“Want to know what the best thing about Wisconsin is, Sammy?”
Sam looks up from his double scoop of toasted toffee and almond in a fresh waffle cone, so orgasmically delicious that it may yet be possible to be sexually attracted to ice cream. Dean’s halfway through a double-size sundae of… well, Sam isn’t entirely sure what’s in it. Whatever it is, it’s making Dean moan in a way that sounds awfully close to when he’s getting eaten out and Sam has three days of beard to go with it.
“The dairy. Seriously, where the hell can you get this in Kansas?” Dean takes another spoonful, vanilla and strawberry ice cream dripping down his chin. Sam almost chides him for getting it on his fed suit (his favorite one, nonetheless) but decides that the very, very close analogy to come is worth hanging onto for a little longer.
“Wasn’t there that one place in Topeka?” Sam takes another lick of his cone and pushes himself further up the edge of the hood of the Impala, one foot tucked under him on the bumper and the other stabilizing him on the ground. It’s warm, late April, and they’ve just finished a ghost hunt that hadn’t been nearly as much effort as they had thought.
Which means they’ve been traveling around the state eating ice cream, making out, and listening to Dean talk about the high points of cheese that Sam suspects may be made up.
“Yeah, but this… this is too good.” Dean’s down to scraping the sides of his cardboard bowl with the spoon, and Sam can’t help but notice the provocative way he sucks the spoon clean. “Uh… you didn’t want to try some, did you?”
“I’m good over here, thanks.” Sam’s savoring his, even though it’s starting to melt fast and he’s had to lick his knuckles twice now – much to the very concentrated amusement of Dean. “But Dean, I think I’m starting to get diabetes from all this. Mind if we find somewhere that isn’t an ice cream parlor for dinner?”
Dean straightens up and rubs his stomach, grinning at Sam. “Only if we can have ice cream for dessert.”
Sam rolls his eyes, returning Dean’s smile. “Look, you can have dessert, or you can have dessert.”
Dean’s eyebrows quirk up, gaze following the long, easy sprawl of Sam’s frame. “What’d you have in mind?”
Sam just licks his cone and shows an awful lot of pink, sugary tongue to him, and this time he doesn’t try to stop it from dripping down his hand. It’s really too easy sometimes, and Dean doesn’t think twice before stepping in and licking Sam’s knuckles clean.
“I’ve let you suffer the last couple nights since your stomach hurt – which again, is because of all the ice cream - but tonight, Dean?” Sam watches Dean’s tongue lick the last of what dripped on Sam from his lips, and then tilts Sam’s cone towards him for more. It puts heat in Sam’s stomach, and a different kind of hunger surges through him.
“You’re gonna make me your bitch, aren’t you?” It isn’t meant as an insult, but they both know good and well that Dean’s well overdue for a good breeding, and Sam’s been holding himself back for Dean’s sake. Handjobs and frotting are only satisfactory for so long.
“Depends on how sturdy the bed is, but yeah, I am. Unless you can think of a reason not to.” Sam comes close to making out with the ice cream so that he can coat his lips, peering at Dean over the top of his sunglasses.
“You gonna be mad if I say that I can think of a reason?”
“Depends on how good it is.”
Dean steps into the space between Sam’s legs, so close that Sam can hear Dean’s heartbeat; their bond has been slightly less strong for this hunt, but an alpha can always hear his omega’s heart if he listens close enough. “Your birthday’s next week.”
“Gotta do better than that, Dean.”
Dean bites his lip, eyes hooding at Sam. “What if I told you I had something special planned.”
Sam considers him, leaning in to take a whiff of Dean’s budding arousal – God, his scent alone is enough to make Sam’s dick perk up. “How special?”
Dean doesn’t say a word, leaning in to rub his cheek against Sam’s and leave his scent all over him. “Do you trust me?’
Sam bites back a whimper, knowing it would be so, so easy to grope Dean’s ass right now and get him wet. He hasn’t knotted him since they left the bunker a week ago, and the suppressants are starting to lose their juice. “Dean.”
