wasn't a full moon, Dean didn't warrant Sammy's concern anymore.
And like fucking hell was that little coed a lead for what they were hunting - looked like Sam had a whole different kind of hunt in mind and the wolf part of Dean's brain was snarling at that.
For the days of the full moon, Dean and his little brother had barely made it out of bed, Sammy doing a hell of a job keeping up with Dean's enhanced stamina, but once those nights had passed and Dean got back to the more human side of his life, Sam just acted like he hadn't spent the last 72 hours fucking his big brother into the mattress.
That need for Sam's attention hadn't gone away with the moon, though - if he was being honest, Dean knew it had been there all along, just more out in the open now, thanks to his even-worse-than-before impulse control issues. Dean hadn't been able to come right out and make a move on Sam; the idea that his little brother would turn him away, had really only been with him because of the werewolf thing... No, that wasn't something he could handle, now or ever.
The thing was, he was pretty sure that Sam felt the same way. Sometimes when they were alone he would catch the sharp scent of lust rolling off of his brother and Sam had certainly started finding his way into more girls’ beds in the last couple of weeks like maybe he could fuck away the need; he really ought to know better than that, Dean had the move trademarked.
Two weeks’ worth of watching it happen from the sidelines was more than either his human or wolf side could take. Enough was E-fucking-nough.
In a smooth body-roll that earned him more than one appreciative glance, Dean pushed himself away from the end of the bar where he was hovering and stalked through the crowd toward his brother, his prey.
Sammy and his - ugh - date didn't notice him until he was practically on top of them, the dark and the press of too many bodies hiding him from their periphery. Dean took advantage of the crowd cover to slide in between the two, his front to Sam, right hand skating up that flat, t-shirt clad stomach to wrap around the back of his neck. His little brother looked at him like he'd grown a second head.
"Dean?" he asked loudly over the music, 'what the fuck are you doing' implicit in his tone.
Dean pulled with the hand at Sam's nape, the younger man to stunned and tipsy to do anything but squeeze right up against him so that Dean could let loose another growl for Sam to feel reverberate between their bodies. He cast a glance over his shoulder at the brunette bitch who might have been getting a premonition of her own death from the look on her face and gave her his best Winchester grin.
"Bye," he said cheerfully, turning all of his attention back on Sam. He could hear the her sputter followed by a disgruntled mumble as she pressed her way back through the crowd. At least she knew when to retreat, smarter than he'd thought.
Sam watched her go for a second over Dean's shoulder then flicked his hazel eyes - too dark to really see properly in this light, but Dean's night vision had improved dramatically - back to his brother, still pressed tightly up against him.
"What the fuck, Dean?" he asked heatedly before his face went halfway soft, "If you need to leave you could have just said."
Dean chuckled, firm body moving against Sam's.
"Not leaving, Sammy. I just realized, standing over there, that there's a little lesson you need to learn."
He pressed his free hand over Sam's navel with enough force to start him moving back toward the corner of the room, Dean's other hand still on his neck, holding them tightly together.
"And the lesson is how to knock people over?" his brother inquired, neck straining to see behind him and avoid jostling more people than necessary as Dean continued to urge him backward. Dean couldn't help but be a little pleased that Sam didn't even mention that he'd blown his shot at nailing that girl.
They butted up against the wall, Sam's back to the corner, trying to bunch up as small as his giant body would let him since Dean just kept right on pressing into his personal space. Concern was warring with trepidation on Sam's face - he never could bluff for shit - clearly worrying that something was wrong with Dean, not wanting to push with so many people around. Dean wasn't above using that to his advantage.
Dean huffed a chemical-stained swell of air out his nose and leaned in even further to crowd his face into the warm hollow behind Sam's jaw and fill his sensitive nostrils with the smell of lust and Sam. Better already.
"No," Dean rumbled, lips playing at Sam's earlobe and sending a full body shiver through the younger man, "The lesson is about how this 'pack' thing works. I think it's time you figured it out, Sammy boy."
Dean's hip rocked forward, finding the stiff heat of Sam's groin and they moaned in unison at the feel. A molten thrill was filling Dean up, now with that final confirmation of Sam's want.
"Dean, we can't -- this is --" Sam started; pulse spiking under the tongue Dean had pressed to his throat. "Not here," he managed breathily as Dean nipped at the throb of blood just below the surface.
