Terms of Endearment
"That feels so good. "
Sam was on his knees in front of Dean. Or as he liked to call it, going to church. Because Sam Winchester worshipped his big brother in all ways possible, particularly his cock.
Everyone always assumed Sam had the monster cock in the family because of his overall size. And it's true—he did have one. But it was a mistake to think he was more well endowed than Dean.
Because Dean was gifted.
Dean Winchester was supposed to be every bit as tall as his little brother. But here's the thing: When God made Dean, he started with his cock and ran out of material on the way out, so he had to scale the rest of him down a tad.
Sam had to really work to fit Dean's cock inside his mouth: stretch his lips wide, relax his jaw—and practice, practice, practice. But he loved it. Loved a challenge. Loved knowing he was the only person on Earth that could really handle Dean. More than one young girl ended up in tears of pain in the back seat of that Impala, bravely trying to take on the unexpected heft of what Dean kept locked away behind the buttons of those tight jeans. One even took a look at it and squeaked, "And where the hell do you think you're putting THAT?"
But Sammy could take it. In the few months since they'd finally given in to the years of repressed desire, Sam had been well trained in taking it. Oh, Dean liked Sam to fuck him in the ass too. Loved it. But as with everything, they had to keep it fair and balanced.
Sam kept everything tight with special exercises but Dean could now work himself inside Sam's in just a few minutes, and fuck him as hard and as deep as he wanted, most of the time. And the feeling of being stretched so wide, filled so good… well, there's a reason Dean referred to his little brother as Sammy the Size Queen.
Dean liked giving Sam nicknames. Sam kind of liked Sammy the Size Queen, Moose and Gigantor. He didn't like kiddo, hotshot, buddy boy or any of the other smarmy ones that Dean tossed out.
It's surprising, then, that it took Dean as long as it did to figure it out.
"Feels so good, Sammy." Sam rocked back on his heels, sucking slow and wicked, staring up at Dean with those big hazel eyes. Dean ran his hand through Sam's hair. "Fuck, yeah, c'mon, baby…"
Sam moaned low and sweet, and went to fucking town on Dean's cock.
Dean's head fell back against the back of the couch, and within seconds, yielded to Sam's onslaught, spilling into his mouth.
Dean pulled Sam into his lap, making him straddle one leg. "C'mon, Sammy, wanna see you rub yourself off on me." That's how they used to do it, before either of them dared to shove a hand inside the other's jeans and actually make skin-on-skin contact—Sam would straddle Dean and rub off on his leg, his thigh pressing into Dean's hardness, until they both came in their pants, shuddering and muffling their groans with mouthfuls of flannel shirt.
Sam pumped his hips, rubbing himself shamelessly against Dean. "Fuck. Dean. Love you so much."
"Love you too. Come on, Sammy." Dean watched Sam's face carefully. "Come for me, baby."
And with that, Sam was coming, hard and sudden, jaw working, hands convulsively gripping Dean's shoulders, those helpless sounds that Dean loved so much ripped from his throat.
Sam collapsed forward. Dean rubbed his back, kissed the hollow of his throat. "So good for me, baby. So good."
Sam practically purred.
Next time, Dean waited until he was deep inside Sam's tight ass, with Sam forbidden from coming without permission.
"Could fuck you like this all night, Sam. Fuck you slow and dirty, not let you come. Bet I could make you beg. Really beg for it." Dean sat back on his heels, grinding into Sam, watching his face. "Would you like that, baby boy?"
Dean didn't even touch his cock. Sam just…went off, fucking himself down on Dean hard and fast, an expression of total surprise on his face as he came all over himself, shooting so hard it spattered on his jaw and mouth.
"There it is. Fuck. So beautiful when you come for me, baby boy." Sam gasped again at the term of endearment, pulled Dean down to kiss him. Dean was only a few seconds behind, sucking the taste of himself from Sam's lips, body shaking with the force of his orgasm.
After they had caught their breath, wiped themselves clean with the sex cloth always ready by the bed, Dean pulled Sam into his arms. "Come here, sweetheart." Sam's breath hitched.
Dean's face creased into a huge smile that reached all the way to his eyes and made them crinkle.
"You like it when I call you pet names."
Sam snuggled closer. "Yep."
"Alright, ma'am, thank you for your time. You've been a great help." Dean stood up, straightening his suit jacket. He walked down the concrete walkway toward the car, Sam in perfect sync with him step for step.
At the Impala, Dean put his hand on the small of Sam's back. "All done for the day, sweetheart."
"Guh." Sam said.
Dean slid into the driver's seat and Sam settled into shotgun."Not gonna make it all the way back to the motel, are we, baby?"
"Not fair." Dean pulled out onto the road.
"Who ever said I liked to play fair? Baby boy."
"Do you want a blow job car crash? Is that what you actually want, Dean?"
"So beautiful when you're angry, darlin'."
"Baby, I just started driving."
"Fine. Blow job car crash it is."