Kiss Me With Your Mouth Chapter 3
Dean was a sadist. That was the only possible explanation. Alistair really had carved him into a new animal. Because Dean was getting off—literally—on torturing Sam.
First it was the melted butter. And the messy food. And then the mayonnaise, and Dean sliding those lips up and down Sam's cock for what felt like hours until he was practically crying, desperate to come. And Dean's green eyes on him the whole time, watching Sam come apart, fucking loving it.
He'd run through all the expected food products, and was looking for something new to make Sam turn red and squirm in public, when touching Dean was taboo. They were standing outside a storefront in their Fed suits when a gaggle of chirping teenage girls swarmed around them and flitted past like a glinting school of fish. And he got a hint of that scent. That high school prom scent. That sticky fumbling in the back seat of the car scent.
"Hey, Sam, get us some coffee?" Dean eyed the beauty supply store two doors down.
"Sure, Dean." Sam shook his hair out.
"Don't get that freakin' hazelnut shit for yourself, though. Stinks the car up." Sam didn't even roll his eyes. Still in a good mood from being fucked the night before until he was boneless and pliant.
As soon as he was out of sight, Dean ran into the beauty store. He found what he was looking for almost instantly.
Back in the motel, Dean let Sam shower first, and didn't join him (although it caused him physical pain to know Sam was naked under the pelting water, cleaning himself up good for Dean). When Sam was done, Dean took a shower, glad to be free of the restrictive suit and tie. He dressed in the bathroom, and slipped the multipack of Bonne Bell Lip Smackers out of the duffel bag where he'd stashed it.
Strawberry. Hell yeah.
"Ready to hit the bar, Sammy?" Dean strode out of the bathroom, ruffling his wet hair forward.
"Yep, let me just shut this down." Sam turned off the laptop and plugged the charger into the wall. He didn't notice Dean's mouth until he stepped outside and Dean leaned in to lock the motel door behind them. He froze in his tracks.
Dean's mouth gleamed with shiny, liquid lip gloss. Lip gloss that smelled like strawberries.
"Is that an actual word, Sammy?" Dean smirked, his lips twitching.
"Dean." Sam's nose flared like a bloodhound. "You… you're wearing… that's Lip Smackers."
"Why, yes it is, Sam."
"You're wearing lip gloss."
Dean leaned in just a little.
"Flavored lip gloss." He licked his lips. "And damn. Sure tastes good. Right, Sammy?"
(Dean had never forgotten finding Sammy in a daze on the bleachers, reeling from his first kiss, from Sarah, the little lip gloss addict. Dean asked him how it was, and Sam replied, "Tasted like strawberries.")
"You're evil. You're actually fucking evil."
Dean bit his lower lip, and watched Sam spasm. With a laugh, he started walking to the car, and turned back when he noticed Sam had not followed him.
Sam was still in front of their motel room, banging his head not altogether gently on the door.
The Irish bar was within walking distance of the motel, and served basic pub grub (Dean had a knack for finding exactly this sort of setup). It was packed with people, playing pool, listening to the jukebox, shooting darts, and, of course, drinking.
Dean ordered for both of them. "Two fish and chips and two double shots of Bushmills." When the chesty blond set their drinks down, Dean took a sip. "Whoa. That's nice. Whiskey with a little strawberry. Dude, they should rim the glass with this stuff, like margaritas!"
Sam tossed back his entire double shot with one stiff-wristed motion, then buried his head in his hands.
Sam was on his second drink when the waitress brought two large platters to the table, laden with steaming beer-battered cod and golden-brown potato wedges. Dean gave her a thousand-watt smile. "Miss, can I get an extra side of tartar sauce? Thanks, sweetheart." She blinked and trotted off to oblige.
Dean looked around, then quickly pulled out the tube of Lip Smackers and reapplied it thickly, the sweet strawberry scent potent even in the thick atmosphere of the pub.
"I'm going to die."
"To fucking die. You are going to kill me. Right here. In, like, seconds."
"Bet you're dying for a taste, aren't you."
