"Hope you like scrambled," Dean says when Sam crosses into the kitchenette. "Figured you might want something besides lukewarm diner."
"Yeah," Sam mutters absently, leaning against the wall as his eyes track down Dean's body. Dean's over a skillet and there's smoke pluming around his arms, in a black shirt and a pair of boxers and his hair is still fucked up from all the rolling around they did last night.
Sam's eyes are mostly on Dean's ass though; how it swells from Dean's thick thighs, draws the shorts tight and has them riding up. Crazy, what Dean's ass does to him. Sam sinks his teeth into his tongue looking at it, hands twitching by his sides, eager to knead into all that soft flesh, eager to bite deep and mark Dean where he's palest.
"Wish we had some cheese," Dean's muttering when Sam gives into compulsion and comes up behind him.
Dean starts when Sam grabs him around the hips, but he then relaxes and keeps on tending to the pan. "Whadda ya want? Not nice to bug a man when he's cooking your breakfast, Sammy."
Sam hums noncommittally and puts his chin on Dean's shoulder to look in the pan. "Looks good," he says, squeezing Dean's hips, which are always perfect to hold and squeeze no matter what position they fuck in. He catches sight of the shirt's logo and frowns. "You know this is my shirt right?"
"So..." Sam presses Dean's ass back into his crotch. "You look hot in it. Look so hot right now."
Dean scoffs lightly. Sam nips his neck and leans into him, wishing Dean wasn't over a hot stove so Sam could just bend him over the counter and give him a good fucking.
For now, he slides his hands under the shirt until he can get his fingers under the waistband of Dean's boxers and tug them over Dean's ass. He bends to draw them down Dean's thighs and ends up going down all the way, knees on the linoleum as he pulls the shorts to Dean's ankles.
Sam sighs and moves in closer, slides his hands up the backs of Dean's calves, his knees, up the soft skin of his thighs, which he wraps his hands around and urges apart a little more.
Dean shifts, scrapes his spatula over the pan. Sam thinks he sees his shoulders shudder in anticipation. "Didn't you get your fix last night?"
Sam shakes his head. "Mhn-mhn." He follows Dean's thighs up, up, until they give way to the rise of his ass and Sam doesn't hesitate to grab each cheek in his hands, squeezing into all that perfect flesh.
He hears Dean let out a nervous chuckle, say, "your ass obsession is outta hand Sammy."
Maybe it is, because Sam loves touching it, grabbing it and squeezing it whenever he can, the red prints of his hands spread over Dean's ass like possession. Likes filling it with tongue and fingers and his cock and come and holding Dean by his thick thighs as his hips slap against Dean's ass with satisfying thunks.
Sam's getting himself worked up just thinking about it, makes a rough noise and darts in to clamp his teeth into the meatiest part of a cheek, drawing succulent flesh into his mouth.
Dean tenses, hips pushing forward and away. "Uh, ow, Sam? Be nice to the ass please."
Sam pulls him back in, teeths over the high swell, alternately biting gently, just hard enough to leave the scant impression of his teeth a few times. He massages with his hands, sinking them into the flesh and rubbing, clawing his fingers into the give. Can't get enough of it. "Love your ass," Sam husks into the top of the cleave, then lets his tongue drag through it.
Dean swears, hisses, "you fucker," because this is his weakness right here, Sam knows; first time he took his tongue from Dean's balls to lower Dean moaned and spread wide even as he called Sam nasty and dirty.
Sam squeezes Dean's ass a last time, then slides his thumbs into the crevice and pulls Dean apart to his eyes. Dean says something that Sam doesn't pick up because he's too busy looking at Dean's hole; pink, tiny, a wonder anything as big as a finger or cock could fit in it. But Dean always takes him so easy, just opens right up and sucks him in like a thirsty throat gulps down water.
Sam sighs in pleasure, then creeps in and presses his lips to the furrowed skin, tip of his tongue sealing the kiss. Dean shudders with a soft, plaintive noise that resounds through Sam and has his cock leaking in his boxers. He spreads his knees on the floor, holds Dean further apart and treats Dean's hole like his mouth; lipping and sucking at it, tilts his head to get a different angle and lets his tongue slide over wrinkled skin.
Dean gasps and his hole pulses under the attention, twitching under the swish of Sam's tongue. Sam makes a hungry noise and gets closer, gets a helping of spit on his tongue and pushes at Dean's hole, muscle to muscle, willing it to give.
Dean twists his hips and Sam hears a clatter from above. "Ah, fuck. Stop it. I'm trying to—eggs are gonna burn—" Dean reaches a hand back and Sam winces as a big chunk of his hair is pulled. "God Sam, wait a minute—"
Dean tries to sidestep. The boxers around his ankles prevent that, as does Sam caging his arms around his hips and keeping him still. "Asshole," Dean breathes, tugging Sam's hair for good measure but Sam keeps himself right there, licking from Dean's balls to the first bumps of his spine now.
There's a click as Dean turns the heat off, then a clang when he takes the skillet off the burner and drops it on the counter. "Better hope those don't go cold." Dean puts his hands on either side of the oven and hangs his head between his shoulders, tilts his ass back a little.
Sam kisses his hole again, sloppy and lewd and loves the choked off noise Dean makes. This time when he tries to get his tongue in Dean, it only takes a stab. The muscle parts and gives and then Sam's wiggling his tongue in where it's scorching and painfully tight and Dean groans, gasps, "Sam," in that disbelieving breath he always pants when Sam does this.
Saliva trails down Sam's chin as he licks deep, up to the root of his tongue, up until it aches and sweat droplets are falling from the backs of Dean's knees.
Sam feels down Dean's ass, wraps his hand around his thigh where muscles jump and dance. He pushes at it, kneading into the soft flesh until Dean gets the memo and lifts a foot out of his boxers so he can widen his stance.
