rivers_bend

Title: Five Times Dean didn't Suck Sam and one time he did (6/6) COMPLETE
Words: ~3400
Rating: Adult
Genre: Slash
Characters: Sam/Dean (fraternal Wincest)
Spoilers: Not a one.
Disclaimer: I make no claim to these characters.
Summary: Dean knew Sam was watching every movement of his fingers as he ran his hands over his cue, that he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Dean's lips when he blew chalk or drank from his bottle.
Thanks: to twotrains and jelloh0530 for their help with American pool lingo and to fallen_arazil for her beta skills.
A/N: FINALLY, one time he did. I've been pretty desperate to get to this point. What plot there is in this (and it's pretty much all pr0n) was inspired by this picture by dreamlittleyo. Which she very kindly turned into cover art for me! Thank you!


[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5]



After half an hour in Max's Bar, Dean was $70 up and just getting into his stride. Sammy'd spent the time making friends with the bartender. She looked twenty-five, but was rumored to have owned the joint for the last twenty years, and so was probably twice that age. She was eating Sammy's lost puppy act with a spoon. Women always seemed to want to mother him, but Dean didn't blame them. He knew the feeling. Although, since the thing where he'd gotten shot and Sam had gotten protective, which led to the fucking, Dean's feelings had become anything but maternal. Anything but fraternal too, but they'd worked through their issues about that. Or decided to pretty much ignore them. Whatever you wanted to call it.

Sam looked like he was devoting his attention to Maxine—that was what the regulars kept shouting in her general direction anyway—but Dean knew differently. He could feel Sam's gaze burning through the denim over his ass every time he leaned down to make a shot. Dean knew Sam was watching every movement of his fingers as he ran his hands over his cue, that he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Dean's lips when he blew chalk or drank from his bottle.

If their positions were reversed, Dean figured he'd probably last another ten minutes before pushing away from the bar, stalking over to the table and demanding Sam get in the car. He'd take him back to the room and repay every second of teasing. But that wasn't how Sam rolled. He'd sit there all night if he had to, until Dean had milked the table for all he could get without risking a revenge mugging. He'd sip his beer, smile, and watch Dean earn them money. All the while hiding a hard-on the size of a baby's arm in the shadows under the bar. A hard-on that Dean wanted to wrap his mouth around until Sam was begging to be allowed to come.

A man with thick dark hair, small mean eyes and a silk shirt that was as out of place as a tux in this joint, laid $150 on the table. Dean had the cash to match it, but it would clear them out. It was early in the evening for that kind of money on an unknown quantity. About to shrug and hand his cue to someone with more money than sense, he looked at Sam. They could take the money he'd won and go home and fuck. But Sam nodded at the table. Just an inclination of his chin, a look in his eyes that said he knew Dean could do it. And if he couldn't? If the guy turned out to be some sort of professional pool player, then fuck it. Tomorrow was another day.

So Dean pulled the cash out of his pocket and laid it on the table. Sam licked his lips and looked at him like he did when Dean stepped into the shower with him, or slid his hand down the front of Sam's jeans. Apparently this wasn't just pool, it was sex. That might have made someone else nervous. But Dean knew a few things. One of them? He was good at pool. Another? He was really good at sex. Mr Silk Shirt was going down.

They flipped for break and Dean won. Having given up the pretext of flirting with Maxine, Sam was focused completely on the game. Dean winked at him as he chalked his cue, rubbed his palm over the end of the handle just the way Sam liked him to do on the head of his cock, and then took his shot.

The break sank the two and six and left the three over the far corner. Solids. Just the way he liked it. The three went down easy, but he got a bad angle on the cue ball, which drifted behind two stripes. Walking around the table to see if there was an angle on the seven, Dean caught Sam's eye. Sam dragged his gaze down to Dean's crotch, looked him in the eye again, flicked a glance at the table and shrugged, tipping the last of his beer into his mouth. Dean felt like he could do just about anything.

Which didn’t mean he could drop the seven. He did manage to get from behind the thirteen and tap it though, giving his opponent a turn at the table but avoiding scratching.

The guy was good; he sank thirteen, eleven and fifteen with quick, efficient strokes. He got cocky though, and missed the twelve completely, leaving Dean with a free shot. The language he spewed was more longshoreman than stock broker, making Dean raise an eyebrow in Sam's direction. Sam smiled.

