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Dean hadn’t been prepared for how vulnerable he would feel being dressed like that. Being displayed like that. It was just supposed to be another damn disguise for another damn hunt. But all those eyes on him, all the impersonal touches, strangers’ palms sliding across him here and there, caressing exposed skin he wasn’t used to having bared in public.
The character was kind of a turn-on; being vulnerable wasn’t something he was used to, evil sons of bitches getting the upper hand sometimes notwithstanding. No, this wasn’t about fronting tough when the fight wasn’t going your way, or genuinely being tough -- tough enough to kill what needed killing. He’d had to make like someone soft, easily taken advantage of, someone who could be manhandled and didn’t present much of a challenge.
Getting into that headspace had been difficult, and now it was hard to get back out. Thing is, Dean didn’t exactly want to. Not just yet, anyway. There was something appealing -seductive- about being pliant, submissive, for the first time in his life.
Tomorrow, he would go back to feeling contemptuous of the damsel in distress mentality, but tonight… tonight, he was just feeling it a little too much.
As soon as they entered their motel room, Sam stripped down to nothing but his jeans in record time, apparently still feeling the aftereffects of the slain esesdidi’s power itching across his skin. Sam chafed his arms with his hands and blew out a calming breath, giving himself a good all-over shake.
Dean slid the angelic-handprint-covering red bolero jacket off and dropped it onto the dinette table, then tugged off the long wig and tossed it on top of the crimson cloth. But he drug his feet about taking off the fuck-me red dress and matching sexy stripper heels, reluctant to let go of the persona.
Sam, always so in tune these days to what went unspoken between them, seemed to catch onto Dean’s weird mood.
“Hey. Come here,” Sam coaxed softly, as he sat on the edge of the bed. He held out his hand toward Dean, and Dean felt himself obediently moving forward, letting the long fingers and the wide palm wrap around his hand and tug him close.
Sam pulled him into his lap, wrapping long arms around Dean and leaning him in to touch their foreheads together. Sam sighed out and nuzzled just slightly, and Dean felt himself responding. Not like his usual pushy, aggressive self, but like the effin’ girly delicate little flower he was dressed as.
Sam slid his arm around, cradling his older brother across the shoulder blades and hugging him to his massive chest, palm pressed flat to Dean’s pec, feeling Dean’s heartbeat, no doubt. His other arm snaked under Dean’s knees and scooped his needy older sibling up like a bride in his arms as he pressed a careful kiss just under Dean’s ear, before taking the lobe in his teeth and tugging.
“You need?” Sam asked, voice low and husky.
Wordlessly, Dean nodded, trusting that Sam knew what he needed, even if Dean wasn’t all that sure himself.
Dean turned his chin away and bared the side of his neck to his taller brother’s questing mouth, resting a hand on the denim-clad knee for balance as he leaned away to expose himself further, give better access, trusting his lover’s strong embrace to hold him up, hold him in position. Hold him.
Sam’s hand moved away from cradling his heartbeat and gently but firmly grasped underneath Dean’s knee, drawing his leg up, knee nearly pressed to his own chest, as Sam’s other hand caressed down the back of Dean’s thigh.
Sam’s big, warm palm didn’t hesitate to slide past the hem of the short dress and rub sensually across Dean’s panty-clad ass, strong, long finger pressing directly on Dean’s hole through the girly satin.
Dean gasped, squirming in his brother’s lap, reveling in the encompassing embrace and thrusting minutely against the erotic pressure prodding oh so gently against his entrance.
“That’s it, sweetheart,” Sam’s husky voice urged, as Dean made quiet, desperate sounds while he writhed on his brother’s thighs.
The warm puff of air against his ear and the secure hold his bigger lover had on him sent shivers down Dean’s spine. Sammy was massive, but it wasn’t often that fact registered with Dean. Pressed to Sam’s expansive chest like this, wrapped up in long, strong arms and cradled so securely, manipulated so confidently… well, it really hit home in a thrilling, visceral way.