“Thing is, Sammy, I want you to make me your bitch. My heat’s next week and since when have we been home for the duration of it?” Dean’s got him wrapped around every word coming out of his mouth, and Sam knows he’s already agreed to hold off a while longer. Besides, as they get older, the suppressants take longer to leave their systems. “You can have me for a full week, hole open, slick dripping, absolutely nowhere to be on your cock.”
Sam nearly bites his tongue in half, because Dean isn’t fucking kidding. “You know how I tell you to not get the alpha side of me worked up?”
“I do, but I kinda lose hearing when you start spouting dumb shit like that.” Dean rubs his thigh against Sam’s crotch, Sam’s ice cream now hopelessly melted and dripping down his arm.
Won’t be the first time he’s had to have a suit dry cleaned because of Dean.
“Keep doing that and this newfound patience is gonna evaporate.”
Dean kisses along his jaw, making Sam’s skin prickle with something far too inappropriate for public. “Tell you what, alpha – when we get back to the room for the night, my mouth is yours, however you want it. Save the main event for when we get home. I want it too, Sammy, I swear – but I really, really think you should wait and see what I have planned. Thirty five is kind of a milestone for guys in our field, and we should celebrate.”
“How come you didn’t say this when you turned thirty five?”
“Purgatory, baby. Wasn’t exactly thinking about cake and ice cream at the time.”
Sam’s stomach lurches a little at the mention of ice cream. “Speaking off…” Sam holds up his hand, and Dean is far too eager to suck each individual finger clean, torturing Sam in broad daylight.
Whatever it is Dean’s planning in celebration, it had better be one birthday that Sam never, ever forgets.
Sam is going to lose his mind.
It had taken them a couple days to wind their way back down to Kansas, stopping twice over night to catch some sleep and wind each other up all the more. Dean’s at war with himself, the lead-up to going into heat all the more intense from his system’s delayed reaction from the suppressants, pupils dilated and skin flushed.
It makes Sam go into rut before they even reach the bunker.
“Dean,” Sam mutters, grinding his heel against his cock. They’ve just passed over the border into Kansas, bright mid-morning sun streaming through the windshield.
“I know, Sam.” Dean’s fighting natural instinct to not cuddle Sam and drive at the same time, in spite of his best efforts to do exactly that. “I’m going as fast as I can.”
“Fuck, I...” Sam licks his lips, feeling the ache right behind his balls. Dean just smells so fucking good, the need pouring off of him, that stupid, beautiful mouth looking exactly as good as Sam knows it tastes. He strokes himself through his jeans, his other hand gripping Dean’s thigh, reaching for skin he wishes was exposed. “Look so fuckin’ hot, Dean.”
“Easy, tiger, we still have an hour to go yet.”
“That what you want, Dean? Want me to growl like a tiger?” Sam does, and the shiver Dean gives him is way too sexy to ignore.
“Figure of speech, you hormone-addled jerk.” Dean fixes him with a glare, and Sam pulls his hand away.
“Shit, I’m horny.” Sam sits on his hands, trying to will a hole in his pants so that he can let his sore, full balls out. Dean had let off some of the pressure a couple nights ago with a fantastic, wet blowjob and yeah, it had felt amazing at the time – but Sam had needed more, far more, and Dean couldn’t give it to him, not yet. His ass wouldn’t have been ready, and Sam would have hurt him. Fuck suppressants – they may protect them in the field and keep them sane to do their job, but Sam hates what it does to their bodies.
“Yeah, like I didn’t notice.” Dean rubs his knee, and Sam knows it’s supposed to be comforting but the heat of his skin just makes his predicament even worse. “Sam, don’t tell me you’re gonna cream your pants from that.”
“No.” Sam frowns and turns away, teeth gritted against the heavy, pulling ache between his balls and hole. God, just a quick one would keep him sane long enough to get home, and damn getting the car all messy. Still, he doesn’t want to ride with his underwear full of come, and being covered in his own spooge would certainly affect Dean adversely.
Dean takes his hand away and puts it back on the wheel, his face stony with thought. Sam keeps studying him, licking his lips and fantasizing about all the ways he’s going to stuff Dean full in a couple days’ time.
