Chapter Text
Dean watched as Sam flirted with the waitress, his smile soft and sweet, his body language inviting her closer. Dean’s stomach twisted angrily, and he bit it down, grabbing the refills on his and Sammy’s beers, gnawing on the tip of his tongue. He and Sam hadn’t been seeing anyone else, and Dean had thought that they weren’t ever going to again, at least while they were together like this.
Tonight, though, that might change if Dean didn’t think of something quick. He was almost at his and Sam’s table, where the waitress was giggling and brushing her hair from her face, and Sam was making teasing jokes.
Mine, he thought, gripping the bottles of beer, plastering a fake smile over his face as he approached Sam and the waitress. My Sammy, not yours.
“Hey,” he said, smiling forcefully at the waitress as he sat across from Sam, pushing his beer over the table. Sam looked at Dean, still half smiling, and Dean watched as his shoulders drew up, tensing. Dean’s smile came a little easier after that as he turned to the waitress. “Hello. What’s your name?”
“Cierra,” the waitress said, looking mildly annoyed that Dean had interrupted her and Sam’s flirting session. Her smile was forcibly polite, and Dean knew he was mirroring it perfectly, fingers toying with the label on his bottle. “And you are?” she asked, and oh, it was on.
“Sammy’s husband,” Dean said, sipping at his beer. Sam made a noise of shock and Cierra glanced at him, looking between the two of them in disbelief. Dean kicked Sam under the table, and Sam quickly recovered, clearing his throat. “Thank you, so much, for entertaining him, but I’m back now.” Dean said pleasantly, and Cierra didn’t move.
“He didn’t say anything about being married.” She said, indignant, like she had any right to keep talking to them, and Dean’s pleasant and polite smile twisted into something cold and predatory.
“Sweetheart, I’m telling you to fuck off.” He said, and Cierra’s eyes widened and her lips parted. Dean’s grin became cruel, and she turned on her heel and left with a huff. As soon as her back was turned, Dean’s face fell into something angry and possessive, and he drank more of his beer before getting to his feet.
“Dean, jesus, you didn’t have to be such an asshole,” Sam hissed, looking at Dean with an annoyed expression. Dean paused in the act of pulling a few twenties out of his wallet to look at Sam, eyes frustrated.
“Didn’t I?” Dean growled, slapping the bills onto the table. “We’re leaving. Let’s go.”
“Dean,” Sam protested. Dean grabbed Sam’s arm and forced him up on his feet, dragging him out of the bar, far too pissed off to care that people were staring. Sam was muttering angrily at him, but he was ignoring every word that came out of Sam’s mouth that wasn’t his name, and even then, Sam was saying that a lot. Dean shouldered his way out into the parking lot, still tugging Sam along with him. Sam pulled out of his grip, and Dean let him, not bothering to stop walking towards Baby.
Dean got into the driver’s seat, igniting the engine with a low roar, and waited patiently for Sam to get over himself and get into the passenger side. After a few moments of ignoring Sam’s voice telling him that he was a dick, there was a frustrated sigh and the passenger door opened, letting Sam drop in. Dean drove out of the parking lot before Sam had even closed his door, and yeah, that had earned him a smack to the arm.
The drive was silent and tense, but Dean was mostly stuck inside his head, so he successfully ignored the atmosphere and Sam’s scathing glances. He pulled into the motel parking lot, parking right in front of their room and getting out without much preamble. He heard Sam scoff, but he closed his door, cutting the sound off.
As soon as they were both inside the motel room with the door closed and latched, Sam started to tear Dean a new one. Dean, however, just grabbed the collar of Sam’s jacket and shoved him back onto the nearest bed. Sam inhaled sharply as his back hit the mattress, eyes blazing with anger. Dean climbed into his lap, straddling his hips, hands pressed against Sam’s chest to keep him down.
