Skyscrapers dwindled down to pinpricks in the rear view mirror and the congested traffic of the highway eased as they drove further away from Chicago. Early morning sun was bright and hot coming in the driver’s side window as they drove South, and Dean figured he’d get a pretty nice tan by the end of this trip. Clear space in front of and beside him, he let down heavy on the gas and picked up speed, exhaling a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in the crowded traffic jam. It felt like he’d been holding his breath for years though, since he’d moved to Chicago for a job at Sandover and hadn’t gotten out of the city for more than a day trip here and there.
Glancing over, he could see Cain’s lips curling up in a faint smile under his thick beard. Wind whipping through the open windows as the sprawl of thinning suburbia turned into countryside, they both relaxed deeper in to their seats. Cain looked good like that, in jeans and a loose zip up sweater. Not that Dean didn’t appreciate him in well cut – and they were always well cut – suits, but the unspooled stretch of his limbs in loose clothes and his thick hair wild in the wind was a completely different look that Dean could totally appreciate too.
He’s not sure the last time that Cain had been on a vacation, if he ever had. They had never taken a road trip like this together. Even though they’d been living together almost three years now, had been together practically since Dean settled in the city five years ago and they met at a leather club, neither of them managed to get away from work for very long or at the same time. Cain was busy, Dean got it, he ran his own company with his brother that they’d started from the ground up. That company was his baby.
But Dean deserved his attention too, if they were going to make it work. They’d been bickering too much lately – not the fun kind of bickering that lead to spankings – and according to Dean’s count the last time they’d had sex was nearly a month ago.
They both needed this vacation.
Giving up rummaging through his travel bag, Cain dug out his back up case of glasses and slid the thick black framed lenses on. Finishing the last few buttons of his shirt before padding down the hallway, he found Dean already up and pouring over maps at a table with a meager plate of ‘continental breakfast’ offerings at his elbow. Filling a plain white mug with coffee and deciding to try a stale croissant and questionable banana for breakfast, he sat down at the table opposite Dean.
Bright green eyes flicked up to him and there was the start of a knowing smile twitching in the corners of Dean’s lips.
Cain sipped his terribly bitter coffee.
“I couldn’t find my contact cleaning solution this morning.”
“You don’t say.”
“I know that I packed it in Chicago.”
“Everyone misses something on a trip.”
“I made a list and checked everything off. The cleaner was on that list.”
Dean took out his phone and snapped a photo of Cain’s disapproving glare.
Cain watched him, silently, sipping on his coffee while Dean stared back. Dean fidgeted with the corner of a map. He shifted his weight in his chair. Licked his lips. Cain narrowed his glare and lifted a single eye brow.
“I took the cleaner out of your bag before we left.”
“Oh you did?”
“Come on, dude, you’re criminally fucking hot in those glasses.”
Dean licked his lips again, just a flick of his tongue, shoulders hunching slightly as he leaned forward, closer to Cain.
Sighing, Cain set down his coffee. “I’m sure you’ll find a way to make it up to me.”
At the tip of Illinois they turned West to head through Missouri and Kansas to their destination of Colorado for some camping. Leaving the main high ways behind, Dean had mapped out the thin squiggly lines of two lane back country freeways that criss crossed the states to find their vacation destination through a more meandering path. The journey was part of the fun after all.
Dean liked the backways, the winding roads that followed the suggestions of the landscapes, curving around hills and dipping with the gentle rolls of the plains instead of cutting straight paths through. They meandered through small towns and wove between corn fields and cow pastures. There was a different sort of pace on the backways, an ease, that made his body lax with the simple pleasure of chasing the horizon wherever.
Baby needed to stretch her legs too, she sat in storage most of the time because public transport was way more sensible in the inner city – no offense Baby. Dean even let Cain drive, because as much as he loved sitting behind the wheel, he couldn’t drive dawn to dusk anymore.
The sun had set hours ago and the sky was the inky dark of deep country Dean hadn’t seen in ages but they were still driving. Cain didn’t like the look of the shady motel with half the lights busted out of it’s sign the last small town that they had passed through. Dean had told him, places to stay or fill up the car could be few and far between on the backways but nope, Cain wanted to keep driving and find somewhere nicer. As if they weren’t heading in to the mountains to sleep in a tent anyway.
