Dean heard Sam stir shortly after dawn, but stayed relaxed and half-asleep on the bed. He wanted to see what Sam would do, what his reaction to last night would be. He heard Sam start rummaging through their duffles, looking for something. He bit back a grin at Sam's happy sounds when he came upon whatever it was he wanted.
Dean felt something soft and familiar slip into his hand, and couldn't stop the small smile that crept on his lips. Warm breath huffed along his neck, arousal curling in his groin. Wavy hair tickled his face, and Dean brought his hand up to run his fingers through it, nails scraping against Sam's scalp. Sam was practically purring at Dean's touch, butting into his hand. Dean chuckled and let his hand stray down further, over Sam's neck, down the knobs of his spine, kneading the tight globes of his lover's ass.
Soft lips pressed against Dean's pulse point, a daring tongue darting out to taste his flesh. Dean jerked the soft leather leash, unbalancing Sam.
"Didn't say you could do that," Dean purred dangerously. Sam sucked in a shuddering breath but remained silent. Dean dinged to open and eye and arousal hit him like a windego, the silver of Sam's collar glinting in the soft light, accented by the dark leash and the harness across Sam's chest. He tugged the leash, attached to the ring at the collar's center, drawing Sam towards him.
"The things you do to me baby boy," Dean groaned as he ran a finger along the edge of the soft dark leather. Sam hissed when Dean dragged a nail over his nipple. "Get the rope and the long lead." Sam bit back a grin and pushed off to get the rope from their duffles. He felt the leash unspool as he walked, the leather rubbing against his shoulder, the slack trailing back to where Dean lay on the bed. He grabbed the long nylon rope Dean kept coiled in his bag and the long strip of leather beside it, and nearly rolled his ankle sprinting back to the bed. Sam hovered uncertainly with his head ducked, shifting his weight from foot to foot.
"Get in here Sasquatch." Sam crawled under the covers and wrapped his lanky frame around his brother, sighing in contentment. Dean's hand traveled slowly up and down Sam's back as they lay there together, the light brush of fingertips stoking their arousal. At some point, Sam's back became the most sensitive part of his body, every nerve ending attuned to Dean, shuddering and twitching as his big brother's touch sent sparks straight to his dick; every brush of Dean's fingertips makes his cock twitch where it's pressed against Dean's thigh, hard and heavy.
"Dean," Sam whispered plaintively, not sure if he's allowed to talk and biting back a moan.
"I gotcha, Sammy," Dean whispered, and Sam believes him; if he believes nothing else in this world, Sam will always trust Dean.
Dean ordered Sam onto his knees, legs spread, shoulders pressed to the mattress. Dean grabbed the rope and bound Sam's left wrist to his left ankle, the rope biting into Sam's skin. He wound the rope around Sam's waist, giving him enough slack that he can use it as a makeshift sling if he wants, and then back around Sam's right leg, connecting wrist to ankle again. He surveys the picture Sam makes, trussed up for Dean's amusement.
It's fucking hot.
He needs another piece of rope.
Sam trembled with anticipation, shaking by the time Dean found what he wants and made it back to the bed. Dean looped the first length of rope through the back O-ring of Sam's harness, over his shoulders; one end of each rope attached to the headboard, pulled tight and restricting Sam's movements. The other length goes through the O-ring on Sam's chest, rope snaking between Sam's spread thighs, the ends attached to the baseboard. Sam's stretched, his movement limited by the lengths of rope. There's only one more thing.
Dean pulled the leash out from under Sam. Custom-made, extra-long, and extremely soft, though it hadn't started out that way. He gently maneuvered Sam's head so that the position wouldn't strain him or cut off his airways, tossing aside the short leash and replacing it with the long lead, which was long enough to loop under the bed and come out the other side. A small piece of rope threaded through the handle connected to the O-ring at the back of Sam's collar, effectively binding Sam's head in place
Dean stepped back to survey his handiwork.
Sam was expertly tied up, unable to move more than an inch in any direction, legs spread wide. With an evil grin, Dean took his last, thin section of rope and wrapped it around Sam's generous cock and heavy balls, knotting it with expertise. When Sam started to voice his protest, Dean smacked him twice on the ass. Hard.
Sam stopped struggling.
Dead admired the two perfect hand prints on Sam's pale, fine ass.
"Beautiful." Dean heard Sam's happy sigh and grinned. Carefully, deliberately, Dean started teasing Sam's opening, the pucker of flesh stretching to accommodate his slick fingers. It was awesome to watch, his lover bound and at his mercy; Sam's trust in him was the most precious thing Dean had ever owned, had ever been gifted with. He stretched himself over Sam's back, enjoyed the rough weave of the ropes and the soft leather of the harness.
"I'm gonna fuck you, baby boy," he whispered, voice sex-rough and strained with want. He felt every twitch and tremble of Sam's body. He rubbed his cock against the crack of Sam's ass, tweaked Sam's nipples, reached under and pressed his fingers against the leaking head of Sam's cock, shuddered feeling the flesh-rope-flesh-rope that bound Sam's erection and balls. Dean could feel the plea building in Sam, felt the amount of effort it took his lover to keep from voicing his desires. "I want to hear you. Every gasp, ever cry, every moan."
Sam moaned Dean's name, the vowels drawn out and breathless as Dean slid in. Sam enveloped him, swallowed Dean whole until there was nothing else but the slide of Dean's cock in Sam's warmth, the sound of Sam's voice in the still motel air, Sam's arousal the only scent Dean knew.
Dean gripped the rope looped around Sam's waist and pulled up, Sam crying out at the deeper penetration. Dean rotated his hips so that every thrust dragged viciously over Sam's prostate.
Sam's cries grew more frantic, a series of high pitched whines and desperate noises. Dean's last coherent thought was to pull the tab of rope that allowed the makeshift cock ring to unravel, each knot pulling free with a jerk. Sam's muscles clenching around him obliterated all Dean's high brain functions, his world narrowing to samsamsammysamsam.