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“Is that you that smells like a fucking candy cane, Sammy?” Dean asks, crinkling up his nose as he starts the Impala.
“Uh, yeah. Sorry.” Sam glances over at his brother with a slight furrow in his brow. “I ran out of my normal shampoo so I used the one at the hotel. Peppermint, I guess.” He rakes his hand through his hair and it sends a shiver running through his entire body as his fingernails drag over his scalp.
The single use bottle of ‘Natural Luster Shampoo’ he’d found next to the sink that morning didn’t say anything about having a tingling effect. Dean was right though, it smelled exactly like those tiny candy canes that seemed to be everywhere during the holidays. It was probably just the peppermint oil making his scalp extra sensitive.
“Don’t be sorry. Smells like Christmas,” Dean says with a wistful little smirk on his face. “I’m just kind of shocked you’re risking those luscious locks of yours on the hotel shampoo.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Sam grumbles. He’s more than used to Dean teasing him about his hair but that doesn’t always make it any less annoying. “So, I like to stick to one brand instead of chancing it on whatever crap the motel has. Just ran out before we had time for a supply run.”
“Don’t get your panties in a bunch, man. I’m just messing with you. It really does smell nice and, maybe it’s just me, but it’s awfully shiny today, too.”
Without taking his eyes off the road, Dean reaches over and pushes Sam’s hair back behind his ear. His fingers slide through the silky strands and his fingertips graze Sam’s temple, tracing almost delicately over the curve of Sam’s ear before pulling away.
It’s a simple, casually intimate gesture, something that would normally make Sam grin like a dork at the display of sweetness from his brother. Only today, whatever the shampoo was doing to Sam’s scalp made Dean’s touch race through him like an electric pulse. It sent goosebumps spreading down his arms and sides, even making his nipples hard. His eyes practically roll back in his head and he shudders in his Fed suit like Dean had just run his fingernails hard up Sam’s naked back.
“Woah, are you okay?” Dean asks, seeming legitimately concerned as he glances at Sam out of the side of his eye.
Sam swallows thickly and nods, trying to snap out of his ridiculous reaction.
“Am I just reading this wrong or are you…? Sammy, did that just turn you on?” Dean’s tone is incredulous but he hit the nail right on the head.
Sam clears his throat and looks out the window just so Dean doesn’t see the pink flush on his cheeks. Truth is, he always kind of had a thing for it – having his hair played with, even pulled. Okay, especially pulled. It hadn’t really crossed his mind in ages and it wasn’t something he’d ever asked Dean to do when they were together. Not yet anyway.
Sam puts on his best fake FBI voice, trying to mask his embarrassment and arousal. “No, I’m – I’m fine,” he stutters. “It’s just this shampoo. Peppermint oil. It’s making my scalp tingle. It’s not a big deal."
Sam had always been more about doing whatever made Dean curl his toes than exploring his own kinks and in this moment, in the Impala, on their way to interview some witnesses for the case they’d just started, it was the last thing he wanted to think about. It felt like something that was more likely to get him teased than it would be to lead to any kind of gratification, anyway.
He can feel Dean’s eyes on him but he pretends to be interested in the scenery. He’d make a point of stopping at a Walgreens once they were done for the day so he didn’t have to deal with this again tomorrow.
Dean drops the subject without another word, just gives Sam a shrug and pulls into a Dunkin Donuts for coffee before they headed to the police station.
~~~
Another town, another case under their belts, and Sam’s making a run for supplies and dinner despite the snow falling outside. He leaves Dean at the motel to watch bad TV, get drunk, masturbate, or whatever it was he did when Sam gave him a little space.
He kicks at the door a few times to give Dean a head’s up that he’s back, balancing the tray holding their drinks precariously as he juggles the shopping bags and key to unlock the door. “I grabbed Thai, hope that’s okay. Everything else was closed,” Sam huffs as he stomps the slush off his boots, slinging the bags onto the table and setting down their drinks.
“Well, yeah, Sammy. It’s Christmas Eve,” Dean replies, his voice warm and smooth, lacking the sarcastic bite Sam would expect to be there given that he just spaced on Christmas.
