Fic: Hard Sell + bonus drabble, Turn About (Dean/Sam)
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Sam
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: PWP, comeplay (felching in the drabble)
Notes: I had family in town all weekend, so no writing, but I did stumble across this old thing that I didn't realize I hadn't posted here. It's one of the first fics I ever wrote - I did it for the spn_kinkmeme way back for a prompt I can no longer find... and then the ficlet's kind of a sequel. Anyway, here's some vintage smut from me (if you count August as vintage)
Summary - Sam gets cursed with a very specific kind of hunger
It's more than almost painful this time, his cock raw from all of the tugging, not even an opportunity to find something to slick the way, but the flash-pleasure of orgasm takes the edge off of that for the moment. The real problem is when he looks down at the hand he had cupped around the head, making sure not to miss a drop of the hot white fluid, and there's barely any there. That may have something to do with the fact that he's done this nine times today - not to mention the seven times yesterday - and even a big strapping guy like Sam just can't keep up with that kind of demand. Still, the ache inside him is screaming to be satisfied and even though he knows it won't be enough; Sam takes what he can get and slides his slick, messy fingers into his own mouth, sucking down the come like it's the only thing keeping him alive. For all he knows, it is.
Three nights ago when they had taken out that Incubus, they'd thought it was almost too easy. Finding out that the thing had been some kind of pet to a witch proved that they were right, but she was ashes in the wind soon enough too... but not before she had cursed him. Neither Sam nor Dean had thought much about her demand for a "replacement" for her pet and it didn't seem like the spell she had flung at Sam had had any effect so they had moved on down the road. Just before sunrise the following morning, Sam had woken up with this hunger gnawing away at his insides and a raging hard on.
He had ignored the urge to taste his come after he'd finished jacking off in the shower - he'd never had that kind of impulse before and it kind of freaked him out - but as the day wore on, the hunger only got worse no matter how much food he ate. He'd found his mind wandering to thoughts of sex all day. Sex with guys. And more specifically, their come. Sam had tried to shove the thoughts away, to not let the fantasies of swallowing load after load of hot come, having his lips painted white with it, fill his mind. But that was easier said than done, especially with Dean in the car beside him, filling his nostrils with his unmistakably male scent.
He hadn't been able to sleep because of the ache inside him and he could no longer ignore the nagging worry about the witches spell. So, ever rationally minded, Sam decided to conduct a little experiment and after jerking off as quietly as he could in the bathroom while Dean slept, Sam had carefully touched his tongue to his come covered hand. And that had been it. He couldn't stop himself, he licked and sucked ravenously until every hint of the taste of his come was gone and then started working his cock again for more.
He knew he was screwed, but worse, knew that he couldn't bring himself to tell Dean. Sam knew that Dean had more than a little experience with the idea of guy-on-guy action - he older brother had never been particularly subtle about the fact that his preferences ran both ways - but it was another thing entirely to tell him that his little bro needed come sliding down his throat the way most people needed food and water. And there was absolutely no way to tell him that his baby brother had spent the last two days jerking off furiously to the thought of sucking him off just so he could lick up his own semen.
Except, apparently, it was a little too late for that.
Dean stood in the doorway to the bathroom, frozen, eyes wide, watching Sam suck his own essence off of his fingers. Sam's mind scrambled frantically with deny deny deny, but there really wasn't anything even remotely plausible that he could claim his was doing. So instead he just gave up a half-hearted smile and said what he knew was Dean's least favorite phrase,
"We need to talk."
***
Dean was surprisingly calm as Sam explained the whole situation as best he could. Or possibly he was in shock. Either way, it let Sam get all the way through his story without any yelling or wiseass remarks, so he was pretty grateful. Finally Dean said,
"So, you're sure about... this?" He made a vague hand motion indicating Sam who had now at least managed to get his pants up and move to sit on one of the beds.
"I've been doing as much research as I can. She couldn't actually turn me into an incubus, so I guess this is the next best thing. Not exactly sure why she'd want this as a pet... Anyway, it's like you said, you can't stop a curse; you get out of its way or ride it out."
"Getting out the way isn't much of an option," the older Winchester picked up, "So you're just gonna - heh - ride it out."
There was no way, absolutely none that Dean was snickering at this. But he was, he totally was. In fact he was almost giggling and if Sam hadn't just confessed to having an overwhelming appetite for come, he would definitely be making fun of his brother right now. Instead, he opted for "shut up and take it so maybe Dean will stop mentioning it". Or at least his brain did, his stomach seemed to have other plans as it let out a loud groan at exactly that moment.
