The cab driver, Sayid, pulled up to the motel. The short-haired man with green eyes got out, walked around the car and opened the door for his girlfriend. Arm curved around her waist, he walked her up the driveway, mouth nuzzling her neck.

Sayid shifted into drive, the transmission making an expensive-sounding clunk. "Now that," he said to the plastic statue of Ganesh on his dashboard, "was a very tall woman."

Inside the motel room, Dean stripped off his jacket and draped it over a chair. Every move seemed relaxed and casual, but his body vibrated with a slight, all-over tremble.

He turned to find Sam right up against him. He curled his fingers over the top edges of Sam's hipbones and pulled him close, kissing his mouth softly. "Quite a show you put on back there, Sammy."

Sam, still high from the events at the club, from Dean's reaction, from the shots of bourbon, from everything, flashed Dean a sly smile. "Not quite done yet."

Dean breathed out, shuddery and soft, hard muscles pressed against Sam. "Don't know if I can take any more," he murmured into the hollow of Sam's throat. "Need you."

Sam slipped his fingers under the hem of Dean's t-shirt, lightly drew his nails down the twin cords of muscle on either side of his spine, pressed himself against Dean. Dean's eyes went wide at the flat, smooth feel of Sam's pelvis against his. Flat and smooth like a girl.

Sam smiled, wicked and knowing, and circled his hips into Dean again, pressing against Dean's rapidly regenerating erection."Wanna show you. Don't you want to see?"

Dean swallowed hard, unable to even speak. All he could do was nod.

Sam took Dean's hand and sat him down in the padded recliner. He opened his duffel and pulled out a bag of short fat candles, arranging them on top of the dresser, TV stand, and the sink countertop and lighting them. He turned off the stark overhead lights. The room's interior danced with flickering candlelight, still well lit so Dean could see everything, but softer, more alive.

Sam set his iPod into its speaker stand, and cued up a playlist called "For Dean."

He glanced at his brother. Dean looked Sam up and down, appraisingly, approvingly. Then he leaned back in the recliner, spreading his legs even wider.

"Show me."

Sam pressed play.

A woman's cry of ecstasy. And another. A drum fill, and a hypnotic keyboard bass line. The cry of pleasure again, and again.

I would die for you

I would die for you

I've been dying just to feel you by my side

to know that you're mine…

Dean bit his lower lip, as Sam, unfettered by shyness or fear, showed him.

Sam peeled off the t-shirt slowly, dragging it over his head, flipping his hair out, dropping the shirt behind him, running his hands over his bare stomach, across the red and black bra, feeling the weight of the fake breasts, caressing them like they were real. In the moment, they felt almost real.

The music moved through his body, coaxed serpentine motions out of him, swaying his hips, undulating his spine, filling his limbs with the kind of sensual fluidity Dean had only ever seen on the very best female strippers. And none of it was forced, cheesy, like the desperate displays of professional dancers.

I will cry for you

I will cry for you

I will wash away your pain with all my tears

and drown your fear

Sam's motions were all rooted in one thing: an aching, profound pleasure to move for Dean, to be seen by Dean, to show him in the movements of his body how Dean made him feel. Saying a thousand things in ways he could never say in words, with a slow twist of his hips, a roll of his shoulder, a deep breath filling his lungs and released with a sigh.

He turned his back to Dean, unzipped the black leather miniskirt, and slipped it down slowly, so slowly, inching it down his hips, revealing the black and red panties underneath. He looked over his shoulder at Dean. He was unwittingly biting the tip of his tongue, like a cat that's forgotten to pull it back in after grooming.

Sam turned to face Dean, and let the skirt fall to the floor.

Dean gasped.

Sam was hung like a moose. But what Dean saw before him was a stunning, muscular woman in bra and panties. No trace of male genitalia.

"Fuck." Dean stared up at Sam in shock. "Sam. I gotta ask. Where's your cock?"

Sam laughed. Leaning over Dean, he whispered, "Don't worry. All still there."

Dean shook his head in awe and disbelief.

"Ready for your lap dance?"

Dean's head fell back. "Gonna kill me."

