I don't even know. *hands* The premiere being pushed back really pissed me off and then … this happened. I'm not sure what it is. I'm gonna shut up now, just read it.
Whatever the hell it is, it's for my new friend Sabrina! (And a little bit for all you lovely people who should be watching 'Like A Virgin' RIGHT NOW!)
Warnings - rimming.
"Feel like making some bad decisions, Sammy?"
Sam looks up quickly from his laptop – he didn't hear his brother coming in. Clearly two hours of uninterrupted reading is making his brain fuzzy, not to mention getting him absolutely nowhere. Dean's standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame, with a mischievous smile on his lips and a bottle of some cheap liquor dangling from between his fingers.
"Thought you wanted me to find us a job."
Dean shrugs. "Changed my mind. So, whataya say? I even got tequila so you don't even have to pretend you can stomach whiskey, you giant girl."
"How considerate." Sam rolls his eyes and pushes the screen on his laptop down with a little more force than was probably necessary. He's annoyed, but only a little bit.
"Ah, the things I do for you." Dean waves his hand nonchalantly. "It's just one sacrifice after another."
Sam snorts. "Yeah, you're a real hero."
"Damn straight," Dean cracks, that playful grin still lighting up his features.
Buying what Dean considers girly booze just so he can make fun of Sam is not a sacrifice, but in the back of his mind? That comment is definitely true, almost painfully so. Dean's entire life has been one sacrifice after another, a good majority of them for Sam. It's a truth he's had to live with his whole life, but sometimes Sam hates himself a little for it. Dean gives up everything for him and Sam doesn't think he gives all that much in return. Dean is the most devoted person Sam's ever met, and 99 percent of that devotion is aimed directly at Sam.
Truthfully? Sometimes it scares him. Sometimes Dean scares him.
Like right now. Dean saunters over toward the couch Sam's flaked out on, and he's got this gleam in his fierce green eyes – half predatory, like he's a python about to strike, and half knowing, like he knows exactly how this is gonna go down and Sam could try to fight it but it would be a waste of energy. There's this kind of snake that Sam's read about, he can't remember which one right now, that stares at its prey before it eats them; just stares, slowly hypnotizing them into a submissive state where they lose the will to fight for their own life. Sometimes, Sam feels that way around Dean.
"So what, you planning on getting me drunk so you can take advantage of me?" Sam asks, only halfway joking and hoping Dean won't notice the slight waver in his voice.
Dean's eyes flash and his eyebrows arc suggestively. "I don't exactly need booze to get you slippery and beggin' for it."
"Did you just call me easy?" Sam asks. He should be offended, sort of, but it's also sort of true.
Dean grins. "Maybe. Wanna do somethin' about it?"
Sam huffs a laugh and rolls his eyes, but he doesn't get the chance to 'do something about it' before Dean's swooping down and kissing him, hard and messy and just how Sam likes it. His half-hearted noise of protest is swallowed up into the cavern of his brother's mouth as Dean's tongue pushes inside for a minute.
"Dean, c'mon, we're supposed to be working," Sam mutters. He isn't totally sure why he's resisting, but for some reason he feels like he should put up at least a bit of a fight before he inevitably gives in. If only for the sake of his pride. Sometimes, in an attempt to hang on to whatever shreds of dignity he has left, Sam likes to pretend Dean doesn't affect him quite as much as he does, that he doesn't need Dean as much as he does. It might almost work, if Dean didn't take such a perverse pleasure in proving Sam wrong.
"Don't wanna work. Playing is more fun," Dean murmurs, attaching his lips to Sam's neck and sucking, and then sinking his teeth into the muscle, hard.
Sam hisses in pleasure-pain and Dean chuckles. "Like that, Sammy?"
And no, Sam doesn't like it. Not really. Dean's mouth feels good, but at the same time Sam kinda hates being treated like Dean thinks they're in a bad porn movie.
"Fuck. There's gonna be a bruise there tomorrow." Sam pulls away from Dean a little and runs his fingers lightly over the blood-warmed spot.
