Fic: Explain what's going on (I'm going crazy), NC-17, Sam/Dean
Hi there lovelies! today is December 7th, and that means it's time for me to post a fic made for the " Finish it all off" challenge. The idea is that I was given an opening paragraph by the people organizing the challenge, and... well I had to finish it :) Much thanks to sinandmisery and shiplessheathen for the prompt and challenge, it was lots of fun to do!
Title: Explain what's going on (I'm going crazy)
Rating/Word count: NC-17, 2 800 words
Pairing/Characters: Sam/Dean
Notes/Disclaimers: Thanks to Sue who looked this over for me. All done for fun, no harm intended to anyone. The first paragraph of the story was the prompt, so not mine either, made for the " Finish it all off" challenge .
Summary: Dean drunkenly kisses Sam and forgets all about it. Sam freaks out, kinda.
Explain what's going on (I'm going crazy)
The first time Dean kissed Sam it was sloppy, and they both tasted of alcohol, but it wasn't entirely unpleasant. Sam didn't realize he had closed his eyes until his brain registered the soft, muted darkness that seemed to envelop him. The kiss wasn't how Sam had seen this all happening, but it was more than he'd expected, and probably the most he'd ever get.
Sam kissed back, trying to make the most of it, but too soon it was over. Dean pulled away and softly caressed Sam's cheek before rolling on his back. Sam held his breath and was too afraid to move, worrying he'd shatter this weirdly peaceful moment. Heart hammering in his chest, he was expecting Dean to slur a joke or an apology but nothing came. When Sam risked looking at him, Dean was fast asleep, breathing deeply. That totally threw Sam off, even more than the kiss itself.
He was tempted to shake his brother awake and demand what the hell was going on; instead Sam pried Dean's fingers off the neck of the whiskey bottle they'd been passing back and forth for the last hour before it fell on the bed and spilled. Putting the bottle on the nightstand was enough movement to make the room lurch, so Sam decided not to make the perilous journey to his own bed and to stay right where he was. He lied back down, the only point of contact with Dean being their shoulders touching, and didn't bother shutting down the horror movie special on the TV before he let sleep drag him under too.
**
It's the sounds of old pipes protesting loudly that woke Sam up, and there was barely a beat before a deep and pounding headache took all the place inside his skull (and then some). He groaned and flipped on the bed, trying to hide from the too bright sunlight. God, he hated being hungover. Sam took steadying breaths, hoping his stomach would hang on at the very least.
"Tell me, Sammy: what's the use of being seven feet tall if you can't even hold your liquor?"
Peeking over his folded arm, Sam saw that Dean's was leaning in the bathroom doorway, brushing his teeth. He was smirking, relaxed, taunting Sam about his hangover like he had done multiple times before. The only conclusion Sam could draw of the normalcy of the moment was that Dean must have blacked out enough of the night before to forget all about the kiss. Or maybe Sam had dreamed it all? But no, that was impossible. Sam remembered vividly the way his stomach had been full of butterflies and the slick and slow slide of Dean's tongue against his. It had happened, he was sure of it.
"Shut up if you don't have anything intelligent to say." Sam muttered, and then added. "Guess you'd be pretty silent all the time, would be nice."
Sam heard Dean spit in the sink then laugh.
"Cheer up, princess. I'm starving, want me to bring you something back?"
The mere idea of food was too much: Sam scrambled up, pushed Dean aside and was on his knees by the bowl to vomit what amounted to bile three seconds later. It fucking hurt, the violent spasms echoing in his head and triggering nausea all over again for what seemed like an eternity. When he managed to control what now amounted to dry heaving, Dean put a glass of water in Sam's peripheral vision that he gladly took to rinse his mouth and spat out.
"That was nasty. Look at me." Dean prompted and when Sam turned his head, Dean passed a cool washcloth over his face. The cold made Sam shiver but it helped, felt good. Dean helped Sam to get up and shoved a toothbrush in his hand. "There you go."
"Thanks mom." Sam retorted but it was feeble, he really appreciated the attention. Dean knew it, too.
