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It's a late Sunday morning, 7:05AM.
Well, late for Sam. See, Sam likes to get up at 5-6AM. He's been like that ever since his college days. Dean, however, likes to sleep in if he can. Especially on a day like this, after they've been out drinking the night before. Dean always goes a bit harder on the liquor once Sam joins in, and sometimes, on very rare occasions, Sam will match it.
This time, Sam wakes up with a slight headache, but nothing more. He looks over at Dean, who looks like he's been shot dead in his sleep. Arms spread out wide, mouth wide open and head flung back. If he wasn't snoring obnoxiously loud, Sam would've checked on him.
Instead he gets up, fills up a bottle of water and pulls on his workout clothes. Within five minutes, he's out of the room, the cold morning air a shock, yet refreshing, to the system. He starts jogging down the road, and follows a path into the woods. They've stayed at the White Bear Motel for half a week, so Sam knows the area well enough to know his route. It'll take him 40 minutes, 50 if he stops by the bakery a few minutes south to grab something (for Dean. Dean'll eat anything hungover).
Sure enough. When he passes the Impala where it's parked at the motel, he clocks it at 54 minutes. He shrugs, happy with the result, and with his headache mostly gone. He steps up to the door, feeling his bladder beg for attention. He needed to go like fifteen minutes ago, but refused. He has a morning ritual, after all. He shifts a bit uncomfortably as he unlocks the door and slip inside.
He can tell Dean stirs in his sleep, slowly waking from his zombie-like state. He's not gonna be happy when he's fully awake, so Sam hopes he can get to it before Dean wakes up properly.
He drops the bag of doughnuts on the kitchen counter and stars slipping out of his clothes quickly, cock already thickening in his boxers.
"Dean," he whispers, dropping to his knees onto the bed once he's fully naked. Dean has shifted onto his stomach, either just by coincidence, or he's more conscious than Sam knows and prepared himself before Sam came back.
"Mmmm..." Dean hums, eyebrows drawing together in a silent complaint.
"Need to go," Sam whispers into his ear. At the same time, he pulls the sheets off of him, exposing Dean to the cold room and even colder Sam.
"Ah, fuck, you're like ice, Sammy," he gasps in half-sleep, one eye opening to look at him.
"Sorry."
Dean seems to drift off again once he's used to the temperature shift, and Sam can't help it, it makes him even more eager. Doing this while Dean's sleeping? It might be pushing a boundary Dean has, or... Dean's gonna love it.
Sam maneuvers Dean where he wants him, knees bent and in a low doggy style position, ass naked and ready. Sam will never complain about Dean being a nude sleeper, ever.
He leans in, laps at Dean's hole for a few minutes, holding off his own desperation and need to pee as long as he can. He nudges his nose along Dean's crack, licks and runs his teeth across the skin, causing goosebumps. The closer he gets to the main event, the more desperate he becomes, and in the end he eats him out properly, moaning softly whenever he hears Dean sigh in his sleep, or when he gets self-conscious about the sounds he's making in the silent room.
"Can't fucking wait any longer, big brother," he groans and gets up, pushes the head of his cock to his brothers entrance and pushes in slowly.
The tongue work was thorough, but also the only prep he got, so Sam goes slow.
Well, as slow as he can with the tight heat surrounding him. Dean stirs and wakes for a moment, groaning.
"Fuck," Dean mumbles, and Sam can tell by his face it's not pleasant. Yet.
Why that turns him on so much, Sam doesn't question. "Gonna fuck this pretty hole so good after this."
He enters him fully, balls resting against Dean's soft skin.
"You ready?" Sam asks, but he never waits for Dean's response. He's too far gone.
He shifts his legs wide, pushing Dean's wider as well, and presses both of his hands down roughly on Dean's back. His brother's pressed hard against the mattress, ass up like a well-paid whore, and Sam lets go, eyes rolling back in his head as he fills him up with piss.
"There you go," Sam moans, nails digging into Dean's skin. "Best goddamn toilet in the city."
Dean moans too, but Sam can't tell if it's pain or pleasure, or both.
The stream feels endless, but he's been saving it up for a while. When he feels himself emptying eventually, he sits back, pulling Dean hard along with him. The sudden shift in position, Sam on his knees and supported on the balls of his feet, and Dean on his lap, fully upright, makes them both groan loudly.
"Fucking ow, Sam," Dean mutters, and he sounds equally as pissed as he is embarrassed. Sam wouldn't understand why he'd be embarrassed if it wasn't for the fact that he can feel piss running down his cock, slipping out of Dean's hole. The feeling of it makes Sam shove up into him several times, piss spurting out every time he pulls back. Dean jerks and gasps at every thrust, and eventually Sam pulls out all the way, both of them looking down to see the load of piss splashing onto the bed.
"One day I'll make you carry that with you the entire day. Claim you as mine," Sam mutters to him, and Dean only shudders and leans back against him.
"You're one fucked up individual, y'know that?" he says eventually, to which Sam can only laugh.
"Takes one to know one."