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It's that kind of a game

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The fourth time the waitress leans really low and stretches across the table as she refills Sam’s water glass, Dean can’t hold back the eyeroll. When she just stands there, holding the pitcher, he gives a little cough, looking pointedly at his empty glass when she gives him a blank stare. She blushes, darting quick looks at Sam as she fills Dean’s glass.

“Subtle,” Dean smirks as she leaves. “You should go for it, Sammy.”

“She’s like seventeen.” Sam sounds scandalized, as if he’s still surprised at what a perv Dean is after all these years.

Dean handwaves the objection away. “You only like, what, 23?”

“You wish,” Sam laughs. “I’m 26 and you know it.”

Dean holds up a hand in objection. “No you’re not. Because that would make me...” He trails off.

Sam is laughing silently now, all dimples and mouth hanging open. He looks like a happy puppy and Dean idly contemplate grabbing him by the shirt, hauling him across the table, and kissing that smirk off his face. Seems like a win-win for all involved. Bummer for Leah-their-waitress-for-tonight, though. Actually, Dean puts another tick in the win column for that.

Sam must be using his freaky mind powers because his smile has slipped into something less innocent, and there’s a look in his eye that always makes Dean have to slam him against the nearest wall.

Sam twists in his seat, arm hanging over the back of the booth. He catches Leah’s eye. He jerks his chin, and she practically runs over.

Sammy slinks into the corner of the booth, lets his legs slink open just a bit, and rubs the edge of the table with his thumb, before looking up at her with a smile.

Dean puts even money on her swallowing her tongue or dropping the water pitcher she’s got a white-knuckled grip on. But, really, Dean totally sympathizes with her. When Sam works the sex god angle, it’s almost impossible to resist.

And who would want to?

“Hey, Leah,” Sam’s saying, voice husky. “We’re thinking about some dessert. What do you have that me and my, um, brother might like?”

So that’s how Sam wants to play this tonight? Shock the locals. Make them wonder are they? Aren’t they? Dean can work with that. Dean loves that. He feels briefly sorry for Leah, then starts trying to remember if it was a one-person mens’ room or a multi-stall thing. Not that it matters. Either way, Sam’s getting fucked in it, and sooner rather than later. But first, the game.

Dean slinks down a little in the seat, lifts his booted foot up on Sam’s bench seat, right between his legs. “Yeah,” he says, eyes locked on Sam’s mouth. “We could use something sweet.”

She looks nervously from one to the other, “We uh, got pie and...” Her eyes follow Dean’s gaze to Sam’s mouth. Sam licks his lips and she forgets what she was going to say.

Under the guise of picking up his napkin (which he has conveniently thrown on the floor), Dean reaches under the table, hooks his hand behind Sam’s knee, and pulls him tight against his foot. Sam’s eyes flutter shut, and he grips the edge of the table.

His smile is a little tighter now. “Pie and...” he prompts, sliding his hand along the table towards the waitress.

Unconsciously, she moves a little closer to him, hand going to her neck to smooth her ponytail. “Ice cream. We’ve got a lot of flavors of ice cream.” She turns and point to a white board with several different flavors listed hanging over a freezer case.

Dean shakes his head, “I can’t quite see them from here. I’m gonna go look. You coming, Sammy?”

Sam smiles at Leah even as he answers. “Nah. I trust you. Pick something for me.”

Dean gives him a firm press of the foot in his crotch, just to see his nostril flair, then drags his foot slowly down. Sam twitches the slightest bit, eyes never leaving Leah.

Dean can hear Sam talking back and forth with their waitress as he contemplates the flavors. He briefly feels badly for Leah, but when he sees the guy behind the counter shooting daggers at Sam, he figures he can turn this into a win for everyone. “Hey, dude,” he calls.

The guy comes reluctantly. Dean orders a double scoop of chocolate chocolate chip for Sam and a soft serve vanilla cone for himself. When the guy leans over to hand them to Dean, Dean keeps him there for second. “Just so you know, nothing is gonna happen with my brother and your little girlfriend. He’s just winding her up because he’s a little bitch like that.”

