sam/dean porn

[withimpunity]

When Dean gets back from the coke machine, Sam's sprawled out on top of the sheets in his boxers on his back, his skin beaded with sweat, shiny and slick. The ceiling fan is on high and he's got two other portable fans pointed at him, but its Arizona in the summer and the air conditioner in this motel is shot, and he just can't get cool enough.

“Here, maybe this'll cool you off.” Dean says, acting like he's going to hand Sam the soda in his hand, but instead tosses the cold can onto Sam's stomach, watching the little muscles clench and ripple at the shock.

“Dean!” Sam yelps, arching his back and grabbing the can, shooting Dean a hateful glare.

Dean grins and strips off his jeans and shirt, crawls up on the bed next to Sam, popping the tab on his own drink. “God, its hot.”

“Nice one, Captain Obvious.” Sam snaps, dragging the cool outside of the can across his forehead. Dean watches Sam's eyelids flutter against his cheek.

“Someone has his panties in a twist,” Dean remarks, pressing the cool part of his palm he had wrapped around his own soda along Sam's ribs, laughing when Sam squeals like a girl and jumps, sloshing a few drops of Dr. Pepper onto his chest.

“You are such a pain in my ass, Dean.” Sam mutters, wiping the spilled soda off with the palm of his hand. “I'm freaking miserable. Can't you just leave me alone for once?”

“Aw Sammy, you don't really want that, do you?” Dean leers at him, his eyes slowly traveling down Sam's flushed skin, and takes another sip of his drink, licking his lips after.

“Yes,” Sam tells him firmly. He doesn't have to be a mind reader to know what his brother's thinking, not this time. “I really do. Its a million degrees, Dean.”

Dean's eyes light up and he sets the soda down on the nightstand next to the bed, obviously taking Sam's refusal as a challenge. Sam groans as Dean crawls across the bed toward him, putting one of his knees between Sam's thighs.

“Jesus, Dean. No, just...no. Too damn hot, no-”

But Dean's not listening. He's got better things to do, like drag his tongue up from Sam's belly button to the little dip in his throat. He licks his lips messily, tasting all of that salty Sammy goodness on them, a little sweet from the soda he spilled on himself earlier. Sam shivers and goosebumps crawls across his skin, up his arms and all across his belly. Dean dips his head again, flicking his tongue out across one of Sam's flat nipples, laving at it until he feels the skin tighten and come to a point.

“Dean,” Sam groans, sighing. “It's too hot, really.”

“You'll feel better,” Dean says, sliding his body lower on the bed, slipping his tongue into the shallow dip of Sam's hipbones, lapping up little beads of sweat that have gathered on his skin. “Promise.” He presses his face into Sam's thigh and can feel Sam's dick getting hard against his cheek through the fabric of his boxers. Smiling, Dean mouths at Sam's cock through the material, making him keen and fist the sheets beneath them, trying not to move too much because of the heat, but unable to keep still.

“No,” Sam's voice is barely audible as he presses his skin up to meet Dean's mouth, but the conviction in his voice just isn't there anymore, lost in the feeling of Dean's wet mouth pressing against him. “Don't."

Dean chuckles and slips his thumb under the waistband of Sam's boxers, slipping them off his hips, pulling them down until his cock springs free, and that's far enough. Dean's fingers curl around Sam, holding him tightly, and he stares down at Sam's beautiful, flushed face, bottom lip plump and red, pulled between his teeth, eyelids heavy and slightly parted.

“Fuck, Sammy,” Dean moans a little, reaching down to cup himself, stave off the need to come right the fuck now.

“Dean,” Sam whines and Dean comes back into the moment, giving Sam's cock a light squeeze.

“You want it now?” He teases, raising one eyebrow. “Thought it was too hot.”

“Want it,” Sam mumbles, half-coherent, pushing up into Dean's fist. Then he whimpers out Dean's name and all of Dean's resistance shatters, just hearing Sammy so helpless, so needy, almost pushing him over the edge.

“Yeah, you do.” Dean murmurs, slipping his lips around the head of Sam's cock, sliding it as far as he can inside his mouth, getting it good and wet before letting go with a wet pop.

“Oh fuck, fuck,” Sam chants over his head and Dean chuckles before sliding Sam's cock back into his mouth.

He loves the taste of Sam when it first hits his tongue, salty and bitter, loves the feel of it, heavy and warm when he presses his tongue underneath the head. He loves how Sam tries his best to keep still, to not thrust his hips up and fuck Dean's mouth and that he always fails. He loves the way Sam eventually loses it and just grabs at him, palms the back of his head and fucks his mouth like he knows Dean can take it, like he know Dean wants to. Dean doesn't even mind gagging too much because of the sound Sam makes when he does.

When Sam comes, his whole body snaps like a rubber band and he makes the most incredible, breathy little pants that make Dean so hard he wants to hump Sam's leg like a poodle in heat and just come like that.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and sits back on his knees, taking his cock out of his boxers.

“Hey,” Sam says, still heavy-lidded, his face so fucked-out and beautiful that Dean can't even fucking think straight. “Want me-”

“No,” Dean shakes his head, wrapping his fingers around himself as he starts fisting his cock, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth. “No...wanna come all over you, Sammy. God, so fucking...love it when you fuck my mouth, Jesus.”

“So hot watching you jerk off, Dean,” Sam whispers, awe-like, as he watches Dean's fist slide up and down his cock. He's getting hard again, just  listening to the sound of slapping flesh. “So fucking hot. Come on. Come on.”

“Sam,” Dean gasps, his spine snapping taut as he comes, painting Sam's belly with ropes of pearly white come. He comes so hard that when he opens his eyes, there's little white spots floating in his vision and he's swaying back and forth. Luckily, Sam reaches for him, dragging him down and slips his tongue into Dean's mouth. It's cool, a nice contrast to everything else, the room, their bodies.

Dean lets out a great sigh and flops on the bed next to Sam. “That was...hot,” he jokes lamely.

“Loser,” Sam chuckles, kicking him in the calf.

“Dude, you know you love it. Besides, we get to take a shower now.”

“Dude,” Sam mocks him. “Why didn't you just do that in the shower then instead of making me get even more sweaty and sticky? The sheet is like, literally stuck to my skin.”

“Because,” Dean says, leaning in close, and licks the corner of Sam's mouth. “This was more fun.”

“Whatever,” Sam murmurs, his cheeks tinged pink, ignoring the fact that his dick already hard again. “I feel disgusting.”

“Yeah,” Dean says, letting his eyes slowly drift down Sam's torso, staring at his come painted all over Sam's skin. “You look fucking gorgeous though, all covered in my come." Before he realizes it, he's already stroking himself back to hardness. "Jesus, Sammy. How do you do this to me?”

“Shower,” Sam says, meeting Dean's eyes. “Now.”

Dean couldn't agree more.