Sam felt his face go hot as Dean got himself under control and lifted one eyebrow at his younger brother.
"You ok there, Sammy?"
"Fine," Sam mumbled, trying to memorize the pattern of stains on the ceiling, "Let's just - let's just go to bed ok. I'm fine, just go to sleep." He tried to get up to go get his laptop and pretend to work on something but Dean's broad hand hit him in the chest mid motion and he flopped back down onto the bed.
"Dude, it's nine-thirty, we're not going to bed." Dean was standing next to the bed, looking down at Sam and his eyes softened, "Sam, are you sure you're ok? I mean, are you getting, you know... what you need?"
If Sam didn't know better he would almost have said Dean blushed. Sam sure as hell was. God he could not be discussing this with his brother. His tall, muscular, rugged, fucking gorgeous brother who he had seen naked way to many times to pretend he didn't know every angle of that perfect body looming over him. Sam's mouth went wet, the ache inside him flaring like hot knives jabbing into his stomach which protested loudly again.
"No," he said quietly, wondering if Dean could hear him since he could barely hear himself over the embarrassed pound of blood in his ears. "It's not enough."
Dean looked thoughtful for a second, then sat down on his own bed, leaning back against the headboard without ever taking his eyes off Sam.
"So?" Dean asked casually; as if Sam had any fucking clue what he was talking about.
"So what?" Annoyed was good, annoyed was much less likely to walk over and shove his face in Dean's crotch.
"So are you gonna ask me, or wait until you've rubbed all the skin off you're dick?" That fucking smirk was back on Dean's face and it really shouldn't be sexy at all. Except Sam's body seemed to be getting with the program, even if his brain couldn't fully accept what Dean meant.
"Ask you what?" Sam was going to deny that his voice cracked on that until the day he died.
"For my come, bitch." Dean laughed like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Sam was pretty sure he used to remember how to breathe.
"Jerk," He shot back automatically, buying a second for his brain to catch up, "Hell no, I'm not asking you for your come." Sam's hand shot to stomach on reflex as the pain threatened to overwhelm him and he gritted his teeth and hoped he wasn't showing as much of the hunger as he was feeling.
"Oh, yeah? You just gonna sit over there and starve, comeslut?"
Dean seemed to be enjoying this way too much. As he spoke, Dean slowly undid the fly of his jeans and slid a hand inside. He was still watching Sam as he slowly began to stroke himself inside his pants.
Sam was trying really hard to get pissed off about that "comeslut" comment, except most of his major brain functions seemed to be focused on where Dean's hand disappeared inside his boxers, the movement as he stroked himself, how good and hot and heavy the cock inside would be laying on Sam's tongue, filling up his mouth until all of that sweet bitter heat pulsed out for him.
He didn't remember moving at all but he was kneeling on Dean's bed now, breaking the absolute rapt attention he was paying to Dean's groin for half a second to flick his gaze up to meet his brother's. The older Winchester's green eyes were dark, almost swallowed by the pupil, and heavy lidded. Some part of Sam's mind told him that he should probably be weirded out by the fact that his brother was so clearly getting off on this, but the ache in his gut told it to shut up.
"Dean," he said and it sounded more like a prayer than anything.
His brother's unoccupied hand came up to cup the back of Sam's head and that was all it took before he was lunging down to get his mouth on that still-covered length. He was stopped short by Dean's hand fisting in his hair, holding him just inches shy of his destination. Sam could smell Dean now, the musky heat of his balls ready and willing to give up their payload to Sam and he really really wasn't going to drool just from this. Maybe.
Instead his made an embarrassing whine in his throat and looked up at Dean again. God, his brother looked fucked out just from watching him and Sam's already hard cock throbbed, raw and aching, from the realization that he could have this effect on Dean.
"Tell me what you want, Sammy," his brother husked, voice gravel thick, "You know I'll take care of you, baby, just ask me for what you need."
The hand inside Dean's boxers had slowed, holding back the orgasm that Sam so desperately needed him to have. Fuck pride and dignity and that other bullshit, he was too close to getting this now, he'd die if he didn't.
"You, Dean," his rasped out through panting breaths, "I need you. Need your come. Need you to fill up my mouth with it and let me drink it down." Sam could feel himself going off the rails, sofuckingclose, and he knew he was babbling but dean was letting him get closer and close to what he wanted until his lips were brushing over the worn cotton that held Dean's cock away from him. "I'll do anything you want; suck you, let you fuck me, name it, I'll be your slut, do any filthy fucking thing you want, I'm yours, just please, Dean, God, please, let me have this."
