withimpunity | Hey lookie!

Title: My Hands On Your Body
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: Adult
Words: 1143~
Summary: Dean doesn’t understand anything that’s happened in the last twelve hours.
Disclaimer: All your SamnDean are belong to Kripke. Not my sandbox. Ie, fiction. You can google it.

Dean doesn’t understand anything that’s happened in the last twelve hours. He woke up a normal guy, knowing exactly who he was and exactly what he wanted and now, now he’s standing across from this guy he’s never even seen before today, chest heaving, adrenaline racing through his blood, fingers still wrapped around the iron poker in his hand.

“That was,” Sam begins, but he pauses, almost like he’s waiting for Dean to finish the rest.

“Freakin’ amazing,” Dean’s mouth stretches into a grin, so wide it almost hurts, and hell, he can’t remember when he smiled last, really smiled. His body feels alive, crackling with energy, like a live wire, and he just can’t stop smiling.

“I’ve never felt-”

“Yeah man, me either.” Dean does it again, finishes Sam sentence, and it doesn’t even feel weird. He considers what Sam said earlier and the way he looks at him out of the corner of his eye when he thinks Dean doesn’t notice. He wonders if maybe Sam’s right. That they don’t belong here, living these lives…no. That’s just nuts. That’s the kind of thing that crazy people say and Dean is not crazy; Dean has a 401K and a Prius and twelve pounds to lose. Except that they just killed a friggin’ ghost, so Dean doesn’t really know what to think anymore.

Dean just can’t think straight right now. He’s still all keyed-up from whatever just happened. It’s like this really amazing high that he just can’t get down from, and Sam doesn’t look any better off. His whole face is flushed and Dean can see his chest rising and falling, his fingers twitching against his thighs. Their eyes meet and dart away almost immediately.

“You, uh, want a beer?” He asks conversationally and Sam nods. Dean walks into the kitchen and grabs two beers from the fridge, taking a few deep breaths to try and calm his heart rate.

“Thanks,” Sam says and when he reaches for the beer, the back of his knuckles graze Dean’s skin and they both jump back, like being shocked by a current of electricity.

Dean clears his throat and twists the lid off of his beer. When he looks up, Sam’s already got his off and is tipping the bottle back. Dean tries not to stare as he drags his tongue across the top of his lip.

“So, uh. That was crazy, right?”

“Yeah,” Sam answers him. “Crazy.” They’re standing closer together now, Dean just isn’t sure who stepped forward, him or Sam.

“What now?” Dean asks, tipping the neck of the bottle against his mouth; he doesn’t get much out, just needed something to do with his hands.

Dean sees something flicker behind Sam’s brown eyes, but that’s really all he has time to register before Sam’s face is pressed against his, and he can feel the beginnings of stubble scratching his skin. Sam’s kissing him, open mouthed and hungry, and Dean parts his lips because it seems like the right thing to do. Then they’re both kissing and yes, this, this was what he needed, what they both needed. His face is trapped between Sam’s giant hands and his back is against the wall and there’s just so much of Sam to fucking touch.

“God,” Sam gasps into Dean’s mouth, digging his fingers into Dean’s hair. “You were so awesome, Dean.”

Dean’s beer slips from his fingers and his hands scramble with Sam’s shirt, yanking it out of his pants so that he can touch all that hot skin, feel it beneath his hands and fingers. “You were pretty good yourself.” He adds, sucking at Sam’s throat as he maps out all that tight, hard muscle beneath Sam’s shirt.

“Off,” he says, tugging voraciously at Sam’s polo, and when Sam helps him, it leaves his hair mussed, making him look even more irresistible. Dean’s mouth waters to taste his skin, all salty and warm, to drag his tongue over those pebble hard nipples. Above him, Sam groans, his nails digging into Dean’s scalp the lower his mouth moves down his body, a low groan rising up out of his throat as Dean drags his tongue along the sharp jut of Sam’s hipbone.

“Fuck, Dean,” Sam pants as Dean lowers himself onto his knees on the carpet, anxious fingers working open the button on his slacks and pulling down the zipper. “Oh God.”

“Dean will do,” Dean grins smugly as he takes Sam cock out of his boxers, dark eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks as he licks a wet stripe up the underside of Sam’s cock. Its weird. He doesn’t remember ever doing this before - hell, he didn’t even know he was gay - but he definitely knows what he’s doing. He knows exactly where to touch Sam, knows exactly what sound he’ll make when he flattens his tongue and drags it across the head of his cock, just like he knows how much of Sam he can take into his mouth before he starts to gag. Its really, really weird and he really, really doesn’t care.

“Your mouth,” Sam is mumbling above him, his head lolling back and forth on his shoulders, one hand bracing himself on the wall behind Dean. “Jesus Christ, yourmouth.”

But then he’s yanking Dean’s head back, stopping him, and Dean’s confused because he thought he was doing good. Sam was making all the right, breathy little sounds he usually makes before he comes (how the fuck does he know that?), so he doesn’t understand why he wants him to stop.

“Dean,” Sam says breathlessly, sounding like he’s struggling to get the words out. When Dean looks up, Sam’s eyes are almost completely dark, only a small portion of golden brown surrounding his pupil. “Fuck me.”

It’s a good thing Dean’s still on his knees because if he were standing, his knees would have just buckled. Sam’s pushing his shorts and slacks all the way off his feet and kneeling on the ground in front of him, cradling Dean’s head in his hands again and kissing him, slow and deep. He tastes like orange tic tacs, beer, and something else Dean can’t quite put his finger on; there’s been a lot of that going around today.

“Come on,” Sam‘s lips move against his own.

“Okay,” Dean murmurs, slipping his belt open and pushing his pants off of his hips. “Okay, Sammy.”

Sam reaches down and grabs Dean’s wrist, bringing it to his mouth, sucking Dean’s middle and index finger into his mouth, getting them sloppy wet, and Dean has to give himself a firm squeeze just to keep himself from coming in that moment. He still doesn’t know how he knows what the fuck he’s doing, but he’s glad he does because there is nothing he wants more than this, to push inside Sam, all hot and tight and so wrong it’s got to be right. He doesn’t know what Sam means about them being meant for something else, but this, Dean was definitely meant for this.

Dean’s not slow or careful about it, but Sam doesn’t seem to mind. He just lies there, writhing on Dean’s fingers as he stretches him open, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth, moaning when it feels good.

“Okay,” Sam grunts. “I need, God, I need you inside me. Now.”

Dean makes an unintelligible sound in the back of his throat and pushes Sam’s legs back as far as they’ll go, closing his eyes as he pushes the head of his cock inside. “Fuck. Fuck, Sam,” he grits out as Sam takes him in, inch by inch, hotter than the fucking sun and so tight its almost painful.

“Yeah,” Sam chants softly, biting down on his lip as Dean sinks into him, finding Dean’s fingers and holding onto them tight. “Yeah.”

Dean lets Sam have a moment, but only that, before he pulls nearly all the way out then slams back into him. Dean’s neck pops when he throws it back, a loud groan escaping his lips. He grips Sam’s hip with one hand, the other linked between Sam’s fingers, staring down into those dark, charcoal eyes as they move together.

“I know you,” Sam whispers, reaching between them to fist his own cock, still staring into Dean’s eyes. Its not a question; not exactly. “You know me too.”

Dean doesn’t answer, but when he comes with the word Sammy falling from his lips like a secret, its answer enough.

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