“Dean, what—” Sam began, still aggravated but confused. Dean cut him off by kissing him hungrily, biting his bottom lip in the way he knew made Sam weak at the knees. Sam groaned and his hand slid into Dean’s hair, keeping him close, but Dean reached up and grabbed his wrists, pinning them above Sam’s head. He tapped his thumb on the inside of Sam’s wrist, telling him to keep them there, and when he pulled back, he was pleased to see that Sam obeyed.
“I don’t share, Sammy,” Dean said, moving onto his knees so he could take his belt off. Sam watched his movements with rapt attention, pupils blown, teeth scraping his bottom lip. He leaned up and wrapped his belt around Sam’s wrists, pulling it tight and then wrapping the other end around the headboard of the motel bed.
“Dean,” Sam said, tugging on the belt, testing its give. He groaned when he realised he couldn’t get out, hips moving up against Dean’s ass. Dean shrugged off his jacket, tossing it across the motel room, and then pulled off his shirt, Sam’s eyes roaming over him greedily. He popped the button of his jeans and pulled the zipper down, grasping himself beneath his boxers with a low hum.
“I don’t share,” Dean repeated, stroking himself slowly, teasingly. Sam bit his bottom lip as he watched Dean touch himself, and Dean pulled his dick out of his boxers and let out a breathy moan as his movements sped up. He could feel how hard Sam was beneath him, and he slowly rubbed his ass over Sam’s erection, teasing his brother.
“Shit, Dean, you’re fucking gorgeous,” Sam gasped, tugging absently on the belt, hips bucking. Dean grinned easily, the praise making his dick throb in his hand as he slid his precome over his length and hummed contently. Sam growled and threw his head back, obviously frustrated. Dean leaned forward, biting a mark where Sam’s anti-possession tattoo was, still pumping his length, tugging Sam’s shirt out of the way.
“I should leave you like this.” Dean murmured, nosing the edge of Sam’s jaw. “I should get myself off and then go to bed.”
“I dare you,” Sam huffed, half laughing. “I know how to make you into a mess, Dean, and I’ll get out of this.”
“I’d like to see you try.” Dean grinned, rocking back against the hard line of Sam’s dick, fucking his own fist. Sam raised his eyebrows and started to pull on Dean’s belt, harder and harder, jaw clenched with the effort of it. Dean watched as the leather of his belt strained under Sam’s wrists, the skin around it turning red and raw. Dean opened his mouth—wildly turned on at the prospect of Sam literally tearing his leather belt in two, but reluctant to let Sam hurt himself—and immediately reached up to grasp Sam’s hands, stilling
them.
“Jesus, Sammy,” Dean hissed, glaring into his brother’s amused eyes. Sam leaned up and kissed Dean, clumsily, and Dean wished he had the willpower to pull away. It would serve Sam right, and yet, he found that along with everything else Sam, Sam’s kisses were one of his weaknesses. He hummed into the kiss, nipping Sam’s tongue a little harder than usual, pleased with the soft sound the action resulted in creating.
“I swear to god, Dean,’ Sam growled when Dean pulled back and got to his feet, stripping the remainder of his clothing.
“Nah,” Dean said, climbing back into Sam’s lap, completely naked. “You brought this upon yourself. And when I’m done, I’ll go back to the bar and get that girl’s number, and then I’ll call her.”
“Dean!” Sam cried, eyes dark with lust and anger. Dean grinned, wolfishly, and pushed Sam’s shirt up, lavishing his chest and stomach with wet, messy kisses with too much teeth, too much bite. Judging by the way Sam rocked his hips up into Dean, however, he didn’t to mind. Dean grasped the fabric of Sam’s shirt and pulled, ripping it apart, and Sam made a high-pitched noise that shot straight to Dean’s dick.
“Shit, Sammy,” Dean groaned, leaning down and kissing his baby brother. “So good for me, huh?” he murmured, moving to bite Sam’s earlobe. Sam swallowed, audibly, and Dean felt a rush. Ripping Sam’s shirt was all it took to make his brother submit to him? “Gonna have to do that again,” Dean smirked, and Sam scoffed, blushing hard.