Dean was maybe a little tired and cranky. There was a lull in the dark cover of night and he reclined comfortably in the passenger seat as Cain drove with both his hands on the wheel, precisely at the speed limit - not a mile over or a mile under. He didn’t like the distraction of music when he was driving, so the gentle whumph of tires on asphalt and the rush of wind was the only noise. It was hypnotic.
Skin prickling in the chill night air, Dean watched the lines of Cain’s body shifting with the car as he took a sharp curve in the road, swaying with the motion. His hair was held back in a pony tail but thick strands lashed around his face that had fallen out. Dean watched him shift in his seat, thigh muscles flexing, jeans drawing tight around the bulge, shirt rucking up his belly. God but Dean could get hard just looking at his fingers, nimble and long wrapped around the wide smooth steering wheel, gliding over it and squeezing.
Dean had to readjust himself. Mouth dry, he wondered if they had water in the car. It wasn’t really what he wanted in his mouth just then though. Skin still feeling hot with the beginnings of a light sunburn flushed despite the wind, he could feel the heat in his cheeks and crawling down his neck turning into a shiver that tripped along his spine.
Cain had fucked him into the mattress of a cheap motel last night, the frame creaking under them, a strong hand holding Dean down by the nape of his neck as he scrabbled at the sheets, and Dean could still feel the ache in his ass that had kept him low level aroused all day driving on rough back roads.
Fuck. They’d been driving too long and Cain didn’t want to stop, Dean could make him stop.
Through the snap-slap sound of wind, the slide of Dean’s zipper is quiet but an audible break in the hypnotic noises of night time driving. He’s still watching Cain, catches the twitch of his neck as he looks over more with his eye balls than with his head. But Dean catches it. Shifts to lift his hips up and push his jeans down better. The leather is warm and smooth against bare skin. Pulling his erection out, Dean splays his bowed legs even wider till his knee almost knocks against Cain. Stretching his inside arm out along the back of the bench seat he drapes one hand on Cain’s shoulder.
Slowly, hand loosely grasped around his cock, he slides his fist up and rubs his thumb around the head.
“Distracting the driver like that can be dangerous.”
“There’s not much traffic around.”
“We’ll stop when I find somewhere good to stop.”
“You don’t mind me keeping myself entertained do you?”
Cain turns his head then, blue eyes eerie in the moonlight as he levels Dean with one of those promising glares and his cock is so attuned to that look that pre-come dribbles out over his fingers.
Dean smirks and all the more he gets from Cain is just a low throaty hum.
Taking his arm off the seat back, he cups his balls in one hand and rolls them as he jerks off at a leisurely pace. He’s not aiming for orgasm, just releasing some of the pressure that’s coiled up all day because there’s no way to not be aroused in close proximity to Cain. Just the smell of him, spicy and heady, can make Dean’s pulse quicken.
Dean watches it happen slowly. Cain’s body shifts to tilt towards him slightly. His head tips over a little. One finger lifts off the steering wheel to tap, tap. Dean can even see the rise of his cock thickening in his jeans. Biting his lip, he puts little grunts in to it, hips shoving in fitful jerks off the seat to fuck up in to his own hand as he tips his head back and groans.
The car slows and swerves over, juddering as she hits the rough unfinished gravel off the shoulder of the road and coming to an abrupt stop that snaps Dean forward in his seat. He’s grinning to himself as Cain exits the car, the driver door closing with a loud bang in the suddenly still night. Dean turns as Cain pulls his door open, grabbing him by the scruff of his shirt and physically hauling him out of the car.
Spun around, pressed chest to the roof of the car, passenger door still open and his jeans sliding down his legs cock bobbing free, Dean gets his hands underneath him as Cain tugs him into position. He yields to the pressure of the other man’s hands guiding him, hips pulled back, legs kicked apart, pressure at the small of his back bowing his spine as he’s pulled away from the car tipped over with hands braced on the hood.
They’re parked at a slant beside a field of low swaying greens, crickets chirruping in the air, and there’s not even street lights to illuminate what’s going down, only the bright silver glow of a fat moon low slung in the sky. Dean can hear how Cain’s breathing deepens, roughens in time with his hands jerking Dean’s pants down all the way to pool around his feet. He can only get his legs so wide but Cain presses a knee to the inside of his tender thigh and his legs bow further as his knees push out.
