Fic: SPN (Sam/Dean) You Sick Bastard | NC-17 | 5000
Title: You Sick Bastard
Author: dragonspell
Series: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17.
Warnings/Spoilers: Hee. Watersports.
Summary: Dean just wants a little rough sex but Sam's apparently got other things on his mind and thinks Dean needs a little reminding about who he belongs to.
Word Count: ~ 5000
Sam slams Dean against the wall to keep him in place but it’s not like he has to try that hard. Dean’s not exactly going anywhere. No, instead, he’s spreading his legs to wrap around Sam’s waist and dragging Sam down for a desperate kiss. It turns Dean on like fuck to know that Sam can toss him around like a ragdoll and it’s even hotter that Sam can hold him up so easily. It probably shouldn’t and Dean’s not exactly sure what that says about him, but there it is: he likes having Sam manhandle him.
Wall sex is fucking awesome when your partner can make you defy gravity.
Sam hungrily returns Dean’s kiss, his hands griping Dean’s ass. Dean whimpers-can’t fucking do much else-and lets Sam take the fuck over ‘cause that what he wants. Sam’s tongue is taking up permanent residence inside Dean’s mouth and Dean’s so fucking hard he hurts. He needs Sam’s cock up his ass as in yesterday.
It takes a lot to get Sam riled up this much but Jesus is it worth it. Normally, Sam’s just such a fucking monk, all calm and serene. Yeah, he fucks like a champ but he’s usually so afraid of hurting somebody with his goliath-sized muscles that convincing him that a little rough sex is okay is next to impossible. When the impossible happens, though, when Sam has enough and just reaches out and takes what he wants, protests be damned, it’s so fucking hot Dean dreams of it.
Dean likes it. He likes being fucked within an inch of his damn life, knowing who exactly he belongs to and where his place in the world is. He feels owned instead of just loved and fuck, it’s hot.
Sammy’s been pulling away lately, though, and Dean’s been starting to develop a serious craving. He’d just wanted to see how long it would take Sam to snap but that was apparently never going to happen. It’d been two weeks since they last fucked and Sam’d apparently not really cared cause Sam can be fucking celibate and happy which is just unnatural.
It wasn’t that Dean didn’t like Sam’s usual job, it’s just…sometimes he has needs. And really, he just wanted Sam to start looking at him again, instead of burying his nose in research. A little time with that nose stuck in Dean’s crotch wasn’t asking too damn much.
Of course, Sam didn’t notice Dean’s cold shoulder, though. Probably even fucking happy that Dean’s not been humping his leg like a demented Chihuahua. Dean’d tried not to be hurt about that-wasn’t hurt. He wasn’t. It’s just that he has needs so he went out to get a little free relief since Sam wasn’t exactly offering it. Of course, Dean could have reached out and grabbed Sam but what was the fucking point?
So he found a bit of free pussy at a backwoods bar. No big deal. A little bit of sweet-talking, some expert touching, and she’d been purring like a kitten. He’d been kissing her, his hand slowly sliding up under her skirt when Sam’d come out of nowhere and ripped them apart.
Sam’d spun Dean around, ignoring the girl’s surprise gasp, and growled that Dean was “Such a damn whore.” That he needed to remember just where his dick belonged. Dean-God help him-had shivered and gotten blindly hard.
That left them here, in their rented motel room, rutting against the wall with Sam tearing at Dean’s clothes, promising that he’s going to show Dean his place and Dean’s going to fucking like it. Yeah, Dean's pretty damn sure that he's going to like it too. This is only what he's been wanting for two weeks now. Dean whimpers as Sam bites his neck and pulls at his jeans. “Get these off,” Sam orders, ripping at Dean’s belt. “Now.”
Dean whines and tries not to jizz his underwear because Jesus, Sam’s hot when he’s demanding. He’s aware that there’s probably something wrong with him that makes taking orders the hottest thing ever to him, but it probably has something to do with Dad and that’s something Dean really doesn’t want to think about. Ever.
Dean unwraps himself from around Sam, feet hitting the floor and shoves his pants down underwear and all, not even bothering to unzip ‘cause he just doesn’t have the time. He fumbles with his boots as Sam strips off his own clothes and Dean feels his mouth go dry as he gets a good look at what Sam’s baring. It doesn’t matter how many times Dean sees Sam naked-he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to it.
He has no idea when Sam had time to get so ripped but it puts Dean to shame and hits at least five kinks Dean didn’t even know he had. He fucking loves it when Sam wraps his big arms around Dean and Dean knows he wouldn’t be able to get away even if he wanted to-that he was going to be fucked and there wasn’t anything he could do about it even if he wanted to. Dean shivers and kicks off his last boot as Sam starts tugging up Dean’s T-shirt.
As soon as he’s free of any and all fabric, Dean launches himself back at Sam, shuddering at the feel of Sam’s hard muscle against his own body. “Yeah, Dean,” Sam growls, “fucking yeah…” and picks Dean up to put him against the wall again. “Stay there,” he grinds out and Dean doesn’t know where exactly Sam thinks he’s going but he’s more than happy to obey.
“Sammy,” Dean whines and bites down on Sam’s shoulder to try and muffle more embarrassing noises as Sam pushes a finger into his ass and starts to fuck him with it. He knows he’s fucking mewling but he can’t help it because it feels freaking fantastic having Sam inside of him. It’s all sweet burn and Sam adding a little crook of his finger to each upstroke to milk Dean’s prostate and after holding out for so long, Dean just doesn’t think he’s going to make it. In fact, he’s pretty sure he’s going to die right the fuck now.
He stops biting Sam’s skin because he knows he’s about to bite through and starts licking in apology instead. Anything to keep himself from begging for Sam to give him more. He’d like to not completely toss his manhood into the trash.
Of course, that was before Sam started in on the dirty talk.
“Such a fucking slut, Dean,” he says and Dean’s dick jerks. “You like that? You like having my finger fuck you? Bet you wish it was my cock, don’t you, slut?”
Dean shudders and grips Sam tighter. “Sam, Sammy, please, God…”
“Think you deserve it?” Sam whispers, nipping at Dean’s neck. “Do you deserve it, Dean?”
And dignity be damned. It’s overrated. “God, Sam, fuck me!”
Sam, the bastard, grins, because he knows he’s won an unspoken battle of wills. It’s not Dean’s fault he’s weak-like he said, Sam’s a goddamned monk. “On your knees, Dean,” Sam orders, giving Dean once last hard and fast kiss before pulling his finger out of Dean. “Prove that you deserve it.”