Another chuckle was the only answer Sam was going to get, because even if Sammy's brain was worried about the idea of getting down to business in the dark corner of a crowded bar, his cock was twitching at Dean's hip, obviously strongly in favor of the concept, and Dean was only accepting one of those votes. Sam's upstairs head had been making some pretty shitty decisions lately, anyway.
"See, Sammy, you're all hung up on this wolf thing," Dean was working his mouth down the slope of Sam's neck now, hips still rocking against his dick, Dean's own hardness really enjoying the feel of Sam's firm thigh. Sam's hands skated up Dean's arms in what might have been an attempt to push him away if there had been, you know, like, any strength at all behind it. Mostly it just seemed like a plea not to stop, and Dean was just fine with that.
"Ok, yeah, you're my alpha," he continued over the soft sounds building up in Sam's chest, and the constant blare of the music, "I belong to you, whatever. Like you said, I always have." A hard roll of Dean's body had Sam making this little choked off whimper as he repositioned their hard lengths into alignment through their jeans.
"Thing you don't seem to be getting," and now Dean had to stop talking to suck hard at a spot halfway up Sam's throat, high enough there wasn't going to be any good way to hide the bruise, "is that you're MY alpha, MY baby brother". He clamped his teeth down on the skin next to his first mark, teasing it with his sharp canines, then sucking until another dark splotch bloomed to the surface. If there was a better taste in the whole damn world than Sam, they hadn't found it yet.
"And it's about time you learned that you belong to me too,” another bite, another bruise next to the first two, and Sam's breathe was hitched and raspy as Dean's mouth worked over the very center, a touch more pressure than necessary against his windpipe. Sam just tilted his chin higher, the submissive gesture tugging at things low in his body, magnifying the coiled heat in his groin, just as Sam's hands worked their way into his back pockets, pressing closer. Fuck yeah.
"Always have," he growled right into Sam's skin, biting another mark into the line across Sam's neck while his hand found the stiff nub of Sam's nipple beneath his shirt and pinched it hard between his nails.
"Always will," Sam whimpered, thrusting helplessly against Dean's hips, the rest of the bar apparently forgotten. And Dean couldn't have that, now could he?
"And everybody here's gonna learn it too."
Sam's rhythm stuttered, eyes fluttering open and remembering that they were basically dry humping against the wall of a fucking bar. There were definitely eyes on them, even through the crowd and the dark Dean knew, could almost feel, people watching them. The thought made his cock jump against Sam's and that had his little brother melting into fucked-out oblivion again, not caring who might see.
Dean was loving that he could get Sam this far gone, make him forget all of the decent-proper-normal bullshit he'd chased after for so long just by touching him, talking him off. It made Dean's skin tingle, his chest burning like he was breathing down flames, and if it wasn't for all the supernatural stamina, he'd probably have already lost it. But that wasn't how this was going to go down.
Dean bit down hard at Sam's throat again, completing the perfect collar of bruises that said 'Dean's' better than any dogtag could have. Not that he was opposed to getting a nice shiny tag for little Sammy's neck, now that he thought about it. Maybe a good, thick leather collar... Fuck! He need to focus. There'd be time for all that later.
Now it was time to see how far over the edge Sam would go.
Shaking himself out of his momentary reverie, Dean shoved his hips hard against Sam's, holding them in a slow, rough grind. Sammy's hands were in a death grip on Dean's ass, sure to leave a few bruises of his own, and Dean guessed that was fair, especially considering how he planned to end this.
"You're gonna show all these people what I do to you, how bad you want it, how pretty you come for me," Dean moaned against Sam's jaw, lapping at him softly, getting off on the feel of Sam's skin against his tongue. Sam shuddered hard, knees buckling, the pressure of Dean against him the only thing keeping him from sliding to the ground. Almost there.
"Gonna cream yourself right here for me, in front of everybody, because I tell you to," Dean cupped one big hand to Sam's neck, covering the line he'd made with his mouth and pressing just enough to change those high pitched whines in Sam's throat to dragging gasps. Sam's thrusts against him went sloppy, frantic; no rhythm, just a desperate need for friction, need to do what Dean says and come, come right -
"Now."