A sign for a rest area indicates that they’re a mile away, and the gleam of an idea appears in Dean’s eyes.
“I was gonna wait until we were home, but I got you a present, Sammy.” Dean grins at him, pulling into the rest stop. “Figure you’d need something before I’m ready for you.”
Sam follows when Dean gets out of the car, his hard-on making it unpleasant to walk. Dean pops the trunk and hands him a bag, standing back as he watches Sam open it.
“You got me a Fleshjack.” Sam feels a little silly, standing here in broad daylight, looking at a fake ass in a tube. “Dean, you know how rough I am on these things.”
“That thing, Sam? Built to fucking last, even for you.” Dean hands him a tube of lube too, pressing it into his hand and kissing him. Sam’s tongue darts out to touch Dean’s lips, and that one little taste makes his body flood with need. Dean opens his mouth further, cupping the back of Sam’s head and pulling him down further into the kiss, fingers sliding through his long hair as he presses his body to Sam’s. Dean moans when Sam drags his hips against him, rock hard in his pants and fighting to not spin Dean around and mount him right there.
Sam breaks the kiss, eying Dean’s spit-slick lips. “Come with me.”
Dean shakes his head, gently pushing Sam way from him. “You know I can’t, Sam – now go. Debauch yourself, I’m not going anywhere.”
With a groan, Sam tears himself away and walks towards the bathrooms, unboxing his new toy as he goes.
There’s no one else in the bathroom, so Sam goes for the largest stall at the end and drops his pants, cock springing free and dripping with precome. He takes himself in hand as he sits down on the toilet, moaning with relief as he finally gets some skin-on-skin contact, even if it is with just himself. He thinks about Dean out in the car, undoubtedly squirming with the knowledge of just what Sam is doing to himself in here.
“Got such a pretty ass, baby.” Sam lubes his toy up and unscrews the cap at the smaller end, dumping more slick into it. “Fuckin’ love how wet you get for me.” Sam pulls his foreskin back and rubs the tip of his cock against the hole, gasping at the flesh-like material. His precome smears all over, mixing with the lube, just like the real thing. He loves doing that to Dean’s stretched hole, making him beg and anticipate that much more.
Except Dean isn’t here at the moment, and there’s no point in holding himself back.
Sam nearly passes the fuck out as the toy swallows his cock, accommodating him right on down to his swelling knot. It feels really, really good, the little ridges inside making his toes curl as he fucks deep, the tip of his cock reaching the hole at the end.
“Fuck, Dean, you feel so fucking good.” Sam closes his eyes and imagines his brother, flat on his back and looking up at him, legs wrapped around Sam’s waist. Dean looks so blissfully peaceful when he’s getting fucked, trusting Sam, trusting his alpha to take care of him and give him what he needs.
Sam groans, whispering Dean’s name and putting his left hand under his shirt, rolling his nipple and making his thighs twitch. He fucks his toy with long, deep strokes, mouth open and nostrils filled with the imagined scent of Dean’s body and slick. Dean would be biting his neck right now, trying to hold back on the noises Sam so very desperately wants him to hear. Dean will tell him he doesn’t want to sound like some “needy, cock-hungry omega bitch” and then Sam will have to nip at his shoulder to make him lose that mindset, to let his alpha hear him, how much he loves getting fucked.
Fuck, Sam needs Dean, needs him right here in this bathroom stall, spread open for him as he bounces on his cock, begging for Sam’s knot and come. It makes Sam’s heart hurt to think that he isn’t coming, not now, not until it’s okay and they can fuck and destroy each other without having to worry. They fuck even if Dean isn’t in heat – there’s nothing that says they can’t – but right now, it just can’t happen, and Sam starts to take out his frustration with faster, shallower strokes that catch the head of his cock right on the ultra-sensitive spots.
He can’t knot this toy – there would be no point – but he can leave this stall covered with come. Sam stands up and grabs it with both hands, steadying his grip and fucking hard, the lube squelching and sucking at his skin, sweat dripping down his nose and making his hair stick to his face. He’s slipped into full breeding mode, picturing Dean face down and ass up, head turned to the side so that Sam can hear him as he’s pounded into the mattress.