Sam felt his brother shudder underneath him, though whether it was from the words or the brush of his mouth he didn't know or care because Dean was sliding the waistband of his boxers down and releasing his grip on Sam's hair.
Sam had Dean's cock sucked all the way to the back of throat before his eyes had even registered he'd moved. And God, it was exactly what he needed. The taste of precome was like heaven on his tongue and he made himself back off a little bit to lap at the slit for every taste of it he could get.
"Yeah, that's it Sammy, suck me hard. Make me come for you, baby."
If Sam had had anything left in his balls he would have spent it all in his pants just hearing Dean. A big, scarred hand was wound up in his hair again, not pulling him back, just feeling, fucking basking in it. He sucked for everything he was worth, letting his hunger, his need, push him to take Dean deeper, fight his throat's reflex to close and just take him, use everything he had to beg Dean for what he now knew they both needed.
The fingers tightened in his hair and Dean's whole body was strung tight and Sam worked his throat even harder at the feel of the first pulse of Dean's liquid heat. Sam was lost in the pleasure, the satisfaction of having Dean's come pumping into him and it was like he might never need anything else if he could just have this... well, you know, if he could have it three or four times a day, every day, for the rest of his life. From the little warm, relaxed noises Dean was making above him, Sam didn't think that would be too hard a sell.
Turn About
"Dean, I'm gonna... Oh God, Dean," Sam shoved at his brother's thighs where Dean straddled him, still pumping his ass up and down on Sam's cock.
The older Winchester gave a smirk that told Sam exactly how this was going to happen and he knew he was too far gone to fight it. He could feel the muscles in his abdomen, his thighs, tensing. His balls pulling up against his body, then his vision went grey at the edges and there was nothing but the soul-searing pleasure of Dean's body wrapped tight around him.
As the waves of bliss ebbed, Sam slowly opened his eyes to see Dean looking down at him like the cat who ate the canary.
"I hate you," Sam mumbled, staring that the ceiling.
"Says the guy who's about to lick come out my ass," Dean retorted. Fuck, was that a giggle? Sam had half a mind not to do it at all, and screw getting Dean off too... except that his stomach was grumbling at him impatiently and he knew exactly why Dean had been so distant earlier - he'd been making sure Sam was hungry. Stupid fucking curse. Dean was so going to pay for this later.
With the comforting thoughts of all the ways he was going to make his brother squirm, Sam flipped them over so he was hovering above Dean. Sam crawled down Dean's body, completely ignoring the hard cock practically begging for his attention - he wasn't just going to give his brother everything he wanted - and pushed Dean's thighs back to expose the puckered opening.
He set a thumb to either side of the opening and pulled lightly until it opened for him, a drop of come already leaking out. It really shouldn't have made his mouth water.
Dean was propped up his elbows to fucking watch and Sam glared at him before darting his tongue forward to lap up the errant drop. the bitterness of his own fluid filled his mouth and his tired cock twitched slowly to attention. He heard Dean chuckled above him, so he must have made some noise when he tasted it, but he schooled the urge to look back up at his brother and instead attacked the little hole ferociously with his tongue.
At the very least that shut up any snarky remarks Dean had been planning, reduced now to moaning in time to the twitch of his hips. He seemed to have figured out that Sam wasn't going to do a damn thing to help him relieve the pressure on his dick - well, not unless he really had to; Sam still needed Dean's come more than he needed air, but he wasn't about to mention that now - and had reached down to slowly rub his hand over the engorged flesh.
Sam dipped his tongue as far inside his brother as he could, and when that wasn't enough, worked his fingers inside and slowly licked them clean as they stretched the hole. Dean's hand was pumping hard and Sam could just pick up the mantra of "SammySamSamSammy" that meant his brother was close.
Because Dean wasn't the only one who liked to screw with his brother - literally and figuratively - Sam tucked his tongue inside of Dean right beside his finger; scissoring the digits, thrusting and flicking the fingers and slick muscle in opposition, all of the tricks he'd picked up the other few times Dean had used his curse against Sam like this. His fingertips found the already tormented knot of nerves inside his brother and felt those smooth, hot muscles clamp down around him as Dean decorated his own chest.
Then it was Sam's turn to smirk as his brother slowly put himself back together.
He took his time cleaning Dean's abdomen with his tongue, savoring what had rapidly become his favorite taste as he teased at navel and nipples along the way. Dean was already back to half-hard by the time he was done.