Dean lined up on the seven and cut the one closer to the side pocket on the back spin. He almost went for the easy pot, but then saw that the cue would end up awfully close to the eight. He took the tougher shot on the five instead. Much to his surprise, that gave him a perfect angle on the four. With one last look at Sam, Dean pocketed the four and the one before getting out with the eight ball in the side pocket.

Easy shot. Easy money.

Dean knew how to quit when he was ahead. Picking the cash up from the table, he held out a hand to the loser. 'Thanks for the game.'

'Fuck you.' The muscles were working so hard in the guy's jaw, Dean wondered how he could speak at all.

Sam, on the other hand, couldn't speak for smiling. He'd shifted on his barstool so Dean could fit perfectly between his thighs. Slotting into place, Dean said, 'Time to go?'

Sam shook his head, hooked a finger through Dean's belt loop.

'No?'

'Not until you kiss me.' Sam had that look.

'This ain't exactly that kind of bar, Sammy.' Though Dean wasn't entirely sure there was a whole world of difference between kissing and standing crotch to crotch, his hips pressed between Sam's thighs.

'Ya know what, Dean? I couldn't care less.' Sam curled a hand around the back of his head, and Dean decided Sam was right. Fuck 'em if they can't take a kiss.

It was a sweet press of lips, hot and slow and not nearly enough. 'Bed,' Dean muttered against Sam's mouth. 'Now, if not sooner.'

Sam turned towards the bar. 'Night, Maxine.'

'Night, sugar. Y'all have fun.' From the look on her face, all smiles and moony eyes, Dean reckoned Sam hadn't mentioned they were brothers.

Sam didn't let go of his waistband, just dragged him out to the parking lot. Dean assumed he'd be released when they got to the Impala, but before he could even reach for the keys, Sam shoved him up against the side window and sucked Dean's tongue right into his mouth.

When Dean stopped to breathe, Sam said, 'God, you are such a tease. I should so tie you up and keep you hard all night, but I want to suck you so bad right now.'

'Christ, Sammy.' Dean wanted to suck Sam at *least* that badly. They really did need to be back at their motel, like yesterday.

'Car. I'm not sucking you here, I want you naked.' It seemed to take all Sam's effort to back up and let Dean get behind the wheel.

'You know,' Dean said when he'd got his breath back enough so he could talk. 'I thought you didn’t like it when I played pool. All your leaving early, complaining that I should find a better way to make money. But you're—' Dean ran two fingers along his brother's fly.

Sam snorted a laugh. 'Well, I thought you didn’t like it when I forgot to take clothes into the bathroom and came out after my shower wrapped in a towel. Way you looked at me funny, always rushed off to do something else? Guess that's what they call denial.'

'You saying I look as good playing pool as you look wrapped in a towel? Well, fuck.'

'Remind me again why we had to drive fifteen miles to go to a bar? Can't you drive any faster?'

'Thought I was supposed to be the impulsive one.'

'I want you naked in the next five minutes. Come on. I've been hard for an hour here.'

'So now's not the time to mention we really could do with some gas?'

'I swear to god, Dean, if you so much as slow down to get into the lot I'm going to kill you.'

'How you going to fuck me if—god, please don’t tell me you'd…' Even though Dean'd stopped talking, Sam covered his mouth with his palm. Dean licked it, tasting sweat and the metallic taste of beer bottle labels, undercut with a taste that was just Sam. He half expected Sam to pull away, or start bitching at least, but he just pressed his hand tighter to Dean's face and moaned. This so was not a good idea when he was driving.

Dean turned a corner and the motel sign flashed up ahead. Sam took his hand back, wiping it absently on his jeans, said, 'I'm gonna lay you on that bed and suck you. Shove my fingers up your ass til' you're fucking my throat and I can't breathe and you're screaming my name.' Sam looked at him. 'Just so you know.'

The car was parked before Dean could get any air into his lungs.

Sam was first through the door and hadn't even put down the key when Dean grabbed for him, started pulling his hoodie off. Hand open, key on the floor, toes shoving at his shoes, and then he spun around, shoving Dean's jacket off his shoulders and attacking his fly.

A little alarmed, Dean said, 'Dude, you're gonna break something, you're not careful.' Things in that region were not currently as flexible as they sometimes were.