"No problem, lightweight. I'll get you Aspirins."
The mint toothpaste helped to ease the ‘feeling-like-crap’ impression a bit, but a shower would do even more good. Sam stripped out of his t-shirt and was stepping out of his pants when Dean came back with the pills.
"Two of them enough?" Dean asked as he re-entered the bathroom, pausing for a beat at the door.
"Think so." Sam said as he took the Aspirins and swallowed them, chasing them down with a gulp of water.
Dean nodded and left, talking as he went for the motel's door.
"Good. I'll be right back. Be sure you get all the puking out of the way before we leave."
"Yeah, yeah."
Sam felt better already and started a mostly cold shower, shivering as he stepped under the spray and let his forehead rest against he cool ceramic. With a couple deep breaths, the pounding in his mind eased up. It's only then that Sam realized Dean had subtly avoided looking at him as he was undressing just now. That was definitely new, and sent Sam's mind reeling.
**
The changes in Dean's attitude were so subtle that Sam was pretty much convinced that he was making them all up with a hefty dose of wishful thinking. Dean had always made sure to be aware of Sam's whereabouts at all times, fast glances he was probably not even consciously doing, as if Sam could disappear or get in trouble in the blink of an eye. Those check ups seemed more frequent now, and sometimes Sam felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up when Dean stared for a beat longer than usual.
But it was the casual touches that drove Sam crazy. It was not new, far from it: they always had needed to silently draw each other's attention before, point to something, check a wound, shove the other teasingly or even slap when annoyed. Those didn't change, and Dean surely didn't seem to do it more, but did the touches last longer too or not? It was getting all mixed up in Sam's head, made him analyze every minute interaction he had with his brother.
Dean didn't supply clear signals either way, if Sam was honest. He was certainly not kissing Sam randomly anymore, which would have made everything way clearer. Sam considered getting Dean drunk again, but it would cheapen it. Asking point blank could be disastrous if Sam was wrong and he didn't quite have the guts to start teasing Dean to see if it would lead somewhere. What absolutely terrified Sam was to cross an unspoken line that would have Dean take his distance or even leave him in order to make the responsible decision and avoid temptation - if temptation there was and if the whole kissing deal had not been a total fluke. If there was one thing Sam was absolutely sure of? It was that he could not fathom life without Dean, not again.
**
Sam felt the tension eat him inside constantly, a slow throb of visceral need that took more and more place. He tossed and turned every night, and the little sleep he got was not restful at all. Dean hovered, worried, asked if he was feeling all right and Sam could only lie that he didn't know what was going on. The elephant in the room, unnamed but tangible, took more and more space. Sam started to flinch at every touch he didn't see coming, it was like sparks shot straight to his spine, and Dean noticed that too. It took an agonizing three weeks before it reached a critical level that couldn't be ignored anymore.
When Sam's knee jerk reaction to a simple brush to his elbow blew their cover and almost got them killed by a werecat, Dean cracked. He seethed all the way back to the car after killing the beast, then threw their gear in the trunk as Sam went to slump in his seat. Dean slammed his door as he got in too, went to turn the key but stopped and grabbed the steering wheel instead with a white knuckled grip.
"Sam, it can't go on like this."
Groaning, Sam hid his face in his hands.
"I know. I'm sorry." I am sorry I don't know how to make us right again. He thought
"What the fuck is going on? What did I do?" Dean gritted between his teeth. "Just get it out, once and for all."
Dean was right, it could not continue to fester like that. They were at a breaking point, anyway. Sam took a deep breath and turned in his seat, facing Dean.
"That night we got drunk, weeks ago." Sam could see Dean's face change as he talked, anger wavering, then inching towards fear. "You kissed me, Dean."
It was as if all the blood drained from his brother's face. Dean looked shell shocked for a beat then hit the steering wheel, hard. And again.
"FUCK. Fuck."
Dean definitely had blacked it out, then. Sam didn't know what to say, how to try and calm him down as Dean started the car. Dean passed a hand on his face, trying to find some sort of composure; he had now gone from white to flushed with shame, and his voice threatened to crack.