Dean’s fully expecting the sharp slap of Cain’s hand against his ass, he’s practically drooling for it fuck knows why he drools when he gets really turned on, maybe he’s had a gag in his mouth too many times and the slick drip of it down his chin turned in to some kind of conditioning. But when he hears the rustle of Cain’s clothes, distinctly the clink of his belt buckle and the whisper of leather being tugged through jean loops, Dean tenses.
It comes fast and hard, sharp crack of folded leather against exposed skin. Dean jolts and stutters out a ‘motherfucker’ before it hits again. Cain holds one hand between his shoulder blades telling him still, keep position, and Dean does the best he can as the heat spreads under his skin crackling down under muscle and jarring bone. Cain is quick with the brutal snap of his belt, striping Dean’s ass from top down to thigh, then laying a few welts down his thighs too before a pause.
Taking a shuddering lungful of breath, Dean’s head sags between his stretched out arms that hold him up against the car. Back arched downward in a stretched bow, ass pushed out, his skin is on fire in the cold air and he can feel the throb of his pulse in the welts on his ass. Cain strokes a hand down his back, shirt sticking to skin with sweat, and the smooth leather of the belt is dragged up the inside of his thighs. Dean widens his legs, stooping, knees pushed out so he can bow them further with his ankles already pulled tight against his pants.
There’s no one here to listen, they’re not in a crowded play space or at a demo, but Dean still tries to hold back the whimper when Cain flicks his wrist to shallowly snap the leather against the stretch of skin between his balls and ass. Jumping a little, Dean’s fingers grips tight against smooth metal and all the air his lungs hisses out in a wheeze when Cain does it again.
For a second Dean thinks he needs to safeword out when spots start dancing in his vision but he distantly realizes there’s just fireflies out and it makes him huff a dry laugh that has Cain stop his rapid spanking of the belt.
Dean just grunts out ‘come on old man don’t tell me you’re going soft’ and the fact that he can still string together a sentence is enough goading for Cain to redouble his efforts until everything from the base of Dean’s spine to his knees is an aching tingle of blooming pain. He doesn’t realize he’s floating away until blunt nails scrape over fresh welts and Dean comes crashing back into himself screaming.
But then there’s slick pressure at his hole and Cain is shoving in fully with one arm wrapped around Dean’s waist tugging him back, and it’s a punch to his gut as he curls over on himself with the suddenness that makes his muscles seize. Still a little loose from last night but no where near ready, the pain is needle sharp and stinging when the pleasure ratchets to the edge of climax so fast he gets whiplash.
Calloused fingers dig cruelly into his hips and Dean’s practically hanging off the car, legs trembling with adrenaline and endorphin, his body lit up and scrambling to straighten all the crossed wires and Cain just keeps tangling him up tighter. Cain’s jeans are a rough raw scrape against abused skin, as he brings their bodies flush and curls over Dean, cock buried deep and thrusting in quick rhythmic snaps of his hips just like he snaps his belt, aim dead on.
Dean doesn’t even need a hand around his aching cock, just another shove of Cain’s hips, and he’s dragging in a jagged breath as his muscles tauten from his fingers to his toes, heat washing through his body as the pleasure whites out the world. Standing on quaking legs, his arms sore from the death grip he’s got on the car, Dean is only held up by Cain who sinks teeth in to the back of his neck as he comes inside Dean.
He does whimper then, when Cain pulls out, because everything hurts more without him pressed up close, cold and exposed and dropping from his high fast. The hurt little twinge in his voice rolls into overstimulated pleasure that has his whole body jerking when Cain kneels behind him and licks a stripe up the space between his legs before lapping at the come seeping out of him.
Jesus, it’s one of those dirty things that makes Dean flinch just a little to see it in porn because it’s so fucking filthy but the way Cain licks himself out of Dean just liquefies him. He’s already weak from the beating and strung out from the fucking, ripped open and hollowed, but Cain goes soft after – he always does – cleaning Dean up and holding him back together. Gentle, almost tender, swipes of his tongue soothe along frayed nerves even as his hands holding Dean’s bruised skin lights up the pain again with a swelling dull ache.
Dean hums when Cain pulls his jeans back up, it’s the best he’s got and he’s completely useless as Cain tucks him back in the car and buckles him in. The radio is turned on to classic rock and Cain’s hand settles warm and solid on his thigh as they pull away from the shoulder of the road.
“I’ll stop when I find somewhere nice. And you, will behave yourself.”