Dean’s going to fucking die. That’s the only option because Sam’s gonna fucking kill him. Dean tries not to hyperventilate as he falls to his knees. He’s so hard he can barely see straight and he knows the rules of this game. There is no such thing as “no.” Not if he wants to end the night getting fucked. Sam’s monster cock bobs in front of him and Dean’s mouth waters. It’s such a great cock-long and thick, perfectly formed, and Dean wants it inside him as in yesterday. He fucking loves Sam and his gigantic, enormous dick, especially when Sam’s using it to fuck Dean’s brains out.
Sam’s large hands palm the back of Dean’s head, urging him forward. Dean moans and sticks his tongue out to touch the tip of Sam’s cock, tasting the bead of precome Sam’s already leaking. “Yeah,” Sam breathes and pulls Dean closer, holding his head to make sure he can’t get away as he feeds Dean his cock. “Come on, Dean, the whole thing.”
Dean doesn’t need to be told twice-he’s already gagging on Sam’s cock, feeling the thick length of it shoving down his throat. It forces his mouth wide and there’s drool running down his chin because Dean can never manage to fit all of Sam’s cock in his mouth but that doesn’t stop him from trying. Dean fists the base, pumping it as his mouth works the rest. He wiggles his tongue against the underside of Sam’s dick, loving to hear Sam moan. “That’s good, Dean…” he whispers.
God, he could listen to those words all damn day. He wants to record them and put them on repeat over and over. Dean flushes with embarrassment that Sam’s approval just made him redouble his efforts on Sam’s dick but it’s a little late for shame. Dean’s right hand snakes down to stroke his own cock. It’s been begging for attention and even one light touch sends a shudder through Dean’s entire body.
Sam’s hands move to cup Dean’s face and Dean flicks his eyes upwards. Sam’s so fucking hot when he’s turned on, all dark sloe eyes and panting mouth and Dean whines around Sam’s dick. Sam groans, his teeth biting into his lip. “God, Dean, you look so hot like that…” he rasps and Dean keeps the eye contact as he swirls his tongue over the head. Sam slams his fist into the wall. “Fuck!”
Then next thing Dean knows is that he’s being wrenched away from Sam’s cock by massive fricking paws. He whines, licking his lips as he tries to convince Sam to let him keep sucking ‘cause fuck that’s so damn good. “God, Dean,” Sam says, his hips stuttering towards Dean. “I want to come all over your face…”
Dean closes his eyes and shivers ‘cause yeah. He can see that happening and it’s a pretty, pretty picture. Afterwards, Sammy’d probably lick him clean and jack him off real slow, all talented teasing fingers and low “You like that”s. When Sam takes him hard and fast, Dean feels owned. When Sam goes slow, though, Dean feels like he’s the only other person in Sam’s world and Sam can draw it out for hours. Benefits of being a practically celibate monk.
Sam manages to get control of himself, though, stopping the roll of his hips and yanking Dean to his feet. He growls about how “fucking beautiful” Dean is and possessively captures Dean’s mouth in a kiss. Sam’s hands slide down Dean’s back to grip his ass, fingers slipping into the crack, and Dean pushes into the touch, trying to tempt Sam into giving him what they both want. Sam bites Dean’s lip and starts backing him up.
Dean damn near trips over his own feet before he gets with the program and starts to blindly move backwards. Sam’s tongue being in his mouth is making him dizzy and he can never fucking think when Sam’s touching him anyway. He doesn’t know where Sam’s leading him but as long as it’s somewhere Dean’s going to get fucked, he really doesn’t care.
The little walk Sam leads them on puts them in the bathroom and Dean shivers. Shower sex is hot and if that’s what Sam wants, Dean’s more than okay with that. Besides, the bathroom’s the best fucking place in the shithole they’re renting because while the room itself is nothing special, the owner has got to have a fucking fetish for bathtubs. Compared to the rest of the place, they stand out like a new Mustang in the ghetto and Dean’s taken more showers in the past two days then he has in the past month just because the water pressure is that damn awesome. He even took a bath because the Jacuzzi-like jets were totally worth being fruity for.
It’s like finding a mint condition Rolls Royce in a rundown garage. Fucking 5-star, man.
So yeah, Dean’s down with a little shower sex. He’s even okay if Sam wants to do it in front of a mirror again. It’s kind of fucking freaky to see his own mug staring back at him, but he’s got to admit there are worse things to look at and it’s all fucking worth it to be able to see Sam nailing him from behind. Dean shivers and plasters himself to Sam, his dick sliding against Sam’s perfect abs.
Sam puts Dean in the tub-picks him up and puts him there and Dean might be offended by that if he didn’t find it so damn hot. Instead, Dean crooks a finger and winks at Sam, telling him to get his sexy ass in too. Sam grins and captures Dean’s wrist to suck on his outstretched finger. The air in Dean’s lungs whooshes out in a harsh pant and he can’t manage to breathe any back in. He’s going to fucking suffocate watching Sam’s lips close around him, feeling his tongue lick his skin. Sam catches Dean’s eyes and releases Dean’s moistened finger to kiss Dean’s palm. “You like that?” he asks.
The bottom of Dean’s stomach drops out and he’s pretty sure a knife just sunk in to his groin, the pang of desire is that sharp. At this point, that little question’s become such a part of their regular routine, Dean’s response is practically Pavlovian. Sam could say it out on the street as part of an every day conversation and Dean’s knees would probably give out. He still doesn’t have the breath to speak so he nods mutely. Fuck yeah, he liked that.
Sam’s next question isn’t nearly so standard, though, but that doesn’t stop Dean from whimpering at it. “Know who you belong to?” Dean closes his eyes and nods again. He needs to count to ten before he opens them back up because he’s about to fucking come. Sam’s waiting patiently for him when Dean finally manages to back down from his orgasm. Sam smiles and trails a hand over Dean’s aching dick, teasing it with feathery touches and Dean clenches his fists, his eyes slamming shut again. “I don’t think you do, Dean,” Sam whispers and that’s all the warning Dean gets.
Sam’s hand knots in Dean’s short hair and he shoves Dean onto his knees. Dean stares up at him, startled and turned the fuck on because of it. “I think you need to be reminded.” Sam finally joins him in the tub and Dean ends up staring at Sam’s crotch because Sam’s gone soft.
What the hell? Dean feels a flash of insecurity because Jesus, he didn’t think he was that unattractive here. He tries to stand up but Sam keeps him down. “If you’re not-” he starts but stops himself because he’s not sure he really wants to finish that sentence. Sam’d been hella into it back in the other room…
“Who says I’m not?” Sam rasps and Dean stares at him with both eyebrows raised.