"God Sam, I don't know what to say. No wonder you can't stand when I touch you. I'll leave you where you want, get out of your hair."
"NO!" Sam shouted, Dean had everything so wrong.
Sam lunged for the car's ignition and turned the key to off again, startling Dean who then reared back as he had been burned by the touch. Dean scrambled towards his door and Sam followed, took handfuls of Dean's shirt to keep him in place.
"No. I don't want you to leave, Dean. You don't get it." Sam said fervently. Dean's eyes were huge. "I kissed you back. You forgot it, but I kissed you back."
Dean gaped, visibly bemused. Sam got closer and when he was not pushed away he took Dean’s face in his hands. All Sam wanted to do was to kiss him again.
"It's eating me inside Dean, not knowing what you want. Not knowing if you want me."
They stayed eye to eye for several seconds, still and silent: everything would change forever with what came next. It was finally Dean who moved, crushing his mouth on Sam's who welcomed it like rain after a drought, a broken sound of relief escaping him as Dean moved his hands up to grab Sam's head at his turn. Once started they couldn't stop, kiss deepening and better than anything Sam had ever felt, shivers breaking all over his skin and joy expending through his chest. Dean spoke through the kisses, punctuating every word with another scorching kiss that had Sam light-headed.
"Of. Course. Dumbass." Dean finished with another kiss.
"Awesome," Sam said, grinning. "Was driving me nuts. You friggin' tease, kissing me and fucking falling asleep."
Dean hid his face in Sam's neck, groaning in embarrassment.
"Can't believe I did that," he licked and nipped at Sam's throat, who arched his head back to give him more room to work, it felt fucking amazing. Dean continued: "I'll make it up to you."
Sam snorted.
"Three weeks of blue balls. I hope you're worth it."
When Dean looked up, his grin was mischievous.
"Not to be presumptuous..."
"Of course not." Said Sam, mock serious.
"... but I have a money back warranty policy. And not many complaints."
Rolling his eyes, Sam sat more squarely on the seat and pulled at Dean's arm, but Dean was already straddling his lap.
"Yeah, right, that's because you leave before they wake." Sam teased as he slid his hand on Dean's lower back, under his t-shirt.
Dean reciprocated by undoing the buttons of Sam's over shirt, then as Sam lifted his arms, he yanked Sam's t-shirt and shirt off in one smooth sweep. A second later Dean's own t-shirt followed towards the back seat. There was a beat when they looked at each other with heated eyes, and then it was a clash as they both surged forward, kiss almost savage and clutching at each other, reveling in the feeling of skin on skin. The car was filled with growls and moans as they scratched and roughly caressed, no finesse but pure unadulterated need. Dean was grinding down on Sam's crotch, which was quite fantastic but could be so much better without those damn jeans. With hands made clumsy in his hurry, Sam tried to undo Dean's buttons but cursed when it didn't go as fast as he wanted. Getting on with the program, Dean took over and Sam left Dean's fly to open his own pants, groaning when he plunged his hand in his underwear, took his dick and gave it a hard pull.
Closing his eyes and gripping tight at the base of his cock, Sam tried to calm down. Dean had stopped moving, which prompted Sam to re-open his eyes, wondering what was wrong. Dean was biting his lower lip, eyes wide and fixated on Sam's hand and dick.
"You have any idea how fucking hot you are?" Dean asked, voice low and husky.
There was not much to say to that, though Sam had doubts it could top how Dean looked right now: flushed, shirtless and with his pants opened and cock curling up, dusky red. It was hard for Sam to not just jerk off and get that overwhelming need to come out of the way, he craved it so bad. But Sam longed even more to touch Dean so he gathered his own precome on his fingers before curling them around Dean's shaft. And fuck, if that wasn't just the hottest thing he had ever done in his life. Dean's almost gave himself a whiplash, throwing his head back and then forward as he had a full body shudder, moaning like a porn star.
"You like that, Dean?" Sam said as he started to slowly stroke him, which made Dean pant and clutch at his shoulders.
