Fic: Hard For the Money (Dean/Sam)
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Sam
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: graphic sex, pwp
Summary - Just a little fun with Dean working undercover pretending to be a hooker and some perving on the Impala
Dean would know the rumble of the Impala even if he went deaf; could have felt it in his chest, his toes, hell, his damned soul, even if there had been any other cars on the street. Things had been pretty quiet that night - even the johns stayed in when it was that cold - which meant Dean hadn't had to make any excuses about why he wouldn't let himself get picked up even though he was clearly supposed to be hustling, but it also meant that he hadn't gotten a shred of a lead on the thing that had been picking off street walkers in that part of town for three weeks.
He was frozen to the bone and more than ready to do some target practice with the unnamed monster by the time Sam pulled up in the Impala, slow and easy like he was trolling for some touch.
One of the other few guys leaning on the wall - even in a small city like this there was only call for a couple of men on the sex-for-pay scene - walked up to the car first, and Dean just let him to watch what Sam would do. Even in the skewed light of the streetlamp Dean could see Sam's skin darken in a blush when the spiky-haired brunet asked if he was looking for something.
"You," Sam said with and admirably steady voice, pointing at Dean. The older Winchester smirked at his temporary colleagues and shrugged as he strutted over to the car. His leather pants - ok, so maybe they hadn't been entirely necessary for the job, but he looked fucking hot in them, damnit! - creaked against the upholstery as he settled in and gave a smug wave to the guy who had tried to pick up Sam.
Dean leaned back against the passenger side door, one arm spread across the back of the seat, and just enjoyed the view as Sam pulled them off onto a side street a few blocks away and parked. Even though Dean did most of the driving - she was his baby after all - he had always secretly had a thing for watching Sam behind the wheel. Ever since Sammy's first real driving lesson at fourteen - already too big for his own damn good - the sight of his hot baby brother driving his hot car filled Dean with a warm streak of possessiveness, knowing that everybody wanted them and they were all his. He was already rock hard just from looking at Sam's long fingers curved over the wheel.
"Find anything?" Sam asked, snapping Dean back to the hunt at hand.
"No," he shook his head, letting his eyes roam over the way Sammy relaxed back into the seat, "All of the guys knew something was happening, but they hadn't heard anything unusual."
"I think I may have a lead with the manager at a cab company on the east side - a couple of his drivers think they've seen something out here, but we'll have to wait until tomorrow before we can talk to them."
"Yeah," Dean said absently. There wasn't much point in paying rapt attention to what Sammy was saying right then - he was bound to repeat it a dozen times, thinking out loud, anyway - and the way those mile long legs spread open on the seat was just way too inviting.
He heard Sam say something about the creature having always struck before this time of night and turning in for the evening - both of which were excellent points that Dean would get around to just as soon as he was done closing the far-too-wide stretch of space between and pressing his hand over the weight of Sam's soft dick. It twitched to attention immediately, even though Sammy's mouth obnoxiously whined,
"Dean!"
Sam's fingers circled Dean's wrist, trying futilely to pull his hand away even as his tongue was tracing up the pulse in Sam's throat. HIs little brother made a pathetic sort of whimper when Dean nipped at the skin along his jaw and the attempts to remove his hand - now teasing the head of Sam's fully hard length - stopped altogether.
"Dean, let's go back to the motel," Sam pleaded breathlessly, hips bucking up into his brother's palm.
"We will, Sammy," Dean purred, licking at his earlobe, "But you can't drive like that. Can't have you distracted while you're driving my baby." He gave a rough squeeze for emphasis before pressing his thumb over the denim covered slit. Sam let out a strangled cry, catching his bottom lip between his teeth.
"Besides you wouldn't want to blow my cover, right? Heh, blow." He laughed at the shivering groan that seemed to roll up from Sam's toes.
Dean's own hardness was screaming for attention - Sam may have been right about the pants being too tight - and he moved Sam's big hand over to feel it. Sam swallowed the moan that welled up from Dean with a deep, wet kiss.