"Aw, I'm sorry, baby," Dean coos fakely, right in Sam's ear.
"Knock it off, Dean, I'm serious."
"Don't feel like taking?" Dean says quietly, an entirely different look in his eyes now that Sam has trouble placing. "Aright, then why don't you just sit there while I tell you exactly how this is gonna go?"
Sam's breath hitches and his heart thuds in his chest at the expression on his brothers face. Usually, Dean is sweet to him when they're like this, but every so often it's like something in Dean snaps. He'd never hurt Sam, ever, Sam isn't afraid of that. But when Dean gets intense like this, he gets unpredictable and sometimes afterward Sam's left with a weird feeling in his chest like he's not sure he totally understands what happened.
"We're gonna make out for a while, and you're gonna keep protesting a little because you feel like you should, like you shouldn't just give it to me for free." Dean leans back in and smoothes the flat of his tongue over the pulsing mark on Sam's neck, soothing the sting a little. "And you can resist and try to pretend you're not loving it, but I know you, baby boy. I know every single inch of you, and I know exactly how to touch it and lick it and in just a few minutes, you're gonna be so hard you can't see straight."
"Fuck, Dean," Sam gasps, his dick swelling already just from Dean's words and his warm breath on Sam's neck.
Dean laughs quietly. "Told you. And we're definitely gonna. Fuck, that is. But first, maybe I'll suck you? Swallow you down, make it all wet and warm, work you so good till you're dizzy and beggin' me to let you come."
Sam moans and digs his fingertips painfully into his own thighs. God, that sounds good, it all sounds so fucking good and if there was a reason Sam was supposed to be fighting this he's completely forgotten what it is. Sam pretty damn near forgets what his own name is as Dean sinks to his knees and nudges Sam's thighs apart so he can settle in the v of Sam's legs. He rubs his hands slowly up the tops of Sam's thighs, knees to hips, leaving the skin tingly and Sam squirms a little under Dean's unwavering gaze. Those emerald eyes are a little heavy-lidded now, but they're still sharp and focused, so focused, all on Sam and it's a little intimidating. Okay, actually, it's a lot intimidating and Sam would totally be freaking out right now if it wasn't also so fucking hot.
"Not gonna let you come, though. Not yet," Dean continues, eyes still locked on Sam's as his hands work their way up Sam's chest to flick at his nipples through the fabric of his flannel shirt. "First we're gonna get you good and naked, lay that gorgeous body out for me. I like that, I like looking down at you, all that hard muscle and smooth skin, and knowing it's all mine. So powerful, Sammy, but you give it all up to me, don't you? Every time."
Sam shudders and forces himself to refrain from nodding in agreement. Doesn't matter anyway, Dean already knows he's right. Target acquired; prey successfully hypnotized. Dean's gonna strike at any second and get exactly what he wants, what he wanted from the second he opened the door, and there isn't a single cell in Sam's body that can bring itself to care.
Dean's hands slide up under the hem of Sam's shirt and his fingers ghost along the sensitive skin there. Then he drags his palms up the sides of Sam's ribcage and around to the small of Sam's back, warm and smooth, and Sam hums in barely controlled pleasure.
"So fuckin' sexy, Sammy," Dean breathes, sucking on Sam's earlobe for a moment and scraping gently at it with his teeth. "And you don't know you are, that makes you a million times sexier."
Sam's not so sure he agrees with that, but he's not gonna say no to Dean's lips on his neck and Dean's hands splayed on his back, fingers massaging along Sam's spine. And Dean's chest is so close to his crotch, Sam can't help the way his hips buck a little, desperate for some friction, but Dean ignores it and continues with his slow torture.
"And then, maybe I'll lick you open? Get you all slick and wet and loose for me, get my tongue on all those secret places that'll drive you fuckin' crazy. Then I'll work you the rest of the way open, shit, love the way that little muscle is so tight at first and then it just fuckin' pulls me in."