Sam drew one bare, smooth leg up between Dean's legs, brushing it against his inner thigh, over his fully erect cock. Dean ran his hand up it, and made a choked, guttural sound.

Sam drew back, teasing him. He leaned forward, hands on Dean's shoulders, hips curling and swaying in time to the music, long dark hair spilling into Dean's face, his breasts at eye level, his own flesh mounded into realistic cleavage by the clever application of tape beneath the bra.

Dean's hands trembled over Sam, fingertips taking note of every inch of smooth, hairless skin.

Sam moved backward a few feet, bent over with his hands propped on the bed, ass exposed for Dean's gaze, looking back over his shoulder, hair falling across his face like a veil. A slow turn, and he dropped to his knees, spreading his legs, undulating, running his hand down his stomach, smoothing over the flat front of his panties.

Dean watched, mesmerized, breath coming fast like he'd just finished a run.

Beneath the panties, Sam's testicles were still snugged up inside his abdomen, and his cock was tucked back and tightly secured with medical tape. It didn't actually hurt, but it was impossible for him to get hard. This had the effect of kicking the sensitivity of the rest of his body into high gear. He couldn't localize his desire in one demanding, obvious place. Being unable to have an erection made his entire body into an erogenous zone. Simply running his own hand down his stomach sent sparks flying. Grinding, writhing, curling his hips in a slow serpentine, all felt nearly as good as Dean's sleek, wet mouth on his cock. As did Dean's hungry gaze, all over him like warm rain.

I will lie for you

Beg and steal for you

I will crawl on hands and knees until you see

You're just like me

He dropped to his hands and knees and crawled to Dean.

The muscles in Dean's jaw twitched.

Sam moved between Dean's thighs, stroking the hard muscles under his jeans, pressing his breasts against Dean's crotch.

Dean reached out to stroke Sam's cheek. "Beautiful girl."

Sam stood, undulating slowly, stomach rippling with the grace of a belly dancer, then turned, sat down carefully, settling into Dean's lap. He dropped his head back, long hair tumbling over Dean's shoulders and chest, throat bared. Dean immediately seized the opportunity to kiss and nip at his neck, sending shivers through Sam.

Sam arched his back, grinding his ass against Dean's hardness, spreading his legs, drawing his hands up overhead to run his fingers through Dean's hair. If anyone had walked in, they would have seen a gorgeous half-naked woman, breasts thrust into the air, firm thighs parted, utterly submitting to the pleasure of giving herself to the man beneath her.

Dean caressed Sam's inner thighs, traced his fingers along the smooth front of his panties, slowly up his stomach, making it flutter and tremble, making Sam moan and arch his back even harder, grinding against Dean, satin panties sliding easily over his jeans.

Dean wrapped his arms around Sam's stomach, held him down, bucked his hips against Sam's ass, rubbing his cock between Sam's cheeks."So fucking hot, baby girl."

Sam shuddered violently. He spun in Dean's lap, dropped to his knees, and flung himself into his arms, devouring his mouth.

Dean laughed, mouth locked on Sam's, and gave back as good as he got. Grabbing his face with both hands, he held Sam's face still and kissed him like it was the only thing between him and the fires of hell. Pulling back, he whispered, "You like that? Me calling you baby girl?"

Sam panted, shameless and needing. "Holy fuck, yeah."

With all the strength born of years of training, Dean picked up his 6'4" little brother and carried him to the bed. Settling him into the mattress, Dean straddled Sam and leaned down. "Hope you weren't planning on getting any sleep. Because I'm gonna fuck you all night, baby girl." Sam moaned, arching up into Dean. "'Fuck you 'till the sun comes up."

Dean drew back, all the way to the foot of the bed. He brushed his lips against the inside of Sam's right ankle, darting his tongue out to sweep across his skin, moving up his calf, sending a shiver cascading up his body.

Dean took his time, kissing and licking, exhaling warm air, brushing his soft lips against Sam's skin. By the time he worked his way up to his inner thigh, Sam was moaning, sheened with sweat. When Dean dropped back down to the other ankle, Sam made wordless sounds of incoherent pleasure. When he got all the way up to his inner thigh again and skipped up to brush his lips over the smooth, flat front of Sam's panties, Sam sobbed.