“Fuck, Dean, I’m gonna fucking come, fill up your ass with…”
Sam sends himself over the edge, seven huge spurts of come shooting out from the end and hitting the wall behind the toilet, the rest landing indiscriminately all over the toilet, floor, and Sam’s pants where they’re bunched around his ankles. He growls, long and low, hoping that Dean can hear him a hundred feet away. He has to pull the toy off before his knot swells to its fullest extent; thank goodness the meds he’s on kick in, or he’d be standing here for ten minutes waiting for his orgasm to subside.
It stops after thirty seconds, but Sam’s cock doesn’t go down, and neither does his lust for Dean. This is purely to get him home without mauling Dean, and get him more amped up for what’s to come.
Sam doesn’t even bother tucking himself back in his pants, walking out of the bathroom with the Fleshjack held loose in his right hand and a smile on his face. Dean’s nowhere to be seen – until Sam comes around the side of the car and sees him stretched out in the back seat, pants shoved down and fingers shoved in his ass, come cooling on his stomach and his body flushed pink.
Dean looks up at him, lips bitten red by no one but himself. “You’re fucking loud.” He sits up and wipes himself down with his discarded shirt, his mouth less than a foot away from Sam’s cock. “And your junk is still hanging out because…”
“Easier than putting it away.” Sam digs his fingernails into the palm of his hand to keep from going after Dean, his scent in the air and his body on display. “Guess this is my fault, isn’t it?”
“Call it mutual regret at not being able to do anything about it – but I can handle my own fingers, at least.” Dean kisses the drop of precome dangling from the end of Sam’s cock and gets out of the car, pulling up his pants and taking a deep breath. “You good til we get home?”
Sam sighs, standing close enough to Dean to absorb some of his body heat. “Yeah, I’m good. May jerk off again before we get there, so…” Sam holds onto his toy and clambers in, tucking it between the door and himself and keeping a loose grip on his cock. He knows it’s a distraction, but if his knot can fight against the suppressants, it’s going to be a lot less painful if he keeps himself out.
“Just aim away from me, okay? Don’t want me going all greedy on you while I’m trying to drive.” Dean gives him another one of those kisses that shouldn’t be legal, making Sam’s cock drip anew. There’s a hint of Dean’s slick on his tongue, and Sam’s mind is bombarded with a million different images of Dean indulging himself just as Sam did in that bathroom.
“I don’t make any guarantees, Dean.”
Dean lets his bottom lip go and starts the car, roaring towards home.
They make it as far as the landing inside the front door before Dean’s on his knees, taking Sam apart so completely with his mouth that he almost has to be carried the rest of the way inside.
If this is how thirty four is ending, thirty five is going to be one hell of a year.
Dean’s heat starts on Sam’s birthday.
Not only that, but it starts before Sam’s even awake.
Sam opens his eyes to Dean sucking him off, covers thrown back and rubbing the base of his cock, milking him until Sam’s fully awake. Sam had wound up knotting his mouth, and Dean had swallowed every fucking drop, tears rolling down his cheeks from having his jaw and throat stretched for so long.
The minute Sam had been able to let him go, Dean had scampered off with far too much energy for someone who just got throat-fucked, disappearing with a grin and a subtly serious warning to steer clear of him until that evening.
Sam divines that this is the surprise Dean plans, and manages to get himself together enough to make himself breakfast and go for a very, very long run, thinking about Dean the entire time.
After he’s done, he doesn’t bother going home, instead swinging through town to hit the gym and pump iron, thinking about how fucking good he’s going to look for Dean with his muscles bulging and his scent at its peak, pheromones rolling off of him in waves. At any other time he’d be rushing home to wash himself, put himself back to normal and try not to think about how disgusting he’s being.
But it’s heat week, and normality takes a back seat, even for Sam. Sam isn’t a rough, domineering alpha; he and Dean were humans at first, betas, until they’d both been bitten on a hunt shortly before Sam had graduated high school. It hadn’t killed them – but instead turned them. Not completely, but enough to where their bodies had changed, giving Dean an ass that doesn’t fucking quit and Sam… well, Sam can keep up without issue.