As much as Dean liked it hard and fast, the truth was that there was absolutely nothing on the planet better than Sam kissing him slow until he forgot his own name. Well, except maybe Sam's wet mouth on his cock, or that tight ass gripping him, or Sam shoving so deep he would swear he could taste it. Ok, maybe just Sam; there was nothing on the planet better than just having Sam - but the kissing was still fucking phenomenal.
Dean needed more though; needed it all really, almost every second of the day, but he settled for getting Sam's cock free of those baggy jeans. His mouth flooded, even as his tongue danced with his brother's, needing the velvet heat in his hand to be pressed against the back of his throat exactly now.
He had pretty much left Sam hanging there mid-kiss, but then he was lapping up the bead of precome and Sam didn't really seem to mind. At least, Dean had never seen anybody use the 'moaning his name and bucking up while gripping his hair' move as a complaint. He let Sam push him down further onto his cock - it was exactly where he wanted to be - and curled his tongue around the shaft.
The position wasn't great with Dean sitting next to Sam like that, but there was no fucking way he was giving up Sam's hand stroking over his leather-clad cock to change the angle. Instead he started to bob his head, doing his best to hollow out his cheeks and suck hard, the way Sam liked. Just a hint of teeth at the ridge had Sammy hissing and thrusting up to meet him and Dean just took it, relaxing his throat to get Sam pulling apart at the seams.
"Dean," he panted, head thrown back on the seat, "Give me - God! Fuck! - Give me..."
Dean's fingers had barely touched Sam's lips before he was pulling them inside with his tongue. Sammy had always really enjoyed sucking, liked to have something in his mouth when he came, and the first time Dean had discovered it he had literally creamed himself.
The molten heat of Sam's talented mouth doing obscene things to his fingers - yeah, he was so going to make Sammy blow him later - combined with the press of his hand and slick glide of flesh in Dean’s mouth had his nerves firing on all cylinders, body tingling with every kiss of air and flex of muscle. He felt liquid inside, like if there was just a little more friction he might pump all his insides out through his dick when he came. But he really didn't want to lose it in these pants - the leather would be a fucking bitch to clean. He needed to end this now - and then break the sound barrier driving back to the motel.
Time to haul out his last trick - patented and goddamn guaranteed to have Sammy shooting in 30 seconds or less. Dean situated the head of Sam's cock at the back of his throat, hand moving over what wouldn't fit into his mouth, tongue rolling along the underside, and hummed. He'd barely made it through the first riff of "Smoke on the Water" before Sam's bitter-sweetness was coating his throat.
Sammy's hand tightened over Dean's dick when he came, body rocking and jerking like he was having a seizure, but at least the pressure helped keep the inside of Dean's pants dry. There was just something about Sammy losing it that always put Dean too close to the edge.
He gave Sam's spent cock one last lick before tucking it back inside his jeans, finally getting his fingers free of Sam's mouth. He gave his brother an annoyed look as he examined the teeth marks left across the knuckle, but they both knew he wasn't really pissed, even if he did feel like he'd almost had his fingernails sucked loose.
Sam looked like he might be going into a coma. His body was lax and open and Dean knew he'd let his older brother do anything he wanted with him right then. Which - fuck - sounded so damn nice, except what Dean really wanted was for Sam to drive them back to the motel so he could peel these pants off of his dick and fuck Sam until he was setting off car alarms with the screaming.
"Hey," he nudged his almost unconscious baby brother in the shoulder, "Let's go."
"I think you should up your rate," Sam mumbled, blinking through glassy eyes. Dean laughed.
"You don't know my rate, asshole."
"Whatever it is, you should up it."
"Yeah well, get me somewhere with a bed and I'll show you the real merchandise." Dean promised with a wink, adding another little shove just to make sure Sam was moving. Sammy might be sated, but Dean still had a fucking statue shoved down his pants and he really needed to do something about it. Sam's lazy smile didn't match the gleam in his eyes.
"Sold."