Revenge was going to be sweet.
Pairing: Dean/Sam
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: PWP, comeplay (felching in the drabble)
Notes: I had family in town all weekend, so no writing, but I did stumble across this old thing that I didn't realize I hadn't posted here. It's one of the first fics I ever wrote - I did it for the spn_kinkmeme way back for a prompt I can no longer find... and then the ficlet's kind of a sequel. Anyway, here's some vintage smut from me (if you count August as vintage)
Summary - Sam gets cursed with a very specific kind of hunger
It's more than almost painful this time, his cock raw from all of the tugging, not even an opportunity to find something to slick the way, but the flash-pleasure of orgasm takes the edge off of that for the moment. The real problem is when he looks down at the hand he had cupped around the head, making sure not to miss a drop of the hot white fluid, and there's barely any there. That may have something to do with the fact that he's done this nine times today - not to mention the seven times yesterday - and even a big strapping guy like Sam just can't keep up with that kind of demand. Still, the ache inside him is screaming to be satisfied and even though he knows it won't be enough; Sam takes what he can get and slides his slick, messy fingers into his own mouth, sucking down the come like it's the only thing keeping him alive. For all he knows, it is.
Three nights ago when they had taken out that Incubus, they'd thought it was almost too easy. Finding out that the thing had been some kind of pet to a witch proved that they were right, but she was ashes in the wind soon enough too... but not before she had cursed him. Neither Sam nor Dean had thought much about her demand for a "replacement" for her pet and it didn't seem like the spell she had flung at Sam had had any effect so they had moved on down the road. Just before sunrise the following morning, Sam had woken up with this hunger gnawing away at his insides and a raging hard on.
He had ignored the urge to taste his come after he'd finished jacking off in the shower - he'd never had that kind of impulse before and it kind of freaked him out - but as the day wore on, the hunger only got worse no matter how much food he ate. He'd found his mind wandering to thoughts of sex all day. Sex with guys. And more specifically, their come. Sam had tried to shove the thoughts away, to not let the fantasies of swallowing load after load of hot come, having his lips painted white with it, fill his mind. But that was easier said than done, especially with Dean in the car beside him, filling his nostrils with his unmistakably male scent.
He hadn't been able to sleep because of the ache inside him and he could no longer ignore the nagging worry about the witches spell. So, ever rationally minded, Sam decided to conduct a little experiment and after jerking off as quietly as he could in the bathroom while Dean slept, Sam had carefully touched his tongue to his come covered hand. And that had been it. He couldn't stop himself, he licked and sucked ravenously until every hint of the taste of his come was gone and then started working his cock again for more.
He knew he was screwed, but worse, knew that he couldn't bring himself to tell Dean. Sam knew that Dean had more than a little experience with the idea of guy-on-guy action - he older brother had never been particularly subtle about the fact that his preferences ran both ways - but it was another thing entirely to tell him that his little bro needed come sliding down his throat the way most people needed food and water. And there was absolutely no way to tell him that his baby brother had spent the last two days jerking off furiously to the thought of sucking him off just so he could lick up his own semen.
Except, apparently, it was a little too late for that.
Dean stood in the doorway to the bathroom, frozen, eyes wide, watching Sam suck his own essence off of his fingers. Sam's mind scrambled frantically with deny deny deny, but there really wasn't anything even remotely plausible that he could claim his was doing. So instead he just gave up a half-hearted smile and said what he knew was Dean's least favorite phrase,
"We need to talk."
***
Dean was surprisingly calm as Sam explained the whole situation as best he could. Or possibly he was in shock. Either way, it let Sam get all the way through his story without any yelling or wiseass remarks, so he was pretty grateful. Finally Dean said,
"So, you're sure about... this?" He made a vague hand motion indicating Sam who had now at least managed to get his pants up and move to sit on one of the beds.
"I've been doing as much research as I can. She couldn't actually turn me into an incubus, so I guess this is the next best thing. Not exactly sure why she'd want this as a pet... Anyway, it's like you said, you can't stop a curse; you get out of its way or ride it out."
"Getting out the way isn't much of an option," the older Winchester picked up, "So you're just gonna - heh - ride it out."
There was no way, absolutely none that Dean was snickering at this. But he was, he totally was. In fact he was almost giggling and if Sam hadn't just confessed to having an overwhelming appetite for come, he would definitely be making fun of his brother right now. Instead, he opted for "shut up and take it so maybe Dean will stop mentioning it". Or at least his brain did, his stomach seemed to have other plans as it let out a loud groan at exactly that moment.