It hadn’t changed their life destinies, not really. Hell, Lucifer, Purgatory, The Trials – Sam thinks that maybe he survived all of that a little better because of his changed nature. Because of the bond he and Dean share as alpha and omega as well as soulmates.
Thirty five really is a milestone, isn’t it?
Sam hadn’t thought he’d even make it to twenty five, much less a decade more than that.
He works out until his muscles are sore, and then picks up a fast jog back to the bunker, letting his mind drift away from the past and instead towards the here and now, the anticipation of whatever Dean’s got in store for him making his skin tingle, dove-tailing the adrenaline of his work out.
The first thing to hit him as he walks into the bunker is the heavy, almost cloying scent of Dean in the air. It smells like sex, lust, raw, unfiltered need. It smells like Dean’s… fuck, Dean has scent marked the place.
Sam’s cock is hard in an instant and he follows the smell all the way down to the dungeon, shedding his clothes on the way, predicting exactly what it is he’s going to find.
He’s never been so spectacularly right in his entire life, because not only does he find Dean, he finds him ready.
Dean’s bent over the wooden table they keep for mixing spells and potions when they need them – but today, the only thing on it is Dean and an assortment of toys. Sam has to close his mouth and stop gawking, drinking in the sight of his brother. He’s got a thick, emerald green plug in his ass, legs kicked open by a spreader bar that Sam has definitely never seen before-
All with Dean looking back over his shoulder at Sam, his body flushed pink with the intensity of his heat and the effort of putting himself in this position, his cock leaking to match the shiny, clear slick on the backs of his thighs.
“Happy birthday, Sammy.” Dean arches his back, presenting to Sam. “Gonna come unwrap your present?” Dean’s purring every syllable, biting his lip and wiggling his ass. He’s a portrait of sin straight from some Renaissance master’s dirty sketchbook, only brought so completely to life that Sam does indeed have to pinch himself to double check he’s not dreaming.
“Fuck, Dean.” Sam fists his cock, stopping short of Dean’s body to get a better look at him. “How long…”
“Not long, Sammy. Surprise only works if I timed it right.” Sam sees that he’s got a red bow tied around his left thigh, right over the bite mark Sam left there last week.
“You look fuckin’ good, baby.” Sam runs his fingers down the curve of Dean’s spine, right on down to his ass, brushing the plug with his thumb. Dean’s breath hitches, and Sam leans over to lick the shell of his ear. “Really good.”
“Was hopin’ I could persuade you to do something about it, Sammy. Been dyin’ here waiting for you.” Dean turns his head for a kiss, only for Sam to pull away at the last second. “You smell incredible, by the way.”
“Do I?” Sam kisses the back of Dean’s neck and helps draw him upright, raising his right arm and pulling Dean flush to his body with his left, letting Dean bury his face in his armpit. “Yeah, Dean, smell my fuckin’ pits.” Sam bites Dean’s shoulder, encouraged by Dean’s heightened sensitivity. “Fuckin’ love it when I have my scent all over you.”
Dean moans, rubbing against Sam as he licks at his bicep, his back damp with Sam’s sweat. “Been thinkin’ about this all day, Sam, how… god, how fuckin’ good you were gonna smell when you came home. Knew you’d be at the gym, showing off, getting pumped up for me.”
“And just you, Dean, always.” Sam licks up to the shell of Dean’s left ear, keeping his body close. “Hot little trick, by the way, letting me smell you before I saw you.”
“Didn’t have rose petals for you to follow, so you gotta use what’s available, right?”
“Looks like it fucking worked, doesn’t it?”
Sam kisses Dean for real this time, letting his left hand slide up Dean’s body to grope his tits, pinching and pulling at Dean’s nipples and drawing out the sweet, broken little moans that bely just how fucking needy Dean is right now. Sam doesn’t stop until Dean’s panting against his mouth and slick has leaked from around his plug, coating Sam’s pubic hair and thighs.