Dean’s sitting on the bed closest to the bathroom with a smug little grin on his face, like he knows something Sam doesn’t. He’s wearing a pair of soft, grey sleep pants, his faded Deep Purple t-shirt, and his feet are bare like he’s about to go to bed. The only light on is the reading lamp in the corner and it casts a gentle, golden glow on their nicer-than-usual room. That’s it. There’s no make-shift Christmas tree, no eggnog, no presents anywhere Sam can see, he flits his eyes back over to Dean and raises an eyebrow.
“Don’t worry, I’m glad you forgot,” Dean says softly as he stands up, crossing the room to crowd Sam up against the small table. “Gave me a chance to plan a little something.”
Sam’s a little too confused to say anything when Dean pushes up on the balls of his feet and kisses him, gentle and soft, his hands on the lapel of Sam’s coat, simultaneously pulling him down into the kiss and pushing the jacket back off his shoulders.
“I didn’t think either one of us was exactly in the Christmas spirit this year but I wanted to do something for you.”
“What? I don’t need anything, Dean, I’m – ”
“Shhh,” Dean soothes, cutting Sam off with another press of his plush, pink lips. “Just let me take care of you. Take off your boots.”
He pulls out the chair for Sam who quietly complies, sitting down and shucking them off. He looks up at Dean with a frustrated little half-smile but doesn’t protest in the slightest when Dean takes his hands and leads him into the bathroom.
The thermostat’s been turned up and the tile is surprisingly comfortable under Sam’s clammy feet. There’s a candle burning on the counter by the sink and a handful of little frosted white bottles lying next to it.
It had been weeks since the tingly scalp incident and nothing could have been further from Sam’s mind until he smells the vanilla and peppermint, sees the gold inked labels on the bottles of ‘Natural Luster Shampoo.’
“What are you doing…?” Sam asks, the words trailing of as Dean helps him out of his layers.
“Taking care of my baby brother,” Dean says with a little eyebrow waggle. He turns to start the shower, cranking up the water until it’s steaming and strips out of his own clothes, leaving them in a rumpled pile next to the toilet.
Dean pulls Sam against him again, licking into his mouth and nipping at his bottom lips as Sam’s icy cold hands ghost over Dean’s bare skin. They begin to thaw as he squeezes at the firm warmth of Dean’s sides, sliding down to take big, kneading handfuls of Dean’s ass.
Dean gets Sam’s jeans off and they tumble into the shower, mouths sliding together in kisses as warm and sweet as the fragrant air in the room. A few more bottles of the tingly peppermint shampoo are waiting for them on the edge of the tub. Dean sidles up behind Sam and lathers up his hair with the contents of two of them.
“Raided the maid’s cart for these before we checked outta that place,” Dean says as he rakes his nails over Sam’s soapy scalp. Sam tips his head back further, groaning softly as Dean massages at his temples, dragging his nails in slow, swirling paths through the suds. It’s already tingling a little, sending icy little jolts through Sam’s body, making his nerve endings feel extra sensitive, sparkling in anticipation of Dean’s touch.
“You’re really good at that,” Sam groans, hands braced on either side of the showerhead.
“Yeah?” Dean presses his lips against Sam’s shoulder blade. “That’s not all I’m good at, Sammy…”
He runs his sudsy hands down the broad plane of Sam’s back, sliding forward to run his fingers along the deep cut of Sam’s hips. Sam ducks his head under the shower spray to rinse his hair as Dean reaches for the soap. He washes them both, hands supple as they caress Sam’s heavy, hard length and glide up the crack of his ass.
Dean turns him then, kissing Sam deep and pressing him back against the corner of the shower guiding his knee up so his foot can rest on the edge of the tub. Dean sinks to his knees then, looking up at Sam for a moment with those glittering green eyes before dipping back under the shower stream, his lashes wet and clumping together against his freckled cheeks. He takes Sam in his hand, giving his cock little more than a teasing squeeze before pushing it up to rest against his abdomen. He nuzzles up under Sam’s balls instead, licking and sucking at them, his tongue teasing back over Sam’s taint.
Sam’s a leaking mess for it, his dick pulsing out slick over the back of Dean’s fingers only to be washed away by the shower, his mouth hanging open in a soundless gasp as the tip of Dean’s tongue traces the edge of asshole. The scrape of Dean’s stubble against his inner thighs and the crack of his ass makes Sam groan. He arches his back and tugs his thigh up, bracing his foot against the soap holder to give Dean room to lick into him deeper.