Sam's body is spasming before Dean's even finished the syllable, like some switch inside him flipped at the command. It took everything, absolutely everything, Dean had not to go right over the edge with his brother - God he looked so fucking beautiful, shivering and coming, making a mess of himself just for Dean - but he knew that if he did they were both just going to collapse on the floor and that would pretty much ruin the plans Dean had sketched out for when they got back to the motel. So instead of rubbing forward, he backed his aching cock away from Sam, bracing his fucking huge, practically limp, little brother against the wall and... yeah, he just couldn't resist.
Dean went down into a squat, balancing effortlessly on the balls of his feet until he was eye level with the stain darkening the front of Sam's jeans. He pressed his cheek softly to the damp denim, nuzzling against the hot fabric, scenting his brother with deep, hungry breaths. One quick swipe of his tongue across the wet, clinging fabric - fuck, he wished the music wasn't so loud so he could really enjoy Sam moaning as he watches - just the hint of pure Sam lingering in his mouth, wetting his appetite for more, and then Dean was standing again.
He hooked two fingers into the waistband of Sam's pants, reveling in the warm slickness that his fingertips found almost as much as the way the slide of his fingers on skin made Sam thunk his head back against the wall.
"C'mon, sasquatch, time to go," he said, grinning like he didn’t have a fucking telephone pole shoved down the front of his pants. Sam let himself be tugged hazily across the bar, looking stoned out of his head and not paying one bit of attention to the smattering of applause or the cat calls or the way eyes danced from the obvious bulge in Dean's pants to the accompanying stain on Sam's.
Yeah, in a minute or two, once Sam's brain kicked into gear again, he was probably going to be a real pain in the ass about this whole thing, but it had so been worth it. Besides, Sammy had two whole weeks worth of not-fucking to make up to Dean; he owed him.
Dean was definitely going to enjoy the ride.
On to Part Three
Pairing: Dean/Sam
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: AU, graphic sex, public sex(ish)
Notes: Second in the Werewolf porn series (back to part 1)
Summary - Sam may be his alpha, but Dean's going to show him exactly who's in charge.
Dean didn't quite manage to keep the growl trapped in his throat, but it doesn't really matter because the bar's speakers are pumping out some electronic beat too loud for anyone to have heard anyway. Right now he wouldn't have really cared if they did.
The little brunette's hands were playing over Sammy's chest again like she thought they belonged there. He tried not to think about how easy it would be to crack the delicate little bones in those hands - and that's gotta be the wolf right? Did he always think like that?
Dean considered cutting Sam some kind of break because the little brunette bitch has forced four tequila shots with him and Sam didn't usually drink hard liquor... but you know what, fuck it, Sam didn't deserve a break. And it felt pretty damn good to be pissed at his little brother at the moment.
Sam didn't even seem to have noticed that Dean - Dean, the monster freak Sam had been so worried about going on a murderous rampage just two weeks ago - had been staring at them this whole time. Didn't even ask if Dean could handle being around people like that when the older Winchester had suggested that they hit this place looking for leads. Apparently, if it wasn't a full moon, Dean didn't warrant Sammy's concern anymore.
And like fucking hell was that little coed a lead for what they were hunting - looked like Sam had a whole different kind of hunt in mind and the wolf part of Dean's brain was snarling at that.
For the days of the full moon, Dean and his little brother had barely made it out of bed, Sammy doing a hell of a job keeping up with Dean's enhanced stamina, but once those nights had passed and Dean got back to the more human side of his life, Sam just acted like he hadn't spent the last 72 hours fucking his big brother into the mattress.
That need for Sam's attention hadn't gone away with the moon, though - if he was being honest, Dean knew it had been there all along, just more out in the open now, thanks to his even-worse-than-before impulse control issues. Dean hadn't been able to come right out and make a move on Sam; the idea that his little brother would turn him away, had really only been with him because of the werewolf thing... No, that wasn't something he could handle, now or ever.
The thing was, he was pretty sure that Sam felt the same way. Sometimes when they were alone he would catch the sharp scent of lust rolling off of his brother and Sam had certainly started finding his way into more girls’ beds in the last couple of weeks like maybe he could fuck away the need; he really ought to know better than that, Dean had the move trademarked.
Two weeks’ worth of watching it happen from the sidelines was more than either his human or wolf side could take. Enough was E-fucking-nough.
In a smooth body-roll that earned him more than one appreciative glance, Dean pushed himself away from the end of the bar where he was hovering and stalked through the crowd toward his brother, his prey.