Sam all out groans at that. His skin feels like there are spiders underneath it; he's restless and too hot and suddenly everything feels itchy and uncomfortable, but in a really really good way. Dean just chuckles again and attaches his lips to the pulse point on Sam's neck, and that just does it. Sam's done caring. He just wants it, and he wants it now. Sam unclenches his fingers from where they'd been gripping the edge of the couch and grabs the collar on Dean's shirt. He pulls Dean's head up and forces their mouths together roughly, all out assaulting Dean's lips with his own. Dean digs his fingernails into Sam's back and kisses back just as ferociously, but he lets Sam control it; lets Sam's tongue into his mouth and sucks on it.
"Dean, Dean, c'mon." Sam tears frantically at Dean's shirt and probably rips a few buttons in the process of getting it off.
Dean does the same, pushing Sam's shirt back over his shoulders and then grabbing rough handfuls of Sam's hair and tugging so he can get Sam's head in the right position to kiss him brutally.
"You want it, Sammy?" he murmurs playfully against Sam's lips.
"Yes, fuck, want it so bad, Dean."
"Mhm. Knew you did." Dean nips at Sam's lower lip and then moves his hands back down Sam's body to the buttons on the jeans currently cutting off the circulation to the biggest fucking hard on Sam thinks he's ever had.
While Deans hands get Sam out of his jeans, he bends his head down to lick at one of Sam's nipples and Sam gasps and twitches a little as a jolt of ohmygodsogood ricochets through his body.
"I'm always right, you should know that by now, kiddo," Dean says, smirking up at Sam, but his pupils are blown and his breathing is labored, so Sam knows Dean wants this as much as he does right now.
"Shut up and fuck me," he growls, kicking out of his pants and pushing at Dean's.
Dean's smile disappears instantly, replaced by a look of pure lust, and then he leans down and swiftly takes Sam's leaking cock into his mouth, practically all in one fluid motion. The attack. Sam makes a strangled noise that sounds sort of like 'guh!' and tosses his head back against the cushions. Dean's tongue is swirling against all the right places and it's so god-damned good, but all that talk about sucking and licking has Sam so worked up that he's going to come way too soon if Dean actually does those things.
"No," he mumbles pushing at Dean's head. "Dean, no."
There must've been something in his voice he hadn't meant to put there, because the little game Dean's been playing is put immediately on pause and he's pulling off Sam's dick and putting on his concerned face before Sam realizes what's even happening.
"Sammy? What's wrong?"
"No, it's, no. It's not like that," he murmurs, smoothing the backs of his knuckles across Dean's cheek reassuringly. "Just, not gonna last if you do that."
"Oh." Dean grins wickedly. "Well we wouldn't want that to happen."
He stands up again and shucks out of his jeans, then he pushes at Sam's shoulders until Sam's lying down on the couch and Dean's sitting between his legs. Sam has no idea when Dean got lube from one of their bags, but it's in his hand now and he's slicking up his fingers and nudging Sam's thighs further apart. Sam just wants Dean in him, now damn it, but Dean still takes his time, starting at the inside of Sam's knee and kissing all the way up to the spot under his sac. He takes one of Sam's balls into his mouth and Sam lets out a long moan, shit, that's good. Then Dean moves lower, throwing one of Sam's legs over his shoulder as he does and then licking gently at Sam's hole like he promised he would.
"Nhhg" comes out of Sam's mouth before he can stop it. "Jesus fuck, Dean!"
Dean just probes in deeper, furling his tongue to a point and then swirling around once he's inside. Sam's babbling like an idiot now but it's wet and kinda squishy and it feels so freakin' amazing that he's pretty damn sure he could come from just this. He makes a hazy mental note to see if he can, some day. But not today. He was promised a good, hard fucking and he's done waiting.
"Dean," Sam breathes shakily. "Dean, please."
Dean obliges him, pushing a lubed finger in beside his tongue, and then two, scissoring and twisting and hitting every sensitive spot perfectly. Sam's vision is already graying around the edges and he's already lost the feeling in his limbs and they haven't even gotten to the good part yet.
"C'mon, now," Sam begs, yeah, all-out begs, and he doesn't even mind. "Want you, Dean. Please."