“You’re fucking wet for me today, aren’t you?” Sam reaches down between them and smacks Dean’s ass, eying the toys he’s laid out for them. “Thing is, you can get wetter, Dean. Gonna need it for when I fuckin’ knot you.” Sam bites the back of his neck and pushes Dean back over, back arched and ass out again.
“I can get out of this thing and get you to that point if you don’t hurry the fuck up, Sam.” Dean’s words lose a lot of their bite as Sam picks up the riding crop and drags the leather tip down the length of his spine, stopping just the top of his ass and appraising Dean’s position for a moment longer.
“You’re mouthy today, considering I stuffed that pretty mouth first thing this morning.” Sam lets the crop go lower, down one cheek until the end is touching Dean’s balls, circling one and then the other in lazy figure eights that makes Dean’s thighs quiver.
“Call it… call it hope.” Dean has to grip the edge of the table until he’s white-knuckled, Sam bringing the crop up and over his perineum, keeping the end right against the bottom of his plug-filled hole. “You gonna use that thing or just fuckin’ tease me?”
“Oh, I’m gonna use it – just not how you think I am.” Sam steps back far enough to give himself a clear swing, draws his arm back, and brings the end of the crop down right across the plug.
Dean fucking howls.
“Fuck!” Dean bolts upright, toes curling against the floor. “Fuck, Sammy, do that again.”
Sam does, harder this time, and the yelp Dean lets out is way, way sexier than it should be. “You fucking love this, don’t you?”
Dean nods, sticking his ass back out in the hopes that Sam doesn’t stop this time. “C’mon, Sam, stop fuckin’ around.”
“Mmm, you are needy this time, aren’t you?” Sam turns the crop so that he lands it on the plug and Dean’s ass this time, leaving a perfect, pink mark across both cheeks. “Fuckin’ love getting your ass played with.” Sam spanks him again, making yell into the table, hands gathered above his head.
“Sammy, please, I… more.”
“There he is, there’s my needy omega.” Sam does as he wishes, gauging just how much harder he can do this to Dean without actually hurting him. His cock leaks in response with the smack of leather against flesh, putting Dean that much closer to self-destruction. “Think you’ve had enough yet?”
Dean shakes his head, the spreader bar keeping him from being able to move closer to Sam – and what he wants. “I can do this all day, baby boy.”
Sam uses his hand this time, making it sting for both of them. Dean moans, his hole clenched tight around the plug. “Know you can, Dean – maybe tomorrow I’ll lay you out over my lap and keep going til you’re raw – but that’s not what this is about today, is it?” Sam gets him again with the riding crop, satisfied with the sound it makes against the hard rubber of the plug. “Fuck, Dean, you just look so fucking hot that I can’t help myself.”
Dean picks his head up and grins back at him, licking his lips at Sam. “Your birthday, Sam – think you can do pretty much whatever you want with me.”
Christ, he’s being 100%, completely serious, isn’t he?
Sam keeps up his rhythm until Dean keeps trying to twitch away from him, the tops of his thighs getting pink where Sam divvies up the blows, not wanting to hurt Dean any more than he has to. Fuck yes he loves the way Dean squirms and tries to get away, but he also needs him to be able to handle the rest of his heat without welts making sex uncomfortable.
He finally puts down the crop and reaches for the plug, pulling it out with so little resistance that Dean’s body was probably thirty seconds away from doing it anyway.
“How’s it look, Sammy?”
Dean’s fucking gaping, and Sam has to give his brain a full minute before he can reply, completely unable to do much more than stand there and look at his brother’s beautiful, stretched hole. “Dean, it…”
“There’s the answer I was looking for.” He reaches back and pulls his cheeks apart, circling the rim with his fingers. “Sucks though, not being filled up any-”
Sam has to have a taste, has to get the scent and slick of Dean all over him. He’s got a week-old beard to trap it in, tongue lapping at Dean’s hole and moaning in sync with him, knocking Dean forward until his stomach is pressed into the edge of the table. Thank God it’s made of solid oak and practically unmovable.
“Fff… fuck, Sammy, that... that feels so fucking good.”