"Fuck yeah. Whoa. Your... your freaking hands, man."
They were both watching Dean's dick coming in and out of Sam's fist, and Dean couldn't help keening every time Sam gave a flick of the wrist over the head, smearing the precome pouring out at the slit. The only problem was that Sam felt kind of neglected, cock so hard it hurt but nothing to give any release. With his other hand, Sam grabbed Dean's ass and hauled him flush, groin to groin and close enough that he managed to readjust his grip to take both their dicks in one hand. And that, that was way better, friction and Dean's cock hot and silky against his own, so hard.
"Shit. yeah. That's it. C'mon Sam, please." Dean begged.
Sam bit at Dean's shoulder, then at his neck, hard enough to mark, to taste. Sam wanted to brand him, make Dean his for everyone to see. To feel Dean falling apart in his arms, because of him, for him, it made Sam feel more powerful than he had ever felt before.
"Please what?" Sam growled.
"Harder. More. please, I need to come." Dean said, his breath ragged.
When Sam gripped harder and sped up his pace, that was it, Dean was gone. He shouted something unintelligible that might have been a curse and started to spill over their hands, fingers digging deep in Sam's shoulders. Dean came and came and Sam relished seeing it all, tried to memorize the abandon on Dean's face. It was that, to see Dean totally blissed out, that made Sam jump over the edge himself. The orgasm that had been building steadily was ripped out of Sam suddenly, making him almost black out with the force of it, pleasure like a tidal wave. Sam still was moving his hand feebly, riding the aftershocks, when Dean stilled it. Opening his eyes, Sam looked at the roof of the car, head resting on the back of the bench. Dean was peppering Sam's jaw with small kisses.
"Shh, shhh, easy now." Dean whispered.
Opening his fingers, Sam let go of their softening dicks and tuned his head, meeting Dean's mouth in a slow kiss. Raising his non-sticky hand, Sam cupped Dean's cheek, holding him close. When they parted, Sam knew he was smiling stupidly but couldn't help it. Dean's eyes crinkled at that and he grinned back.
"Yeah." Dean said.
"Fuck yeah." Sam added, happy.
He pulled Dean forward and they kissed again. And again. It was definitely more than Sam had ever expected: he felt like he had it all.
//End
Title: Explain what's going on (I'm going crazy)
Rating/Word count: NC-17, 2 800 words
Pairing/Characters: Sam/Dean
Notes/Disclaimers: Thanks to Sue who looked this over for me. All done for fun, no harm intended to anyone. The first paragraph of the story was the prompt, so not mine either, made for the " Finish it all off" challenge .
Summary: Dean drunkenly kisses Sam and forgets all about it. Sam freaks out, kinda.
Explain what's going on (I'm going crazy)
The first time Dean kissed Sam it was sloppy, and they both tasted of alcohol, but it wasn't entirely unpleasant. Sam didn't realize he had closed his eyes until his brain registered the soft, muted darkness that seemed to envelop him. The kiss wasn't how Sam had seen this all happening, but it was more than he'd expected, and probably the most he'd ever get.
Sam kissed back, trying to make the most of it, but too soon it was over. Dean pulled away and softly caressed Sam's cheek before rolling on his back. Sam held his breath and was too afraid to move, worrying he'd shatter this weirdly peaceful moment. Heart hammering in his chest, he was expecting Dean to slur a joke or an apology but nothing came. When Sam risked looking at him, Dean was fast asleep, breathing deeply. That totally threw Sam off, even more than the kiss itself.
He was tempted to shake his brother awake and demand what the hell was going on; instead Sam pried Dean's fingers off the neck of the whiskey bottle they'd been passing back and forth for the last hour before it fell on the bed and spilled. Putting the bottle on the nightstand was enough movement to make the room lurch, so Sam decided not to make the perilous journey to his own bed and to stay right where he was. He lied back down, the only point of contact with Dean being their shoulders touching, and didn't bother shutting down the horror movie special on the TV before he let sleep drag him under too.
