Sam promised Dean he would give him blow jobs on command for two weeks, anytime, anywhere, as many as Dean wanted, in addition to anything else they did. So while Dean took his time coming up with a Master Plan for the 24-hour anything-you-want part of the deal, he took Sam up on part two: BlowjobFest.

Before he had even rolled out of bed, Dean was ready to claim his first blow job. "Here we go, Sammy." He tugged the motel blankets down, revealing a thing of beauty: his erect cock curving up toward his stomach, a gleaming droplet of pre-come in the slit like a crowning jewel.

Sam licked his lips. What Dean didn't know—not completely—was that this pledge was as much a reward for Sam as it was for Dean. Because Sam loved sucking Dean's cock. Loved the combination of velvety skin and hard flesh in his mouth, loved stretching his mouth wide over it, loved burying the tip of his tongue in the slit and teasing out nectar-sweet pre-come. And he loved making Dean come in his mouth. Christ, he couldn't get enough of it. So he prayed Dean would push Sam to the limit over these two weeks.

Sam tugged Dean by the hips so he was positioned near the end of the mattress, and he sank to his knees on the carpet, inhaling Dean's cock to the base in one motion.

Dean's eyes rolled back in his head. Sam was awesome at giving head, but there was something different about this time. Something about the fact that they both knew Sam had given himself to Dean as his blowjob slave. That Sam was taking Dean into his mouth knowing this was the first time of god knows how many over the next two weeks. That Dean could (and damn well would) make Sam drop to his knees in the rest stop bathroom, wake him up in the middle of the night straddling his face, slipping his cock between Sam's lips, make him suck Dean off over and over again, until his lips were swollen and sore, make sure he swallowed every last drop.

Yeah, there was something different about this time. The heat in Sam's eyes as he watched Dean watch him bob up and down, lips sealed around him.

"Wondering how many times I'm gonna make you suck me off today, Sammy?"

Sam moaned, sending delicious vibrations along the shaft.

Dean laced his fingers in Sam's hair, body already erupting in shivers announcing he was about to come. "Gonna see how much come you can swallow in a day, baby boy." And with that, Dean was done, spurting into Sam's mouth, Sam fisting his own cock in a punishing rhythm, the head of Dean's cock right over his tongue, not down his throat. Sam liked to taste Dean's come.

Sam sealed his lips over the head and sucked hard, swallowing Dean down. Dean spasmed with aftershocks, shooting a few weaker jets into Sam's eager mouth.

Sam rested his head against Dean's thigh, chanting his brother's name as he came hard all over the institutional bedspread.

Dean tugged Sam up and kissed him slow and dirty (because Dean loved the taste of his own come on Sam's lips). "So good, Sammy." He traced his tongue along the seam of Sam's lips. "That's one."

Two was in the diner restroom after a hearty breakfast. Dean lasted a little longer this time.

Three was in the Impala, mid-afternoon, in an empty rest stop on the side of the highway.

Four was back in the motel room, in the shower before dinner, and the sight of Sam's mouth, reddened and slightly puffy from all the blow jobs he'd given his brother that day making Dean come fast and fierce, almost painfully. After that one, Sam pushed Dean down on the bed and jacked himself off on Dean's stomach.

"Fuck. Sam." Sam's face looked ravenous, wild. He was starting to shed his normal persona, shreds falling away, revealing something hungry and strong and kinky as fuck that had apparently always been there underneath.

Dean had an idea. A wicked, wicked idea. He could only come so many times a day, after all.

"Gonna clean me up, baby boy?"

Sam shuddered, a harsh exhalation of breath punched out of him. Then, with the wickedest smile Dean had ever seen on his sweet baby brother's face, he bent over and licked every drop of his come from Dean's skin.

Dean could barely concentrate over dinner. He ate his bacon cheeseburger without paying much attention, transfixed by Sam's fucked-out mouth.

"How you doing there, Dean?" Sam smirked, relishing seeing Dean this undone.

Dean squirmed in his seat.

Sam pushed Dean's water glass closer to him. "Drink up. You're gonna need it."

Dean let his head fall back against the padded backrest of the booth and groaned.

Back in the motel, Sam pressed Dean up against the wall as soon as the door was shut, kicking his boots off. "How much more you got for me, Dean?"

"Jesus Christ, Sammy." Dean stared in wonder at this perfect creature. His Sammy. "Didn't know you had such a thing for my come."

Sam rutted against Dean's thigh, licking at Dean's neck, pulling at the buttons of his jeans. "Love it. Fucking love it. Want to taste you all the time. All the fucking time, Dean. Want your come in me everywhere. Taste you on my lips. Feel you dripping out of my ass. Fuck, want you to come on my face and rub it in, make me wear it all day."