“Sam, you’re-”
“Helping remind you,” Sam says flatly before a splash of warmth hits Dean in the middle of his chest and he gasps, staring dumbly at it. ‘Cause it’s just fucking impossible. There is no fucking way that Sam is-Sam is- The stream moves up to hit his neck and Dean tries to surge to his feet before it manages to reach his face because he is not swallowing piss. He doesn’t care what fucking kinks Sam has. Sam holds him down one handed, though, all that brute strength that Dean was loving earlier coming back to bite him now. “Stay down, Dean,” Sam says and Dean gapes.
“You’re pissing on me, you sick fuck!” Humiliation and frustration is making Dean’s cheeks burn. Here he is, supposed to be a big bad hunter and his baby brother is able to hold him down and piss on him. Sam’s urine streaks down Dean’s body and Dean grits his teeth, his shame ratcheting up higher because underneath it all, he’s still feeling turned on. What kind of sick fuck gets turned on by this?
Sam uses his hold to yank Dean’s head to the side and closer, Sam’s stream of piss striking Dean’s cheek now and rolling down his jaw. “Apparently you can’t remember who you belong to Dean.”
Dean sputters, trying to keep the warm liquid out of his mouth. “FUCK you and your issues-!”
Sam kicks Dean’s knees farther apart and pushes Dean’s head far enough back, Dean has to lean backwards to hold himself up. Sam’s still pissing, but he’s moving the stream downward, down Dean’s chest and over his stomach, towards his rock hard dick. Dean bites back a moan because this is nine kinds of wrong and for a man who fucks his brother regularly to say that, it fucking means something. “I leave you alone for one fucking minute and you’re such a damn slut, you have to run right out to get laid by a cheap skank.”
Dean’s brain stalls and he’s left spinning. They’re still talking about the random girl? He thought they were over the random girl! Yeah, sure, Sam’s been saying Dean’s gonna remember who he belongs to this entire time, but Dean’d just thought that’d just been Sam getting into it. How’s this for fucking fair? Dean doesn’t even remember her name because she was freaking chopped liver compared to Sam!
Dean’s fumbling around for something to say when Sam jerks his dick back up to finish all over Dean’s face. Dean squeezes his eyes and mouth closed as the urine streams over him and he comes. Hard.
Dean’s body convulses and he tries to curl in on himself because he’s positive he’s going to die. The only thing holding him upright is Sam’s hand in his hair and he jerks with each spurt wrenches out of him. His toes are fucking curling and he digs his fingers into the palms of his hand.
He trembles as the last of his orgasm pulses through his body and stares in disbelief at Sam because that’s how Sam’s holding him and Dean can’t manage to move. Sam’s looking just as shocked as Dean is, his eyes wide and staring and Dean shudders with aftershocks.
He’s a sick bastard. That’s not exactly a surprise, but Dean hadn’t realized how sick he was. Sam’s mouth is working but no sound comes out and Dean feels himself flush tomato red. God. The only consolation is that Sam’s finally hard again. Dean decides that Sam’s a sick bastard too. Who gets off on peeing on someone, anyway?
Sam suddenly smiles, grabs the shower head, and falls onto his knees beside Dean. “You liked that?” he whispers, the game right back on, and Dean curses as his dick jumps painfully. Bastard.
“Gonna kill me, Sammy,” he mutters and Sam huffs a laugh, reaching behind Dean to turn on the water.
He gently rinses Dean off, all considerate concern after his little display of alpha-maleness but Dean doesn’t have the damn energy to mad. Instead, he just closes his eyes and lets Sam take care of him, Sam’s hands softly rubbing over Dean’s hair. Dean ignores the erection brushing against his stomach because Sam just fucking pissed on him and Sam can go take care of it himself. Dean also ignores the fact that he just came from Sam pissing on him and he’s not quite sure which act is more wrong. He leans against Sam, burying his face in Sam’s shoulder. He really doesn’t want to think about this right now.
Sam clears his throat. “You okay, Dean?” he asks, hands sliding around to pull Dean into a hug.
Jerk’s got a lot of fucking nerve being concerned now. “M’ tired,” Dean grumps and leaves it at that.
“Okay,” Sam says. “Could I…” He swallows. “Could I just, maybe…?”
“No.” Fucker’d just pissed on him. Dean couldn’t stress this enough.
“Dean…” Sam whines and pokes Dean in the stomach with his dick.
“No!” Dean pulls away from Sam to glare at him. “You just pissed on me, Sam!”
“And you liked it!” Dean freezes with his mouth open because he really doesn’t have a good comeback for that. What do you actually say to that, anyway? There’s nothing. “You were the one out with the girl!” Sam accuses.
Indignation manages to dreg Dean’s voice back up. “Because you wouldn’t fuck me!”
Now it’s Sam’s turn to stare open-mouthed. “Since when?” he asks. “Dude, I was just giving you space because I thought that’s what you wanted! What ever happened to asking, Dean?”
“I wanted space?”
“What else was I supposed to think? Every time I’d try to kiss you, you’d move away!”
Dean thunks his head back against Sam’s shoulder because there is no fucking way he’s explaining the concept of ‘playing hard to get’ to Sam. Nor is he telling Sam what he was really after because it’s just too damn embarrassing to talk about. “We aren’t having this conversation.”
Sam pulls Dean off his shoulder and forces him to make eye contact. “Oh, I think we are.”
“We’re naked in a bathroom, Sam.”
“And I should totally be fucking you right now!” Sam explodes, throwing his hands wide and hitting the tiled wall. “Damn it, Dean, two fucking weeks!”
Dean sits back on his heels, busy re-adding his math. Apparently Sam wasn’t a monk. No, he was just a girl. Still. Pissed on. “If you wanted some,” Dean snipes, “you shouldn’t have pissed on me.”
Sam clenches his jaw, his bitch-face coming out in full-force. “That’s it,” he growls. “That’s so fucking it.”
Dean barely has time to get out a very unmanly squeak before Sam grabs him and whips him around. Dean’s knees slip on the wet surface of the tub, sending him tumbling into Sam. He lands against Sam’s chest and rebounds, trying to wrench himself away. It’s fucking hard with the being wet and the being in a bathtub, but Dean puts up the best fight he can muster.
Not that it makes any difference. Sam easily pins him, pushing his face against the floor of the tub, and Dean feels the familiar burn in his cheeks again. Damn it. “Fucking A, Sam, let me up.”
Sam transfers Dean’s pined arms to one hand while his other skims down to Dean’s bared ass, a finger pushing just barely inside. “No,” Sam replies, deep and final.
Dean gasps and shivers, his cock twitching to life because oh fuck yes. He pants against the tile and goes limp in Sam’s grip, his legs spreading. He bites his lip to stop himself from talking because all of his thoughts are circling around the sentiment that Sam taking what he wants is hot beyond all reason and Dean doesn’t want to give Sam any ideas. He doesn’t want to discourage Sam either, though, so he pushes out his ass and moans. Sam’s slides two fingers in and it feels so good Dean whines.