Sam hums agreement, eyes closed as he buries his tongue in Dean’s body, heat-sensitive and ready for him. Sam doesn’t hold back, eating Dean out until his facial hair is damp and stuck to his face and Dean’s leaked enough precome to slip in, dripping in long, silvery strands that get heavier and thicker with every passing moment. Dean’s fucking gone, licked open to the point of his sobbing – and Sam finally decides that he’s not going to tease him any longer.
“Ass up, Dean.” Sam drags his beard across the marks the crop made and gives his hole one final lick, deliberately keeping his movements slow to fight the lightheaded feeling from being completely turned the fuck on for so long. “Gonna breed you til you scream.”
“That a promise?”
Sam lines the tip of his cock up with Dean’s hole and pushes in, teeth sunk into the top of Dean’s right deltoid, right across the faded scar of his mating bite. He doesn’t stop until he’s bottomed out, completely buried in his brother’s body.
“What’s it feel like to you, Dean?”
Sam kisses him before he gets the chance to reply, keeping himself draped over Dean’s back as he starts to fuck him, deep and slow, all hips and nothing else. He knows they can’t stay bent over like this forever, not with the spreader bar still firmly around Dean’s ankles. Sam loves how open for him it’s keeping Dean, the completely unrestricted access that Dean served to him – but he also doesn’t want him to fall down, and Sam knows that once his knot’s popped, they won’t be able to move far.
He lets Dean’s mouth go and sooths brings them up so standing, keeping his cock inside Dean. “I’m about to do something you’re not going to like, so be ready for it.”
Dean’s speech is slurred from hormones, but he nods anyway. “Just do it.”
Sam pulls out of Dean, leaving them both whining from the broken contact and quickly drops to the floor, getting the spreader bar from around Dean’s ankles and then picking him up, carrying him to the old couch they wound up having no other use for but shoving it down here. The springs squeak as Sam brings them both down on it, guiding Dean right back down onto his cock and then tipping them over, pinning Dean to his body so that Dean feels every thick inch of his cock, his knot swelling with each thrust.
“Feel so fuckin’ good, Dean, so fucking wet.” Sam adjusts his motions and starts nailing Dean’s sweet spot on every stroke, alternating between biting at Dean’s neck and kissing him, his left hand keeping Dean’s leg up and open.
“Sam, Sammy, baby, I’m.. I’m close.” Dean’s barely managing to touch his cock, overwhelmed by how full he is. Sam’s getting him there just by fucking him, his cock pouring precome all over his thighs and stomach where it bounces with every thrust.
“C’mon, Dean, fuckin’ come for me.” Sam sucks on Dean’s earlobe and gets his hand under Dean to his chest, going back to his right nipple and pinching as hard as he dares.
Dean’s orgasm takes Sam with him, his knot filling up so fast that he feels it push Dean’s body apart, plugging him full as his own climax rips through him, fucking Dean until it becomes too much to move. Each wave of pleasure is more intense than the one before it, making Sam scream himself hoarse.
After two minutes of continuous, nerve-shattering orgasm, his body finally scales it back and keeps pumping come into Dean so that it only feels like a normal, human one, letting Sam breathe just a little as he opens his eyes and checks up on Dean.
“You… you good?” Sam can’t feel much of anything below his navel, and he knows good and well that he just pounded the shit out of Dean.
Dean manages a nod, smiling through the lust-addled haze Sam’s put him in. “Think you deserve a prize for that one, Sammy.” Dean turns his head and lets Sam kiss him tenderly, settling back against Sam’s body until biology says they can’t anymore. “Your knot feels fucking amazing.”
“Think I can grind another one out of you in a few minutes?” Sam’s still coming, cock pulsing with every heartbeat.
“Promise to lick me out after?”
Sam wraps his fingers around Dean’s cock, stroking him for a few seconds before he starts gathering up the come coating Dean’s stomach. “Kinda hard to turn down an offer like that, don’t you think?”
The minute that Dean starts to suck his come right off of Sam’s tongue, Sam can’t help but think that thirty five is going to be his best year yet.