**
It's the sounds of old pipes protesting loudly that woke Sam up, and there was barely a beat before a deep and pounding headache took all the place inside his skull (and then some). He groaned and flipped on the bed, trying to hide from the too bright sunlight. God, he hated being hungover. Sam took steadying breaths, hoping his stomach would hang on at the very least.
"Tell me, Sammy: what's the use of being seven feet tall if you can't even hold your liquor?"
Peeking over his folded arm, Sam saw that Dean's was leaning in the bathroom doorway, brushing his teeth. He was smirking, relaxed, taunting Sam about his hangover like he had done multiple times before. The only conclusion Sam could draw of the normalcy of the moment was that Dean must have blacked out enough of the night before to forget all about the kiss. Or maybe Sam had dreamed it all? But no, that was impossible. Sam remembered vividly the way his stomach had been full of butterflies and the slick and slow slide of Dean's tongue against his. It had happened, he was sure of it.
"Shut up if you don't have anything intelligent to say." Sam muttered, and then added. "Guess you'd be pretty silent all the time, would be nice."
Sam heard Dean spit in the sink then laugh.
"Cheer up, princess. I'm starving, want me to bring you something back?"
The mere idea of food was too much: Sam scrambled up, pushed Dean aside and was on his knees by the bowl to vomit what amounted to bile three seconds later. It fucking hurt, the violent spasms echoing in his head and triggering nausea all over again for what seemed like an eternity. When he managed to control what now amounted to dry heaving, Dean put a glass of water in Sam's peripheral vision that he gladly took to rinse his mouth and spat out.
"That was nasty. Look at me." Dean prompted and when Sam turned his head, Dean passed a cool washcloth over his face. The cold made Sam shiver but it helped, felt good. Dean helped Sam to get up and shoved a toothbrush in his hand. "There you go."
"Thanks mom." Sam retorted but it was feeble, he really appreciated the attention. Dean knew it, too.
"No problem, lightweight. I'll get you Aspirins."
The mint toothpaste helped to ease the ‘feeling-like-crap’ impression a bit, but a shower would do even more good. Sam stripped out of his t-shirt and was stepping out of his pants when Dean came back with the pills.
"Two of them enough?" Dean asked as he re-entered the bathroom, pausing for a beat at the door.
"Think so." Sam said as he took the Aspirins and swallowed them, chasing them down with a gulp of water.
Dean nodded and left, talking as he went for the motel's door.
"Good. I'll be right back. Be sure you get all the puking out of the way before we leave."
"Yeah, yeah."
Sam felt better already and started a mostly cold shower, shivering as he stepped under the spray and let his forehead rest against he cool ceramic. With a couple deep breaths, the pounding in his mind eased up. It's only then that Sam realized Dean had subtly avoided looking at him as he was undressing just now. That was definitely new, and sent Sam's mind reeling.
**
The changes in Dean's attitude were so subtle that Sam was pretty much convinced that he was making them all up with a hefty dose of wishful thinking. Dean had always made sure to be aware of Sam's whereabouts at all times, fast glances he was probably not even consciously doing, as if Sam could disappear or get in trouble in the blink of an eye. Those check ups seemed more frequent now, and sometimes Sam felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up when Dean stared for a beat longer than usual.
But it was the casual touches that drove Sam crazy. It was not new, far from it: they always had needed to silently draw each other's attention before, point to something, check a wound, shove the other teasingly or even slap when annoyed. Those didn't change, and Dean surely didn't seem to do it more, but did the touches last longer too or not? It was getting all mixed up in Sam's head, made him analyze every minute interaction he had with his brother.
Dean didn't supply clear signals either way, if Sam was honest. He was certainly not kissing Sam randomly anymore, which would have made everything way clearer. Sam considered getting Dean drunk again, but it would cheapen it. Asking point blank could be disastrous if Sam was wrong and he didn't quite have the guts to start teasing Dean to see if it would lead somewhere. What absolutely terrified Sam was to cross an unspoken line that would have Dean take his distance or even leave him in order to make the responsible decision and avoid temptation - if temptation there was and if the whole kissing deal had not been a total fluke. If there was one thing Sam was absolutely sure of? It was that he could not fathom life without Dean, not again.