And then Sam has to go ruin it all. BASTARD! “That was a quick change,” he says flatly and Dean could just scream in frustration. Sam releases Dean’s bound arms and stands up.
Dean can’t help himself. The “Damn it, Sam,” just slips out. Leave it to Sam to get his panties all in a twist because he was actually getting his way. Dean slumps against the wet tile because so far, this day sucks. Sure there was an orgasm in it, but so far it’s been coming with a lot of extremely awkward conversation Dean’d rather just avoid.
“Get up, Dean,” Sam orders and Dean’s already pushing himself up, his dick leaping to attention, before he even realizes what the hell he’s doing. Or even what’s going on. He freezes but Sam hauls him up the rest of the way, turns him to face Sam, and shoves him against the wall. “This what you wanted?” Sam asks, pinning Dean with his body and leaning his head down to swap breaths. “You wanted this?”
It’s a damn good thing Sam’s holding him up again, because Dean feels his knees give out as he tries to melt into a puddle of goo at Sam’s feet. He whimpers and Sam shoves a tongue down his throat.
Sam’s hands run down to roughly grip Dean’s ass and Dean surges into Sam. “Yeah,” Sam rasps, answering for Dean. “This is what you wanted...” He steps out of the tub and drags Dean with him to push him down face first on the linoleum. Dean pants and pushes his ass out as Sam holds him down. He licks his dry lips and cries out as a rough hand jerks his dick a few times before sliding back to shove a long finger inside him.
Dean fucks back because damn it, he’s done with foreplay and the finger pulls out to leave him empty. He whines and wiggles his ass trying to tempt Sam in to speeding things up and gets a stinging slap as his reward. He jerks to the side, gasping, and another hit lands. “You like that?”
“Fuck…” Dean moans and bites his lip. Sam pushes his legs farther apart, enough that Dean’s hips feel the strain. He’s completely exposed, at Sam’s mercy, but there’s no other place he wants to be. “Sammy…” Dean whispers.
Sam grips Dean’s hips and shoves his cock inside. Dean shouts, twisting in Sam’s hold. Sam’s cock fills him up, pressing against his prostate and Dean just can’t keep still because it’s the size of the Empire State building. He writhes and Sam starts fucking him, all hard, punishing thrusts.
Dean sobs and wishes desperately for something to bite down into to stop the filth streaming out of his mouth. “Yes, fuck... yes. God, please, Sammy... Oh fuck, damn. God, Sam, your goddamn dick-!”
Sam hauls him and bites his ear. “You like that?” he growls.
“Fuck, Sam,” Dean says, nearly choking on it because, Jesus, Sam wants coherency right now? “God, yes, do it!”
“Yeah,” Sam says, speeding up. “So fucking gorgeous, Dean. So fucking pretty…” He shoves two fingers into Dean’s mouth and Dean sucks them eagerly. “Gonna…” Sam grunts and slams into Dean as he orgasms.
Dean pants around Sam’s fingers, feeling Sam pulse into him and wanting desperately to touch himself. His dick is hard and aching between his thighs and he fucks useless against the air.
Sam shudders against Dean’s neck and presses a kiss as he finally finishes. “Mmm…” he says and Dean whimpers, twisting against Sam’s iron hold. Sam kisses his throat again and pulls out, leaving Dean suddenly empty.
“Sammy…” Dean pleads. “Sammy…” Come leaks down his thigh.
Sam pushes Dean back down to the floor and flips him over onto his back. He reaches down and grabs Dean’s throbbing dick and Dean humps his hand. God, yes, finally. “Like that?” Sam asks and Dean arches, shuddering into his second orgasm.
He pants on his way down, unable to feel anything other than a pleasantly numb sensation. God yeah. He slumps bonelessly against the floor and Sam lays down beside him, rubbing circles into Dean’s stomach. “Is that why I didn’t get sex for two weeks?” he asks.
Dean swallows and tries to catch his breath. His body’s trying to convince him that the bathroom’s floor’s comfortable enough to take a nap on even when Dean’s mind knows better. “Is what why?” Dean asks. He’s not thinking too clearly right now and he really doesn’t want to get caught in one of Sam’s elaborate traps.
Sam nuzzles into Dean’s hair as a hand cups Dean’s hips. “You wanted rough sex?”
Dean stares at the ceiling. “Can we not talk about this?”
Sam laughs. “It’s nice to know I wasted so much time jerking off.”
Dean’s breath catches in his throat in shock. He turns to look at Sam. “You jerked off?”
Sam gives him a ‘well, DUH’ look. “If only I would have known all you needed was to be thrown down and mounted.”
Dean tries to decide if he’s offended at Sam’s statement or not. He thinks in another life, he might actually be turned on by it but at the moment, fuck that. He was too damn tired. He wrinkles his brow and chooses to go with “You could put that another way, Sam.”
Sam sits up and leans over Dean, his dimples out in full force. “Oh, I’m sorry. Would you prefer ‘tenderly made love to’? ‘Gently fucked in a rough sort of way’?”
Dean glares. “You. Are not funny.”
Sam smiles indulgently and gets to his feet. He reaches down to grab Dean’s wrists, trying to tug him up. “Come on,” he says. “If you sleep on the floor, you’ll regret it tomorrow.”
Fuck that. Tomorrow was an entirely different day. Today was still here and Dean was tired now. Sam’s face turns devious. “Okay,” he says. “I guess I’ll just drag you out. By your hair.”
Oh ha ha. 'Cause that would just cement Sam's little caveman act, wouldn't it? Dean rolls his eyes and sluggishly pushes himself to his feet. “I’m up. Happy?”
“Mmm,” Sam hums and pushes Dean out the door towards the beds. Dean stumbles to the nearest one and collapses on it gratefully, hugging the pillow. He doesn’t even complain when Sam snuggles in behind him. There’ll be plenty of time to call Sam a complete girl tomorrow and besides, Sam remembered to grab the blankets.
Dean’s almost asleep when Sam’s voice wakes him back up. “So we can do that again?”
Dean sighs. “I’m sleeping,” he mumbles.
“Dean…”
“Yes,” he says, just to shut Sam up. It almost works too.
Dean’s halfway asleep again before he hears the soft “All of it?”
Dean frowns, not quite understanding. Then, “You sick bastard.” He’s now disgustingly awake. And blushing again.
“You liked it too,” Sam whines and Dean just can’t argue with that. “Can we?”