Cain passed a brown paper cup of substandard coffee to a disgruntled Dean. Stepping back, he leaned against the cinder block side of the gas station and watched Dean frowning at the innards of the Impala as he scrunched his face when he tasted the coffee. In just a tight gray t-shirt with grease smeared up his arms and even a few smudges on his face, Cain was seriously reconsidering how much time they should spend on the road today and how much time they had for other pursuits. Well, it wasn’t like they were going to get much driving in with the Impala out of commission anyway.
“Just call a mechanic.”
“I don’t need to call a mechanic.”
“You’ve been saying that for hours.”
Dean glowered at him, hair spiked up with sweat, and it was absolutely not threatening. It was kind of cute. “Look I know I haven’t gotten to work on her much lately, but I know my Baby. I don’t need a mechanic.”
Cain sighed and stepped up behind Dean, feeling the fine tremor that went through him when he pressed up just close enough to speak lowly in his ear.
“If we get a mechanic to take care of the car, I can find a motel to take care of you. You’re so filthy right now I wouldn’t even want to stain motel sheets with that grease, just push you up against the door and fuck you even filthier.”
Dean turned, coffee hanging at his side and eyes dilated widely as he opened his mouth, swallowed, and opened it again like an offering. Taking a step back he coughed with his face turned against his shoulder. “Yeah uh, ok, let’s, we can do that.”
They didn’t even make it to a motel. Dean grudgingly called a mechanic that the gas station clerk recommended then took the bathroom key with a giant plank of 2x4 attached to it to at least wash his hands off. The bathroom was off the back of the gas station and as filthy as a gas station bathroom usually is, with an overflowing trash can, grimy mirror and grit in the caulking of the sink.
It was disgusting.
Dean still got hard when Cain pushed in to the single toilet room and shoved Dean against the door. He guessed any door worked, motel or gas station. Cain’s thick beard tickled his skin as the man shoved his face against the sweaty crook of Dean’s neck, inhaling audibly and sucking bruises into tanned skin. Dean was greasy and disgusting and frustrated and his ass was still raw from the belting a few nights ago.
When Cain nimbly whipped his cock out it was hard and drooling anyway. They rutted against the pitted wood door that was stained with God knows what as Dean wrapped his legs around Cain’s waist, was hefted up and slammed back, a strong hand gripped around both their cocks jerking them off against Dean’s belly as he panted and held on.
The two of them emerged from the bathroom to find the mechanic peering at Dean’s car, at the two of them and the single bathroom, then back to his car with an eye roll.
The guy still recommended they try the pie at the diner across the street, and told them he didn’t need to tow the car because he had all the tools he needed and it would be ready in an hour.
Sipping ice water from a glass dripping condensation onto the scratched formica table, Cain watched Dean flipping back and forth from the front of the menu to the back. He knew what Dean was looking at. Cain had already decided on what he wanted five minutes ago. The diner was nearly empty at two p.m. and the waitress was leaned against the front counter snapping her bubble gum and chatting with a pot belly man in a trucker cap while Dean flipped back and forth.
“Just order the cheeseburger.”
Pretty green eyes snapped up to him momentarily and Dean grunted as he went back to flipping.
“You can go on a cleanse when we get back to Chicago, order a goddam burger.”
“If I get fat it’s all your fault.”
He did order the burger. And Cain ordered extra fries because he knew Dean would eat half of his. The food was greasy and hot and piled high. Even if Dean might complain about the very slight pudge at his midsection later that night, the sight of him eating enthusiastically and the near indecent sounds that he made were definitely worth a little reassurance.
Leaning back in the gently rocking canoe and tipping his face towards the sun, Dean watched the buoy on his line bobbing in the dark lake water. This right here was fucking perfect. Cain was wearing some yuppy kahki vest abomination with way too many pockets on it and a pair of sunglasses but he still managed to look hot. It was definitely the hair. They’d had a quiet morning floating around fishing without catching any fish, but it was perfect.
Dean had missed this since he’d finished college and settled in Chicago. As much mixed feelings as he had about his sketchy childhood, there were some things his dad gave him that he still cherished. Such as this, a healthy appreciation for the outdoors. His dad had taught him how to hunt and fish. He also tried to teach Dean how to be ‘a real man’ but thank God only some things stuck.
He could think about all the good things with rose colored glasses as he floated on a placid lake and forgot about work in favor of thinking about how he wanted to cook the fish they’d eventually catch for dinner. Or they could just roast the hot dogs still left in the cooler. Either would be good.
