Rating: R (MA)
Disclaimer: I own nothing, These characters are Kripke's! I'm just a fan so please don't sue me.
Warnings:Slash/Wincest/Bondage/Spanking - Under 18-You really shouldn't read this

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"Dean, stop it, ok?"

Dean drums his fingers on the steering wheel, keeping time to the music thumping out of the Impala's speakers. They're driving down the highway, doing seventy, the windows down in the mid-afternoon sun, on their way to the next hunt.

"Admit it, Sam. I took it a lot better than you did! Dude, you were such a girl."

Dean's been making remarks for the past hour and Sam's about reached his limit with his brother's teasing.

Sam ticks off on his fingers, "You were half-drunk with the Spirit Oil, Dean. You were relaxed from the massage I gave you. And, we had better lubrication for you! That Vaseline was just plain nasty. Plus, I seem to remember you begging for me to just touch you. That's right, you begged me, Dude...or should I say Dudette?" Sam puts a finger in the air, marking a point on an imaginary scoreboard.

Dean replies in a falsetto voice, "Oh, you're too big, Dean, I can't take it…"

Sam exhales, exasperated, "Shut up!" shaking his head and looking out the window, "Jerk!"

"Bitch." Dean says automatically and chuckles, "Such a frigging chick."

Sam nods, glaring at his brother, "Ok, fine. You want to make a bet?"

Dean shoots him a look sideways, "I'm listening."

"I bet that even without any magic oil, I can get you to beg me again."

"Sammy, ain't gonna happen if I don't want it to."

"You don't think so?"

"I know it won't. It's all a matter of will. Sam, look, you need to face facts. I'm stronger than you, I'm a better kisser, a better lover." Dean looks over with a smirk on his face, "and we both know my dick is bigger."

"Yeah? Well, put your dick where your mouth is, take the bet."

Dean scowls at him, never one to back down from a challenge, "Talk to me."

Sam smiles, knowing he's got Dean hooked. He makes his voice low and seductive, leaning closer to his brother and putting a hand on his leg, "I get one night to do whatever I want to you. One night…and I bet that I can get you so hot, so hard, so…steamy that you'll not only beg for me to be inside you but I can get you to say how much you need me to be there." He moves his hand to Dean's crotch, rubbing the erection already hard and straining against his jeans at Sam's sensual words. Sam gives him a hard squeeze.

Dean gasps and jumps, his breathing quickening in his suddenly tight chest. He looks at Sam's eyes, big, brown, bedroom eyes a guy could drown in and remembers Sammy's hands all over him, his hot tongue sliding down his body, his sweet kisses and his freaking taste

His voice is husky, "Sam..." and he drags his eyes away from his brother, pointedly moving Sam's hand off him and back into his own lap, then looking out at the road ahead and breathing deep, "I don't need anything and I'm never gonna say that. You got yourself a bet. But I get the same thing, one night to do whatever I want with you until you're begging me."

"So, whoever gets the other to beg wins?" Sam asks.

"Yup…but we're talking really begs and not just saying please, right?"

"Down on your knees, out of control begging, dude."

"You're on. What do I get when I win?"

Sam smiles, "Funny, Dean. When I win, I want one week of blow-jobs, whenever and wherever I say, no questions asked and no arguing."

Dean's eyes meet his, gleaming, "That sounds, wow, you on your knees, your mouth on me whenever I tell you to. Yeah, I want the same thing. Now, for the rules."

"Rules?"

"Yeah, rules. First, no whips or chains or kinky shit, agreed?"

Sam laughs "Can I tie you up?"

"Only if you can catch me and make me, dude."

Tossing back his bangs, Sam looks intrigued, "Now that…could be fun."

Dean's eyes get a far-away look "Yeah."

"One more thing, Dean. We're gonna measure each other cause I don't want to hear anymore shit about whose dick is bigger than whose. That way, we'll know for sure."

"Sammy, I don't want to kill your self-esteem, you know? We both know who's bigger."

"Humor me, ok, Dean?"

"Your funeral, Sam. So when do we start?"

Sam gives him a wicked grin, "Tonight."

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