He bites his lip and knows he’s a sick bastard too because when he reluctantly says “Maybe,” it really means ‘yes.’
Author: dragonspell
Series: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17.
Warnings/Spoilers: Hee. Watersports.
Summary: Dean just wants a little rough sex but Sam's apparently got other things on his mind and thinks Dean needs a little reminding about who he belongs to.
Word Count: ~ 5000
Sam slams Dean against the wall to keep him in place but it’s not like he has to try that hard. Dean’s not exactly going anywhere. No, instead, he’s spreading his legs to wrap around Sam’s waist and dragging Sam down for a desperate kiss. It turns Dean on like fuck to know that Sam can toss him around like a ragdoll and it’s even hotter that Sam can hold him up so easily. It probably shouldn’t and Dean’s not exactly sure what that says about him, but there it is: he likes having Sam manhandle him.
Wall sex is fucking awesome when your partner can make you defy gravity.
Sam hungrily returns Dean’s kiss, his hands griping Dean’s ass. Dean whimpers-can’t fucking do much else-and lets Sam take the fuck over ‘cause that what he wants. Sam’s tongue is taking up permanent residence inside Dean’s mouth and Dean’s so fucking hard he hurts. He needs Sam’s cock up his ass as in yesterday.
It takes a lot to get Sam riled up this much but Jesus is it worth it. Normally, Sam’s just such a fucking monk, all calm and serene. Yeah, he fucks like a champ but he’s usually so afraid of hurting somebody with his goliath-sized muscles that convincing him that a little rough sex is okay is next to impossible. When the impossible happens, though, when Sam has enough and just reaches out and takes what he wants, protests be damned, it’s so fucking hot Dean dreams of it.
Dean likes it. He likes being fucked within an inch of his damn life, knowing who exactly he belongs to and where his place in the world is. He feels owned instead of just loved and fuck, it’s hot.
Sammy’s been pulling away lately, though, and Dean’s been starting to develop a serious craving. He’d just wanted to see how long it would take Sam to snap but that was apparently never going to happen. It’d been two weeks since they last fucked and Sam’d apparently not really cared cause Sam can be fucking celibate and happy which is just unnatural.
It wasn’t that Dean didn’t like Sam’s usual job, it’s just…sometimes he has needs. And really, he just wanted Sam to start looking at him again, instead of burying his nose in research. A little time with that nose stuck in Dean’s crotch wasn’t asking too damn much.
Of course, Sam didn’t notice Dean’s cold shoulder, though. Probably even fucking happy that Dean’s not been humping his leg like a demented Chihuahua. Dean’d tried not to be hurt about that-wasn’t hurt. He wasn’t. It’s just that he has needs so he went out to get a little free relief since Sam wasn’t exactly offering it. Of course, Dean could have reached out and grabbed Sam but what was the fucking point?
So he found a bit of free pussy at a backwoods bar. No big deal. A little bit of sweet-talking, some expert touching, and she’d been purring like a kitten. He’d been kissing her, his hand slowly sliding up under her skirt when Sam’d come out of nowhere and ripped them apart.
Sam’d spun Dean around, ignoring the girl’s surprise gasp, and growled that Dean was “Such a damn whore.” That he needed to remember just where his dick belonged. Dean-God help him-had shivered and gotten blindly hard.
That left them here, in their rented motel room, rutting against the wall with Sam tearing at Dean’s clothes, promising that he’s going to show Dean his place and Dean’s going to fucking like it. Yeah, Dean's pretty damn sure that he's going to like it too. This is only what he's been wanting for two weeks now. Dean whimpers as Sam bites his neck and pulls at his jeans. “Get these off,” Sam orders, ripping at Dean’s belt. “Now.”
Dean whines and tries not to jizz his underwear because Jesus, Sam’s hot when he’s demanding. He’s aware that there’s probably something wrong with him that makes taking orders the hottest thing ever to him, but it probably has something to do with Dad and that’s something Dean really doesn’t want to think about. Ever.
Dean unwraps himself from around Sam, feet hitting the floor and shoves his pants down underwear and all, not even bothering to unzip ‘cause he just doesn’t have the time. He fumbles with his boots as Sam strips off his own clothes and Dean feels his mouth go dry as he gets a good look at what Sam’s baring. It doesn’t matter how many times Dean sees Sam naked-he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to it.
He has no idea when Sam had time to get so ripped but it puts Dean to shame and hits at least five kinks Dean didn’t even know he had. He fucking loves it when Sam wraps his big arms around Dean and Dean knows he wouldn’t be able to get away even if he wanted to-that he was going to be fucked and there wasn’t anything he could do about it even if he wanted to. Dean shivers and kicks off his last boot as Sam starts tugging up Dean’s T-shirt.
As soon as he’s free of any and all fabric, Dean launches himself back at Sam, shuddering at the feel of Sam’s hard muscle against his own body. “Yeah, Dean,” Sam growls, “fucking yeah…” and picks Dean up to put him against the wall again. “Stay there,” he grinds out and Dean doesn’t know where exactly Sam thinks he’s going but he’s more than happy to obey.
“Sammy,” Dean whines and bites down on Sam’s shoulder to try and muffle more embarrassing noises as Sam pushes a finger into his ass and starts to fuck him with it. He knows he’s fucking mewling but he can’t help it because it feels freaking fantastic having Sam inside of him. It’s all sweet burn and Sam adding a little crook of his finger to each upstroke to milk Dean’s prostate and after holding out for so long, Dean just doesn’t think he’s going to make it. In fact, he’s pretty sure he’s going to die right the fuck now.
He stops biting Sam’s skin because he knows he’s about to bite through and starts licking in apology instead. Anything to keep himself from begging for Sam to give him more. He’d like to not completely toss his manhood into the trash.
Of course, that was before Sam started in on the dirty talk.
“Such a fucking slut, Dean,” he says and Dean’s dick jerks. “You like that? You like having my finger fuck you? Bet you wish it was my cock, don’t you, slut?”
Dean shudders and grips Sam tighter. “Sam, Sammy, please, God…”
“Think you deserve it?” Sam whispers, nipping at Dean’s neck. “Do you deserve it, Dean?”
And dignity be damned. It’s overrated. “God, Sam, fuck me!”
Sam, the bastard, grins, because he knows he’s won an unspoken battle of wills. It’s not Dean’s fault he’s weak-like he said, Sam’s a goddamned monk. “On your knees, Dean,” Sam orders, giving Dean once last hard and fast kiss before pulling his finger out of Dean. “Prove that you deserve it.”