“Come on,” Sam urged, bucking his hips and tugging on the leather belt. Dean pressed his ass down on Sam’s dick, stroking himself and groaning softly. Sam cursed, watching with blown pupils, and Dean grinned.
“I’m gonna fuck you, Sammy,” he moaned, thrusting up into his own fist. Sam hissed through his teeth, squirming beneath Dean. Dean bit his bottom lip and scooted down Sam’s thighs until he was sitting lower on his legs, and he began to undo Sam’s jeans. Sam’s head fell back when Dean grasped him through his boxers, on the edge of too hard.
“Fuck, Dean,” Sam whined, and Dean mouthed at his brother through the soft fabric of his boxers, teeth grazing the length of his dick. Dean pressed his tongue flat to the underside of the head, soaking the fabric with his saliva, and making Sam curse and buck again. Dean chuckled, low and dangerous, and pulled Sammy’s boxers down to his thighs, immediately swallowing him whole, which wasn’t easy.
His taste, though. Dean moaned around Sam’s dick, slurping and sucking him down until Sam was whimpering and trying to buck his hips, trying to fuck Dean’s throat. Dean held his hips down, however, and took Sam as far as he could, gagging slightly.
“Holy shit Dean,” Sam cried when Dean swallowed around him. Dean sucked a little harder, letting his teeth run along the sensitive flesh, and Sam keened, arching into his mouth.
“Fuck, fuck, I’m gonna—” Sam choked, and Dean moaned again, because the sheer thought of Sammy coming down his throat was enough to push him right against the edge.
The sensation of Dean moaning was enough to send Sam over the edge, and he came, shouting Dean’s name, filling Dean’s throat and mouth with come. Dean swallowed most of it, sitting up and gasping for air that he’d deprived himself. Sam looked at him, his come dripping down Dean’s chin and coating his lips, and groaned loudly.
“Shit, Dean, you’re so pretty,” Sam hissed, and Dean licked his lips and wiped his chin, grinning. He was aching painfully now, harder than ever, and he realised just how badly he wanted to be inside Sam. He stood, and forced Sam’s knees to bend, so that he was spread and exposed for Dean. Sam made a startled noise at Dean’s movements but didn’t try to hide himself.
“And you’re calling me the pretty one, Sammy?” Dean said, voice hoarse and raw, eyes moving up to Sam’s. Sam flushed such a pretty shade of pink that Dean pressed a finger into Sam, dry, all the way to the knuckle, dick throbbing at the expression on Sam’s face. “Shit, you’re tight,” Dean whispered, and he reached around with his other hand to fish for the lube he’d stowed under the mattress.
“Really?” Sam breathed, watching as Dean popped the lube open. He paused, looking into Sam’s eyes.
“Yeah? It’s convenient?” Dean said, as if Sam should already be aware of this. He curled his finger inside Sam and Sam gasped, pressing back against him, and he smirked. Dean pulled his finger out, squirted lube onto his fingers, and then pressed them back in after he’d given the lube time to warm up. Sam groaned at two fingers now, and Dean carefully began pumping them in and out of Sam, pressing a kiss to the inside of his knee as he stretched Sam.
“Fucking—” Sam panted, grabbing his own legs to keep them up, “—sap.”
“Only for you, Sammy,” Dean grinned, and he added a third finger, pressing deeper. Sam suddenly moaned, louder than before, eyes rolling into the back of his head, lips parted.
“Ah,” Dean said, pulling out and repeating the movement. Sam writhed beneath him, hips moving desperately as he tried to fuck himself on Dean’s fingers.
“D-Dean,” Sam choked when Dean added a fourth finger, knowing that Sam would bitch constantly if he didn’t prep him enough. Though, the idea of fucking Sam after not a whole lot of prep was very appealing, and he wondered if Sam would let him one day. “Now now now please fuck.” Sam babbled.
“As you wish,” Dean said, pulling his fingers out and making Sam whine and half laugh.
“No…” he gasped. “No Princess Bride references while we fuck.” Dean chuckled, leaning down and sucking a mark into Sam’s inner thigh, pleased to see that his baby brother was hard again. He coated his own length in lube and slid Sam’s legs over his shoulder, pressing into Sam slowly.