The guys looks angry now and he moves as if he’s going to come out from behind the counter. Dean stops. “No. Let it happen. She’ll be so upset, and so fucking horny because, well...” He tilts his head in the direction of the table.

Sam’s laying it on so thick, they can smell the sexual tension from the counter. He’ smiling, running his hands through his hair. Everything but touching. Because Dean likes the game as much as anyone. But there are rules.

“So,” he continues, leaning into the guy’s space. “When she comes stomping back here are hurt, and embarrassed, you give her a hug and a shoulder to cry on, and you’re in like Flynn. Got it?” Dean licks around the edge of the cone where it’s starting to drip, twisting his wrist to get at the spillage. The guy’s eyes flick down to follow the motion of Dean’s tongue. Or not, Dean thinks. Maybe he and Leah will both need some alone time in their bunks tonight. He gives the guy a wink and licks a long, open-mouthed trail around the cone from top to bottom. The guys just blinks rapidly, mouth hanging open. Oh yeah, alone time for sure. Sorry, Leah.

When he gets back to the booth, Leah’s got one hand resting on top of Sam’s on the table. Dean stops behind her, where she can’t see. Sam looks up and Dean raises one eyebrow, looking at where their hands are touching.

Sam tries to look guilty, Dean will give him that, as he slowly pulls his hand out from underneath the girl’s.

Dean steps right into her personal space, crowding her away from Sam. He gives her a fake smile and slides into the booth next to Sam. “Got you your favorite,” he says, sliding the bowl across the top.

“Uh huh,” Sam answers, suddenly distracted as Dean repeats his long spiral lick up the side of the creamy white ice cream cone. Sam’s eyes lock on Dean’s mouth as it closes over the top of the cone. Dean can see his pupils dilating. He senses Leah flouncing away, but he doesn’t really care.

“Eat up, Sam.” He nudges the bowl towards Sam. Dean shifts in the booth, so his cone is in his left hand, back turned into the diner so he’s blocking the view of Sam from the side. The line of sight from the cash register is still clear, but the table hides his movements somewhat. Just enough so that anyone looking would be 95% sure something was going, but not really sure exactly what it was. And Leah and the counter boy are looking. Just like Dean wants. He wants their imagination to run wild. Want them to be imaging what they would do to Sam if he was all theirs while Dean show them just who Sam belongs to.

He drops his hand onto Sam’s thigh and squeezes. He loves the feel of Sam’s muscles under his hand. He drags his fingers up the seam of Sam’s jeans, and leans in close. “I think your girlfriend’s jealous,” he whispers. Sam glances across the diner briefly. Lean’s eyes meet his, the quickly drop. Dean can see the red crawling up her neck.

Sam scoops a large mouthful of ice cream up and licks it off the spoon slowly. He flips it over, ice cream side down in his mouth, and drags it across his tongue. Dean’s eyes narrow, and he slides his palm over the length of cock he can feel growing down Sam’s thigh. He holds it there, not moving, just a hot, heavy weight. Sam gets harder and longer, and Dean just keeps the pressure there.

He makes an over the top show of eating the cone. Licking and slurping, fitting the entire thing into his mouth and closing his lips over it as he slowly pulls it back out. He’s almost done and Sam’s barely touched his. Dean points at Sam’s bowl with what’s left of his cone. “Finish it. I want your mouth nice and cold around my dick in - “ he makes a show of looking at his watch. “Forty-five seconds.” Thirty for Sam to shovel in the ice cream, and fifteen to drag him off to the bathroom.

Sam tries to close his thighs around Dean’s hand, but Dean’s ready for him and pulls his hand away before Sam can grap him. Sam whines, his hips shifting on the bench. Dean finishes his cone in three efficient bites, looks at his watch and stands up. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Sam frantically eating ice cream as Dean walks over to the bathroom.

Dean pushes the door open. Good, one big room. Doesn’t even smell too bad. Ice cream guy must clean, too. He steps in just as Sam comes barging in the room, smacking the door against the wall. Dean laughs, pulling him out of the way. As the door closes, Dean shoves him back against it, reaching around him to turn the lock. “Following me into the bathroom?” Dean says coyly, leaning in to drag his tongue over the stubble on Sam’s neck. “Whatever will the neighbor’s think?”