Sammy and his - ugh - date didn't notice him until he was practically on top of them, the dark and the press of too many bodies hiding him from their periphery. Dean took advantage of the crowd cover to slide in between the two, his front to Sam, right hand skating up that flat, t-shirt clad stomach to wrap around the back of his neck. His little brother looked at him like he'd grown a second head.
"Dean?" he asked loudly over the music, 'what the fuck are you doing' implicit in his tone.
Dean pulled with the hand at Sam's nape, the younger man to stunned and tipsy to do anything but squeeze right up against him so that Dean could let loose another growl for Sam to feel reverberate between their bodies. He cast a glance over his shoulder at the brunette bitch who might have been getting a premonition of her own death from the look on her face and gave her his best Winchester grin.
"Bye," he said cheerfully, turning all of his attention back on Sam. He could hear the her sputter followed by a disgruntled mumble as she pressed her way back through the crowd. At least she knew when to retreat, smarter than he'd thought.
Sam watched her go for a second over Dean's shoulder then flicked his hazel eyes - too dark to really see properly in this light, but Dean's night vision had improved dramatically - back to his brother, still pressed tightly up against him.
"What the fuck, Dean?" he asked heatedly before his face went halfway soft, "If you need to leave you could have just said."
Dean chuckled, firm body moving against Sam's.
"Not leaving, Sammy. I just realized, standing over there, that there's a little lesson you need to learn."
He pressed his free hand over Sam's navel with enough force to start him moving back toward the corner of the room, Dean's other hand still on his neck, holding them tightly together.
"And the lesson is how to knock people over?" his brother inquired, neck straining to see behind him and avoid jostling more people than necessary as Dean continued to urge him backward. Dean couldn't help but be a little pleased that Sam didn't even mention that he'd blown his shot at nailing that girl.
They butted up against the wall, Sam's back to the corner, trying to bunch up as small as his giant body would let him since Dean just kept right on pressing into his personal space. Concern was warring with trepidation on Sam's face - he never could bluff for shit - clearly worrying that something was wrong with Dean, not wanting to push with so many people around. Dean wasn't above using that to his advantage.
Dean huffed a chemical-stained swell of air out his nose and leaned in even further to crowd his face into the warm hollow behind Sam's jaw and fill his sensitive nostrils with the smell of lust and Sam. Better already.
"No," Dean rumbled, lips playing at Sam's earlobe and sending a full body shiver through the younger man, "The lesson is about how this 'pack' thing works. I think it's time you figured it out, Sammy boy."
Dean's hip rocked forward, finding the stiff heat of Sam's groin and they moaned in unison at the feel. A molten thrill was filling Dean up, now with that final confirmation of Sam's want.
"Dean, we can't -- this is --" Sam started; pulse spiking under the tongue Dean had pressed to his throat. "Not here," he managed breathily as Dean nipped at the throb of blood just below the surface.
Another chuckle was the only answer Sam was going to get, because even if Sammy's brain was worried about the idea of getting down to business in the dark corner of a crowded bar, his cock was twitching at Dean's hip, obviously strongly in favor of the concept, and Dean was only accepting one of those votes. Sam's upstairs head had been making some pretty shitty decisions lately, anyway.
"See, Sammy, you're all hung up on this wolf thing," Dean was working his mouth down the slope of Sam's neck now, hips still rocking against his dick, Dean's own hardness really enjoying the feel of Sam's firm thigh. Sam's hands skated up Dean's arms in what might have been an attempt to push him away if there had been, you know, like, any strength at all behind it. Mostly it just seemed like a plea not to stop, and Dean was just fine with that.
"Ok, yeah, you're my alpha," he continued over the soft sounds building up in Sam's chest, and the constant blare of the music, "I belong to you, whatever. Like you said, I always have." A hard roll of Dean's body had Sam making this little choked off whimper as he repositioned their hard lengths into alignment through their jeans.
"Thing you don't seem to be getting," and now Dean had to stop talking to suck hard at a spot halfway up Sam's throat, high enough there wasn't going to be any good way to hide the bruise, "is that you're MY alpha, MY baby brother". He clamped his teeth down on the skin next to his first mark, teasing it with his sharp canines, then sucking until another dark splotch bloomed to the surface. If there was a better taste in the whole damn world than Sam, they hadn't found it yet.
"And it's about time you learned that you belong to me too,” another bite, another bruise next to the first two, and Sam's breathe was hitched and raspy as Dean's mouth worked over the very center, a touch more pressure than necessary against his windpipe. Sam just tilted his chin higher, the submissive gesture tugging at things low in his body, magnifying the coiled heat in his groin, just as Sam's hands worked their way into his back pockets, pressing closer. Fuck yeah.
