The heat in the narrow corridor was becoming intolerable the further Sam and Dean pushed into the basement of the abandoned building. Dean had been dripping sweat and cursing under his breath for at least five minutes when Sam suddenly came up short and Dean walked into his broad back.
"What the hell, Sammy?" Dean complained, finding his footing again and rubbing his sore nose.
Ignoring his brother's scolding, Sam started stripping off his outer layers and discarded his coat and flannel shirt on the ground. "This is ridiculous," Sam stated, looking down at the sweat stains bleeding through his grey t-shirt. "I'm soaked through. I'll pick those up after we gank this bastard, but there's no way I'm fighting a murderous poltergeist and heatstroke."
Still gingerly cupping his bruised nose, Dean made a disparaging comment about Sam's manhood but only made it another 100 feet before he too was removing layers to be retrieved on the flip side. When Sam smirked, Dean glowered and shoved past his younger brother to take the point position.
The walls of the passageway continued to narrow toward the boiler room that was their objective. Dean had to turn sideways as his shoulders began brushing the walls on either side of him. He felt something scurry over his feet and he jumped then shuddered in revulsion. "Fuck! I hate rats!" he muttered. He heard the snicker behind him. "And you can just shut your cake hole, Sammy."
"Maybe I should take the lead, Dean," Sam replied condescendingly, starting to push past his older sibling. "I'll protect you in case Mickey and Minnie have friends."
"There's not enough..." Dean started to say but Sam continued to force his way past, facing one wall while pressing Dean's back firmly against the opposite. Then Sam wasn't moving anymore. "...room," Dean finished lamely, his breath forced out of his chest by his massive baby brother's form.
"Sammy," Dean croaked. "You're crushing me. Get back!"
Sam tried to maneuver himself forward, crushing Dean even harder against the wall as he wedged into the space. "Suck it in, old man. That burger-and-fries diet isn't doing you any favours."
"Back, you asshole. Move back!" Dean admonished, refusing to rise to Sam's bait. He pounded on Sam's shoulders. "And it's your giant sasquatch body that's causing the problem. I was doing just fine. Get back!" he attempted to yell, but didn't have enough air in his lungs.
Sam shifted his weight back in the direction they'd come without success. He then tried forward again a few times. "Uh, Dean-" he began.
"Don't say it, Sammy. Don't you fucking say it," Dean warned.
The corridor went silent except for the sound of angry, shallow breathing. "I seem to be stuck," Sam finished after about a minute.
Dean slammed his forehead several times into the flat space between Sam's shoulder blades. "This isn't happening. This isn't happening," he chanted.
Dean's tone had Sam worried about his life expectancy so he began wiggling and squirming more intensely, hoping to find some way to pop himself out of the ridiculously tight wedge. Sweat dripped down Sam's face from the heat of the confined space combined with the heat of their bodies in such close proximity. After several minutes Dean asked Sam to stop, but Sam knew that Dean was going to get more and more furious the longer this went on, so he redoubled his efforts to get free until Dean yelled hoarsely in his ear.
"Just fucking stop!"
The panic in Dean's tone shocked the younger Winchester into stillness … which was when he felt it. There was something decisively hard pressed up against his ass.
"Jesus, Dean," Sam breathed. "Really?"
“You’re the one grinding away on me like I paid you for a lap dance,” Dean said through clenched teeth, bravado blasting forth to cover his obvious discomfort. “We've been really busy and I haven’t had the chance to clean the pipes for a few days.”
Sam started squirming again, harder than ever, in an attempt to dislodge them.
“For the love of anything holy you still believe in, you’ve got to stop that Sam,” Dean moaned, his voice tight.
“I’m just trying to get us out of here," Sam explained with another twist of his hips that had Dean gasping. "I’m kinda freaking out that my ass gave my brother wood.”
“It’s nothing to do with your ass, pal. It’s a matter of physiology," Dean choked out. "Anyone riding my crotch like a professional is gonna get the same response.”
Sam squirmed again alternating between up and down and side to side until a low growl from Dean stilled his movements.
"Cas!" Dean tilted his head up as he made a desperate call to the angel. "Cas, if you can hear me, I really need your help. Now. Please!"
The brothers waited in tense silence for a few minutes. Each breath echoing loudly against the narrow walls. Their guardian angel had apparently taken the night off.
"Fuck my life," Dean breathed, closing his eyes and resting his head against the wall behind him. He was startled when Sam's ass pressed even harder against his crotch. "What the...Sammy?" Dean exclaimed as his little brother wrangled his jeans down leaving even less fabric between his ass and Dean's raging hard-on.