Dean’s going to fucking die. That’s the only option because Sam’s gonna fucking kill him. Dean tries not to hyperventilate as he falls to his knees. He’s so hard he can barely see straight and he knows the rules of this game. There is no such thing as “no.” Not if he wants to end the night getting fucked. Sam’s monster cock bobs in front of him and Dean’s mouth waters. It’s such a great cock-long and thick, perfectly formed, and Dean wants it inside him as in yesterday. He fucking loves Sam and his gigantic, enormous dick, especially when Sam’s using it to fuck Dean’s brains out.
Sam’s large hands palm the back of Dean’s head, urging him forward. Dean moans and sticks his tongue out to touch the tip of Sam’s cock, tasting the bead of precome Sam’s already leaking. “Yeah,” Sam breathes and pulls Dean closer, holding his head to make sure he can’t get away as he feeds Dean his cock. “Come on, Dean, the whole thing.”
Dean doesn’t need to be told twice-he’s already gagging on Sam’s cock, feeling the thick length of it shoving down his throat. It forces his mouth wide and there’s drool running down his chin because Dean can never manage to fit all of Sam’s cock in his mouth but that doesn’t stop him from trying. Dean fists the base, pumping it as his mouth works the rest. He wiggles his tongue against the underside of Sam’s dick, loving to hear Sam moan. “That’s good, Dean…” he whispers.
God, he could listen to those words all damn day. He wants to record them and put them on repeat over and over. Dean flushes with embarrassment that Sam’s approval just made him redouble his efforts on Sam’s dick but it’s a little late for shame. Dean’s right hand snakes down to stroke his own cock. It’s been begging for attention and even one light touch sends a shudder through Dean’s entire body.
Sam’s hands move to cup Dean’s face and Dean flicks his eyes upwards. Sam’s so fucking hot when he’s turned on, all dark sloe eyes and panting mouth and Dean whines around Sam’s dick. Sam groans, his teeth biting into his lip. “God, Dean, you look so hot like that…” he rasps and Dean keeps the eye contact as he swirls his tongue over the head. Sam slams his fist into the wall. “Fuck!”
Then next thing Dean knows is that he’s being wrenched away from Sam’s cock by massive fricking paws. He whines, licking his lips as he tries to convince Sam to let him keep sucking ‘cause fuck that’s so damn good. “God, Dean,” Sam says, his hips stuttering towards Dean. “I want to come all over your face…”
Dean closes his eyes and shivers ‘cause yeah. He can see that happening and it’s a pretty, pretty picture. Afterwards, Sammy’d probably lick him clean and jack him off real slow, all talented teasing fingers and low “You like that”s. When Sam takes him hard and fast, Dean feels owned. When Sam goes slow, though, Dean feels like he’s the only other person in Sam’s world and Sam can draw it out for hours. Benefits of being a practically celibate monk.
Sam manages to get control of himself, though, stopping the roll of his hips and yanking Dean to his feet. He growls about how “fucking beautiful” Dean is and possessively captures Dean’s mouth in a kiss. Sam’s hands slide down Dean’s back to grip his ass, fingers slipping into the crack, and Dean pushes into the touch, trying to tempt Sam into giving him what they both want. Sam bites Dean’s lip and starts backing him up.
Dean damn near trips over his own feet before he gets with the program and starts to blindly move backwards. Sam’s tongue being in his mouth is making him dizzy and he can never fucking think when Sam’s touching him anyway. He doesn’t know where Sam’s leading him but as long as it’s somewhere Dean’s going to get fucked, he really doesn’t care.
The little walk Sam leads them on puts them in the bathroom and Dean shivers. Shower sex is hot and if that’s what Sam wants, Dean’s more than okay with that. Besides, the bathroom’s the best fucking place in the shithole they’re renting because while the room itself is nothing special, the owner has got to have a fucking fetish for bathtubs. Compared to the rest of the place, they stand out like a new Mustang in the ghetto and Dean’s taken more showers in the past two days then he has in the past month just because the water pressure is that damn awesome. He even took a bath because the Jacuzzi-like jets were totally worth being fruity for.
It’s like finding a mint condition Rolls Royce in a rundown garage. Fucking 5-star, man.
So yeah, Dean’s down with a little shower sex. He’s even okay if Sam wants to do it in front of a mirror again. It’s kind of fucking freaky to see his own mug staring back at him, but he’s got to admit there are worse things to look at and it’s all fucking worth it to be able to see Sam nailing him from behind. Dean shivers and plasters himself to Sam, his dick sliding against Sam’s perfect abs.
Sam puts Dean in the tub-picks him up and puts him there and Dean might be offended by that if he didn’t find it so damn hot. Instead, Dean crooks a finger and winks at Sam, telling him to get his sexy ass in too. Sam grins and captures Dean’s wrist to suck on his outstretched finger. The air in Dean’s lungs whooshes out in a harsh pant and he can’t manage to breathe any back in. He’s going to fucking suffocate watching Sam’s lips close around him, feeling his tongue lick his skin. Sam catches Dean’s eyes and releases Dean’s moistened finger to kiss Dean’s palm. “You like that?” he asks.
The bottom of Dean’s stomach drops out and he’s pretty sure a knife just sunk in to his groin, the pang of desire is that sharp. At this point, that little question’s become such a part of their regular routine, Dean’s response is practically Pavlovian. Sam could say it out on the street as part of an every day conversation and Dean’s knees would probably give out. He still doesn’t have the breath to speak so he nods mutely. Fuck yeah, he liked that.
Sam’s next question isn’t nearly so standard, though, but that doesn’t stop Dean from whimpering at it. “Know who you belong to?” Dean closes his eyes and nods again. He needs to count to ten before he opens them back up because he’s about to fucking come. Sam’s waiting patiently for him when Dean finally manages to back down from his orgasm. Sam smiles and trails a hand over Dean’s aching dick, teasing it with feathery touches and Dean clenches his fists, his eyes slamming shut again. “I don’t think you do, Dean,” Sam whispers and that’s all the warning Dean gets.
Sam’s hand knots in Dean’s short hair and he shoves Dean onto his knees. Dean stares up at him, startled and turned the fuck on because of it. “I think you need to be reminded.” Sam finally joins him in the tub and Dean ends up staring at Sam’s crotch because Sam’s gone soft.
What the hell? Dean feels a flash of insecurity because Jesus, he didn’t think he was that unattractive here. He tries to stand up but Sam keeps him down. “If you’re not-” he starts but stops himself because he’s not sure he really wants to finish that sentence. Sam’d been hella into it back in the other room…
“Who says I’m not?” Sam rasps and Dean stares at him with both eyebrows raised.