'Sorry.' Sam dropped to his knees, nuzzling up under Dean's t-shirt, kissing his stomach, as his fingers carried on in their mission to get Dean naked. 'God, you taste fucking good.' Sam bit him, sucking a mark into the skin over his hip.

After pulling off his own shirt, Dean started tugging at Sam's. 'And come on up here,' he said. 'I get to suck you first.'

There was a little noise of triumph as Sam got Dean's jeans open and shoved aside, and he stubbornly stayed where he was.

Summoning all his willpower, Dean stepped back, kicking off his boots and jeans, getting out of range of Sam's mouth. It seemed only fair. Sam was the one who'd been sitting at the bar with a hard-on for an hour.

Sam lunged at him, but Dean jumped back and landed on his back on the bed. 'No way. Jeans off. I want to see that cock out, now.'

The glare that got was kind of derailed by the speed with which Sam followed orders. Dean might have laughed at him, but it was difficult to laugh with six and a half feet of naked, kissing, rubbing, man-handling brother on your chest. So Dean gave in and kissed, rubbed and man-handled right back.

When Sam started making his way down Dean's chest, Dean grabbed him by the hair. 'Wait. I have a plan.'

Sam looked at him and tried to loosen Dean's grip. 'A plan?'

'Yeah. You want my cock. I want your cock. Neither of us is exactly the patient waiting turns type. So why not both go at once?'

The look on Sam's face went from impatient to incredulous.

'What's that look for?' Dean said. 'You telling me you've never done a 69?'

'When you're a foot taller than your girlfriend, it's not exactly—' Sam wasn't one to go into graphic details about his previous lovers.

'Well, you ain't a foot taller than me, no matter what you like to tell yourself, so get up here.'

'Where am I gonna put my legs?'

'Christ. You gotta complain about everything. Fine. We'll go sideways.' Dean scooted round so he was lying pretty much diagonally across the bed with his legs up near the head end.

Sasquatch seemed to take forever to get himself situated, but finally he was on his side, cock close enough that Dean could get his lips on it. Shoving Sam's top leg up and back so he could get his hands on Sam's ass, Dean said, 'You ok there, big boy?'

He took the wet slip of Sam's tongue along his shaft and the press of fingers behind his balls as a yes.

For a minute he was too distracted by the sensations going on below his waist to make good on his half of the deal. But then Sam's cock bobbed against his chin and he remembered what he was here for. Wrapping his fingers around the base of Sam's shaft, he pulled it into his mouth. Sam stopped his teasing and reciprocated. Between the taste of Sam on his tongue and the feel of Sam tasting him, Dean was pretty sure this was as good as life got.

Then Sam slid two fingers into his mouth alongside Dean's cock and, when they were slick, pushed them into Dean's ass. Which, ok, yeah. Life could get better.

One hand was busy jacking Sam's shaft while the attentions of Dean's mouth were focused on the head. That left his other hand free to explore. The explorations were a little more disjointed than he'd planed, but that, right there? That thing Sam was doing with his fingers, pressing and stroking and, holy fuck, that? Was really distracting. Left Dean working hard not to come, harder not to bite anything. Pulling off to catch his breath for a second, he said, 'Sam, fuck! That's—' and he was going to say not fair, but he felt Sam's lips slide down his cock, right to the base, felt his throat clutch, and that was it. He thrust into wet heat, fucked back onto the fingers driving him mad and shouted his brother's name.

Just like Sam had said. Bastard always did get his way.

While Dean was trying to catch his breath, Sam pushed him onto his back and pillowed his head on Dean's thigh. 'You taste like cherry pie,' he said, grinning up at Dean's I've just been fucked til I can't breathe face. 'Dunno why that should surprise me, but it does.'

Dean realized he still had Sammy's cock in what was probably by now something akin to a death grip and loosened his fingers.

'Mmmm, yeah.' Sam rocked his hips, shifting in Dean's grasp.

'Gimme a min—' Sam licked his balls. 'Sam? Really not helping, if you want me to finish this up any time tonight.'

'You think I can make you come again before you make me come?'

Dean could not believe what he was hearing. 'Are you fucking kidding me? I bet you can't even get me hard again before I make you come.'

'Challenge accepted.' Sam didn't waste any time getting busy. His head still resting on Dean's leg, he sucked as much of Dean's sac into his mouth as he could fit, and started jerking Dean's cock, slow and steady.