Dean popped his jeans open, pulling his cock out. "This what you want, Sammy?"

Sam fell to his knees like a repentant knight. "Please."

Dean licked his lips, and drew the head of his cock over Sam's mouth, sliding back and forth. "Haven't gotten enough today?"

Sam clutched at Dean's thighs, letting Dean smear pre-come all over Sam's lips. "Never. Never enough. Wanna fucking drown in it."

Dean pulled back. "Strip."

Sam practically flung his clothes off.

"Undress me."

Dean stood there while Sam unlaced his boots, pulled off his socks, tugged his jeans free and removed his t-shirt.

"Back on your knees." Sam obliged. Dean stroked his hair. "Fuck, that's a good look for you, Sammy."

Sam's breath came hard and fast. "Come on, Dean. Please. I need it."

Dean grinned. "You need it, huh? Need my come in your mouth?"

Sam nodded feverishly, all traces of reserve vanished.

"Looks like I've been depriving you all this time." Dean fed the tip of his cock into Sam's mouth, moaning as Sam sucked it down. "I'll take better care of you from now on, Sammy. Give you what you need."

Sam whispered, "Thank you." And Dean shuddered involuntarily, overcome by Sam fucking thanking him for the promise to feed him his come more often.

"Hold still, Sammy. Gonna fuck your mouth." Dean held Sam's head in both hands and fucked into it, deep and slow. "Yeah. So good. Take all of it. Show me how bad you want it." Sam's eyes watered, but he did not choke or gag, relaxing his throat and taking as much as Dean wanted to give him.

He took it so good that Dean, despite having come four times that day, came like a freight train, shooting jet after jet into Sam's mouth. The volume was lower that the first time, but it was still impressive.

Sam locked his mouth around Dean's cock and moaned like this was the best thing he'd ever tasted, moaned like he'd been dying for it for months.

Dean tumbled to the floor with Sam and holding his hips down hard, he sealed his mouth over Sam's cock and swallowed him down, driving cry after cry out of him with his tongue and lips, demanding his orgasm. And Sam could never say no to Dean. He came so much, it spilled out of the corners of Dean's mouth.

Dean leaned over Sam and tugged at Sam's jaw with his thumb.

Sam arched his back. "Fuck. Dean. Yeah. Feed it to me."

Dean pressed his mouth to Sam's and parted his lips. Sam lapped his own come out of Dean's mouth, gripping Dean's shoulders hard, making all kinds of moans and whimpers.

"You really love it, don't you." Dean's voice was hushed, reverent.

Sam wrapped his massive arms around Dean and kissed him slow and sweet. "I do."

Sam was the one that was good at math. After they crawled into bed and fell asleep, Dean woke up to the feel of Sam's hand on his thigh.

He stirred.

Sam whispered. "Seven."

"Hmmm?" Dean rubbed his eyes.

"Seven. You came in my mouth five times. And two were mine. So the answer to your question is seven."

"Mmmm." Dean wasn't awake enough to formulate words of his own.

"Well, that's as much come as you gave me." Sam nipped at Dean's throat. "Don't think that's as much as I can swallow in a day, though."

Dean was suddenly very, very awake.

Sam traced a fingertip over Dean's stomach in a serpentine pattern. "You think I need one more?"

Dean bit his lip.

"You think I need one more."

Tugging down the sheets, Sam insinuated himself between Dean's legs, raising his hardening cock to his lips, exhaling his moist breath over him.

"Come on, Dean. Give me one more."

The fun thing about two weeks of blow jobs on command is that after a while, you start to mix up the positions. Sure, the quick and frantic ones Dean made Sam give him in semi-public places where people might see had to be Sam on his knees in front of Dean (and that was a sight Dean would never get fucking tired of seeing), but where possible, Dean started getting a little more creative.

One position that quickly became a new favorite was what Sam called the Linda Lovelace. Sam lay on the bed on his back, with his head hanging off the mattress. Dean stood over him and fucked his throat. The angle was perfect so Sam could take Dean's cock deep, all the way to the base. Dean had to be careful to pull out and let him breathe, though. Rumor has it some porn star choked a girl to death that way once.

Dean also found he liked to make Sam lay on his back on the carpet and straddle his face, with his body in the same direction, get on his hands and knees and pump into Sam's mouth while behind him, Sam fisted his cock with two fingers sliding in and out of his ass, reveling in being used so lovingly and well.

