rivers_bend

Title: 9/10ths of the law
Authors: rivers_bend and lima_sierra
Words: ~2800
Genre: slash, wincest, kink seriously, folks.
Characters: Sam/Dean
Rating: Adult only
Spoilers: 3:06
Disclaimer: sex sells. Ask anyone. But we're not the ones getting paid.
A/N: A direct sequel to Pretend you've lived this life before. If you just can't read het, read the summary below. You'll get the idea.
Summary: Dean fucked Bela without permission. Sam needs to do something about that.


Part Two
The ballroom is too hot and too crowded. Bela and Dean have been gone for hours, or at least it feels that way. The bowtie feels like it's strangling him, the music is making him crazy, and he doesn't even want to get started on the crazy old woman attached to his chest like a limpet.

Just when Sam thinks he will never get the smell of her perfume out of his nose and the feel of her claws off his shoulders, Gert announces she has to powder her nose. The passing waiter hardly knows what hits him as Sam grabs two glasses of champagne and drinks them down without pausing. "Fresh air?" Sam asks, and the waiter points towards a door at the other end of the room.

The door opens onto a narrow deck that seems to lead out towards the dock. Screw Dean, and Bela, and the hand of glory. If they don't have it by now, they're not gonna get it, and he's had just about as much cougar as he can take. Not that Sam's opposed to older women in theory. Ellen, for instance. If she ever got it into her head to— Sam turns the corner and all thoughts of MILF flee.

For an instant, the thought that Bela must be a succubus enters his head, but then he thinks, of course Dean wants to fuck her. He was only threatening to kill her a few hours ago. Probably his idea of foreplay.

Only their deal is that Dean can fuck whoever he wants as long as he tells Sam first. Sam thinks he might have remembered a conversation that started, So, I'm gonna fuck that back-stabbing bitch of a con-artist who shot you, had my baby towed, and stuck you with the grabbiest woman on the Eastern Seaboard.

Dean looks up and sees Sam watching him. His rhythm falters for a minute and Sam knows that Dean can read the impending consequences on Sam's face. Good. Sam doesn't stay long enough to see if the thought of what Sam's gonna do to him makes Dean come, but the sounds Bela makes as Sam turns his back pretty much confirm his suspicion that it will.

Gert's waiting inside the door and the sight of her puts Sam off thinking about what he's going to do with Dean when they get back. Which is a shame, because Sam would like the distraction. When Bela and his slut of a brother return, Dean has the gall to look pleased with himself. Sam's sure that shouldn't make him want to hold Dean down and fuck him til he can't breathe, but he's not gonna dwell. That's their other deal. No over-thinking the whole incest thing in the time Dean has left. Of course, that's the thin end of the wedge of the things Dean insists Sam's not supposed to think or talk about. Which is, frankly, starting to grate.

"You stink like sex," Dean says, meaning I stink like sex. I'm sorry. I'm yours to do with as you wish. Or that better be what he means. Sam's fingers flex as he resists wrapping them around Dean's neck, sucking bruises into the space between his thumbs. He ignores the fact that he'd like to behead Bela like a vampire. It's not so much that he's jealous. But she shot him. And left him with Gert all night. Sam's seriously having trouble deciding which is worse. At least he got some information from the old lady. Getting shot only gave Dean another excuse not to let him drive.

It's not until Sam's tugging off his tie that he realizes his plans for Dean are going to have to wait until they've dealt with the hand. Which is good. Not the waiting, of course, but knowing that this thing with Dean hasn't completely taken over his hunting instincts. Which doesn't stop the image of fucking Dean over a gravestone, with Bela watching, from filling his mind as Dean unwraps the hand. Or not. Now Dean's back to wanting to kill her. And Sam has twice as much to punish him for. Fucking Bela stupid is one thing. Fucking himself stupid?

Sam gets an idea.

There was a party back at Stanford. Jose and Jimmy Beam, some girls from Sam's philosophy class and a couple of med students, one of whom was either dating one of the girls or was her brother. Sam couldn't tell, which had made him think of Dean and that made him drink four shots before they'd even started on 'I Never.'

After the typical starting rounds of "I never ran a red light," and "I never had sex in my parent's bed," one of the medics poked his friend and said, "I never stuck a steel rod up my dick," nearly falling off his chair laughing when his friend had to drink. Sam was a little horrified, a lot curious and completely ignoring his dick which was demanding more information. Floor show preferable.

Fortunately, one of the girls had squealed, "Tell us everything!" All Sam had to do was sit back and listen.

After a brief and embarrassed internet investigation, Sam'd almost forgotten about it until he and Dean were dealing with a hospital haunting. He'd been hunting through the office of one of the doctors who'd been killed, looking for clues. When he unzipped the leather case and saw the what were they called again? sounds, he tucked them in his pocket before he could think about it. They'd migrated from there to the bottom of his duffle. So far, he hasn't used them. Well, not on Dean.