Cain had been twitchy the first few days of their vacation and Dean knew he was itching to check his work email. But Dean strictly enforced a one hour only limit on any work related activity. Things would survive without them for a week. And eventually Cain took to the open road and wild outdoors with his quiet calm sense of appreciation. Although Cain didn’t talk about his childhood that much either, Dean knew that he’d grown up in the inner city and wasn’t raised with the same exposure to nature that Dean was. But he was willing to try. They were still, gradually, sharing little bits of themselves and blending together slowly.
The canoe jerked as Cain sat up stiff, tugging on his line inexpertly as Dean shifted to sit next to him and help him reel in his first catch for the day.
The tent was chilly from the night but lit bright with the sunlight through translucent nylon siding and warming up rapidly. Cain had insisted that they purchase an air mattress for camping, and he suspected that Dean was grateful for this even if he didn’t vocalize his appreciation. They were curled together in the dip in the middle of the air mattress, blankets tangled around them and bags open on the sides of the small tent.
Birds were chirping back and forth to each other and there were animals rustling through the brush out. It was positively idyllic. Cain could have readily admitted that he thought nature was beautiful from the photographs and art of it that he saw, but he’d never been immersed in it quite like this before. He liked the bustle of the city, even if he was a bit isolationist in his high rise condo it was nice to have anything he could want readily available. But what he wanted most had dragged him out on a road trip and honestly he couldn’t remember if he’d taken a vacation since he even started building up his own company.
Curling an arm tighter around Dean’s waist and pressing his nose to the back of his neck, Cain rocked his hips forward gently. They were both naked and as he trailed his hand down he discovered gladly they were both hard as well. Lifting one of Dean’s thighs just enough to slip his cock between as he shuffled a little lower, Cain kissed at the freckled swoop of broad shoulders as he thrust between Dean’s legs, cock bumping against his scrotum as his hand wrapped around Dean’s erection.
Dean groaned and snuffled, curving his back against Cain and wriggling, jostling the two of them on the shifting air mattress. Twisting his head around, eyes stunningly bright in the muted morning light that was blue hued from the tent, Dean’s lips curved in a lazy smile as he ground his ass back. There were beautiful deep plum bruises and red welts still striping his sinfully toned ass.
The scent of pine was pungent in the air, the smell of Dean’s sweat and pre-come sharp in the small tent, the sounds of the world waking up around them faded beneath his quiet gasps and the rustling squeak of the mattress as they rocked slow, slow to a gentle crest of a climax together.
Cain was usually one to rise early and to stay busy throughout the day, but with Dean falling back to sleep with soft snores in his arms, face pressed against Cain’s bicep and cock softening still in his hand, Cain managed to fall back asleep as well lulled by the steady pace of Dean’s breathing.
A few days were spent driving to Colorado, a few days spent camping, and a few allotted for driving back. Cain wasn’t so much a fan of roughing it, and Dean wanted him to enjoy the vacation too so they split up what they wanted to do. Cain had enjoyed the camping – probably just because they had a very private camp ground lot and got to explore the many wonderful ways to fuck in nature that were usually very dirty which appealed to Cain – so Dean could make himself enjoy some of Cain’s activities.
The swanky hotel really was pretty nice. Why they were going to a museum when there were a ton of museums in Chicago was beyond Dean. But Cain wanted to see what was in this museum where they were staying.
Brushing his teeth and pulling on a flannel over shirt, Dean ruffled his hair and walked back in to the hotel room. Cain was leaning against a desk in a nice suit, his hair pulled back in a slick pony tail and those thick rimmed glasses perched on his nose as he finished knotting his tie.
“Well hello Daddy.”
Dean got a cocked eyebrow for that.
“You’re wearing that to the museum?”
Looking down at what he usually wore when he wasn’t suited up for work, Dean shrugged. “Yeah.”
Cain always dressed nice when they went out somewhere nice. He was kind of old school like that. Dean could appreciate it. But he could not wear suits seven days a week.
The museum they went to was small but bright, and Dean liked some of the art on display. He can appreciate art and theatre and all that, but he’s not the kind of guy that can look at an abstract whorl of color and spend half an hour analyzing the particular curve of a particular brush stroke. Which Cain had been doing. On the same painting. For an hour. Dean’s already looped through the whole place and picked over the meager gift shop. Cain was still sitting in front of that weird ass painting.