One night, they sneaked into a playground in an abandoned housing development, and Dean sat in a swing while Sam sucked him off, his legs around Sam's back, leaning back gripping the chains, Sam rocking the swing back and forth to fuck Dean's cock into his mouth.

They came back the next night and Dean, after a shot of whiskey to loosen him up, hung upside down from the monkey bars while Sam opened his jeans and worked his mouth and tongue on him hard and fast. Dean liked that one so much they stayed there until Sam coaxed him hard once more, and did it again, this time with Dean sucking Sam's cock too. Sam came so hard his knees gave out, and he couldn't stay on his feet afterward. Trembling, picking tanbark out of his ass crack, Sam swore when they finally settled into a house somewhere, they were installing a bar like that in their playroom.

They kept coming back to that playground, finding new things to do. Dean sat in the top of the tube slide with his lower body concealed inside, and Sam crawled up from the bottom and took his sweet time, sucking on Dean's balls, taking both in his mouth at once, then nursing on Dean's cock, making Dean sweat and shiver and curse.

Dean lay back on the merry-go-round while Sam worshipped his cock with his mouth, watching the stars swirl in circles overhead as Sam pushed a palm against the ground from time to time, keeping the contraption in leisurely motion.

And Dean always took care of Sam. He sat on the black plastic seat on one of the bendy metal flower's petals and made Sam sit on his lap facing away, impaled on his cock, and bounced them on it, each jounce driving him deep inside Sam, jerking Sam's cock until he came all over his hand, then bringing his dripping fingers to Sam's grateful mouth.

He made Sam hold onto the handgrips on the overhead ladder and fucked his ass hard and rough, just the way Sam liked it. He put Sam in the tube slide and crawled up from the bottom, working three fingers in his ass (using a generous squirt from the tube of lube he carried in his pocket all the time now), lavishing Sam's massive cock with attention, making Sam writhe and kick and come down his throat so hard, he emerged from the tube slide coughing and tearing up.

It was the best two weeks of Dean's life.

Sam blew him against the side of a truck stop restroom, not even stopping when a trucker came around the corner and stopped in his tracks. He just blinked his long lashes at Dean and kept sucking his cock, making soft moans of pleasure. When Dean came and Sam swallowed, the truck driver applauded. "Goddamn. Just...goddamn."

Dean unbuttoned his jeans after a huge lunch, and Sam slipped underneath the table and took Dean into his mouth right there in the diner. It was a good thing the server had seated them in the far corner. But anyone could have seen. The thought was enough to make Dean come as fast as a fifteen-year-old getting his dick wet for the first time.

And Sam sucked Dean's cock in the Impala. Again and again. While Dean drove. While Dean shook and quivered, pulled over to the side of the road so as not to kill them both. He sucked Dean's cock while a truck driver (pervy bunch, those) drove alongside, staring down at them, then honking his horn as Dean pulled away, Sam's mission accomplished.

He sat Dean on the hood of the Impala and licked his cock like a lollipop. He pressed Dean up against the driver's door and sank to his knees in the gravel outside a dive bar, working his mouth on him like a pro, not caring about the crowd of people that came outside to watch.

Dean woke up in the middle of the night, every night, with Sam's warm, wet mouth sealed over his flaccid cock, nipping and licking and urging him to life. "You taste good."

Dean started eating and drinking different things to see if they had an effect on what his come tasted like. Sam liked it when he ate cinnamon rolls, and didn't like it when he drank too much IPA. One diner served pineapple juice, so Dean drank an eight ounce glass with breakfast. That night, when he spilled onto Sam's tongue, Sam gripped his hips hard enough to leave bruises, groaning at the taste. He went fucking nuts, lapping at him, sucking so hard it hurt. "Fuck. Dean. You taste so fucking good. Holy shit."

That night, Sam would not leave him alone. He made Dean get hard over and over, coming again and again, until he was coming dry, spasming and nearly sobbing.

One afternoon, after Sam had swallowed Dean down and drained him of fluid, he sat back on his heels and said, "One hundred."

Dean just blinked. "No way."

Sam's grin was blinding. "Yeah way."

Dean ruffled Sam's hair. "I'm fucking proud of you, Sammy."

Sam beamed like Dean had just praised him for bringing home a good report card. "78 were yours. The rest was mine."

Dean lay back and closed his eyes. He had come in Sam's mouth 78 times, and fed Sam his own come 22 times.

"Damn. 100 times in two weeks."

Sam's grin turned sly. "Well, actually…" He curled up against Dean's chest, breathing in his scent.


"The two weeks were up two days ago."