Sam tried to wriggle free from their tight confines again. "I thought maybe the jeans were getting in the way and this might help."
"It's not helping," Dean nearly squeaked, completely alarmed by the disturbingly pleasant pressure of Sam's movements against his crotch.
"Plus," Sam continued, as if Dean hadn't spoken, "it's really hot in here and that feels a lot better. You should try it." He proceeded to take off his shirt as well and sighed in relief.
"I'm not taking my pants off, Sam. Do you not realize how insane this already is? Less clothing is not the answer. Hang on. Are those my underwear?" he asked accusingly.
"Uh, yeah. I ran out," Sam answered sheepishly. "We need to do some laundry."
"Asshole! Make it up to me and hand me your phone. Maybe Cas will answer if I call him."
"Uh, it's in my coat. Why don't you use yours?"
"Because it is in my coat. Motherfucking balls, Sam." Dean tilted his chin up, took as big a breath as he could, and yelled out again for the angel, "Cas!"
"Dean, I know you don't want to hear this, but we really might be more likely to get out of here if you take your pants off. That tiny bit of fabric could make a difference. It's worth a try." At Dean's lack of response Sam tried a different tactic. "Do you really want your pride to be the reason they find our corpses in this position? It doesn't look good regardless of whether or not you're wearing pants."
"I can't," Dean replied.
"Come on, Dean," Sam goaded.
"I can't," Dean repeated through gritted teeth. "I went commando today because I Ran. Out. Of. Underwear."
"Oh. Fuck. Um, sorry?"
There was another few minutes of awkward silence between the brothers until Sam took a shaky breath. "I think you should take them off anyway. No underwear means even less fabric and increases our chances of getting out of here even more." There was no response from his brother. "Dean?" Sam turned his head awkwardly to look over his shoulder.
Dean was lightly and methodically banging the back of his head into the wall behind him and muttering, "Fuck fuckity fuck." His green eyes flew open and Sam saw the resignation flare across his chiseled features. "Fine," Dean stated and wedged his hand between them to awkwardly unzip his jeans. He could feel Sam wince as the metal teeth bit through the thin boxer material that was soon the only barrier between Dean’s crotch and his ass. As Dean maneuvered his pants down over his hips in their limited space, he was hyper-conscious of every movement that jarred his aching prick against Sam's curved backside.
Once Dean's jeans were out of the way, Sam tried to struggle free again, writhing from side to side, and when that didn't work, up and down. Seeing the rosy tip of his cock peeking out from between Sam's cheeks did nothing to dampen his raging hardness; Dean bit his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood and looked away.
Sam's movements made Dean moan, low and harsh. Dean could feel the damp spot forming on the ass of Sam's - well, his - shorts where he was beginning to leak pre-come. He shouldn't be feeling this while pressed up against his brother, and he didn't mean to do it, he really didn't, but the next time Sam moved, Dean ground his cock into the movement.
Sam gasped as he felt Dean's deliberate press against his ass and was distressed to notice that his own dick was starting to respond to their situation. Fuck. He had to make sure Dean never found out; even more importantly, he had to get them out of there. It was time for a desperate measure.
"Do you remember that stripper back in Cheyenne? What was her name, Traci? Trina?"
"Trinity," Dean murmured. He could hear the slight smile in his brother's voice and Sam angled his hips just the slightest bit to increase the pressure against Dean's dick.
"Trinity, right. Dude, she gave you the lap dance of a lifetime. I have never seen a chick ride someone's lap from so many different angles." He did a slow grind back against Dean, then a slightly quicker figure eight up and down until he heard Dean's sharp intake of breath. "And that fucking lollipop? God, I could have spent the rest of my life watching her work her pink lips around that sucker."
"Sammy," Dean pleaded, "What are you doing? Please stop." Sam rolled his hips again. "Nngh!"
"It's pretty weird that she insisted I stay in the booth too, doncha think?" Sam was starting to learn which of his movements got the best friction for Dean based on his moans and gasps. "The way she stared at me, her mouth open and so red from that lollipop while she ground into your lap … I think she was hoping to take both of us home before the bouncer broke it up." He bucked his hips back as much as he could in the cramped space and felt Dean's erection sliding between the globes of his ass. It shouldn't feel as good as it did, but talking about Trinity was pushing Sam toward the edge.
"Fuuuck," Dean groaned.
"I saw you with her - after," Sam continued, his voice husky with arousal, so glad that Dean couldn't see his face right now. "You snuck out of the motel once you thought I was asleep, but I followed you. I saw the two of you in the alley behind the bar. I watched you drop to your knees and go down on her, face buried under her short skirt. Then I watched you pick her up so effortlessly and fuck her up against the wall while she licked her juices from your face."