Sam eases his tongue from Dean's body to say, "up," with numb lips, shoving at Dean's leg.
"You're nuts," Dean pants, heavy and wet. He does it though, spreading his arms out, hiking his leg up on the counter. Shakes for a second but finds his balance. He's open wide now and Sam digs in, grabs at his plump ass and feeds his hole with tongue.
"Fuh—fuck, Sam," Dean rasps after an audible swallow, inching himself more on the counter, bent over the burners. Sam slips his tongue out and pushes it back in, and again, fucking Dean with it slowly, with reverence, kind of easy rhythm reserved for early mornings and the stillest hours of night.
He works at Dean until his brother's breathing heavily but otherwise quiet, brought beyond any kind of sound and it's just the slurps of Sam's tongue in the kitchen, fucking Dean until his tongue hurts and his lips are weighty, and his jaw, well he could stay down here until it fucking breaks but it's aching and he wants to come, wants Dean to come.
He pulls his tongue from Dean's loosened and spit sloppy hole a last time, then spends a little longer on his knees so he can thumb at it, push in the digit just to the cuticle.
Dean groans and his frustration scrapes the air. "C'mon Sam. Get up here."
Sam bites his ass playfully then unfolds, stands up and catches Dean around the waist when his leg jerks off the counter. His foot coming down stamps on Sam's toes. Sam hisses through the pain while Dean, the little shit, chuckles and mutters something he thinks is funny.
Sam takes off his boxers, kicks them away, looks up and sees Dean turning around. "You know, an ass fetish—"
Sam wraps his arms around him and plasters himself to Dean's back to keep him facing the stove. "Your ass," Sam corrects, cock nosing into Dean's crack, cradled by soft heat.
"Yeah well, your fetish for my ass is getting out of hand," Dean grunts, but he leans back into Sam, warm and firm and everything Dean that Sam wants to submerge himself in. "Next you're gonna start using it as a pillow."
Smiling, Sam nips Dean's earlobe while he grinds between Dean's cheeks. "That's the best idea I've ever heard."
"Shit. Forget I said it then."
Sam shakes his head and puts his nose in Dean's hair, locks his wrists over the low of Dean's stomach and groans as he moves his cock up and down the damp cleft with jerky upthrusts.
"Gonna fuck me sometime soon?" Dean asks.
"Just," Sam husks with tacky teeth and an aching tongue, "just wait." His orgasm has started to light up his blood, dropping heavy into his groin and he's crazy with the way Dean feels, the hot track between the soft globes of his ass, cashmere pillow soft on his sharp hipbones.
He holds Dean cage tight, hooks his chin on Dean's shoulder, his own well-worn shirt soft under his chin. When Dean clenches his cheeks around Sam's cock and makes everything so much tighter and hotter, Sam pants and crushes Dean to him like he's trying to absorb him as he comes, flashlights and fireworks dazzling behind his eyelids, hips stuttering.
Come sprays up Dean's lower back and starts dropping back down, making a mess in the cleft Sam's dick is stuck in. Sam grinds into his come, marinates in it for pleasure screwed moments.
Dick wet and still stiff, he hikes his hips back a bit and pushes his cockhead at Dean's hole until he's sucked inside and he might come again at all the hot constriction around his oversensitive cock.
Dean makes the sound Sam loves most in the world; the weak, punched out gasp that he utters whenever Sam fills him. He shoves back into Sam, hands wrapping around Sam's wrists like they're anchors. His core's exposed when he's fucked and it's teeth-achingly sweet.
Sam says, "sh," into his ear, and lowers his hands to Dean's cock, takes the thick length in both his hands and twists his fists like turbines. Dean presses his ass back, then tilts his hips into Sam's hands, doesn't take long for his breath to labor and his heart to thump against Sam's chest, beating between his shoulder blades like it's turned itself backwards.
Sam keeps working at Dean's cock with a hand but pulls the other one away so he can feel over Dean's hip, his upper thigh then back around to his ass; meaty and thick, squeezable like firm dough. Sam gives it a good whack and licks his lips at the rippling flesh and the whine pulled from Dean's throat, the red vaguely hand-shaped mark the smack leaves on Dean's ass.
"Spanking?" Dean chokes out with too little air.
Laughing, Sam tightly tucks himself into Dean and soothes the mark. He strips Dean's cock faster, firmer, trying to wring the come out of him. When Dean shoots with a broken gasp, Sam angles his cock so come doesn't get on the burners.
Dean's legs shake. Sam bands an arm around his chest to keep him upright and lets his soft cock slip out of Dean, humming unhappily when he feels over Dean's entrance and feels a trickle of his come leaking out. He gathers it on his middle finger and pushes it back in.
Dean shivers, then sighs. When Sam holds his fingers to his lips, Dean sucks them into his full mouth and cleans off the last streaks of his and Sam's come. Sam rubs his thumbpad over Dean's lower lip fondly, just rests against him.
Mindlessly his clean hand winds up touching Dean's ass, kneading plush flesh until his fingers worm back inside Dean, where it's wet with his come. He feels around, insanely satisfied about it, like he's marked Dean from the inside out. "Should get you a plug," Sam mutters. "Can have my come in you always, and when I wanna fuck you I can just take it out and add some more."
Dean snorts. "You're a freak. Are you gonna eat these eggs or what? They're—" Dean stretches a hand for the skillet and uses the spatula to get a pile of eggs in his mouth. "Damn it Sam! They're cold."
"It's all right."
"You know, I think that microwave doesn't work. It was on the fritz last night. You'll have to eat cold eggs."
Sam sighs, turning Dean around so he can kiss him. He grabs handfuls of Dean's ass and ruts their spent cocks together. "Let's just go back to bed, hm?"