Sam felt his face go hot as Dean got himself under control and lifted one eyebrow at his younger brother.
"You ok there, Sammy?"
"Fine," Sam mumbled, trying to memorize the pattern of stains on the ceiling, "Let's just - let's just go to bed ok. I'm fine, just go to sleep." He tried to get up to go get his laptop and pretend to work on something but Dean's broad hand hit him in the chest mid motion and he flopped back down onto the bed.
"Dude, it's nine-thirty, we're not going to bed." Dean was standing next to the bed, looking down at Sam and his eyes softened, "Sam, are you sure you're ok? I mean, are you getting, you know... what you need?"
If Sam didn't know better he would almost have said Dean blushed. Sam sure as hell was. God he could not be discussing this with his brother. His tall, muscular, rugged, fucking gorgeous brother who he had seen naked way to many times to pretend he didn't know every angle of that perfect body looming over him. Sam's mouth went wet, the ache inside him flaring like hot knives jabbing into his stomach which protested loudly again.
"No," he said quietly, wondering if Dean could hear him since he could barely hear himself over the embarrassed pound of blood in his ears. "It's not enough."
Dean looked thoughtful for a second, then sat down on his own bed, leaning back against the headboard without ever taking his eyes off Sam.
"So?" Dean asked casually; as if Sam had any fucking clue what he was talking about.
"So what?" Annoyed was good, annoyed was much less likely to walk over and shove his face in Dean's crotch.
"So are you gonna ask me, or wait until you've rubbed all the skin off you're dick?" That fucking smirk was back on Dean's face and it really shouldn't be sexy at all. Except Sam's body seemed to be getting with the program, even if his brain couldn't fully accept what Dean meant.
"Ask you what?" Sam was going to deny that his voice cracked on that until the day he died.
"For my come, bitch." Dean laughed like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Sam was pretty sure he used to remember how to breathe.
"Jerk," He shot back automatically, buying a second for his brain to catch up, "Hell no, I'm not asking you for your come." Sam's hand shot to stomach on reflex as the pain threatened to overwhelm him and he gritted his teeth and hoped he wasn't showing as much of the hunger as he was feeling.
"Oh, yeah? You just gonna sit over there and starve, comeslut?"
Dean seemed to be enjoying this way too much. As he spoke, Dean slowly undid the fly of his jeans and slid a hand inside. He was still watching Sam as he slowly began to stroke himself inside his pants.
Sam was trying really hard to get pissed off about that "comeslut" comment, except most of his major brain functions seemed to be focused on where Dean's hand disappeared inside his boxers, the movement as he stroked himself, how good and hot and heavy the cock inside would be laying on Sam's tongue, filling up his mouth until all of that sweet bitter heat pulsed out for him.
He didn't remember moving at all but he was kneeling on Dean's bed now, breaking the absolute rapt attention he was paying to Dean's groin for half a second to flick his gaze up to meet his brother's. The older Winchester's green eyes were dark, almost swallowed by the pupil, and heavy lidded. Some part of Sam's mind told him that he should probably be weirded out by the fact that his brother was so clearly getting off on this, but the ache in his gut told it to shut up.
"Dean," he said and it sounded more like a prayer than anything.
His brother's unoccupied hand came up to cup the back of Sam's head and that was all it took before he was lunging down to get his mouth on that still-covered length. He was stopped short by Dean's hand fisting in his hair, holding him just inches shy of his destination. Sam could smell Dean now, the musky heat of his balls ready and willing to give up their payload to Sam and he really really wasn't going to drool just from this. Maybe.
Instead his made an embarrassing whine in his throat and looked up at Dean again. God, his brother looked fucked out just from watching him and Sam's already hard cock throbbed, raw and aching, from the realization that he could have this effect on Dean.
"Tell me what you want, Sammy," his brother husked, voice gravel thick, "You know I'll take care of you, baby, just ask me for what you need."
The hand inside Dean's boxers had slowed, holding back the orgasm that Sam so desperately needed him to have. Fuck pride and dignity and that other bullshit, he was too close to getting this now, he'd die if he didn't.
"You, Dean," his rasped out through panting breaths, "I need you. Need your come. Need you to fill up my mouth with it and let me drink it down." Sam could feel himself going off the rails, sofuckingclose, and he knew he was babbling but dean was letting him get closer and close to what he wanted until his lips were brushing over the worn cotton that held Dean's cock away from him. "I'll do anything you want; suck you, let you fuck me, name it, I'll be your slut, do any filthy fucking thing you want, I'm yours, just please, Dean, God, please, let me have this."