Sam hooks one giant hand around Dean’s neck and pulls him tighter into his neck. “They’ll think we’re fucking.”

Dean bites down, sucking and nipping at the sensitive flesh until Sam is panting and writhing against the door, and Dean is sure the bruise will be big enough and visible enough that Leah can’t miss it. Sam’s still got one hand on the back of Dean’s head, and he’s reaching for Dean’s hip with the other, trying to pull his brother tight against him. Dean grabs his flailing hand and shoves it back against the door. He pulls off Sam’s neck with a pop.

“No touching,” he says, eyes dark. “You know the rules. No touching the marks. You touch them, you don’t touch me.” Dean pushes on Sam’s shoulders. The way Sam folds down to his knees makes Dean’s cock throb and thanks the spirits for such a slutty little brother.

Dean whips off his belt and undoes his button with one hand, the other is already tangled in Sam’s hair, dragging his mouth towards Dean’s dick. Dean looks down and sees Sam waiting, mouth open, tongue flicking out to lick his lips. “Fuck, Sam,” he moans, pulling his already aching cock out. Sam is such a fucking tease.

He grabs himself and hold his cock out to Sam. Sam strains against Dean’s hold in his hair. “Such a slut,” Dean growls. “Can’t wait for it, can you?”

Sam shakes his head, as much to feel the pull of Dean’s fingers as to answer the question. Sam’s hands are clenched into fist, resting on his thighs. He won’t touch, Dean knows. When Sam touches him after Dean’s told him not to, there’s only thing he wants. And that’s not happening in this cramped diner bathroom. Dean spares a minute imagine the sound of flesh on flesh and Sam’s loud cries echoing off the tiled walls. Fucking hot, but, again, not happening.

“Dean,” Sam whines, bringing Dean back to the here and now and the pressing business at hand.

“Yeah, I know what you want,” Dean says, pushing Sam further down onto his heels. Dean rests a hand against the door and slide his cock between Sam’s lips. He can’t hold back a moan and the hot, wet suction around him. He’d complain about it not being cold, but since it’s kind of his fault, he doesn’t.

Sam’s head thuds against the door as Dean fucks into his mouth. He guides Sam with a hand on his chin, pulling him open wider and shoving deep inside until he can feel Sam choking around him. “Fuck yeah,” he groans, pulling out and doing it again. Sam’s moaning around his dick, practically shaking, and Dean knows his own cock must be hurting trapped in those jeans. He shoves forward deeper, down Sam’s throat. He can hear air whistling through Sam’s nose as he struggles to breathe. There’s no tap at Dean’s knee, so he knows Sam’s still okay with it.

“I should just come down your throat and leave you hanging.” He pulls out and Sam takes a gulp of air. Dean yanks his head up. “You led that poor girl one and gave her nothing. Why should you get to come?” He doesn’t wait for answer before shoving back in. “God, she’s probably out their, hand up under her skirt already.” Dean’s thrusting in and out shallowly now. Sam’s just got his mouth open, tongue out, as Dean rides back and forth over it. “Probably imagining your mouth on her.” He knows how Sam looks buried between a woman’s thighs. It’s a sight to see, and judging from the way the girls scream, it feels even better.

Dean feels his cock pulsing as he gets closer, and he pulls out, cock just resting on Sam’s tongue as he leans his head against the door and pulls himself back from the edge of orgasm. He fumbles at Sam’s shoulder. “Up,” he pants. “Up, up. Stand up.”

Sam pushes himself to his feet in a move that makes Dean’s knees twinge in sympathy. He slides up between Dean and the door. His mouth is red and wet, shiny with spit and come. He rubs against Dean’s body as he stands, but that’s Dean’s fault, so he doesn’t say anything. Just steps back a bit as he licks the taste of himself off Sam’s lips.