When they get back to the squat, Dean is still boiling over with anger at Bela. Sam pins him to the wall by his wrists and kisses him until he goes pliant under Sam's weight. Looking him in the eye, Sam says, "If you don't shut up about that bitch right now, I'm never going to untie you. Understand?"

The wide eyes, whimper and hip thrust Sam gets in response makes him re-think eternal bondage as a threat.

Just for that, Dean doesn't get a shower. Sam strips off Dean's clothes and ties him to the broken but still functional bed frame. Using the heel of his palm, Sam rubs Dean the rest of the way to hard, pressing Dean's cock against his stomach. "Think happy thoughts," he says. "I want you just this hard when I come back." Sam plans a nice long shower to wash off the cloying scent of Poison.

When he remembers Bela paid the deposit on the tux rental, Sam throws it in the dustiest corner of the room on his way out. "Hey," Dean protests. "I looked hot in that."

"You look hotter out of it," Sam says, wanting to kick himself for playing up to Dean's ego. "Now shut up, or I'm gagging you too."

"Hey, where're you going?" Dean sounds panicked when Sam starts to walk out of the room.

"I'll be back," Sam says. "Don't think this is all I have planned for you."

When he's done with his shower, Sam cleans the smallest sound with alcohol. He's played with them enough that he knows what he's doing, but he's still nervous about using them with Dean. The idea of watching the piece of steel sliding into his brother's cock though, touching him somewhere no one else ever has, makes Sam so hard he's finding breathing difficult. He can hear Dean testing his bonds in the other room. Washing his hands again calms Sam down enough so he can wrap the sound in a clean washcloth without his hands shaking. Good thing he stopped yesterday and bought more lube.

When Dean sees him he rattles the handcuffs again and says, "About time."

"Dean, do you honestly think you're in a position to complain here?" Sam can't believe Dean seems to have forgotten already that he not only fucked Bela without permission but he let her take the hand.

"I just. Come on, man. Help a guy out here." Dean's done as Sam asked and is still hard. Sam can't tear his eyes away from the slick patch of skin under Dean's cockhead.

"What were you thinking about? Bela? Those whimpering sounds she made as you banged her up against that wall?"

"No. Fuck no." At least Dean's stopped being stupid. "I could hear you in the shower."

Sam is standing naked next to the bed, enjoying watching Dean's eyes flicking from his face to his cock. "So you were thinking about me in the shower?"

"I was thinking about being in there with you. Getting down on my knees and licking water off your ass. Holding you open, licking into your crack. Waiting until you told me to do it, begged me, and then fucking you with my tongue." Dean twitches his hips, making his dick slide towards Sam. The sight of the slit at the tip makes him moan and clutch at the washcloth still in his fist.

Part of Sam wants to untie Dean and spread out beneath him. Let him act out his fantasy. But, "Ass-kissing isn't going to change what you did," he says. "Have I ever said no when you wanted to fuck some woman?"

"No," Dean admits. Sam can see him wanting to go on. Make some excuse.

"Do you want out of this? Just go back to how it was before?"

"What? Sammy, no. How could you even say that?" Dean's starting to go soft, genuinely fight his bonds, trying to get to Sam.

"Good," Sam says. He moves closer to the bed and sets the washcloth and lube to the side. "Then open up. I'm gonna fuck you."

Dean spreads his legs, but that's not what Sam had in mind. Dean's hands are cuffed above him, his head on a pillow between his arms. Sam leans down and lifts Dean's head off the pillow with one hand. "Open your mouth."

The bed creaks as Sam straddles Dean's chest, but doesn't give. He doesn't bother teasing his cock over Dean's lips, just leans an arm against the wall to take some of his weight, lifts Dean's head further, and shoves.

Dean can suck cock like a pro, and when he's on his knees he takes Sam right into his throat. But from this angle it's all short shallow thrusts and Dean struggling to breathe, his lips stretched tight over Sam's dick. Sam can feel the strain in Dean's neck under his fingers, and that turns him on almost as much as the sight of that sinful mouth going red with the friction. "That's it," Sam says, and pushes a little deeper until Dean can't breathe at all, before pulling out completely and dropping Dean's head to the pillow. "Now spread your legs."

Every thrust is measured, controlled. A fraction of an inch at a time, he slides forward, pulling out, going a little deeper the next time, but pulling back further to make up for it. Sam can tell Dean’s trying hard not to buck up onto his cock, his hips and thighs twitching with the tension.

Sam smiles.