"Always have," he growled right into Sam's skin, biting another mark into the line across Sam's neck while his hand found the stiff nub of Sam's nipple beneath his shirt and pinched it hard between his nails.
"Always will," Sam whimpered, thrusting helplessly against Dean's hips, the rest of the bar apparently forgotten. And Dean couldn't have that, now could he?
"And everybody here's gonna learn it too."
Sam's rhythm stuttered, eyes fluttering open and remembering that they were basically dry humping against the wall of a fucking bar. There were definitely eyes on them, even through the crowd and the dark Dean knew, could almost feel, people watching them. The thought made his cock jump against Sam's and that had his little brother melting into fucked-out oblivion again, not caring who might see.
Dean was loving that he could get Sam this far gone, make him forget all of the decent-proper-normal bullshit he'd chased after for so long just by touching him, talking him off. It made Dean's skin tingle, his chest burning like he was breathing down flames, and if it wasn't for all the supernatural stamina, he'd probably have already lost it. But that wasn't how this was going to go down.
Dean bit down hard at Sam's throat again, completing the perfect collar of bruises that said 'Dean's' better than any dogtag could have. Not that he was opposed to getting a nice shiny tag for little Sammy's neck, now that he thought about it. Maybe a good, thick leather collar... Fuck! He need to focus. There'd be time for all that later.
Now it was time to see how far over the edge Sam would go.
Shaking himself out of his momentary reverie, Dean shoved his hips hard against Sam's, holding them in a slow, rough grind. Sammy's hands were in a death grip on Dean's ass, sure to leave a few bruises of his own, and Dean guessed that was fair, especially considering how he planned to end this.
"You're gonna show all these people what I do to you, how bad you want it, how pretty you come for me," Dean moaned against Sam's jaw, lapping at him softly, getting off on the feel of Sam's skin against his tongue. Sam shuddered hard, knees buckling, the pressure of Dean against him the only thing keeping him from sliding to the ground. Almost there.
"Gonna cream yourself right here for me, in front of everybody, because I tell you to," Dean cupped one big hand to Sam's neck, covering the line he'd made with his mouth and pressing just enough to change those high pitched whines in Sam's throat to dragging gasps. Sam's thrusts against him went sloppy, frantic; no rhythm, just a desperate need for friction, need to do what Dean says and come, come right -
"Now."
Sam's body is spasming before Dean's even finished the syllable, like some switch inside him flipped at the command. It took everything, absolutely everything, Dean had not to go right over the edge with his brother - God he looked so fucking beautiful, shivering and coming, making a mess of himself just for Dean - but he knew that if he did they were both just going to collapse on the floor and that would pretty much ruin the plans Dean had sketched out for when they got back to the motel. So instead of rubbing forward, he backed his aching cock away from Sam, bracing his fucking huge, practically limp, little brother against the wall and... yeah, he just couldn't resist.
Dean went down into a squat, balancing effortlessly on the balls of his feet until he was eye level with the stain darkening the front of Sam's jeans. He pressed his cheek softly to the damp denim, nuzzling against the hot fabric, scenting his brother with deep, hungry breaths. One quick swipe of his tongue across the wet, clinging fabric - fuck, he wished the music wasn't so loud so he could really enjoy Sam moaning as he watches - just the hint of pure Sam lingering in his mouth, wetting his appetite for more, and then Dean was standing again.
He hooked two fingers into the waistband of Sam's pants, reveling in the warm slickness that his fingertips found almost as much as the way the slide of his fingers on skin made Sam thunk his head back against the wall.
"C'mon, sasquatch, time to go," he said, grinning like he didn’t have a fucking telephone pole shoved down the front of his pants. Sam let himself be tugged hazily across the bar, looking stoned out of his head and not paying one bit of attention to the smattering of applause or the cat calls or the way eyes danced from the obvious bulge in Dean's pants to the accompanying stain on Sam's.
Yeah, in a minute or two, once Sam's brain kicked into gear again, he was probably going to be a real pain in the ass about this whole thing, but it had so been worth it. Besides, Sammy had two whole weeks worth of not-fucking to make up to Dean; he owed him.
Dean was definitely going to enjoy the ride.
On to Part Three