**
Sam felt the tension eat him inside constantly, a slow throb of visceral need that took more and more place. He tossed and turned every night, and the little sleep he got was not restful at all. Dean hovered, worried, asked if he was feeling all right and Sam could only lie that he didn't know what was going on. The elephant in the room, unnamed but tangible, took more and more space. Sam started to flinch at every touch he didn't see coming, it was like sparks shot straight to his spine, and Dean noticed that too. It took an agonizing three weeks before it reached a critical level that couldn't be ignored anymore.
When Sam's knee jerk reaction to a simple brush to his elbow blew their cover and almost got them killed by a werecat, Dean cracked. He seethed all the way back to the car after killing the beast, then threw their gear in the trunk as Sam went to slump in his seat. Dean slammed his door as he got in too, went to turn the key but stopped and grabbed the steering wheel instead with a white knuckled grip.
"Sam, it can't go on like this."
Groaning, Sam hid his face in his hands.
"I know. I'm sorry." I am sorry I don't know how to make us right again. He thought
"What the fuck is going on? What did I do?" Dean gritted between his teeth. "Just get it out, once and for all."
Dean was right, it could not continue to fester like that. They were at a breaking point, anyway. Sam took a deep breath and turned in his seat, facing Dean.
"That night we got drunk, weeks ago." Sam could see Dean's face change as he talked, anger wavering, then inching towards fear. "You kissed me, Dean."
It was as if all the blood drained from his brother's face. Dean looked shell shocked for a beat then hit the steering wheel, hard. And again.
"FUCK. Fuck."
Dean definitely had blacked it out, then. Sam didn't know what to say, how to try and calm him down as Dean started the car. Dean passed a hand on his face, trying to find some sort of composure; he had now gone from white to flushed with shame, and his voice threatened to crack.
"God Sam, I don't know what to say. No wonder you can't stand when I touch you. I'll leave you where you want, get out of your hair."
"NO!" Sam shouted, Dean had everything so wrong.
Sam lunged for the car's ignition and turned the key to off again, startling Dean who then reared back as he had been burned by the touch. Dean scrambled towards his door and Sam followed, took handfuls of Dean's shirt to keep him in place.
"No. I don't want you to leave, Dean. You don't get it." Sam said fervently. Dean's eyes were huge. "I kissed you back. You forgot it, but I kissed you back."
Dean gaped, visibly bemused. Sam got closer and when he was not pushed away he took Dean’s face in his hands. All Sam wanted to do was to kiss him again.
"It's eating me inside Dean, not knowing what you want. Not knowing if you want me."
They stayed eye to eye for several seconds, still and silent: everything would change forever with what came next. It was finally Dean who moved, crushing his mouth on Sam's who welcomed it like rain after a drought, a broken sound of relief escaping him as Dean moved his hands up to grab Sam's head at his turn. Once started they couldn't stop, kiss deepening and better than anything Sam had ever felt, shivers breaking all over his skin and joy expending through his chest. Dean spoke through the kisses, punctuating every word with another scorching kiss that had Sam light-headed.
"Of. Course. Dumbass." Dean finished with another kiss.
"Awesome," Sam said, grinning. "Was driving me nuts. You friggin' tease, kissing me and fucking falling asleep."
Dean hid his face in Sam's neck, groaning in embarrassment.
"Can't believe I did that," he licked and nipped at Sam's throat, who arched his head back to give him more room to work, it felt fucking amazing. Dean continued: "I'll make it up to you."
Sam snorted.
"Three weeks of blue balls. I hope you're worth it."
When Dean looked up, his grin was mischievous.
"Not to be presumptuous..."
"Of course not." Said Sam, mock serious.
"... but I have a money back warranty policy. And not many complaints."
Rolling his eyes, Sam sat more squarely on the seat and pulled at Dean's arm, but Dean was already straddling his lap.
"Yeah, right, that's because you leave before they wake." Sam teased as he slid his hand on Dean's lower back, under his t-shirt.