"Jesus fuck, Sammy." Dean grabbed Sam to try to wrestle him into stillness but he couldn't do anything to stop Sam's hips from moving. Belatedly, Dean realized that he was unconsciously fucking against his brother with his arms wrapped across Sam’s broad, naked chest. He rested his forehead against Sam's muscular back which gave him a very clear view of his cock pumping into his brother's cleft. He wanted to look away but he was mesmerized by the sight. He moaned again at a particularly delicious bump of Sam's ass. "Why are you doing this to me?"
"My new plan of escape is that we get sweaty enough to slide apart." Sam's breathing was getting laboured as the memories of that night coupled with his current sweaty, grindy predicament surged all his blood to his crotch. He'd started the sexy talk to get Dean over the edge, never imagining it would affect him the same way, but he'd come too far to stop now. He wasn't sure he'd want to stop now even if he could. "Your shirt is in the way, though. You should take that off."
"Not gonna happen, Sammy," Dean muttered, barely able to form words as he continued watching his prick sliding in and out of Sam's crease. "Next plan."
"Okay, then. The next option is that I keep grinding until you come all over my ass. Then you smear that around between us and we'll slide apart lickety split. Oww!"
Sam felt Dean's hips shuddering against him and a low, hoarse cry just before Dean's teeth sank into his shoulder. The sharp pain and the knowledge that his older brother had in fact just come all over his ass sent Sam surging over the edge. He gripped the wall in front of him as his orgasm tore through him, biting his cheek to avoid making a sound louder than a small cry.
When Sam's vision cleared again, he licked his lips and hoped he could form words without giving himself away. He was just about to suggest step two of his cunning plan - rubbing Dean's come all over his ass as a lubricant to unstick them - when Dean's weight was suddenly no longer pressed up against him.
The older Winchester was standing a few feet away in the corridor glaring at Castiel.
“What took you so long?” Dean demanded indignantly, awkwardly pulling up his jeans and tucking himself inside. He started marching back up the passageway toward the exit, followed by the angel while Sam got dressed. “We’re done here," he announced. "I’ll come back tomorrow with a sledgehammer and gank this bastard. ALONE.” He turned over his shoulder to glower at Sam, who was walking toward them while pulling his t-shirt on, grimacing as it stuck to the sweat and come that covered his back.
When they reached the pile of jackets and flannel shirts, Dean picked his up and shrugged quickly into his leather jacket. He wrapped it tightly around him for comfort before stomping up the stairs and into the main foyer.
Cas explained, “I didn’t want to interrupt you while you were fornicating.”
Sam made a yelp of surprise and horror.
“What? No! What? Cas, we were NOT fornicating,” Dean snarled. Reaching the rickety front door, Dean slammed it open, nearly knocking it off its hinges, and made a beeline for the Impala.
The angel continued conversationally, almost jogging to keep up with Dean's furious pace. “It is generally considered taboo in most modern cultures for siblings to engage in that sort of behavior. But this hasn’t historically been the case. In Ancient Egypt, for example...”
“Shut up, Cas,” cautioned Sam.
Dean stopped in his tracks and yelled, “We were NOT fornicating!”
Castiel cocked his head in confusion, “You were pressing together, breathing hard, talking very sexually. Sam's underclothes were on, but other than that it was much like the times I’ve seen you fornicate with women, Dean.”
Dean’s eyes widened in shock. “You've watched me forni...have sex with women? You little pervert.” He turned to the angel and pointed his finger in his celestial face, “You cut that out.”
He got in the car and slammed the door behind him. Cas slipped into the back seat and Sam maneuvered his large frame into the passenger side.
“And both of you achieved sexual completion….”
“We didn’t both...how could we both? Sam didn’t...Sam DIDN’T! Sam?” Dean’s eyebrows nearly met his hairline.
Sam looked away, carefully studying the handle of the car door. “It was that thing you said. You know. Physiology.” The silence in the car was palpable. The angel looked on curiously. “Okay, fuck. The sounds you were making Dean. And then you bit my shoulder,” Sam turned to glare at Dean defiantly, his embarrassment turned to indignation.
Dean just started the motor and peeled out of the gravel yard, Baby's back end fishtailing as wildly as her driver's emotions.
Castiel sat back pensively as he regarded the siblings. “This is odd. You two seem surprisingly tense for having so recently experienced sexual gratification. You should be feeling the effects of the surge in prolactin and oxytocin which generally induce relaxation in humans after orgasm….”
The brothers, in unison: “Shut up, Cas!”