When he reaches a hand down, Sam is hard as a rock. His cock is still trapped down the leg of his jeans. Dean traces the length of it lightly with his fingertips. Sam tenses, teeth clenched. “Fuck,” he whispers, head turned away from Dean against the door. Dean leans it, bites over the purpling bruise, making Sam hiss and shudder.

“I should make you come in your pants, Sammy. Let her really see what a slut you are for your brother.’ He squeezes around Sam’s cock and Sam moans, thrusting against Dean. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Sam blushes, turns his head away. Well, isn’t that interesting? “Sammy,” Dean sings-songs, leaning in and pressing harder against Sam. “Answer me. I asked if you’d like ii if I got you off like this, make you come wet and messy in your jeans. You wouldn’t be able to hide it, not dripping down your thigh like that.”

Sam’s eyes are wide and he’s panting. “Dean, you wouldn’t...” he cuts off with a groan as Dean runs his fingers over the spreading wet spot over the head of Sam’s leaking cock.

“No?” Dean asks innocently. With a wicked glance up from under his lashes, it’s his turn to drop to his knees.

“Dean,” Sam yells as he realizes what Dean’s going to do. Dean is positive that carried into the diner.

He opens his mouth over the head of Sam’s cock, tasting him. He love the taste of Sammy even through the dry cotton of the denim. He licks up and down like he had with the cone, his finger digging into Sam’s hips.

“Fuck, Dean. Fuck. God, Fuck.” Sam is at the point where those are the only words he can say. His fingernails scrabble against the door as he grabs for something, anything, to hold onto.

Dean pulls off to look at him. Sam’s lost, eyes closed, chest heaving as the pleasure flooding through his body sweeps all rational thought away. God, he’s beautiful when he’s like that. Dean’s dying to tease him more, to keep him on that edge until he’s begging and limp, compliant under Dean’s hands. But they don’t have that kind of time. Truthfully, he’s kind of surprised no one’s pounding on the door already.

“Sam,” he says. “Sam,” he repeats louder when Sam doesn’t open his eyes. “Look at me.” Sam does, looking like it physically pains him. “Hold on,” Dean says.

“Oh fuck,” Sam exhales, hand flying onto Dean’s shoulder. He clenched so tight, Dean knows they’ll be bruises. Awesome. He looks up at Sammy and smile. “Gonna come in your jeans, Sammy. All over. And then I’m going to tear ‘em off you and fuck you over that sink.”

Sam’s whining in the back of his throat, hips thrusting into the air, and Dean knows he’s fighting off an orgasm. It wouldn’t be the first time Dean’s talked him off. Sam’s so fucking easy. He leans in, dragging the flat of his tongue over the long line of Sam’s cock. Sam shudders and the dark patch spreads as him pumps precome out into the fabric.

“Taste so fucking good, Sam. Gonna look so good with it dripping down your leg. Pretty Leah’s going to see. And her pimply-faced boyfriend. And you’ll feel it, feel me dripping out your ass after I fuck you, too. God, you’re going to be fucking covered in come.”

And that’s all it takes for Sam. He’s done.

Sam’s hands clench convulsively on Dean’s shoulders and his head slams back into door, mouth open on a silent scream as he shudders out a massive orgasm. Dean presses into his cock, milking every drop out and spreading it around as much as he can.He’s got one hand around his own dick, trying to hold back his own orgasm. He can’t resist darting in for a taste, sucking and licking at the stain, making it even bigger and more visible. Sam’s panting and trembling, Dean’s hands on his hips the only thing keeping him upright.

Dean pushes himself up and yanks Sam off the wall. He shoves him towards the sink and pushes him down with a hand between his shoulder blades. “Down,” he says. Sam braces his hands on the thin edge of the porcelain sink, head hanging down, sides heaving like a racehorse.

Dean reaches around and unbuttons Sam’s jeans. He pulls them down slowly, smiling at the sticky sounds they make as they peel away from Sam’s skin. He reaches in, gather all the come he can from Sam’s leg. It’s not the best lube they’ve ever used, but it won’t be the first time.

He groans as he spreads it around his cock. He reaches his hand around to Sam’s mouth, pushes two fingers in. Sam’s locks his lips around them, sucking and running his tongue around them for all he’s worth. And he’s worth a lot. He’s worth everything in this fucking world.