Fuck if he was getting away with that.

One of the lessons Dad taught them was to focus on the mission and not get distracted by things that… well, were trying to distract you. And maybe that wasn't exactly the wording, but Dean didn't really want to be thinking about Dad right now. He had a job to do. Sam was not the only Winchester with talented fingers. Spying the lube on the floor where it had dropped while they were fucking that morning, Dean said, 'Hold up. I'm moving and I don't want you biting my nuts off.'

Much to his amazement, Sam let him go.

By arching his back and straining his reach, Dean managed to snag the bottle. He kept it in his hand below the edge of the mattress.

'What was that?' Sam sounded suspicious.

'Nothing. As you were, soldier.' Dean settled back down, curled around Sam's torso, tucking his thigh back under his brother's shaggy head. Sam started kissing and doing his thing, but Dean ignored him and focused on Operation Sammy's Orgasm.

Having long ago mastered the one-handed bottle action, Dean slicked up his fingers. He tucked the bottle between the mattress and the box spring for easy access in case he needed it later. Dean pushed Sam's top leg up towards his chest til it was resting on Dean's ribs, Sam's heel pressing into his back.

'What..?' Sam asked, but Dean hushed him.

Light and slick, he stroked Sam's crack, relishing his shiver. 'You like that, Sammy?'

'Mmm,' was all the answer he got.

Again, light stroking, just teasing where the skin puckered. God, he loved to feel Sam twitching under his fingers. Now that he had Sam's attention, Dean got busy with his mouth again. As he sucked, he pressed past the ring of muscle trying to keep him from Sam's heat. The noise Sam made in his throat vibrated against Dean's thigh. Sam was tight around his finger. So tight Dean couldn't imagine how his cock ever fit, but then Sam relaxed, pushed back, and Dean could fit a second finger alongside the first.

Sam felt like liquid heat. So soft there was almost no texture at all. Until Dean pushed up, stroked, felt the softness give to firmness underneath, that hidden spot that made Sam jump. Dean twisted his fingers, felt muscle give, and pulled out so he could push back in with three fingers. Sam had almost given up trying to get Dean off, was just absently kissing his thigh and cupping Dean's balls.

Unlike some guys, who if you poked around too much got twitchy, Sam could take a lot of stimulation. Dean took full advantage. Alternating firm pressure and barely brushing, Dean circled the pads of his fingers over Sam's prostate. He just kept his mouth open over Sam's cock, Sam's bucking hips doing all the work. Moans turned to cries and then Sam was pushing at his hips, saying, 'Damnit, Dean, fuck me. Get your cock in my ass now. Fuck me!'

Somehow, Dean disentangled himself from Sam's legs and got behind him. He reached for the lube, but Sam obviously knew what he was after, because he said, 'I'm wet enough. Just do it.' So Dean satisfied himself with slicking the lube still on his fingers over his cock—Sam had won that round too, he had gotten Dean hard before he'd come—and shoved into Sam's upturned ass.

'Yes,' Sam said, craning his neck to look at Dean. 'Hard. Fuck me hard.'

Dean slammed into him, and again, while Sam ground his cock into the sheets. Knowing he couldn't keep up the rhythm at this angle, Dean grabbed Sam's hips and pulled, forcing him up onto his knees. It felt fucking amazing to be inside Sam like this, and Dean could feel another orgasm building in the small of his back. No way was he coming first though, so he stopped thinking about how hot Sam was, how hard and needy, how much he loved hearing Sam saying his name over and over like that. He started stroking Sam's cock, fast and desperate.

'Come for me, Sammy. You've been hard for me all night, and I want to see you come. My cock driving into your ass, my hand on you just right, come on. Do it.'

'You first.' Sam ground back, twisting his ass like a pole-dancer. 'Want to feel you come inside me.'

'I will. But you gotta come for me. I'll be right behind you, you know I will, but I want to feel it. Want to feel you coming while I ride you just like this.'

Thirty seconds, maybe a minute, of grunting, pounding, urgent thrusts, and Sam gave in, jerking forwards, wetting Dean's fingers, cursing Dean's name. Dean hardly noticed, lost in his own orgasm.

It was several minutes before Sam worked up the energy to protest Dean's weight. When they'd rolled apart, Sam turned to him and grinned. 'So,' he said. 'Shall we call it a tie?'