The swank hotel in Washington, D.C. was hands-down the sweetest place they’d ever stayed. When Dean laid eyes on the giant bed with the eleventy bajillion thread count Egyptian cotton sheets and the shaft of sunlight splashing across the pristine white field, he didn’t spare a second between thought and action as he stripped out of his clothes. That patch of sunlight was his.
Sam didn’t even notice, pacing as he was in his crisp Armani suit, muttering to himself, “tragedy of the commons”, “copyright over rivalrous topics”, and other lawyerly things.
Damn, but Sam made Armani look good, Dean observed as he dove onto the bed, splaying himself in the sunshine. And it was only natural that Sam was pacing and muttering and paying absolutely no attention to his naked brother lying out in the golden light. Sam was arguing his first case in front of the Supreme Court; he had a right to be stressed.
But Dean knew that if Sam got himself wound up too tight, he’d never be able to make the case he wanted to in any effective way. And right now, nothing would make Dean happier than getting Sam a little mussed.
He stretched out in the light, stroking his palms down his chest and stomach, until his hands reached his dick. Watching Sam through heavy-lidded eyes, he started stroking himself, feeling his breath hitch in his chest and his dick hardening as he worked.
“Sam,” he said, voice slightly husky. “C’mere.”
Sam looked over at Dean, and then pinched the bridge of his nose. “Dean,” he said plaintively, “don’t be distracting.”
“Fine, but if I have to do this all by myself, you’ll just be more tense and cranky. C’mon, trust me. You know you want to.” Dean did know, because he saw Sam’s dick rising, tenting out the front of the trousers. He didn’t stop the upward-downward motion of his hand on his own dick, couldn’t miss Sam’s gaze tracking the movement and the way he moistened his lips.
“You know you think better when you’re more relaxed,” Dean said persuasively.
Sam moved toward the bed, loosening his tie, but Dean stopped him.
“No, leave it on. It’s freakin’ hot.”
“Dean, if you get stains on this before I present arguments, you are a dead man.”
“Are you saying I give sloppy blowjobs?”
Sam rolled his eyes as he approached the edge of the bed.
“Let’s just say that they’re enthusiastic,” he started, then gasped as Dean cupped him through the fabric of the trousers, stroking his thumb up the length.
Dean murmured a satisfied, “Aha,” as he unzipped Sam’s fly and reached in, as if there would be a doubt in the world of Sam’s arousal after watching Dean’s uninhibited enjoyment of the bed and sunshine.
Sam shivered and bit back a moan as Dean pulled him out, then swayed on his feet as Dean swallowed down his dick in a single graceful movement. Sam fumbled downward until he grasped Dean's dick, hot and slick with precome. Dean hitched in a breath, stalled, and then went back to sucking off his brother.
Dean hummed along Sam's length, and Sam jacked Dean faster, making it a race to see who got to come first.
Dean won, of course. Because he cheated. He wrapped a hand around Sam's dick, following his mouth up and down, and Sam choked off a shout as he came into Dean's mouth. He wasn’t so far gone that he didn’t jack Dean faster until Dean pulled his mouth off Sam so as not to risk injuring him or worse, staining the suit. Dean shivered and curled in slightly, coming all over the sheets.
When Sam got his breathing under control, he said accusingly, "You are incorrigible."
"Yeah," Dean was unrepentant. "But now you can concentrate on what you need to do. Am I right?"
“I am an awesome older brother,” Dean said proudly. Sam threw a manila folder at Dean’s head and returned to his preparations.
“Wake me up before we have to go.” Dean muttered as he rolled over (avoiding the wet spot) and napped in the sunshine like a cat.