Dean decided to have a little fun. Because riling Cain up was always fun and although it may end in bruises, well, Dean’s still got some unmarked skin and their vacation was winding down.
That’s how he ended up stroking his cock hard in the pristinely clean – thank you – bathroom stall of the museum in order to take a picture of a trickle of pre-come sliding down to his balls to send to Cain.
Got a work of art for you right here old man
“You have been insufferably petulant this entire day.”
“Ooooh, what’s wrong, did I make Daddy mad?”
Cain can hear the taunting in Dean’s voice, even though Dean is the one pressed face first to the mirrored wall of the nice hotel that they are still staying at because Cain is going to be too busy fucking him senseless to drive anywhere else.
Yanking Dean’s jeans down, Cain laid a smack to the still bright welts on his ass, reveling in the high pitched yelp it elicited.
He had no idea why Dean could turn in to such a bratty child some days, or why he always called Cain daddy when he did. Though coming to understand patterns and needs, the reasoning behind what Dean did still eluded Cain. Of course, the same were probably true in reverse as well.
Sometimes, Dean acted out and called him daddy and all he really needed was to be put in his place and taken care of. Most of the time, Dean called him sir and although he could be a stubborn smart mouth of a sub, Cain appreciated the challenge. On occasion, Dean would let slip the endearment ‘baby’ which was usually accompanied by languid kissing and a sweeter form of sex. His mannerisms were a sort of code.
Hauling Dean around, Cain stripped him quickly and efficiently of his clothing before shoving him to his knees. The only thing Cain had taken off since they’d gotten back to the hotel was his shoes and socks as well as his jacket. His waistcoat was still on and his tie knotted. Opening the belt on his pants, Dean was pink cheeked and tipping towards him, tongue darting out to lick plush lips.
“Ah, ah, be a good boy.”
Dean bit his lip and held himself still. “Come on Daddy, just a taste, please.”
“Hands behind your back.”
Posture straightening, Dean reached behind himself and clasped his wrists together, settling in to a well known pose. He blinked up at Cain, eyes glazed and lips spit slick from licking. Cock flushed red, it tapped up against his belly smearing a trail of pre-come as it bounced. Cain stroked himself hard, holding his cock just in front of Dean’s face. He could lean forward and lick it, it was close enough, but Dean behaved. Held himself back. Begged so pretty with his eyes.
Pushing a hand through Dean’s short hair, Cain rubbed the head of his cock against wet lips. “Go on.”
Tongue darting out to flick against the underside Dean laved up the head and lapped at a bead of pre come. Cain pushed his cock through parting lips, sliding against Dean’s tongue and thrusting shallowly. Wet and warm, Dean sealed his lips and pushed his face closer, tongue working the underside as he sucked.
Shifting closer, Cain nudged Dean’s legs apart and settled between his thighs as he gripped into Dean’s hair to get a good hold and start fucking in to his mouth. Dean groaned throaty and rough around him, spit starting to trickle down his chin, and the harder Cain used him the more Dean relaxed. Nudging against the back of his throat, Cain worked at a slow steady rhythm as he rolled his hips. Dean went limp in his hold, angling his head and opening his jaw wide for Cain to push further.
He loved the way Dean sounded when he fucked into the clutch of that throat. Spit squelching loudly and desperate little gagging whimpers. Cain cradled the back of Dean’s head and pushed his cock into the flutter of his throat, one hand sliding forward to wrap around his neck and the feel the bulge of it, feel it moving as deep as it could as he held Dean against him, feel the spasm of muscle beneath his hand when started to struggle for lack of air.
Keeping his cock lodged in Dean’s throat until Dean’s eyes fluttered shut and he shuddered, Cain pulled back only long enough for him to suck air through his nose then he was setting a vicious pace as he fucked Dean’s throat raw. He was so receptive, so pliant, eager to make himself useful and push any and all boundaries both bodily and mentally. The tight clench of his throat around Cain’s cock was stimulating, but it was his fevered need for submission and abuse that made Cain shiver.
Feeling a wet splash against his bare feet, Cain pulled back, a string of spit hanging between his cock and Dean’s mouth as he looked down and saw Dean spattering come against his thighs, Cain’s feet, the floor - messy and unchecked as he came untouched. Cain grasped his spit slick cock and held it against Dean’s lips as he stroked himself, watching the tremor in Dean’s shoulders as he balanced with his hands behind him trying to lean closer still to Cain.