Dean doesn’t miss a beat, sinking inside. He tongues and sucks at Sam’s hole until it’s softened and aching, until their skin is pruning up and Dean’s knees are no doubt aching from the tub floor. It’s not enough for Sam to come but he can tell that wasn’t the plan. This is worship, pure and simple, and Sam is practically drunk on it.
Dean dries Sam’s skin after they climb out of the shower, settling him down on the toilet seat and using a fresh towel to dry Sam’s hair between slow but hungry kisses. He’s sitting in Sam’s lap by the time it’s dry to his liking, getting up to grab Sam’s brush. Dean turns Sam a little so he can stand behind him, combing his fingers through his still-damp hair before setting the brush to it.
Sam sighs happily, his eyes slipping closed. He can’t help but tip his head back against Dean’s chest after he’s run the brush though it until it was silky smooth.
“Good?” Dean asks, his lips pursed and pink.
“God, are you kidding?” Sam groans in reply. “Not sure what I did to deserve this but I’ll take it.”
Dean grins wide and leans down to kiss Sam’s forehead, cradling the back of his head in his hands and rubbing slow circles against Sam’s scalp with his fingertips. Dean’s cock presses hot and hard against Sam’s back.
“Always take it so good for me, Sammy. Always have.”
Dean strips back the comforter and lays Sam out on the fresh white sheets, the smell of peppermint still clinging to their mostly-dry skin. He crawls up between Sam’s thighs, blanketing him with his warmth and finds his mouth again. He kisses Sam deep, sliding his hand up through the back of Sam’s hair as his cock nestles down beside Sam’s. He ruts against Sam with a slow grind of his hips, their bodies fitting together like they had a thousand times before – perfectly.
Sam moans softly, arching his back as Dean’s nails rasp at his scalp, his fingers tangling in the hair at the back of Sam’s head and pulling gently.
“Gotta tell me what you want. Can’t take care of you right if you don’t tell me...” Dean kisses the words into the side of Sam’s neck. Sam knows Dean doesn’t mean just in this moment, it’s a request. Dean wants to take care of Sam too.
“That,” Sam gasps. “That – keep, guh…” the words shatter in his throat as Dean sinks his fingers deeper, tugging harder at his hair. Sam bucks up into Dean’s abdomen, his cock blurting a hot, slick mess between their bodies.
“Fuck, it’s got you so wet, Sammy,” Dean practically growls, kissing down Sam’s throat and over his Adam’s apple. “Want me to pull it while I fuck you, don’t you, baby? Wrap my hand in this pretty mane and yank it while I pound your ass?”
Dean only talked like this when he was past the point of no return, so turned on that the niceties between them crumbled and need burned away their inhibitions. He wanted Sam there with him, showing Dean what he needed.
Sam nods breathlessly, easing Dean off of him enough to flip onto his stomach, his cock almost painfully hard where it’s trapped between his body and the sheets. Dean climbs up over him again, pressing a row of kisses up Sam’s spine before nuzzling into the back of his head and breathing deep. He shifts his weight over to his left arm and digs his right hand up into Sam’s hair, cupping his skull in his broad palm as his nails rake of the curve of Sam’s head.
Every nerve ending in Sam’s scalp feels like it’s got a direct connection to his nipples, his balls. His hole clenches and his prostate throbs, hungry for Dean’s touch, but all Sam can do is whimper and arch up against his brother’s body.
“Could you come just from this, I wonder?” Dean whispers low and dark, pulling harder. The underside of his cock is slotted between Sam’s ass cheeks, the thick vein running diagonally along the underside of it rubbing against his hole. Sam swears he can feel Dean’s heartbeat pumping through it. He needs to feel it with his insides, feel Dean’s cock throbbing deep up in his belly, fucking him open, and pumping him full.
“No, please. God, Dean. Please, fuck me.” Sam’s cheeks flush at how needy he sounds, like that desperate, horny, teenager who didn’t know what pleasure was until his brother had him hanging off his dick. Now it was the only way Sam could really feel whole.