Sam went to stand up and stalk…somewhere, but a light touch of Dean's hand on his wrist gentled him.
"Don't I always take care of you, Sam?" Dean studied Sam's face with real concern. Sam took a deep breath.
Dean leaned in close, and whispered in Sam's ear. "Love watching you want me so bad, Sam. Need it." Sam swallowed, turning his head toward Dean, and if the waitress hadn't showed up at that exact moment, Dean was sure Sam would have seized his face in both hands and kissed the sticky sweetness from his lips right then and there.
Sam ate quickly, like it was a chore, like he knew if he didn't get the food in him fast, he wouldn't be able to concentrate on it.
And he was right.
Dean ate the chips first. All part of the plan. Sam was a big guy, and he needed his calories, so he ate the potatoes slowly and let Sam finish before he started in on his fish.
Then he took a chunk and dunked it in the tartar sauce.
As he brought it to his mouth, Sam froze, mid-chew.
The thick white sauce oozed over Dean's lower lip.
Sam shifted in the bench seat, spreading his knees wider. Making room. Dean was seized with a desire to disappear under the table and take Sam's cock into his mouth right there, smearing it with tartar sauce, seeing if he could make Sam come before anyone noticed.
He very nearly did.
Instead, he made a great show of eating his fish as messily as he could, smearing the sauce all over his mouth, licking it off his fingers.
"Fuck. Dean." Sam's cheeks were bright red, and his pupils blown so wide, his eyes looked almost like a demon. The thought made Dean shiver. "Seriously. I'm going out of my mind here. I can't take anymore. Show some fucking mercy."
"Hey Sam. Remember what you promised me?"
Sam dug his nails into his palms. "Everything."
"I was thinking of something more specific." Dean swallowed the last bite, thick globs of sauce on his lips. Sam just stared.
"You promised next time I told you to clean me up in a crowded restaurant, you'd say yes."
And like he'd been loosed from a bow, Sam lunged across the table and drove his mouth down onto Dean, licking the sauce from his lips, cleaning off every smear of it, nipping and sucking the strawberry lip gloss from underneath. When Dean licked into Sam's mouth, Sam moaned. Loud. Shameless.
"Drawing quite an audience there, boys." The waitress stood at the table, grinning. Sam and Dean broke the clinch and blinked. Every eye was on them. Not all of them friendly.
She leaned in. "We're not as ass-backwards around here as you might think. But you gotta be careful with the PDAs. And the table sex." She wiped her hands on her apron. "And you." She smacked Dean on the head. "Stop teasing that beautiful man you got like you been doing all night. You get him home and take care of him. Proper. Plenty of folks willing to do it if you won't."
This time, it was Dean's turn to blush, and Sam to erupt in a riot of laughter.
Dean stuffed cash into her hand, and they practically ran out the door, arms around each other.
Inside the motel room, Dean spun Sam around and pressed him against the wall.
"More." Dean's mouth twitched, and he drew the tube of Lip Smackers from his pocket, dragging the applicator over his mouth slowly, covering every centimeter.
"Such a pretty mouth, Dean. Christ. Gonna be the death of me." Sam licked lightly across the seam of Dean's lips.
"You were so good tonight, Sam. Earned your reward." The way Sam kissed Dean made him dizzy. He might act like he was in control, but that was only to keep a handle on things, keep himself from flying apart and disappearing into his love for Sam, his need for him. "What do you want?"
Sam twisted his hands in Dean's shirt, pulling it up, touching Dean's skin, suddenly hard and demanding. "Wanna come for you."
"How? Any way you want."
Sam gripped Dean's hips and trembled. "Wanna fuck you."
"Yeah? Fuck my mouth?"
Sam bit Dean's lower lip—hard. "No. Wanna fuck your ass."
Dean gasped into Sam's mouth.
"Yeah, Sammy. Ok."
Rather than break the kiss, Sam simply ripped Dean's t-shirt down the front and tore it off. Dean's knees buckled, and Sam picked Dean up and carried him to the bed like he weighed nothing, stripping him of his boots and jeans in record time, then shedding his own.