There wasn’t a sight prettier than the curve of those freckled cheeks and full lips smeared with Cain’s release. Making sure Dean got a taste, mouth hanging open and waiting eager, Cain splashed across his face, Dean’s eyes closing as a thick stripe landed high and dripped from his eyelashes.
“You may uncross your arms.”
Reaching forward to wrap his arms around Cain’s legs, Dean slumped against him as Cain sifted fingers through his hair.
“Thank you Daddy.”
“That’s a good boy.”
Gently easing Dean up and guiding him to the bed, he was utterly complacent as Cain turned down the sheets and deposited him to fetch a wet towel and wipe him off thoroughly. Placing kisses on his brow, his nose, his cheeks and the corners of his lips, Dean was smiling and reaching up to stroke through Cain’s long hair. Cain didn’t bother with undressing before lowering himself in to bed beside Dean, needing to wrap him up and hold him close as Dean burrowed against his neck and twisted their legs together, body heaving with a deep sigh before he drifted off. Cain pulled the sheets up around them, keeping Dean close.
Most of the times that Dean passed out naked - and that was how Dean usually passed out - he woke up to Cain taking pictures of him. It was kind of creepy at first, but he trusted Cain, more than he’d ever trusted any of his partners, even the vanilla ones. He didn’t know why Cain took pictures of him when he was passed out, but it might have something to do with the fact that he could be bratty and frequently made stupid faces when he was conscious.
Rolling over and stretching, arching against the soft white bed sheets rumpled around him, Dean smiled at Cain and took his morning wood in hand as Cain crouched beside the bed and kept taking pictures.
Honestly, it was kind of hot. Cain always looked fucking ravenous when he watched Dean, like he’d eat Dean whole. It was strange and laced with aggression and it burrowed under his skin shocking down in to his core. It was like he was the center of Cain’s world. His sole focus. The only thing he needed or wanted. It bloomed warm and made him shiver at the same time.
Dean couldn’t tamp down his spreading grin, but he could roll over and hitch one of his legs up high pulling it against his belly and pushing his ass out. He could still feel come seeping from his body, feel the pull of raised welts that made him hyper aware of his bodies form and occupation of space. Sliding a hand between his thighs he smeared wet come onto his fingers and trailed down the seam to his balls as he humped the mattress.
He’d declare victory when he heard the thump of Cain’s phone on the nightstand, but the only sound his mouth could make was a gasp when he was filled suddenly and heaved to his knees by strong sure hands.
Cain always rose early. Even when he really, really shouldn’t. He was aware, firstly, of a throbbing ache in his head and a terrible dry fuzz feeling in his mouth. He assumed that he was hung over. Upon standing - and almost falling - he realized that he was in fact still drunk.
His chest itched. A small shower of purple glitter rained down on the carpet floor when he rubbed at his chest hair. Squinting against the offensively excessive light of day that managed to creep through closed motel blinds, he took in his immediate surroundings.
Dean was still passed out on the bed. He had his tan over shirt on from last night. However his undershirt was gone. Why the over shirt was still on was a mystery.
Cain recognized the atrocious fuzzy pink cowboy hat that was slung on one of the bedside lamps. The other bedside lamp appeared to be missing. Dean’s ass was bare and shimmering with glitter as well. One of his arms was stretched above his head and tied loosely to the headboard with a white feather boa.
They had to make the final stretch back to Chicago today. Last night had been the last night of their vacation. Dean wanted to go out for drinks. The town they had been passing through appeared to be of the more artistic and liberal variety, and the bar they finally settled on was called the ‘Fruit Basket’. Cain had guessed it was a gay bar, but they had also happened to be having a drag show that night.
Queens always loved Dean, and Cain was more than happy to pass him over when they wanted to drag him on stage. The rest of the night began to blur after Cain acquired the pink cowboy hat. God help him he hadn’t smoked for three years when he moved in with Dean but he clearly remembered bumming smokes and his throat was painfully scratchy for it.
Well, the last night of the vacation had certainly been memorable even if he didn’t remember all of it.
Staring at Dean who was blissfully unconscious and drooling a wet patch into the pillow beneath his mouth, Cain rifled around quietly to find his phone and take one more photo.
Dean might be a bit neurotic, a bit young, frequently very recalcitrant, but at that moment when Cain couldn’t quite remember where or who he was, he knew one thing for certain.
He irrefutably and irrevocably loved that man.