"So beautiful," Dean said in a broken whisper.

"Dean. Oh god."

Dean slipped up between Sam's legs, rocked against him, kissing him deep and hard…then flipped Sam over, pulling him up onto his knees, positioning his ass in the air. He licked and nipped his way up the back of Sam's legs, lingering at the backs of his knees, making Sam squirm and utter sharp little cries into the pillow.

Smoothing his hands over his ass, he trailed his tongue along the edges of Sam's panties, teasing him. "Wanna taste you."

Sam shivered again, and reached between his legs. A soft sound of tape being pulled free, a few moments of tugging and arranging, and Sam flung a handful of white material to the floor with a groan.

It did not take long for his cock, finally freed, to swell and harden. Dean rubbed his fingertips through the panties over the long shaft, curled his fingers over Sam's balls, hefting them in his hand. "There we go."

Dean took hold of Sam's leg, turned him over onto his back. "Spread your legs for me."

Sam moaned, stretching his arms over his head, and parted his thighs.

"Good girl." Dean pulled the panties to the side…and his breath caught in his throat. "Fuck. Sammy."

Sam smiled up at Dean, eyes gleaming. All the discomfort in the waxing salon was worth it to see the astonished expression on Dean's face.

Dean settled in between Sam's thighs, and licked a wet stripe along Sam's baby-smooth balls. "Christ." He ripped the panties off and pressed his hands on his thighs, shoving them back until Sam's knees were almost on his shoulders. "Fucking hell."

He drew one smooth sphere into his mouth and moaned, his back curling, punching his fist into the mattress. Sam's hips stuttered, pleasure stabbing through him.

Dean inhaled the other into his mouth, rolling them over his tongue like candy, sucking and pulling, licking and drawing them across his lips.

Sam had never heard him make exactly those sounds before, sharp and keen like whimpers. He pulled off, licked around the smooth, hairless base of Sam's cock, and then slipped his tongue lower. When he felt the perfect smoothness of the flesh around Sam's tight, pink hole, he made a sound that could only be described as a sob.

"Sammy. Jesus. Sammy." He devoured Sam, lashing him with his tongue, sealing his lips around the little ring and sucking, driving his tongue inside him, twisting and licking, biting gently, lapping at him. Sam grabbed handfuls of motel comforter, half-sat up involuntarily then fell back against the mattress, desperate sounds punched out of him.

Dean pulled back, panting, and bit Sam's inner thigh. "Fuck. Love tasting your pussy. Eating you out."

Sam locked his hands around the backs of his thighs and pulled himself open. "Please. Dean. More."

Dean gave him what he wanted. He pulled Sam's ass cheeks apart and licked him, making sounds like he was the one going half-mad with pleasure, slowing down, licking broad, flat stripes, then trying to fuck his tongue as far up inside Sam's ass at it could possibly go until Sam's thighs were shaking…then slowing down again, lapping at him leisurely. "So good," he moaned, not even knowing he was saying it out loud. "So fuckin' good."

Dean grabbed Sam's hips, pulled them up so Sam was propped up on shoulders, ass high in the air, knees on the mattress. He stretched Sam's cheeks open even wider with both hands, and then he really went to town.

Sam knew what Dean liked to hear when they indulged in these genderplay games. But now it was a thousand times better. Dean looked down at Sam, totally helpless, ass served up to him, the curve of his breasts in the bra, his long hair spilling over the mattress, red lipstick smeared across his mouth, dark eyelashes fluttering with the extremity of his pleasure, so keen it bordered on pain, so overwhelming it made words spill out of Sam's mouth.

"Lick my pussy. So fucking good. Your tongue feels so good. Dean… oh god, Dean… deeper… Jesus fucking Christ, Dean…yeah… love your tongue in my ass…"

Dean's eyes had gone sea-green. "Could do this all night. Eat you out for fucking hours. That what you want?"

Sam whimpered.

"No? Wanna come for me, baby girl?"