Dean’s rubbing his dick up and down against Sam’s ass. “Can’t wait, Sammy. Can you take it? Are you ready?” He pulls his fingers out of Sam’s mouth.

“Yeah, Dean. Shit. Just do it. Come on. Fuck me.”

“Pushy,” Dean says, sliding one finger deep into Sam with no warning. Sam groans and rolls his hips against Dean’s hand.

“Fuck, Sam. You’re so hot.” And he is, hot and smooth against Dean’s finger. He adds the second finger, flinching a little at the dry catch of skin on skin. Sam’s breath hitches, and not in a good way, and Dean stops. He pulls out of Sam’s body.

“Dean,” Sam says. “It’s okay.”

Dean rubs his back as his other hand slaps at the pockets in his jeans and his coat. “It’s okay, I think...” He pauses, digging deep into an interior pocket. “Aha!” he crows, producing a half-squished tube of lube. “I just remembered. Last time I wore this coat, I fucked you against the Impala in that field, remember?” He squeezes out a generous amount onto his fingers.

Sam breaths out a laugh that slides into a moan as Dean’s fingers glide into him with no resistance. “Fuck. Fuck yeah, I remember.”

Dean pumps his fingers in and out, reveling in the feel of Sam hot and silky and tight around him. He crocks his fingers and drags them over that place Sam just loves and Sam moans. “Stop teasing. Jesus Christ fuck me already before they start trying to bash the door down.”

“Good point,” Dean concedes, pulling his fingers out and slicking up his cock. “But later, I’m going to make you wait for hours,” he whispers as he slides into his brother.

It feels like heaven, like always. And Dean can’t hold back. He gives Sam the barest time to get used to the feel of Dean’s thick cock in him before he’s holding Sam by the hips and slamming into him.

“Jesus, fuck,” Dean pants. He reaches up hand up to Sam’s shoulder for leverage, yanking Sam back against him. He can see them in the mirror, Sam’s face caught between pain and ecstasy as he builds towards a second orgasm before he’s quite ready for it. There’s two points of color high on his cheeks, and Dean’s teethmarks are visible on his neck for the whole world to see.

He’s the most beautiful and the fucking hottest thing Dean’s ever seen.

“Sammy,” he gasps, bending his knees to thrust deeper and deeper. “Can’t stop. Touch yourself. Come one. Touch yourself, come again for me.”

Sam pulls one hand off the sink with a groan, and grabs his cock, thrusting into his fist as Dean fucks him from behind.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chants, head coming down to rest on his arm on the edge of the sink. He pushes back against Dean, clenches his ass around him, and Dean comes with a shout.

It feels like it’s punched out of him as he comes hand and long, filling Sam up.

Sam’s still fucking his fist as Dean collapses against him. Dean trails his fingers down Sam’s ass, feeling it slippery with come and lube. He slips his finger in, feeling come squeeze out around it. “Fuck. Sam. You’ve got come everywhere. Such a slut.” He pushed deeper and Sam comes again, shooting over his fist, into the sink, and up his shirt.

The pounding starts as Dean is washing his hands and laughing at the face Sam is making as he pulls his cold, sticky jeans up.

“Hey...uh...Hey,” a voice calls from the other side of the door. Sounds like the ice cream kid. “You gotta, you gotta come out. Okay?”

“Right now?” Dean calls back. Sam laughs. Dean reaches and unlocks the door. He hears the kid scramble away.

Sam keeps his head down as they walk quickly through the diner, Dean’s hand possessively on the back of his neck. They stop at the cashier and hand her way too much money for the bill. Her eyes are saucers as she takes in Sam’s state. Dean can see the red flushing on the tops of Sam’s ears and the back of his neck. But he can tell by the way Sam’s squirming that he loves it. Love people knowing he just got the living daylights fucked out of him by his brother. Sammy looks all innocent, but he’s a kinky little fuck. Just the way Dean loves him.

Dean turns and blows a kiss at the ice cream guy as they leave. He hears the clatter of a dropped water pitcher behind him as the door swings closed.