Dean reciprocated by undoing the buttons of Sam's over shirt, then as Sam lifted his arms, he yanked Sam's t-shirt and shirt off in one smooth sweep. A second later Dean's own t-shirt followed towards the back seat. There was a beat when they looked at each other with heated eyes, and then it was a clash as they both surged forward, kiss almost savage and clutching at each other, reveling in the feeling of skin on skin. The car was filled with growls and moans as they scratched and roughly caressed, no finesse but pure unadulterated need. Dean was grinding down on Sam's crotch, which was quite fantastic but could be so much better without those damn jeans. With hands made clumsy in his hurry, Sam tried to undo Dean's buttons but cursed when it didn't go as fast as he wanted. Getting on with the program, Dean took over and Sam left Dean's fly to open his own pants, groaning when he plunged his hand in his underwear, took his dick and gave it a hard pull.
Closing his eyes and gripping tight at the base of his cock, Sam tried to calm down. Dean had stopped moving, which prompted Sam to re-open his eyes, wondering what was wrong. Dean was biting his lower lip, eyes wide and fixated on Sam's hand and dick.
"You have any idea how fucking hot you are?" Dean asked, voice low and husky.
There was not much to say to that, though Sam had doubts it could top how Dean looked right now: flushed, shirtless and with his pants opened and cock curling up, dusky red. It was hard for Sam to not just jerk off and get that overwhelming need to come out of the way, he craved it so bad. But Sam longed even more to touch Dean so he gathered his own precome on his fingers before curling them around Dean's shaft. And fuck, if that wasn't just the hottest thing he had ever done in his life. Dean's almost gave himself a whiplash, throwing his head back and then forward as he had a full body shudder, moaning like a porn star.
"You like that, Dean?" Sam said as he started to slowly stroke him, which made Dean pant and clutch at his shoulders.
"Fuck yeah. Whoa. Your... your freaking hands, man."
They were both watching Dean's dick coming in and out of Sam's fist, and Dean couldn't help keening every time Sam gave a flick of the wrist over the head, smearing the precome pouring out at the slit. The only problem was that Sam felt kind of neglected, cock so hard it hurt but nothing to give any release. With his other hand, Sam grabbed Dean's ass and hauled him flush, groin to groin and close enough that he managed to readjust his grip to take both their dicks in one hand. And that, that was way better, friction and Dean's cock hot and silky against his own, so hard.
"Shit. yeah. That's it. C'mon Sam, please." Dean begged.
Sam bit at Dean's shoulder, then at his neck, hard enough to mark, to taste. Sam wanted to brand him, make Dean his for everyone to see. To feel Dean falling apart in his arms, because of him, for him, it made Sam feel more powerful than he had ever felt before.
"Please what?" Sam growled.
"Harder. More. please, I need to come." Dean said, his breath ragged.
When Sam gripped harder and sped up his pace, that was it, Dean was gone. He shouted something unintelligible that might have been a curse and started to spill over their hands, fingers digging deep in Sam's shoulders. Dean came and came and Sam relished seeing it all, tried to memorize the abandon on Dean's face. It was that, to see Dean totally blissed out, that made Sam jump over the edge himself. The orgasm that had been building steadily was ripped out of Sam suddenly, making him almost black out with the force of it, pleasure like a tidal wave. Sam still was moving his hand feebly, riding the aftershocks, when Dean stilled it. Opening his eyes, Sam looked at the roof of the car, head resting on the back of the bench. Dean was peppering Sam's jaw with small kisses.
"Shh, shhh, easy now." Dean whispered.
Opening his fingers, Sam let go of their softening dicks and tuned his head, meeting Dean's mouth in a slow kiss. Raising his non-sticky hand, Sam cupped Dean's cheek, holding him close. When they parted, Sam knew he was smiling stupidly but couldn't help it. Dean's eyes crinkled at that and he grinned back.
"Yeah." Dean said.
"Fuck yeah." Sam added, happy.
He pulled Dean forward and they kissed again. And again. It was definitely more than Sam had ever expected: he felt like he had it all.
//End