Sam nearly came right there and then.

"Please. Oh god, please."

Dean swirled his tongue over the head of Sam's cock, once, then exhaled a puff of breath over it. A drop of pre-cum oozed from the slit, and another, and another.

"Fucking do it, Dean. Make me come. Need to come for you so bad. Let me come. Fuck. Please let me come."

Dean pulled back, stood at the foot of the bed. He kicked off his boots, stripped his sock off. He stared at Sam, disheveled and wanton, spread out on the bed, cock straining.

He peeled his t-shirt off slowly.

Sam made a choked sound.

Dean unbuttoned his jeans. Slowly. Inched them down. Stuck his hand inside and pulled his cock out, pumping his fist over it. Slowly.

Sam tore his bra off, ripped the tape free, pinched his nipples hard, hard enough to make him cry out, spread his thighs wide, letting Dean see how desperate and needy he was. One trembling hand reached for the lube on the side table. He coated his fingers, and thrust two inside him in one smooth movement.

"Goddamn," Dean murmured. "Hottest fucking thing I've ever seen in my life."

Sam fucked himself down on his fingers, wagging his hips up and down, working in a third not because he needed to in order to take Dean's cock, but just because he loved how it felt. Loved how Dean's eyes darkened when he did it, fucking his fingers up inside him so hard, pinching his left nipple with the other hand. "Dean. Fuck me. Please fuck me. Please fuck me. PLEASE fuck me…"

Dean tore his jeans off, fell on Sam like a man possessed, yanked Sam's hand free, and thrust his tongue deep inside Sam's mouth at exactly the same time and speed as he slid his cock inside Sam's ass with a rough groan.

Sam nearly vibrated off the bed, shuddering, writhing, coming apart for Dean, moaning into his mouth, clutching his shoulders, showing him with every part of his body how much he loved it. Needed it. Needed him.

Dean fucked Sam's ass with his cock and his mouth with his tongue in unison, filling him at both ends in the only way he could. He circled his hips and his tongue in unison, pulled out, drove back in, in perfect tandem.

And Sam took it. He took it so beautifully, so perfectly, with total abandon and not a shred of inhibition to be found, mouth open to Dean, legs spread for Dean. All for Dean.

Sam's orgasm drew close, rooted not in his cock but starting deep inside him, spiraling out through his entire body. When Dean felt Sam's body spasm so violently it tried to jackknife beneath him, ass clenching on his cock so hard it hurt, he couldn't hold back any longer. "Come on, baby girl. Come for me."

And Sam did. He came like a dying man striving for one last glorious moment of life. He couldn't even utter Dean's name, but he thought it, felt it, screamed it without words.

And Dean was right there with him, pleasure shaking him apart. Time stretched out, stopped. All he saw was white. All he felt was Sam.

The long moment that followed wasn't sleep. It was something entirely different. Not quite in this world. Just breathing together, as joined as any two human beings can possibly be joined on this earth.

Not Sam here, and Dean there. One soul, split into two bodies, so it could know itself, see itself, give and receive pleasure and joy and love.

In other words, it was one massive, epic chick-flick moment.

Dean stirred first, pulled himself off Sam, rolled onto his side, pulling Sam with him.

"Can't believe you did all this. For me." He traced his fingertips over Sam's smooth skin, unable to keep his hands off him. "Can't even believe it."

Sam beamed.

Dean ran his hands all over Sam's body. "Did you shave all over?"

"Just my legs. All the rest was waxed."

Dean slid down, brushing his half-open mouth over Sam's hairless chest. Moving lower. "Even your junk? Not shaved—waxed?"


Dean stared up at Sam. "Christ, Sam. You really do love me."

Sam thought of many things to say. Instead, he blinked, letting the weight of all of it be carried through his eyes.

Dean heard every word.

"Can't wait to get you in the shower, soap you up. Gonna be so slick…"

Sam made a little sound.

"I meant it, Sam."


Dean moved lower, pressed little kisses into Sam's stomach. "Till the sun comes up, baby girl."

Sam spread his thighs, already rousing for round two. "Dean. Please."