Sam felt his brother shudder underneath him, though whether it was from the words or the brush of his mouth he didn't know or care because Dean was sliding the waistband of his boxers down and releasing his grip on Sam's hair.
Sam had Dean's cock sucked all the way to the back of throat before his eyes had even registered he'd moved. And God, it was exactly what he needed. The taste of precome was like heaven on his tongue and he made himself back off a little bit to lap at the slit for every taste of it he could get.
"Yeah, that's it Sammy, suck me hard. Make me come for you, baby."
If Sam had had anything left in his balls he would have spent it all in his pants just hearing Dean. A big, scarred hand was wound up in his hair again, not pulling him back, just feeling, fucking basking in it. He sucked for everything he was worth, letting his hunger, his need, push him to take Dean deeper, fight his throat's reflex to close and just take him, use everything he had to beg Dean for what he now knew they both needed.
The fingers tightened in his hair and Dean's whole body was strung tight and Sam worked his throat even harder at the feel of the first pulse of Dean's liquid heat. Sam was lost in the pleasure, the satisfaction of having Dean's come pumping into him and it was like he might never need anything else if he could just have this... well, you know, if he could have it three or four times a day, every day, for the rest of his life. From the little warm, relaxed noises Dean was making above him, Sam didn't think that would be too hard a sell.
Turn About
"Dean, I'm gonna... Oh God, Dean," Sam shoved at his brother's thighs where Dean straddled him, still pumping his ass up and down on Sam's cock.
The older Winchester gave a smirk that told Sam exactly how this was going to happen and he knew he was too far gone to fight it. He could feel the muscles in his abdomen, his thighs, tensing. His balls pulling up against his body, then his vision went grey at the edges and there was nothing but the soul-searing pleasure of Dean's body wrapped tight around him.
As the waves of bliss ebbed, Sam slowly opened his eyes to see Dean looking down at him like the cat who ate the canary.
"I hate you," Sam mumbled, staring that the ceiling.
"Says the guy who's about to lick come out my ass," Dean retorted. Fuck, was that a giggle? Sam had half a mind not to do it at all, and screw getting Dean off too... except that his stomach was grumbling at him impatiently and he knew exactly why Dean had been so distant earlier - he'd been making sure Sam was hungry. Stupid fucking curse. Dean was so going to pay for this later.
With the comforting thoughts of all the ways he was going to make his brother squirm, Sam flipped them over so he was hovering above Dean. Sam crawled down Dean's body, completely ignoring the hard cock practically begging for his attention - he wasn't just going to give his brother everything he wanted - and pushed Dean's thighs back to expose the puckered opening.
He set a thumb to either side of the opening and pulled lightly until it opened for him, a drop of come already leaking out. It really shouldn't have made his mouth water.
Dean was propped up his elbows to fucking watch and Sam glared at him before darting his tongue forward to lap up the errant drop. the bitterness of his own fluid filled his mouth and his tired cock twitched slowly to attention. He heard Dean chuckled above him, so he must have made some noise when he tasted it, but he schooled the urge to look back up at his brother and instead attacked the little hole ferociously with his tongue.
At the very least that shut up any snarky remarks Dean had been planning, reduced now to moaning in time to the twitch of his hips. He seemed to have figured out that Sam wasn't going to do a damn thing to help him relieve the pressure on his dick - well, not unless he really had to; Sam still needed Dean's come more than he needed air, but he wasn't about to mention that now - and had reached down to slowly rub his hand over the engorged flesh.
Sam dipped his tongue as far inside his brother as he could, and when that wasn't enough, worked his fingers inside and slowly licked them clean as they stretched the hole. Dean's hand was pumping hard and Sam could just pick up the mantra of "SammySamSamSammy" that meant his brother was close.
Because Dean wasn't the only one who liked to screw with his brother - literally and figuratively - Sam tucked his tongue inside of Dean right beside his finger; scissoring the digits, thrusting and flicking the fingers and slick muscle in opposition, all of the tricks he'd picked up the other few times Dean had used his curse against Sam like this. His fingertips found the already tormented knot of nerves inside his brother and felt those smooth, hot muscles clamp down around him as Dean decorated his own chest.
Then it was Sam's turn to smirk as his brother slowly put himself back together.
He took his time cleaning Dean's abdomen with his tongue, savoring what had rapidly become his favorite taste as he teased at navel and nipples along the way. Dean was already back to half-hard by the time he was done.
Revenge was going to be sweet.