“Sam, you’re-”
“Helping remind you,” Sam says flatly before a splash of warmth hits Dean in the middle of his chest and he gasps, staring dumbly at it. ‘Cause it’s just fucking impossible. There is no fucking way that Sam is-Sam is- The stream moves up to hit his neck and Dean tries to surge to his feet before it manages to reach his face because he is not swallowing piss. He doesn’t care what fucking kinks Sam has. Sam holds him down one handed, though, all that brute strength that Dean was loving earlier coming back to bite him now. “Stay down, Dean,” Sam says and Dean gapes.
“You’re pissing on me, you sick fuck!” Humiliation and frustration is making Dean’s cheeks burn. Here he is, supposed to be a big bad hunter and his baby brother is able to hold him down and piss on him. Sam’s urine streaks down Dean’s body and Dean grits his teeth, his shame ratcheting up higher because underneath it all, he’s still feeling turned on. What kind of sick fuck gets turned on by this?
Sam uses his hold to yank Dean’s head to the side and closer, Sam’s stream of piss striking Dean’s cheek now and rolling down his jaw. “Apparently you can’t remember who you belong to Dean.”
Dean sputters, trying to keep the warm liquid out of his mouth. “FUCK you and your issues-!”
Sam kicks Dean’s knees farther apart and pushes Dean’s head far enough back, Dean has to lean backwards to hold himself up. Sam’s still pissing, but he’s moving the stream downward, down Dean’s chest and over his stomach, towards his rock hard dick. Dean bites back a moan because this is nine kinds of wrong and for a man who fucks his brother regularly to say that, it fucking means something. “I leave you alone for one fucking minute and you’re such a damn slut, you have to run right out to get laid by a cheap skank.”
Dean’s brain stalls and he’s left spinning. They’re still talking about the random girl? He thought they were over the random girl! Yeah, sure, Sam’s been saying Dean’s gonna remember who he belongs to this entire time, but Dean’d just thought that’d just been Sam getting into it. How’s this for fucking fair? Dean doesn’t even remember her name because she was freaking chopped liver compared to Sam!
Dean’s fumbling around for something to say when Sam jerks his dick back up to finish all over Dean’s face. Dean squeezes his eyes and mouth closed as the urine streams over him and he comes. Hard.
Dean’s body convulses and he tries to curl in on himself because he’s positive he’s going to die. The only thing holding him upright is Sam’s hand in his hair and he jerks with each spurt wrenches out of him. His toes are fucking curling and he digs his fingers into the palms of his hand.
He trembles as the last of his orgasm pulses through his body and stares in disbelief at Sam because that’s how Sam’s holding him and Dean can’t manage to move. Sam’s looking just as shocked as Dean is, his eyes wide and staring and Dean shudders with aftershocks.
He’s a sick bastard. That’s not exactly a surprise, but Dean hadn’t realized how sick he was. Sam’s mouth is working but no sound comes out and Dean feels himself flush tomato red. God. The only consolation is that Sam’s finally hard again. Dean decides that Sam’s a sick bastard too. Who gets off on peeing on someone, anyway?
Sam suddenly smiles, grabs the shower head, and falls onto his knees beside Dean. “You liked that?” he whispers, the game right back on, and Dean curses as his dick jumps painfully. Bastard.
“Gonna kill me, Sammy,” he mutters and Sam huffs a laugh, reaching behind Dean to turn on the water.
He gently rinses Dean off, all considerate concern after his little display of alpha-maleness but Dean doesn’t have the damn energy to mad. Instead, he just closes his eyes and lets Sam take care of him, Sam’s hands softly rubbing over Dean’s hair. Dean ignores the erection brushing against his stomach because Sam just fucking pissed on him and Sam can go take care of it himself. Dean also ignores the fact that he just came from Sam pissing on him and he’s not quite sure which act is more wrong. He leans against Sam, burying his face in Sam’s shoulder. He really doesn’t want to think about this right now.
Sam clears his throat. “You okay, Dean?” he asks, hands sliding around to pull Dean into a hug.
Jerk’s got a lot of fucking nerve being concerned now. “M’ tired,” Dean grumps and leaves it at that.
“Okay,” Sam says. “Could I…” He swallows. “Could I just, maybe…?”
“No.” Fucker’d just pissed on him. Dean couldn’t stress this enough.
“Dean…” Sam whines and pokes Dean in the stomach with his dick.
“No!” Dean pulls away from Sam to glare at him. “You just pissed on me, Sam!”
“And you liked it!” Dean freezes with his mouth open because he really doesn’t have a good comeback for that. What do you actually say to that, anyway? There’s nothing. “You were the one out with the girl!” Sam accuses.
Indignation manages to dreg Dean’s voice back up. “Because you wouldn’t fuck me!”
Now it’s Sam’s turn to stare open-mouthed. “Since when?” he asks. “Dude, I was just giving you space because I thought that’s what you wanted! What ever happened to asking, Dean?”
“I wanted space?”
“What else was I supposed to think? Every time I’d try to kiss you, you’d move away!”
Dean thunks his head back against Sam’s shoulder because there is no fucking way he’s explaining the concept of ‘playing hard to get’ to Sam. Nor is he telling Sam what he was really after because it’s just too damn embarrassing to talk about. “We aren’t having this conversation.”
Sam pulls Dean off his shoulder and forces him to make eye contact. “Oh, I think we are.”
“We’re naked in a bathroom, Sam.”
“And I should totally be fucking you right now!” Sam explodes, throwing his hands wide and hitting the tiled wall. “Damn it, Dean, two fucking weeks!”
Dean sits back on his heels, busy re-adding his math. Apparently Sam wasn’t a monk. No, he was just a girl. Still. Pissed on. “If you wanted some,” Dean snipes, “you shouldn’t have pissed on me.”
Sam clenches his jaw, his bitch-face coming out in full-force. “That’s it,” he growls. “That’s so fucking it.”
Dean barely has time to get out a very unmanly squeak before Sam grabs him and whips him around. Dean’s knees slip on the wet surface of the tub, sending him tumbling into Sam. He lands against Sam’s chest and rebounds, trying to wrench himself away. It’s fucking hard with the being wet and the being in a bathtub, but Dean puts up the best fight he can muster.
Not that it makes any difference. Sam easily pins him, pushing his face against the floor of the tub, and Dean feels the familiar burn in his cheeks again. Damn it. “Fucking A, Sam, let me up.”
Sam transfers Dean’s pined arms to one hand while his other skims down to Dean’s bared ass, a finger pushing just barely inside. “No,” Sam replies, deep and final.
Dean gasps and shivers, his cock twitching to life because oh fuck yes. He pants against the tile and goes limp in Sam’s grip, his legs spreading. He bites his lip to stop himself from talking because all of his thoughts are circling around the sentiment that Sam taking what he wants is hot beyond all reason and Dean doesn’t want to give Sam any ideas. He doesn’t want to discourage Sam either, though, so he pushes out his ass and moans. Sam’s slides two fingers in and it feels so good Dean whines.