"Teasing me all day, Dean. All fucking day. Won't fuck me in the shower, won't let me jack off, and that fucking lip gloss. Trying to make me lose my mind? You did." Sam dripped lube onto his fingers and worked them inside Dean, making him writhe and pant beneath him. "I'd have fucked you right there, Dean. Right on that table. Sucked you off, made you come down my throat in front of everybody, screaming my name in front of everybody, and then put you on your hands and knees on the pool table and fucked that pretty ass of yours so hard you were shaking and sobbing and begging me to let you come again. With everybody watching. Taking videos with their camera." Dean spasmed at that, back arching, hips bucking up. "Oh… you liked that. Like the idea of people taking videos of me fucking you, spread open like a slut just for me, taking anything I want to give you?"
Dean had never heard Sam talk like this. But maybe a filthy mouth ran in the family.
He loved it.
Dean had never given it up like this to anyone, but his gorgeous baby brother was talking it out of him, fucking it out of him with his strong fingers twisting in his ass, demanding it from him. And Dean never could say no to Sam.
"Yeah, Sammy. I like it. Doing that for you."
"I should make you. Take you to some bar, tell 'em to get out their phones, gonna give 'em a good show." Sam spread Dean's legs open so wide his inner thighs stretched uncomfortably, and Dean didn't fucking care. "Fuck that perfect little mouth until your lips are all red. Make you spread your ass cheeks open for me, fuck you so hard, hold your pretty face up so everyone can see you moaning and screaming from my cock in your ass…" With that, Sam drove into Dean in one smooth motion, too much all at once and not enough.
"Fuck, Sam… so good…" Dean writhed under Sam, gripping his huge shoulders, sucking in great gasping breaths.
"Bet you'd like that. You like me staring at you, making me half-crazy wanting you? Like to be watched. Like people looking at you, wanting you. Fuck, Dean. Everybody wants you." Sam's cock wasn't just coke-bottle thick, filling him up, scraping against his prostate no matter what the angle. It was long, long like his body was tall. And when he pulled himself all the way out slowly and then slammed back in to the base, it felt like it would never end.
It felt like heaven.
"But nobody but me gets to have you. Got that? You're mine." Dean threw his head back, baring his throat. Sam greedily accepted the invitation, lapping at the hollow of his throat. "Your mouth? Mine. Your ass? Mine. Christ, your fucking soul." Sam bit down on the muscle between Dean's neck and shoulder, teeth breaking the skin, tongue laving the tiny drops of blood away.
Dean felt the mother of all orgasms building, coming on with a sure promise of such ferocity he was suddenly terrified. This was going to be a tsunami. He grabbed onto Sam like a life buoy. "Yours. Sam. Yours. Everything. Yours."
Sam shifted Dean underneath him, went even deeper, held Dean's face still, looked into Dean's eyes and growled, "Come for me." And Dean screamed, literally screamed from pleasure for the first time in his life, his cock emptying every drop of fluid he had in his body, coming so hard it spattered on his chin, in his open mouth.
The noise Sam made sounded inhuman. He plunged his tongue into Dean's mouth, sucked the come from his lips and chin, coming like a primal force of nature. Dean could feel each pulse of Sam's cock, felt the warm slickness deep inside, and it sent him into overdrive, shooting another salvo across his chest and abdomen, guttural cries torn out of him.
Then Dean broke. Broke into uncontrollable sobs that seemed to come from his very bones. Sam stayed inside him, holding most of his weight off of Dean, holding him, smoothing his hair, whispering words of love and promise and praise in an uninterrupted chant.
Finally, Dean's body stilled, calmed, and Sam slipped out of him, rolled Dean onto his side and held him for a long moment. Then he padded to the bathroom and returned with a warm damp towel, wiping and caressing Dean's pliant body until he was clean.
Dean (would never admit this to anyone) snuggled into Sam's chest, breathing in the scent of him, of them. And as they drifted into sleep, Sam heard Dean whisper, "Love you, baby boy."