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In Flagrante Delicto

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Dean glanced at Sam nervously as the scene played out in front of them on the co-ed's computer screen. They were watching themselves kill the college professor-turned-werewolf. "Hey, Sammy... do you think they saw--" He broke his question off abruptly, swallowing hard as he got his answer. Onscreen, Sam had just pushed him down onto the late professor's desk. Clothes were being removed, tongues entwined, bodies clashed.

He saw himself being manhandled by his overgrown little brother, and he saw himself loving it. The damn cameras the kid had planted were too good; every little sound, every guttural groan or hungry gasp was clear as a bell.

And goddamn, was it hot to see happening right in front of him. Sam looked gorgeous, his muscles twitching and shiny with sweat. It was art and porn all at once. He wet his lips, clearing his throat and trying to ignore the blood rushing down into his cock, but oh god was it hard, especially hearing Sam's grunts as his hips pistoned like a finely tuned engine.

He gulped again, eyes riveted to the screen. He was turned on beyond measure by the time he came onto the desk, clutching at the edges of it, and he nearly came again watching Sam finish up, body going beautifully rigid before the spasms hit and he rode out his orgasm, still pumping away into Dean's ass.

They'd finished, and had been kissing and tangled up with each other for several minutes before either of them spoke. It was obvious Sam was having similar thoughts, as his voice was shaky with desire. His only words were "...yeah. I think they saw."