Dean's panting, fingers white knuckled around the slats of the headboard. His eyes are wide and staring, but he doesn't beg. Sam pulls out until just the head of his cock is splitting Dean wide and wraps his hands around his brother's hips. Lifting Dean’s pelvis, he angles up and Dean fucking whimpers under him as he lets his hips roll slowly forwards until his balls are tight against Dean’s ass. He holds Dean hard against him and doesn't move.

"God Sammy, will you just fuck me properly," Dean snarls through gritted teeth.

Sam just laughs, which makes Dean clench around his cock.

"What the … holy fuck … what the hell are you laughing at?" Dean says.

"I've barely gotten started." Dean feels too good for Sam to resist moving any longer, and Sam fucks into him until Dean's grunting with every thrust. It takes everything in him to stop, but he does. "Legs 'round my waist," he says.

"Fuck. You fucking bastard." Dean's flushed red, glaring, but he does as he's told.

Sam moves until he's kneeling, Dean's hips resting on his thighs, ass plugged with Sam's cock. Sam reaches for the washcloth and lube, smiling as Dean watches him, confused.

"Sam?" There's an undercurrent of real worry in Dean's tone. Dean has this thing where he doesn't want to corrupt his innocent little brother, and handcuffs and incest are about as kinky as they've gotten.

"Shhh, shhh." Sam strokes Dean's face, fingers lingering on his plush lips. "Just wait." Sam takes Dean's cock in his left hand, stroking it a few times and then rubbing his thumb over the slit. "Did it turn you on, knowing I was watching you with her?" Every muscle in Dean's body is tensed. "Dean?"

"Yes." Dean's eyes are on Sam's hands as Sam opens the lube and squeezes some onto the tip of Dean's cock.

"I thought so." Using his thumb, Sam pushes the lube into Dean's hole. He repeats the procedure, milking the lube downwards with his fist. Does it again.

"Sam? What the—"

"Do you trust me?" Sam tries to sound toppy, but suddenly he's not actually sure he knows the answer.

Dean doesn't even hesitate, however. "Of course. But what—"

"I'm gonna fuck you, Dean. Every part of you."

Dean whimpers again and Sam feels his brother's dick jump in his hand. He unwraps the sound and picks it up by the handle, careful not to touch the clean straight end. He shows it to Dean who swallows hard and shuts his eyes.

"Nope," Sam says. "Eyes open. You're gonna watch me do this. Watch me fuck your dick while I'm filling your ass, the taste of me still on your tongue."

Dean opens his eyes, licks his lips, tries to nod. "Sammy," he says, his voice broken.

"If it hurts, tell me and I’ll stop, okay?" He receives a terse nod in return, uncertainty radiating off Dean in waves. It’s further than Sam has ever pushed, but he wants the message to be clear. You belong to me.

While Dean watches, Sam covers the rod in more lube, letting the excess drip down Dean's cock. He has no intention of hurting Dean. As he circles the smooth tip of the rod around Dean’s slit, he feels every part of Dean shudder. When he lets it slip in further Dean clenches so hard around him he almost comes right then.

"What does it feel like?" he asks. Sam wants this to last and needs the distraction of conversation. About an inch of steel is inside his brother's cock. Sam holds it there, preventing gravity from doing the work to take it further until Dean answers him.

"It's like... good. Please. Don't... Don't make me talk. Just. More, Sam."

Sam gives him more, the steel slipping in and out, dipping deeper every time until Sam can feel it right down the length of Dean’s shaft beneath the swollen flesh. It’s better than he ever imagined, having Dean like this, stunned and submissive, on the edge of ecstasy. It’s beyond perfect.

The broken sounds coming from Dean’s throat are filling his head until he feels like he’s going to explode. There’s lube on his fingers, sensations colliding as they slither over cold metal and hothot skin. Dean is tighter than he ever has been around him. So many sensations. So much of his brother given to him. So much. Loves him so much.

Dean’s edging on insanity as he pleads, ‘Sammy …’

That’s all it takes. He slides the sound out, needing to fuck Dean, bend him in half, pound into him. They're sweating, grunting, squeezing, biting, out of control, and when Sam comes, he can't stop the words that flood out of him.

Maybe he says Dean, maybe I love you, maybe it’s nothing but euphoric incoherence as he wraps himself around his brother in a tangle of rushing blood and sweat and sex.

Sam misses the feel of Dean's arms around him and remembers the handcuffs. As soon as he can feel his fingers, Sam unhooks the key from the bed knob and unlocks him, collapsing back onto Dean's chest when he's done. Dean's arms come down where they belong.

‘Sammy.’ It’s barely a noise at all, more lips on skin, but Sam knows what it means, hears the depth of the word. Because he knows his brother. Better than anyone else.

He presses a kiss to the arch of Dean's collar bone and draws him in tight.