“Fffffuck,” Dean groaned, fingers digging into the muscles of Sam’s thighs. Sam was barely breathing, lips parted, and eyes half lidded as Dean pressed in. Dean bottomed out and clenched his jaw, holding back the urge to just take Sam. He looked at Sam’s lustful face and grinned cockily. “Bigger than you thought, huh?” he murmured.
Sam snorted. “Smaller, actually, a lot small—ah—” he broke off with a low whine when Dean rolled his hips into Sam, groaning and effectively shutting Sam up. He couldn’t stay still after that, and within a few moments, he had Sam gasping and whimpering as he slammed into him, rough and yet gentle at the same time. Sam’s hands were clenched into fists around the leather tying him up, his eyes dark as he looked at Dean.
“So good,” Dean hissed, grabbing onto Sam’s hips and snapping into him just a little harder.
“Fuck!” Sam shouted. “Again, again, please, Dean, again,” he begged, and Dean, filled with a rush of arousal and affection, obliged. He kept snapping his hips like that until Sam was just about screaming his name as he came, spurting his seed onto his own chest and the tattered remains of his torn shirt. The sight and the sounds of Sam’s orgasm was too much, and Dean leaned forward, sinking his teeth into the muscle of Sam’s chest as he came so hard he saw stars, whimpering Sam’s name.
He pulled back, breathing hard, and looked at Sam, who still looked ready to eat Dean alive out of arousal. Dean licked his lips, tasted copper and iron, and frowned slightly. He looked at Sam’s chest, where he’d bitten, and realised that he’d bitten hard enough to draw blood.
“Oh fuck,” Dean said, eyes widening as he touched his own lips and smeared them with Sam’s warm blood. “Sam, I’m—”
“Don’t even think of apologizing.” Sam growled. Dean froze, reading Sam’s expression like he was an open book, realization dawning on his face.
“You liked it.” Dean breathed. “Fuck, you’re a kinky son of a bitch.” Sam laughed, head falling back and hands relaxing. Dean leaned forward and lapped up all the blood on Sam’s chest, cleaning the wound and making Sam squirm beneath him.
He pulled out of Sam slowly, both of them wincing, and then untied his little brother, which, apparently, was the best thing he could have done. Sam pushed Dean onto his back and took him apart, making him bleed and come until he could barely say Sam’s name, let alone think straight. Only then did Sam fuck him, deep and rough, making Dean’s throat sore and hoarse from his shouting.
In the morning, Dean woke alone, groaning at the way his body was aching. He sat up, wincing at the dull, almost pleasant ache in his ass and his muscles, and spotted a small golden ring on the bedside table beside him. His brow furrowed, and he picked it up, noticing the slip of paper beneath it.
It’s real gold, so don’t lose it. I’m getting breakfast, should be back soon. XX Sam
Dean snorted, not at the ring, but at the ‘x’s at the end of the letter, ignoring the way his entire body went warm and pliable at seeing them. He slipped the ring onto the proper finger, looking at the way it glinted in the sunlight pouring into the motel room. It fit perfectly, of course, and Dean smiled, soft and happy, laying back down in bed.
When Sam came back, with greasy diner food and donuts, Dean spotted an identical ring on his finger, and his heart soared. He grinned at Sam and kissed him slowly and thoroughly, hoping it said everything Dean wanted to say but didn’t have the words for.
“Yeah,” Sam breathed, when they had parted. “Me too.”
Sam didn’t really pay attention to anyone else after that, and Dean always made sure that his ring was visible when he was talking to absolutely anyone, spouting stories about his ‘husband’ to quite literally anyone who would listen. Sam always shook his head at him, amused and slightly annoyed, but in the soft morning glow after making love, soft and sweet, Sam told Dean how much he loved him, and the way he talked about him.
In those moments, Dean had the words for what he wanted to say, and he murmured them like a prayer to Sam, kissing him gently.
~