Kiss Me With Your Mouth

Dean Winchester's mouth once literally caused a traffic accident. A driver approaching Sam and Dean walking down the sidewalk on the other side of the street caught sight of Dean's mouth and stared, rapt, head turning to follow Dean, not seeing that the car in front of him had come to a stop. He plowed straight into the back of the sedan with an expensive-sounding crunch, and buried his face in his hands as he realized what had just happened. Sam laughed, having seen the whole thing. Dean looked puzzled.

In an earlier era, sonnets would have been written to the soft perfection of Dean Winchester's mouth. Painters would have clamored for the privilege of painting his portrait, lingering too long on the details of those lips, slightly parted, that Dean could not help running his tongue over a thousand times a day.

Really. He couldn't help it. It was a nervous tic. Soothed him to slip his tongue out over his lower lip and dart back in his mouth.

It certainly wasn't deliberate. Until the day he noticed—really noticed—how Sam stared at his mouth.

Oh, he knew that Sam loved his mouth. Knew by the way Sam dragged his tongue across the inside of his lower lip, nipped and sucked at it, kissed him for what felt like hours. Knew by the way Sam could not get enough of Dean's mouth on his cock, always wanted to see it, wanted Dean to blow him in broad daylight, sunlight streaming across Dean's face. But Sam loved everything about Dean, couldn't get enough of any part of him. Dude was gonna be the death of him—and Dean couldn't think of a finer way to go out.

But he didn't realize the full extent of the power his mouth (cocksucking mouth, cocksucking mouth, Christ, he'd heard that phrase since he was 14 years old) had over his brother until the diner in Springfield run by a Russian couple.

"…and the pierogi today are just excellent." The waitress was running down the list of specials for the boys. Sam's face lit up.

"Yeah, I'll have that."

Dean grimaced. He was not what you'd call an adventurous eater. "Bacon cheeseburger for me. Thanks."

Dean became aware that he might have ordered the wrong thing when he saw the plate of fat little dumplings swimming in butter deposited in front of his brother.

"So... what's in those anyway?" Dean took a bite of his burger. Not half bad, but Dean had eaten approximately a thousand bacon cheeseburgers in the previous five years. Never had a pierogi. In fact, he didn't even know what they were, just that they sounded weird.

"Oh my god dude. You've never had pierogi? They're like… potstickers filled with potatoes and onions, or ground beef and bacon. And these are fucking awesome." Sam forked another pierogi into his mouth, smearing butter all over his lips.

"Give." Dean injected a little command voice into it, but he didn't need to bother. Sam was more than willing to share.

Sam speared a dumpling on his fork, swirled it around in the pool of melted butter and offered it to Dean.

"Mmph. Holy shit," Dean mumbled, butter dripping down his chin. He swallowed, wiping his chin, and swiped his tongue over his lower lip, glistening with butter.

Sam opened his mouth to say something…and then just froze, jaw open.

"Y'aright there Sammy?"

"Fine. I'm fine." Sam blinked a few times. "So… you like those?"

"Fuck yeah, dude. Should have said something. Why'd I order a damn burger?"

Sam drummed the fingers of one hand on his thigh underneath the table, and flagged down the waitress with the other.

"'Scuse me, ma'am? Could we get another order of these, please?" Sam pushed Dean's burger to the side and slid his plate of pierogi all the way over in front of Dean.

Dean grinned, and tore in. He ate all of his plate and half of Sam's, who suddenly seemed not very hungry.

"We are so coming back here tomorrow." His lips shiny with butter, Dean swirled his tongue over his mouth like a cat, and sucked the butter off his fingertips.

And Sam moaned. Fucking moaned, in the middle of the diner, loud enough that if anyone had been sitting in the next booth, they would have heard it clear as day.

Dean glanced up at Sam. He looked practically feral, pupils wide. Anyone could read that expression.

Dean's mouth twitched at the corner. This? Was going to be fun.

He slowly dragged his finger through the butter on the plate and brought it to his mouth.

"Dean. Fuck." Sam gripped the edge of the table.

Dean smeared the butter deliberately across his lower lip and looked up at Sam.

Sam practically choked.

The waitress picked that exact moment to drop off the check. "Everything good?"

Sam couldn't speak. Dean smirked and answered, "Yeah. Real good. Thanks."

And when Dean, still holding Sam's gaze, let his mouth part and swept his tongue slowly over the expanse of his bottom lip, Sam abruptly stood up, threw some cash on the table, hissed, "Two minutes," and headed to the diner bathroom.

Sixty seconds later, Dean was locking the bathroom door behind them. Sam shoved Dean against the wall, not touching Dean except with his hands, angling his body backward as though he would catch fire if he had any more contact than that. He pressed his huge hands on either side of Dean's face, held it still, and licked his mouth, cleaning the butter off with his tongue in broad strokes.

"…have any fucking idea…Christ, Dean, nearly lost it right in front of the fucking waitress…"

Dean had never seen Sam this worked up, and he'd spent hours teasing Sam to the point of insanity before. In fact, that was pretty much his favorite thing to do. Make his Sammy lose his fucking mind, make the rest of this world and all the others fall away until it was only him and Sam, strip him down to pure desire and love and need, make him so desperate for Dean that the lightest touch would make him writhe and beg ("Dean please fuck Dean please ohmygod Dean need you so bad please), and then give it all to Sam, give him everything he was begging for, make him come so hard that he would (never admit this to anyone) fall apart in sobs in Dean's arms afterwards. And this? This took Sam from zero to sixty in 2.4 seconds flat. Oh, he was so gonna use this.

Dean gripped Sam's ass tight and pulled him hard against him, opening his mouth to Sam's kiss. The second his cock made contact with Dean's denim-covered thigh, Sam came like a freight train, practically screaming into Dean's mouth. Then he dropped to his knees, trembling with aftershocks and wrecked and so fucking gorgeous Dean could hardly stand it, and practically inhaled Dean's cock to the base until he came, muffling his cries with his hand.

Oh yes. Dean was SO gonna use this.