And then Sam has to go ruin it all. BASTARD! “That was a quick change,” he says flatly and Dean could just scream in frustration. Sam releases Dean’s bound arms and stands up.
Dean can’t help himself. The “Damn it, Sam,” just slips out. Leave it to Sam to get his panties all in a twist because he was actually getting his way. Dean slumps against the wet tile because so far, this day sucks. Sure there was an orgasm in it, but so far it’s been coming with a lot of extremely awkward conversation Dean’d rather just avoid.
“Get up, Dean,” Sam orders and Dean’s already pushing himself up, his dick leaping to attention, before he even realizes what the hell he’s doing. Or even what’s going on. He freezes but Sam hauls him up the rest of the way, turns him to face Sam, and shoves him against the wall. “This what you wanted?” Sam asks, pinning Dean with his body and leaning his head down to swap breaths. “You wanted this?”
It’s a damn good thing Sam’s holding him up again, because Dean feels his knees give out as he tries to melt into a puddle of goo at Sam’s feet. He whimpers and Sam shoves a tongue down his throat.
Sam’s hands run down to roughly grip Dean’s ass and Dean surges into Sam. “Yeah,” Sam rasps, answering for Dean. “This is what you wanted...” He steps out of the tub and drags Dean with him to push him down face first on the linoleum. Dean pants and pushes his ass out as Sam holds him down. He licks his dry lips and cries out as a rough hand jerks his dick a few times before sliding back to shove a long finger inside him.
Dean fucks back because damn it, he’s done with foreplay and the finger pulls out to leave him empty. He whines and wiggles his ass trying to tempt Sam in to speeding things up and gets a stinging slap as his reward. He jerks to the side, gasping, and another hit lands. “You like that?”
“Fuck…” Dean moans and bites his lip. Sam pushes his legs farther apart, enough that Dean’s hips feel the strain. He’s completely exposed, at Sam’s mercy, but there’s no other place he wants to be. “Sammy…” Dean whispers.
Sam grips Dean’s hips and shoves his cock inside. Dean shouts, twisting in Sam’s hold. Sam’s cock fills him up, pressing against his prostate and Dean just can’t keep still because it’s the size of the Empire State building. He writhes and Sam starts fucking him, all hard, punishing thrusts.
Dean sobs and wishes desperately for something to bite down into to stop the filth streaming out of his mouth. “Yes, fuck... yes. God, please, Sammy... Oh fuck, damn. God, Sam, your goddamn dick-!”
Sam hauls him and bites his ear. “You like that?” he growls.
“Fuck, Sam,” Dean says, nearly choking on it because, Jesus, Sam wants coherency right now? “God, yes, do it!”
“Yeah,” Sam says, speeding up. “So fucking gorgeous, Dean. So fucking pretty…” He shoves two fingers into Dean’s mouth and Dean sucks them eagerly. “Gonna…” Sam grunts and slams into Dean as he orgasms.
Dean pants around Sam’s fingers, feeling Sam pulse into him and wanting desperately to touch himself. His dick is hard and aching between his thighs and he fucks useless against the air.
Sam shudders against Dean’s neck and presses a kiss as he finally finishes. “Mmm…” he says and Dean whimpers, twisting against Sam’s iron hold. Sam kisses his throat again and pulls out, leaving Dean suddenly empty.
“Sammy…” Dean pleads. “Sammy…” Come leaks down his thigh.
Sam pushes Dean back down to the floor and flips him over onto his back. He reaches down and grabs Dean’s throbbing dick and Dean humps his hand. God, yes, finally. “Like that?” Sam asks and Dean arches, shuddering into his second orgasm.
He pants on his way down, unable to feel anything other than a pleasantly numb sensation. God yeah. He slumps bonelessly against the floor and Sam lays down beside him, rubbing circles into Dean’s stomach. “Is that why I didn’t get sex for two weeks?” he asks.
Dean swallows and tries to catch his breath. His body’s trying to convince him that the bathroom’s floor’s comfortable enough to take a nap on even when Dean’s mind knows better. “Is what why?” Dean asks. He’s not thinking too clearly right now and he really doesn’t want to get caught in one of Sam’s elaborate traps.
Sam nuzzles into Dean’s hair as a hand cups Dean’s hips. “You wanted rough sex?”
Dean stares at the ceiling. “Can we not talk about this?”
Sam laughs. “It’s nice to know I wasted so much time jerking off.”
Dean’s breath catches in his throat in shock. He turns to look at Sam. “You jerked off?”
Sam gives him a ‘well, DUH’ look. “If only I would have known all you needed was to be thrown down and mounted.”
Dean tries to decide if he’s offended at Sam’s statement or not. He thinks in another life, he might actually be turned on by it but at the moment, fuck that. He was too damn tired. He wrinkles his brow and chooses to go with “You could put that another way, Sam.”
Sam sits up and leans over Dean, his dimples out in full force. “Oh, I’m sorry. Would you prefer ‘tenderly made love to’? ‘Gently fucked in a rough sort of way’?”
Dean glares. “You. Are not funny.”
Sam smiles indulgently and gets to his feet. He reaches down to grab Dean’s wrists, trying to tug him up. “Come on,” he says. “If you sleep on the floor, you’ll regret it tomorrow.”
Fuck that. Tomorrow was an entirely different day. Today was still here and Dean was tired now. Sam’s face turns devious. “Okay,” he says. “I guess I’ll just drag you out. By your hair.”
Oh ha ha. 'Cause that would just cement Sam's little caveman act, wouldn't it? Dean rolls his eyes and sluggishly pushes himself to his feet. “I’m up. Happy?”
“Mmm,” Sam hums and pushes Dean out the door towards the beds. Dean stumbles to the nearest one and collapses on it gratefully, hugging the pillow. He doesn’t even complain when Sam snuggles in behind him. There’ll be plenty of time to call Sam a complete girl tomorrow and besides, Sam remembered to grab the blankets.
Dean’s almost asleep when Sam’s voice wakes him back up. “So we can do that again?”
Dean sighs. “I’m sleeping,” he mumbles.
“Dean…”
“Yes,” he says, just to shut Sam up. It almost works too.
Dean’s halfway asleep again before he hears the soft “All of it?”
Dean frowns, not quite understanding. Then, “You sick bastard.” He’s now disgustingly awake. And blushing again.
“You liked it too,” Sam whines and Dean just can’t argue with that. “Can we?”
He bites his lip and knows he’s a sick bastard too because when he reluctantly says “Maybe,” it really means ‘yes.’