“Get the slick for me, in the drawer.” Dean pulls Sam’s hair back harder, hard enough so he’s got to arch his neck back to keep from crying out, Dean’s weight on him making it impossible for it not to hurt. He reaches out blindly toward the nightstand, yanking open the drawer, and scrambling for the lube. He chucks it back in Dean’s direction, panting as he pushes up on his forearms to give his scalp some relief, stimulating his stiff nipples on the sheet under him instead.
Then the hand is gone, Dean pulling his fingers out of the nest of Sam’s hair so quickly that Sam gasps with relief. He’s vaguely aware of the click of the lube lid as he falls forward onto the pillow and goes willingly as Dean’s hands pull his hips up, forcing his back into a pretty arch. Dean’s thumbs tug at either side of his hole, exposing all the deep pink inside of Sam’s rim that he can before the head of his dick comes slapping down, hard and wet over Sam’s hole. Sam yelps and spreads his legs wider even as his body tenses up from the sudden, sharp bite of pain. He takes Dean’s request to heart and starts telling him very clearly what he needs.
“God FUCK, Dean. Again, fuck.”
The sound echoes hot and wet in Sam’s ears after the pain is already burning up his spine, making his back arch even harder. Dean brings his heavy, lubed up prick down over Sam’s shuddering hole another half-dozen times, only stopping when there’s a sharp thumping on the wall.
“Hear that, Sammy?” Dean chuckles, darkly, his voice thick and hoarse with lust. “Already pissin’ off the neighbors. You’re gonna wake the dead when I fuck you.”
Dean feeds the head of his dick into Sam’s tenderized asshole, his other hand digging so hard into Sam’s hip it’s sure to leave marks. It punches the breath out of Sam’s lungs, the burning hot girth of Dean’s prick carving into him. His insides clutch around it desperately, uncontrollable spasms of pleasure and pain radiating through his body as he pulls the pillow to his face and gasps into it, howling like a wounded animal.
Dean locks up deep inside Sam, his hips grinding in relentlessly as Sam adjusts to being so suddenly and completely filled. Dean hadn’t even fingered him open, just sunk that big cock right up inside, filling him so full it was almost like Sam could feel the head of Dean’s cock rutting up against his sternum. Dean’s hands circle Sam’s waist and pull him back so he’s fully on his knees and fully impaled on Dean’s dick.
“Good boy,” Dean soothes, sliding his hand up Sam’s shoulder and into the hair at the back of his neck. He starts slow and shallow, rolling his hips against the soft press of Sam’s ass, using his hand at Sam’s hip as leverage as his fingers sink deeper into Sam’s long hair. As Dean’s thrusts intensify, his fingers tighten, sending the tingle in Sam’s scalp coursing through his entire body. It’s so good he practically forgets his name, fucking himself desperately back into Dean’s thrusts, his prick slapping up, wet and messy against his stomach.
“Yeah, you want it deeper, baby?” Dean growls, twisting Sam’s hair in his fist. “Like me pullin’ all this pretty hair.”
Dean’s hips buck sharply, the sound of skin on skin loud in Sam’s ears, making him forget himself, moaning like a whore for his big brother. Dean gives the makeshift ponytail one last hard tug and Sam’s gone, his eyes rolling back into his head and his balls seizing up, unloading all over the sheet underneath him and splashing up against his abdomen.
“Jesus, Sam,” Dean grits out as he fucks Sam through his orgasm, panting raggedly as Sam’s body tenses up around him. A few more erratic thrusts and Dean’s coming too, still fucking hard and deep into Sam as he unloads, churning his come until it’s leaking out and dripping down Sam’s balls.
He settles down against Sam, releasing the tension in his hand and letting his fingers slip out of Sam’s hair. He pulls out of Sam slow, his broad thumb holding Sam’s cheek to the side so he can watch as his prick slips free and Sam’s gaping hole mouths at the air, leaking all that come. He runs his thumb over it reverently, sighing softly like he wishes he had another round in him.
He finally settles in next to Sam where he’s collapsed into the messy sheets. Sam’s still breathing hard, his body still shuddering with the release, as he forces his eyes open and gives Dean a giddy, fucked-out grin.
“Merry Christmas, Sam.”