Dean pulls his mouth and fingers away. "Fuck, Sammy, so hot like this," he whispers, staring down at Sam for a moment in what can only be described as awe. Then he grabs the lube again and slicks himself up, positions himself and starts pushing in.
Sam exhales heavily and forces his body to relax against the initial burn, and … mm, there it is. Damn, that's so good. Sam loves this, he fucking loves it. He's pretty sure he couldn't live without it, actually. He feels so full when Dean's in him, so complete. And he's so freakin' turned on that he'll be seriously proud of himself if he lasts for more than a couple strokes. The tingles of an orgasm are already starting in his belly, and Dean hasn't even moved yet.
Dean moans above him and then laughs a little. "Shit, man, I'm already close and we've barely done anything."
"God, me too." Sam gasps as Dean rolls his hips. "You – you make me a little crazy, you know that?"
Dean grins. "Big finish?"
"Yeah, c'mon, do it. Fuck," Sam moans as the head of Dean's cock drags over his prostate.
Dean leans down and braces his arms on either side of Sam's head, getting better leverage, and then he just goes for it, thrusting into of Sam as such a brutal pace that Sam's shouting and clinging to Dean's shoulders. Holding on. There's so much blood rushing around in Sam's head that he can barely see or hear anything, every part of his body focused on the slick slide, in and out, and the nearly painful explosions of electricity and fire that shake his entire body every time Dean hits that spot. So good, so fuckin' good. Dean somehow manages to prop himself up on just one hand, and he reaches between them and wraps his fingers around Sam's throbbing erection, squeezing and tugging and that's almost too much, sensory overload, and Sam is right there.
"Close, Dean," is all Sam can manage to get out around loud moans.
"Come," Dean grunts, leaning down to run his tongue over Sam's lips.
Sam can taste himself there, faint but earthy and bitter and fuck that's hot.
"Come for me, baby boy," Dean whispers against his lips, and that's it. Sam catches quick fire and than explodes, painting his stomach and Dean's hand with white and hot.
Dean keeps tugging at Sam's flesh until he's empty, gently working him through a high so intense Sam's pretty sure he's never gonna come down. And then, when it's too much, Dean lets go, wipes his hand on Sam's already filthy stomach, and starts up again with the thrusting. Sam's basically a sex doll at this point, just a slick hole to be fucked, because he can't move, he can't even think. But Dean rams into him a few times, five, six, seven, and then he's coming too, groaning filthily and filling Sam up even more, chanting "Sammy, Sammy" over and over again like he needs it to keep himself grounded. Somewhere, in some tiny corner of his mind that isn't totally strung out right now, Sam manages to hazily notice that it feels really good having Dean come inside him. They had used condoms for the first little while, because Dean had been with so many people while Sam was at school, but it's so much better like this.
When Dean's done twitching and grunting softly, he laughs weakly and then falls down on top of Sam, not even bothering to pull out. Which is more than fine with Sam, he'd let Dean stay there forever if he could. Dean's warm and heavy on Sam's chest and he heaves moist breaths into Sam's neck. Sam smiles, happy and sated, and wraps his arms around Dean's neck.
"See? Told you," Dean pants, laughing again and wiggling his hips a little so his soft cock moves around inside Sam.
"Shut up," Sam answers, kissing Dean's hair.
"If you didn't want it so bad, you wouldn't give it up so easily," Dean practically purrs.
Sam huffs and rolls his eyes, exasperatedly but affectionately. "I'm still gonna go with shut up."
"Love you, Sammy."
"Love you back, asshole."
So yeah, sometimes it really scares Sam how crazy Dean can make him. He's not easily scared or anything, he's 23 for fuck's sake, but Dean can be really intense, and how high Dean can wind him by doing so little? Yeah, its scary. Some days it feels like Dean's got him in one of those Vulcan mind melds, or maybe under that curse from Harry Potter, whatever the hell it's called, the one where you can make someone do whatever you want and they don't have a hope of resisting. Because Sam doesn't have a hope of resisting, even if he wanted to. But the truth is, when he's brave enough to admit it to himself, that he doesn't want to.