Sam’s mouth traveled down his throat, almost but not quite nipping, as his fingers slid under the elastic leg of Dean’s satin panties, slithering up to cup his asscheek, squeezing enticingly.
“Love you like this, honey,” Sam purred against Dean’s vulnerable skin as his index finger circled and pressed against Dean’s fluttering sphincter. “So sexy. So mine.” The claiming words and uncommon endearment were punctuated by a firm bite to the side of Dean’s neck.
Dean groaned and huddled closer to his brother, wrapping his arms around Sam’s torso as Sammy’s finger pressed more solidly at his entrance. His hole twitched against the pad of that thick finger and Dean moaned at the tease, hips starting to grind minutely in response, in invitation.
Sam’s big paw vanished from beneath the leg of Dean’s lingerie for a minute, but returned lubricated, sliding carefully between the elastic and Dean’s ass and began penetrating his entrance in shallow but ever-increasing thrusts.
Soon, the wonderful intrusion up his ass had Dean moaning like the harlot he was dressed as. He undulated to the rhythm his brother’s big hand set, hole throbbing with desire as he clutched at his lover and mouthed along Sam’s jaw.
By the time Sam had three thick fingers stuffing him full, Dean was breathing harshly, grunting quietly but intensely with each thrust in. The soft, desperate sounds he was making enflamed Sam’s lust. His younger brother manhandled him around as he shucked his jeans and peeled Dean’s panties off.
“Ride me,” Sam urged, voice rough and low as he palmed Dean’s asscheeks from under the hem of the short red dress, tugging him forward, sliding a wide palm down the back of Dean’s thigh, angling inward to tug Dean’s leg wide, guiding him to straddle his lap.
As Dean ground his empty entrance against his brother’s erection, Sam snaked one clever finger under the strap of Dean’s slutty dress, guiding it down his bicep until the top slithered down his pecs, exposing his heaving, flushed chest. Sam pinched his nipple, then leaned down and tugged it with his teeth.
The guttural sound that escaped Dean at the sharp pleasure was accompanied by his hips thrusting down urgently, impaling himself on his brother’s cock, Sam’s heavy balls pressed firmly against his ass. He shook his arms free of the dress straps and clutched at his younger brother’s broad shoulders.
“Oh, god, baby, so good,” Sam praised, pulling back as best he could and thrusting inside.
Dean whined high in his throat and did his best to get leverage for longer strokes, tensing his thighs and trying to find his balance as the high-heeled platform footwear threw him off.
“Shh, shh,” Sam soothed, “I gotcha.” He curved his big hands around Dean’s bare ass and helped his brother bounce on his erection.
Face to face like this, surrounded by his strong brother, feeling the hot, pulsing member stretch him wide and fill him up, Dean surrendered utterly, gave himself over wholeheartedly to the pleasure and security, to the mutual adoration, and let his little brother be strong for both of them for once.
It didn’t take long for the riot of sensations to overwhelm him. The red dress was bunched around his waist, rubbing his leaking cockhead with every rough thrust of Sam’s pistoning pelvis. His hole was stretched around the hot girth of his brother’s sex. Sammy’s big hands seemed to be everywhere -- cupping his ass, pressed to his shoulder blades to urge him closer, caressing everywhere.
Dean pulled away from their dirty kiss as he cried out and spurted into the crimson material bunched around his midsection. Sam’s arms trapped him in a bearhug as his little brother groaned loudly against his bare collarbone and pushed inside as deep as he could go. Dean could feel Sammy’s dick twitch as it pumped him full of semen.
Sweaty and panting, Sam eased his deathgrip on his brother and -slowly, carefully- arranged them both on the mattress. He was still huffing for breath as he spooned behind Dean, murmuring into his short hair, “Love you.”
“Love you too, Sammy,” Dean replied, starting to feel more like his old self again as he relaxed. “But next time we need to dangle dick-bait to catch a monster, we’re gonna find a sexy little number in moose-size.”
Sam just laughed and kissed his temple.
~End~